Until yesterday, that is. I made a quick trip into Cajarc at noon to post a bill. As I turned to get back into my car, a voice called to me. A woman in shorts, backpack and hiking boots asked me for directions to the tourist office. I could tell she wasn't French, so asked if she spoke English. She did. In fact, she was Irish! We chatted for a few minutes about walking the chemin (she'd already done the Moissac to Compostelle part and is now doing the 'backside' Le Puy to Moissac), where I'm from, where she's from, Galway, Inishmor. She was delightful and even taught me my first Irish word: madra (dog).
I took it as a 'sign,' came home and registered for the writing retreat which will happen in April 2017. After all, how often to you run into an Irish woman in the deep heart of France? I'm still worrying about the money, the logistics and the whatever, but I'm pretty certain that the Universe will take of those things...and that it wants me to go back to Inishmor!