Eileen Heron

So we went off to Dublin on the train and recorded our song in studio for Irish Octo Che.

Also on the show that week were another up-and-coming band called the Hothouse Flowers and I often wonder whatever became of them.

Anyway, my song was called Hosever Hobacht and came complete with four-part harmonies, lyrics about how he'd lost touch with the Ireland Fado Fado and a clarinet solo.

Sound familiar?

Clannad really should have sued me.

I interviewed Moira Brennan a number of times over the years and although she was so warm and so friendly, I felt that I never got a great interview because whenever she spoke, I reverted to being that wee boy in the Renault 9 listening to Fulham.

She was one of a handful of great people in whose very presence I got tongue-tied.

So when I heard Maia had passed away, I felt I wanted to go to her funeral.

And I drove up to the little green corrugated iron chapel in Meenawheel on my own in a little haze of sadness.

Now, of course, streaming any planted song from any album right into my car.

As I drove through Lifford, a special programme on Radio na Géaltachta filled the hour before the funeral with Clannad's music and the most beautiful, heartfelt tributes.

And then, as I arrived at Láir na Géaltachta, an erigal came into view in a stua os gion cuir as caol.

They read a poem from Donegal writer Maia Dinnie Wren, and I remember these lines.

Úna Beatles, a glareful...

as soon as the Mass was over I jumped in the car and drove straight home as they would have instructed us after a Gaeltacht ceilidh I went just to thank Moia from my heart for not only the songs and the voice but the fragrant Donegal Irish that she brought into my life

to paraphrase the title of one of the songs from Fóim.