This is a continuation of “From Jet-Set to Farmette, Part I”, which you can read here. As I said previously, often people ask just how exactly myself and himself met, so I thought it would be handy if I put together a little series of posts laying out the low-down with as many details as can tastefully be shared. If you are not into sappy love stories, I’d give it a skip.

After shedding a few happy tears, I gathered myself and gave MDF a ring to say thank you for the flowers and card. “no thanks needed”, he’d explained, “just a chance to get to know you better please.” How could I refuse? When I thought about it, I had nothing to lose. His endearing attentiveness certainly felt wonderful and he always seemed to be in good humour, which made me smile more often. {and by more often, I mean ALL THE TIME}

We nattered on via email, daily phone calls and text messages for over a year. I had 2-3 production trips scheduled overseas, so whenever I’d wrap shooting he’d fly to meet me and we would venture off to some quiet European seaside locale, drink gorgeous wine and discuss every corner of our lives. Our lavish conversations were followed by mammoth kissing sessions that went on for hours and hours. It began to feel like time stood still when we were together. We were becoming more and more heartbroken each time we had to say goodbye which, according to the accounting department, was clearly evident by my increasing tissue expenses.

Once, after a commercial shoot in Barcelona, I decided to surprise MDF by showing up to collect him from the airport in a really fast, over-the-top convertible sports car {specifically one that he mentioned he’d love to drive one day}. Tipped off by a location manager that I was working with, we hopped into the car and sped up the Costa Brava with the sun in our eyes and the wind in our hair, to a special place called Cadaques. Nestled on a bay on the Mediterranean coast, Cadaques is a stunning and quietly exotic (aka non-touristy) Catalan village which is also the birthplace of Salvador Dali.

Having made no arrangements or reservations, we just drove up though the town until we couldn’t go any further with the car and found ourselves stopped in front of the sweetest little hotel. I waited as MDF went in to see if there was a room. When he came out with a smile, I knew we had gotten lucky.

We checked into our room, changed and went for a walk to explore our little romantic weekend hideaway. In the rear of the hotel, there was a lovely pool and garden along with a café/bar. We sat down at a table and each ordered a glass of chilled rosé.  Ironically, as we looked at the group of people sitting poolside, we noticed a cigar-smoking Neil Jordan and his family happily chatting away and having fun. This was surprising because earlier MDF had mentioned how tickled he was that Neil was on his flight from Dublin.  Both admirers of Mr. Jordan’s work, we found it wonderfully serendipitous that we had found ourselves at the exact same “secret” place.

Those three days were like a living in a dream; an experience in which you almost need to pinch yourself to see if it is all really happening. We lounged, talked, gazed into each other’s eyes for far longer than any sane person would and just reveled in the complete abandon of our “real worlds” that we’d left behind, if only for a short time.

One evening, we stumbled upon a charming little restaurant, which, to our amazement, just happened to be named “Waiting for Richard”*. There, we lingered over a sensational meal for what seemed like hours. Afterwards, we walked quietly along the harbour holding hands. We stepped down to the little pebble beach outside of our hotel and MDF turned to me and nervously asked, “If I…ahem…provisionally…ahem…asked you..ahem…tomarrymerightnow…would you?” I was completely caught by surprise, but so, so in love at that very moment that I instantly blurted out, “Yes!…I mean…ummm, provisionally…yes..I..would.” Cue {yet another} mammoth kissing session.

The next morning we packed up and reluctantly made our way back to reality. His being a two hour flight back to his cows and chickens and mine being three bad movies and thirteen hours in the air, immediately followed by being back in my 27th floor city office where a long editorial process +  hundreds of emails awaited.

Inside one of those emails was an airline ticket to Ireland.

Slan Abhaile,


*MDF’s proper name is Richard.

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

· · · ◊ ◊ ◊ · · ·
Saveur Sites We Love
Recent Posts