We were driving to the old Jameson distillery in Midleton when Jill Robinson, a writer from Northern California, leaned over and asked me if, when we got to Jameson, I’d take some photos of her kissing the big pot still out front.
I told her I’d be happy to and then asked her why she wanted a photo of herself kissing a pot still.
“I told someone I’d do it,” she said.
There was a sign near the pot still asking people to keep off the grass. Jill thought about that for a moment and then said, “To hell with it.” She ran across the grass and through the flowers and put her arms around the shiny pot still. Or at least as much of it as she could. I took pictures of her kissing the still, hugging it, and seductively leaning up against it as if she were Marlene Dietrich standing in front of her bedroom door.
Her antics created quite a scene. At one point I looked over my shoulder and there were at least a dozen other Jameson visitors also taking her picture. It had become an impromptu paparazzi moment and everyone was snapping pictures as fast as they could. I’m sure they had no more idea why they were taking the pictures than I did. But it was fun.