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Posts Tagged ‘Ireland’

I’ve started a new journey…

On the Titanic.

I’ve also started a new blog to focus on that journey and I hope you’ll join me at:

www.titanicnovel.wordpress.com

Here I discuss my new novel, KATIE O’REILLY, and the grand ship Titanic:

The Titanic has fascinated me for years. I’m not alone. Even before James Cameron’s film “Titanic,” what happened on her maiden voyage has captured the imagination of anyone who has ever wondered what it was like to stroll her decks.

From first class…to second…to steerage.

I decided to find out and “Katie O’Reilly” was born. A saucy Irish maid who dreamed of going to America to escape a prison sentence for something she didn’t do. It’s only when she meets the notorious Captain Lord Jack Blackthorn on board the Titanic that she realizes it’s more than a new life she’s after.

She wants him, too.

“Katie O’Reilly” is a romance, but I’ve strived to make it as historically accurate as possible, even down to the times of the launching of the lifeboats after the ship hits the iceberg. I learned so much about the ship, but also about the passengers. Who they were, why they were traveling on the ship and what they experienced on that fateful night.

My purpose in writing this blog is not to merely repeat facts and stories…there are many wonderful books available that do that very well and we’ll discuss them…but to take you along on my journey writing “Katie O’Reilly” as we lead up to the 100th anniversary in April 2012.

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I decided to dig through my old pix of Ireland and see what I could find for the wearing o’ the green.

No, this wasn’t my mode of transportation in Ireland, but it looks like a fun way to see the countryside!




Anyone for diving off this cliff?



Here are some pretty pix of Ireland taken over various trips…just for the Irish of it!
Next time you put your heroine in a castle, remember to add central heating.
The sign says “Stop Check Point.” This was before the Belfast Agreement was signed…
Happy Patrick’s Day from my

Irish Maid Doll!
 
 
 

 

And in case you missed it last St. Patrick’s Day or you’d like to read it again, here’s the link to my erotic short story: A Naughty Victorian Lady tells the tale of a naughty Irish maid on St. Patrick’s Day

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by Lady Carlton née Katie O’Roarke, heroine of “The Blonde Samurai”

Did you notice the gleam in his eye and the snicker on his lordship’s face when he kissed you goodbye on this grand morning and left for his club?  Did he sport a green silk puff in his lapel, perhaps?  Or a green plaid cravat tucked under his portly chin? 

Then I chance to wonder if he was on his way to Madame Moiret’s on York Street on this fine St. Patrick’s Day, a lucky day for the wearing ‘o the green and for all the gentleman who visit there. 

Including his lordship. 

What is the attraction? you ask.  Green Guinness?  Green-eyed mistresses wearing green stockings and rose garters and nothing else? 

No, ’tis one plucky young Irish maid by the name of Darla O’Clancy. 

What makes her so popular, you wish to know, a maid no less? 

Before I tell you, I shall recount a passage from my memoir, The Blonde Samurai, about the similarity between the lucky shamrock and its counterpart in Japan, the maple leaf. 

“Content to be on my own, I took long walks in the late afternoon on the Bluff [Yokohama], strolling through dusky gardens with paths and stone lanterns warmed by the deepening sunset, a unique shimmer upon them glowing like tiny sparks among gray ashes. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the season for the delicate maple trees with their seven-pointed red leaves, but that didn’t stop me from wishing I’d find an eight-lobed maple leaf, thought to be as lucky to the natives as a four-leaf shamrock is to the Irish.” 

As for this Irish maid, ’tis no doubt the name of Darla O’Clancy is bantered about in houses of high standing since she possesses a rare gem deemed to be a lucky charm by the gentlemen who visit Madame Moiret’s.  They descend upon her establishment on this day to– 

I shall not tell you just yet, but instead recall from where the lass came.  ‘Tis a small town in Ireland on the coast called Killian’s Cove, a town so small it has yet to find its way onto a map.  And a town so green it makes your eyes blink with wonder as you gaze upon its rolling hills filled with shamrocks for miles and miles.   

‘Tis said that the mother of Miss O’Clancy so loved these hills she insisted her handsome young husband make love to her there among the shamrocks.  And so he did.  Three times.  And each time, she bore him a beautiful daughter: Emmie, Lenore and Darla. 

And each lass, they say, bears a lucky shamrock birthmark in a most unusual place on her body. 

Emmie, the shy one, has a shamrock on the inside of her thigh near her sex.

Lenore, the brazen one, has a shamrock on her left breast.

And Darla, the plucky one, has a shamrock on her right buttock.

Now you know the secret of The O’Clancy Sisters, who left Ireland and came to London looking for husbands.  ‘Tis Darla I write about today and how she found work as a maid at Madame Moiret’s.  She is not one of her girls, but instead guards the pot o’ gold between her legs fervently, waiting for the right lad to find it. 

But once a year on St. Patrick’s Day, she drops her drawers and allows the gentlemen callers to rub the shamrock on her naked bottom for good luck.     

And where are Emmie and Lenore?  I dare not say, except that they are also Irish maids serving in Mayfair houses. 

Yours, perhaps?  I would check my household staff if I were you. 

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! 

 

The Blonde Samurai
She embraced the way of the warrior. Two swords. Two loves.”

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by Lady Carlton née Katie O’Roarke, heroine of “The Blonde Samurai”

As I write this posting on a gray, rainy day, my mind filled with thoughts of faraway places and the smell of fresh salty air from the sea hitting my nostrils, I shall quote from my soon-to-published memoir, The Blonde Samurai, about the two lands that continue to intrigue me.

Ireland.  And Japan.

As I wrote in my memoir: 

“A maudlin homesickness seeped through the layers of my silken kimono and made me yearn for the times when I was a girl back home in our white frame house surrounded by woods, Da and Mother and my little sister, Elva, gathered around the wood fire on cold nights, eating cream cakes and listening to my father tell tall stories about what it was like back in Ireland when he was a young man during the potato famine some thirty years ago. 

“The small market towns, the bogs, the deep hunger that lived in his bones. How he met my mother after trekking miles and miles through a wide green valley to find food at a landowner’s manor house, only to be turned away—and how he rescued a pretty, young girl from the hands of the laird of the house, the devil himself.

“He married his Ida and together they came to America to build a new life. Such a grand tale it was, God bless him, told with all the melancholy and angst and picturesque squalor as only an Irishman can tell it. 

“It oft brought tears to my eyes, but more so tonight as I write, an ingrained want for the comfort of those times taking hold of me and in doing so, showing me a truth that lay hidden under the folds of memories covering my soul.

“Yes, I’m writing my memoir about Japan, but I believe the spirit of these two lands is linked by their similar traditions of family and ghosts, greenery and rain, gods and rebellion. It was the latter I identified with the most, this rising up from oppression and fighting for the very blood of your soul to find the truth, no matter how painful. 

“What truths did I seek, dear lady reader? An answer comes quickly to mind. I yearned to shed that part of me that hovered in the shadows, waiting to experience life, so hungry was I for a physical love, my body and imagination aroused.”

‘Tis a charming thought, is it not?  If nothing else, the very idyllic dream of uniting these two lands in my heart makes it easier for me to choose the setting where I have found the peace that I sought… 

But am I in Ireland or Japan? 

Forgive me this oft-used platitude as worn as the soles of milady’s dancing slippers, but I pray you read my memoir to find out.

 February 2010: meet The Blonde Samurai
“She embraced the way of the warrior. Two swords. Two loves.”   

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