Our bloggy buddy Mise is a stylist. She arranges words precisely. Her home has featured in several ‘wouldn’t you like to live here’ magazines. She links to beautiful things that I didn’t know I needed, but am now desperate to own. On top of all that, she has a family, a real job and a life outside blotopia. I’m starstruck.
So when she sent up this cry for help, what could I do but offer my recent experience? (Yes, it’s a cry for help; I wouldn’t just make a spurious link, would I?) Mise, I’m sure we can get Farrow & Ball to sponsor places if need be… the conference venue of all our dreams. Farmleigh, Phoenix Park.
Go to the website for unblurry pics and proper information about Farmleigh, which was owned by the Guinness family before being sold to the state. It’s the hang out of presidents and monarchs when they visit. As with any visit to a stately home, I was left dumbstruck by the thought of people really living there.
There are horses and donkeys and cows. There is a ballroom, where I spent most of Monday. The grass, gravel and cobblestones mean that high heels aren’t that practical, unless, perhaps, you are going to the ball. The coffee comes in decent sized cups. There is a conservatory, a walled garden and a regular market. I’d have happily moved in and made this my home, if it hadn’t been for the cordoned off areas and pesky watchful staff.
Most remarkably of all, it’s even the sort of place where work gets done. A conference with a Minister and senior health staff. A conference that kept to time, and kept me awake and engaged. Unusual stuff.
Of course, I want to go back. Doesn’t matter what for. Mise, somebody, go on, organise an event.
You know you want to.