I did it. I went back to Cruise's last Friday night.
I nearly didn't go through with it, to be honest. Sat in the car outside the pub for about twenty minutes, thinking of excuses to drive away. What would I even say to these people? They'd all think I was mad, showing up after more than two decades. Half of them probably wouldn't even remember me.
But I went in anyway.
The pub looked the SAME. I'm not exaggerating — it was like stepping into a time machine. The bar in the exact same spot, the back room where the sessions happen, even the smell of the place was identical. Stale Guinness and turf smoke and hope, you know?
And there was Mick Hennessy. STILL there. Same stool, same bodhrán, same mad grin on his face like he hadn't aged a day. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe some people are just immune to time.
"Jesus Christ," he said when he saw me. "Is that young Seamus? Are you after coming back from the dead, boy?"
Everyone turned around. I got a few confused looks, a few polite smiles, but then someone recognized me and suddenly I was getting welcomed back like the prodigal son. Which is grand, except I felt like I'd never earned the right to come back.
We played a few tunes to warm up. Bodhrán duets, fiddle reels, the usual class. And then someone — I think it was actually Mick — said, "Lads, shall we do the Rattlin' Bog?"
I nearly laughed out loud. OF COURSE they were going to play it. Of course.
And when we started, lads, something in me just... clicked back into place. My fingers found the rhythm. The words came back without thinking. Every verse, every variation, every breath came NATURALLY. Like I'd never left at all. Like the bodhrán and I had just been waiting for each other all these years.
I cried a bit at the end, but I don't think anyone noticed. Mick just thumped me on the back and said, "You've still got it, Seamus. Never lost it."
And I think he's right.
I'm going back this Friday.
Slan go foill,
BogLord2002