Irish.

Once upon a time somebody in our family must have been Irish......but it was a very, very long time ago now....way back in the mists of genealogy. No matter, latent Irishness has now surfaced and is showing up in our eldest daughter's passion for Irish Dancing.

Which is a genre of dancing that you can practice and compete in, here, in Hobart......a place as far away from Ireland as you can geographically get. Amongst all of the Niamh's, Sadbh's and Enya's (yes, I'm not kidding) I'm happy to report that our Jemima held her own, ultimately scoring two gold, two silver and a bronze medal at the Feis extravaganza yesterday:

It is, no doubt about it, quite a spectacle with all of that jigging and reeling. Her father and I have both had a go and it really is quite complicated doing all of that tricky footwork while you keep your arms still and by your side:

Over the six hours that our entire family was in the audience, our boys were very well behaved.....gone are the days when Tobes used to get told off by the lady on the microphone. Now, it's the baby who demonstrated singleminded determination by trying to make a dash for it onto the stage, over and over and over again:

Irish dancing in Hobart has become a bit more sequinned and sparkly in the last two years. Soon our own Irish Dancer is going to reach to the age where they are required to wear LOTS of makeup, a spray tan and a synthetic curly wig:

I didn't realise that as a race, the Irish people's most distinguishing features are tanned legs and curly hair? Did you?

Rx