Grey skies and greyer faces made for a particularly penitential atmosphere at Galway city's parade.
The ashen cheeks were those of children - either cold or frightened or a mixture of both - as their parents tried to convince them that it wasn't really raining and that those horrific, horned, masked characters dressed in black weren't trying to frighten them to bits.
Expectations have rarely been met in Galway's contribution since the street theatre troupe, Macnas, was poached for the capital some years ago.
In spite of the parade's lack of direction, individual groups do their very best - none more so than the members of the Galway Early Music Festival who produced a colourful medieval pageant to publicise their event in mid-May and were the overall winners.
They were closely followed by Cercle Brizeau, traditional folk dancers from Lorient in Brittany, Galway's sister city.
Irish-America's contribution was the New Hampshire Police Pipe Band, the members of which received loud cheers and applause on University Road.
The Claddagh community had hauled a hooker up on to the back of an articulated truck, and their representatives had borrowed some very ancient diving gear. It was probably the most appropriate wear for the day that was in it, with sporadic showers dampening the most enthusiastic spirits.
There was also a strong political dimension, thanks to the Galway Environmental Alliance and Tree Dimensional Eco Art. Armed with wheelie bins and assorted rubbish, the environmentalists, including Green Party candidate Niall ╙ Brolchβin, pushed (literally) a strong recycling theme.
Commercialism is still a part of the Galway parad, in spite of Dublin's decision to exorcise it. Several hotels and tourism interests had hired trucks and bands, complete with acoustics, but voluntary groups, like the Merlin Park Hospital Walkers and drummers from local primary schools, were well able to hold their own.
Among the loudest performers were the musicians from Scoil an Phroinsias, from Tirellan, in Galway, while the Renmore Junior School majorettes were determined to make their mark with a score of rustling pom-poms.
Displaying the wisdom that comes with age, the city's various active retirement associations had hired their own transport - not a truck, but one of the double-decker tourist buses which cruise the city, along with an ancient automobile. "Vintage is priceless" was their message, as they laughed, joked and generally looked as if they didn't give a damn.
