Over the years, I've avoided many a St P's celebration - particularly when abroad, where things can get Oirish quicker than you can say leprechaun costume. This year, a little group of us were invited (through our charity work) to the President's St Patrick's Day reception. Unexpected!
The first thing that happened was that I got the Ferrero Rocher ad stuck in my head. Most unfortunate.*
The second thing was that I put it all out of my mind entirely. And so, on the morning of St Pat's, there I was: curled up, watching Murder, She Wrote, when a friend texted:
What are you going to wear?
A worthy question, as it turned out.
I pause the sleuthing Jessica; head upstairs. I stare at my little wardrobe, reasoning that if I'm going to Áras an Uachtaráin on St Patrick's Day, I should at least wear Irish clothing.
I wonder if Dunnes Stores counts.
Sigh.
Most semi-formal stuff that I own is black: probably a smidge sombre for a daytime, celebratory thing. Even if they're not serving Ferrero Rocher.**
Which leaves one dress that is (a) Irish-designed and (b) a colour.
Now, the whole visionary ensemble of the dress was that it went with a lovely (black) shrug, which is currently away from me. I meander around (as much as one can in a teeny cottage) wondering what to wear with it...
...and glanced at what was hanging on the wall.
And lo, I didst bless the name of Sharon Rose, and her multi-functional designs :-)
A wall-hanging by morning, a wrap by afternoon - one that probably looked familiar to the President, since she had complimented Sharon Rose on one of hers back in January.
The day was fab, without a nutty chocolate in sight. Poetry and music and dance, and a couple of lovely speeches. Afterwards we milled around the Áras, taking pictures on historic sofas against a backdrop of historic art in various rooms of the historic variety. And then life went back to normal :-)
*Even if you happened to like Ferrero Rocher nut-infested chocolates.
**Which I would never never eat. Nuts. Gakkarama.
2 comments:
I always got the ambassador's party and Mr. Kipling's cakes mixed up... though I never really thought that either were exceedingly good :-)
I associate Mr K as being further down in the Pretensions of Grandeur scale :-)
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