THE sun shone in New York City and I got into a limousine the size of a DART station and went to NBC studios. There in the Green Room were enormous baskets of muffins, bagels, scones, jars of cream cheese, butter and jam. Pencil thin girls fell on these excitedly and ate everything in sight.
Monitors showed us who was actually on the Today Show. A wise, knowing doctor said that some anti inflammatory drugs had a side effect of combatting Alzheimer's Disease and we brightened up. The make up girl asked had I any specific requirements? Youth and gauntness, I said, without much hope.
"Industrial strength cheekbones," she pronounced, and painted two scarlet, tubercular spots on me, which actually looked terrific on the screen. So in I went and was interviewed by Katie Couric. Something had happened which meant the interview was not going out live. This meant the 70 people I had alerted had got up early for nothing. My harsh, angular cheekbones looked very disappointed.
"Tell them we had to hold over Brad Pitt, too," said Katie Couric, who is very kind.
Well yes, that was true. The handsome chiselled Brad Pitt went through his interview with no sense of anti climax. But then he had probably not phoned 70 cousins and friends. We all went down to the street. I was about to climb into my giant car. "Sorry ma'am, that's Brad's limo. Maeve's limo is here," said an official. So in the cold sunny morning, some magic did return. I wasn't on telly but I had serious make up and Brad's limo and mine were purring through the traffic.
AT the surly hair dressing place they had gone through a Charm Aggressive. "Have we had the pleasure of dressing your hair on a previous occasion?" asked the woman who had told me last year that we were all too old to believe in miracles and the best I could hope for was a clean scalp.
"I believe so," I said fearfully.
"It's good to see an old valued customer again.
Would you like a glass of iced tea?"
The man beside me was getting a white streak in his hair. It would make him look distinguished, he said, which he needed to be on Saturday. He was getting married. The bride's mother had misgivings - he was older than the bride's mother. If he had a white streak he would look more statesmanlike.
What did his bride think?
"Bless her, she thinks very little," he said to a salon full of strangers.
I MET Daniel O'Donnell in the lift, Paddy Moloney in the foyer and Brendan O'Carroll in the dining room of Fitzpatrick's Hotel. I met Richard Murphy, the man who taught me to drive and together we analysed the stretch limos and wondered how you'd get around a corner without wasting half of the pedestrians. I met Niamh Bhreathnach at lunch at the Irish Trade Board and Liam Neeson's mother Kitty having a birthday dinner in Harbour Lights. I saw a woman I knew years ago on the arm of a man who had a reputation for 30 years and is still at it.
The Irish Times arrived at the hotel every evening at about 6 p.m. so we could all keep up with what was happening at home - although New York was beginning to look increasingly like Dublin as the week went on.
THE plane to Chicago was full. Two men were looking forward to being home. "I can't wait for some good steak sandwich," one said. "Say what you like, we have beef in the Midwest. Beef that will build a man up.
They sank back happily in their seats and drank vodka martinis that would knock a man down in happy anticipation of it all.
The sun shone in Chicago too, despite the predictions of blizzards. The huge lake was glinting and doing tourist duty for the place. It's a very attractive city. And of course everyone said we were mad not to have spent St Patrick's Day here. They sighed over the predictability and obviousness of New York.
We had lunch with Mayor Rich Daley, his wife Maggie and the elder sisters of the mayor, Pat and Mary Carol. He said that he had always sneakily hoped people might say "Here's the Mayor" and stand up, but if you had older sisters there wasn't a chance of this - they showed you no pretensions.
There was a special priest at the lunch who said a creative Grace before meals where he mentioned St Joseph, whose feast it was, and myself as good people. I thought this was terrific, to be up there with St Joseph.
Brad Pitt, New York, St Joseph in Chicago ... the trip was getting more surreal by the day.
"I HAD no idea that Chicago was so cultural," said a young woman in disappointed tones as her godmother planned an architectural tour through Frank Lloyd Wright, Louis Sullivan and Mies van der Robe. The girl, who had hoped for a shopping trip, looked a bit glum. The godmother did look remorselessly thorough. But she would love it once she got started, I assured her, and she should ask the godmother to include a cruise on the lake - it was very painless.
"Would there be much about Al Capone?" the girl asked me hopefully. I told her that Al and Prohibition were grey areas. We didn't know what Chicagoans thought about it all. Better not bring it up.
"You're very wise," the girl said admiringly.
"I've been around 40 years longer than you, that's all," I said sadly.
I'd love to ask all about Al Capone but because of maturity, I'll never know!