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Recovery time!

Well, what can we say? Really not very much, right at this moment, after a suitably monumental/momentous/magnificent/mental/messy final final fling at Walkabout, the Holiday Inn and then A.N. Other hotel bar which somehow stayed open until the very last dregs of Celtic Connections 2014 were eventually, reluctantly flushed into the cold February daylight.
 
Prior to this there were scenes of riotous rejoicing among all those still standing at the Festival Club – where the last weekend’s crowd, incidentally, had achieved the far from inconsiderable feat of drinking the place dry of Jägermeister, resulting in much befuddled head-scratching at the bar as bomb-lovers attempted to contemplate an alternative libation. After appearances from the Flying Duck’s Sunday Funday finest, Rura and the indefatigable Scott Wood Band, the very last hurrah belonged to none other than our host, the one and only Kevin Macleod, triumphantly rocking the joint at the helm of his own band, for once – the very aptly named Not Big Not Klevir. Apparently they’d asked him before the festival about the chances of getting a gig at Celtic this year, and when they were told that the only slot on offer was 3am on the last night, for precisely no fee, jumped at the chance. With their numbers steadily multiplying thanks to a gradual stage invasion by the usual folky suspects (at least three of whom were wearing parts of Kevin’s infamous gold suit), the last dances consisted of euphoric mass gyrations to Beatles hits and soul classics – after all, it’s not like any of us haven’t had enough diddly over the last 18 days.
 
Transatlantic Sessions co-director Jerry Douglas – after another brace of sellout shows widely hailed as fielding the strongest group of singers in years – wisely sidestepped all the late-night nonsense at a (relatively) early stage of the game, being last seen around 11.30pm heading up in the hotel lift with a pizza to watch the Superbowl: you can take the boy out of America. . .Mind you, for the Transatlantic crew it’s all far from over yet – having made it onto a plane this morning while those aforementioned dregs were still attempting to articulate their longing for one last. . . anything, the cream of the Celtic/Americana crop will still be taking the stage before another capacity crowd at London’s Southbank Centre tonight, at the start of a week-long UK tour.
 
Back in Glasgow, however, some of the last words aptly belonged to the ever-smiling head of security at Walkabout, who despite having mostly been listening from the cold and draughty bottom of the stairs, declared himself thoroughly converted to the Celtic gospel, and already looking forward to next year. As will we be, once we’ve had some sleep.
 
We wish you a happy and speedy recovery - and thank you thank you thank you once again: we couldn’t do it without you :)