What single memory comes to mind when you think of a good friend? (Jeannette's Memory)

When I think of Nora, co-writer of our book The Contest, a happy memory comes to mind.

We had just finished 7 hours on horseback, riding around and sometimes sinking into the bogs of Connemara, which is situated in Western Ireland.

We were tired, wet and cold. Our waterlogged riding raincoats and boots had taken up residence around the hearth of the peat burning fireplace in our B & B’s pub/restaurant area. We stayed close to the fire warming our cold bones and consumed large bowls of hot soup and freshly baked bread the bartender had served us.

The pub became crowded as other guests of the B & B returned for the evening. And all of sudden we found ourselves surrounded by a large, and very vocal, group of veterinarians who were in town for a conference. With tall mugs of frothy Guinness beers in hand, they bombarded us with invitations to drink and sing with them. But we knew what they were really interested in.

And that is when the story took an implausible turn. Honestly, I am not making this up.

The concerned looks in our eyes hadn’t gone unnoticed and we were rescued by a French film crew. One of the very handsome men invited us to take a seat on the piano bench beside him. In-between skillfully tickling the ivories, he ordered a bottle of champagne for us to enjoy.

And as Maurice Chevalier sang in the movie version of Gigi, Ahhh, I remember it well.