It’s not what you know, it’s who you know and I’m very lucky to know Pat and Eileen, the hosts of Glenmore Manor. Before opening to the public, I was invited as a non-paying guest to see how it feels to be, ‘to the manor born’. The driveway set the scene for what was to be an unforgettable weekend and for once I wasn’t going downstairs but was going all Lady Mary for the night. A glass of wine was proffered and I was even tempted to stick the little finger out, as we took in the elegant surroundings of the great house and gardens. Then more friends turned up and we settled into the bar/snug area, adjacent to the pool, (yes I did type ‘pool’). The sun may not have been over the yard-arm, but that didn’t stop the gentle arm of Pat, topping up glasses and kicking off the ceol agus craic that continued until the wee, small hours. It was hard to pull ‘oneself’ away from the merriment but onwards and upwards, as they say, to a four poster bed, no less and if walls could talk, I bet they’d talk of the bold Lurgan outlaw, Redmond O’Hanlon or the local Lady Chatterleys looking for scandal in the gardens. After a fry-up in the morning with proper beef sausages and gallons of tea, we took to the garden before a refreshing swim in the large, heated indoor pool and then it was time to say goodbye. I had lived as a Lady for the weekend and it was hard going back to join Carson et al.