I had a lovely lunch in Avoa Handweavers today, with the husband and daughter. Sadly, with the baby taking up almost all the room I have within, and the roulade I had being so cream-cheesy, I couldn't do it justice. Nice all the same - I would recommend blackberry and raspberry Amé to anyone!
However, this was not the highlight of my meal! As we were eating, my husband pointed out a lost looking Damien Rice on the wander for a seat, with his tray and a sylvan brunette in tow! Curses! If only my daughter hadn't refused to go eat lunch in her Granny's as we had thought she might, we could've had them at our table - as it was they sat down with someone just behind us. If only My husband had his finished album to hand, as opposed to only one rough copy in the car! (He has been playing this for various selected lucky people, who have to sit in the car and listen to the whole thing without speaking til the end - like a sort of sound booth experience). We joked about asking DR if he'd spare 38 minutes to come out to the car and listen to something. We could have toured Wicklow and dropped him back after - what an experience, he could have made a concept album about it!
Sadly my husband and I know well enough that it's not really on to harass celebrities while they're having their lunch on a bank holiday weekend. That you most likely wouldn't get a gig out of it - and yet I can't help feeling we somehow missed an opportunity...
For those of you who are less noble minded here is the gossip - he looked a bit thin and peaky (well it is the Sunday of a BH weekend), it might be pure fancy on my part but I could have sworn he was having the vegetarian nut-loaf (I like to think he would) and the cailín he was with was as you would expect, slight, petite and pretty, with long brown hair and a fetching crochéd floppy beret. I feel guilty saying this, but oh well, it's not that often I see a celebrity and it's not like I took a photo (damn!) or called a trashy mag.
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