"Irish Girl"

It was a quiet Saturday night at the B&B.  After Katarina went to bed early, I held down the fort and waited to show one more guest to his room.  I did so with my feet propped in front of the fire, eating chocolates and reading a book. What a job.


There's a big film festival in town, well, big for a town of 700.  A film festival in a town without a cinema.  The main street has yellow and blue streamers hanging across it and shops have been turned into screening venues.  I saw one film, "Runway," which was filmed here in Schull.  Locals had been extras so at the viewing everyone was anxious to pick out familiar faces.

The film festival is bringing in lots of people.  Last night I served dinner to a group of big movie directors/producers.  The conversation snippets I caught were about casting and talent and Glenn Close... The only uncertain moment I've had waiting tables was opening a bottle of wine for them. My on-the-ground French education included bottle-opening: I can do it; but opening one with an unfamiliar opener in front of these worldly people while trying to look experienced in a candle-lit restaurant...a different matter.  But I got 'er done, although I'm no sommelier.

By the fire, I also chatted with a guest, an Irish woman just slightly older than me.  We talked about Italy, Obama, tech jobs, and this charming house and at the end she asked my name again. "Oh my gosh, that's the perfect name!" was her shrill reply.  It's true.  Everyone is delighted when they learn of my Irish name.  It's never fit so well as it does here. If only I could mask my accent, I'd have them all fooled.