The lights are still dim as the last, soaring notes fade away.
Slowly people start to breathe again and I struggle to hold on to the magic of the past two hours.
I feel as if I should be glowing, my veins alight with liquid music.
How can anyone not be affected by these glorious, exhilarating melodies?
As the thunderous clapping subsides and the audience starts to move out, I remain seated and remember how I was carried into another world, drawn along by the rippling notes of Irish music.
I recall how the concert started.
Silence. The audience waits, breathless, as a singer lets her voice spiral into the air.
Slowly, other instruments join in to weave melodies of sorrow.
These are the Irish laments, the sad songs of a land whose people have gone through intense hardship.
Some of these songs are the stories of lovers, but the ones that really touch my heart are those written by people trying to express their anguish over leaving Ireland.
They have so many laments, possibly because a vast proportion of the population had to leave during the Great Hunger between 1845 and 1852.
It is the Irish people's grief over the departure from their homeland that makes this music so poignant.
These songs speak straight to my soul and create images of towering cliffs, windswept hills and miles of glittering ocean, leaving me with a huge sense of loss.
One line of my ancestry had to leave Ireland during the famine, so my feeling of emptiness could be homesickness passed down through the generations.
A song begins that I immediately recognise and respond to with a confusing range of emotions.
I am transported back to a little church in Nelson where I stand up the front playing Danny Boy on my flute.
It was one of my grandmother's favourite songs and I am playing it at her funeral.
Now, I can't stop the tears running down my face as the music washes over me.
It's been four years and this heart-wrenching piece still makes me feel the loss and sadness of her death.
In some ways I react against Danny Boy - it is too painful - but I know that I must listen.
It is good to remember and, over time, this music will hopefully bring me peace.
Although Danny Boy is widely accepted as an Irish song (and even used by Northern Ireland as their national anthem) the lyrics were originally written by an Englishman, Frederic Edward Weatherly.
He then set them to an old melody, The Londonderry Air.
The origins of this tune are highly controversial - some say it may not even be Irish.
Whatever the case, the combination of the lyrics and the melody make this song an extremely beautiful and moving piece.
With the theme of farewelling a loved one, it is applicable to all cultures and this is one of the reasons why it is so popular at funerals.
The performance moves from the laments to the loud, raucous and silly Irish drinking songs.
I enjoy these mainly because they tend to tell a story.
Often they tell a tale of adventure and daring, like Whisky in the Jar, or the story of a certain person, like The Night that Paddy Murphy Died.
Apparently, my great-great-grandfather was too poor to own or play an instrument but he certainly could sing!
I can just imagine him sitting in a dim, smoky pub belting out his songs over a glass of whiskey.
I wonder if he sang these on the long four-month voyage to New Zealand?
Now, at last, my favourite part of the concert; the music that makes me feel like I can spin right out of my body and join in the swirling dance of delight.
The jigs, hornpipes and reels that are the base of Irish music hold a special compulsion for me.
They always set my feet tapping and my heart racing as the music beats out an uplifting and joyous melody.
Dance has been a unique part of Irish society stretching back to the time of the Druids, around the first century AD.
The music has had a long time to evolve and perfect itself with today's dance immortalised by shows such as Lord of the Dance and Riverdance.
I study the band and notice guitars, a mandolin and percussion which are modern additions to the original Irish group.
These rather untraditional instruments help to add texture and variety to the old melodies.
The harp used to be the main instrument but is rarely seen nowadays and the reason for its disappearance is sad.
The English banned it at the start of the 1600s as harpists and their songs were thought to make the Irish warlike.
Harpists were executed and their instruments burnt in the attempt to prevent the revival of nationalism.
Because of this, the fiddle has taken the place of the harp and is the lead instrument, as with the band playing now.
Woodwind instruments also play a huge role in an Irish group.
The uilleann pipes (so called because they are played using the elbow - uilleann in Irish) are a traditional instrument.
They have a range of two octaves and have a deep mellow sound.
While they are currently enjoying a revival, they are very hard to play and not as common as the pennywhistle or flute.
The flute is my personal favourite - I began learning to play it as soon as my arms were long enough to reach all the keys.
A familiar tune catches my ear and I turn my attention back to the concert.
I am overjoyed to realise that they are performing Countess Kathleen (a Bill Whelan composition), which I learnt recently for a school assessment.
Although written in 9/8 time, it has the Irish swing to it that is impossible to write on paper.
This took me forever to master, but now learnt, helps me to get the distinct Irish feel to my music.
I absolutely love playing Irish melodies and take every opportunity I can to do so.
Maybe the reason I enjoy this music so much is because a third of my ancestors came from Ireland, so it is in my blood.
This fast-paced, energetic and vibrant dance music will always be the highlight of any concert for me.
I return to my body to find that I am the only one of the audience left in the hall.
The musicians are packing up and probably wondering why I'm sitting here.
It is time to head back into the whirlwind of life.
However, I know that Irish music can capture and hold me spellbound, as it is my own special link to the homeland I have never seen.
