I escape the media glare just long enough to decide it has its uses
Sunday: Being behind an exciting voicemail service like Gaeilge isn't as glamorous as it sounds. There's the press intrusion. There's being compared to my sis. There's leaving a message after the beep. (Or should that be bíp?)
Monday: I need to go somewhere I can just get away from it all and not be constantly recognised as that incredibly hot Gaelgóir off the telly. Which is why I'm off home. Slán.
Tuesday: It's so refreshing going to the shops to get a paper and not have to wear a disguise. Here, the paparazzi don't hassle you because there are so many hot Gaelgóirí around the place. I might head into Galway.
Wednesday: I wore my Chanel shades, took them off, put them back on, flicked my hair. Nothing. What's wrong with these people?
Thursday: I'm heading back up to Dublin for some more voicemail work. It's nothing to do with people in the west respecting my privacy too much.
Friday: Back in the big smoke. I feel at home in a city where people shout out "Gráinne! Gráinne!" at me when I walk down Grafton Street.
Saturday: Lunch and shopping with Gráinne. People love seeing us together. But if being a hot Gaelgóir means being recognised in public, then I'm finally at peace with that.
Or this is how it would be if we were Síle...