... to Bovinia, of all places. Yes, I am happily eating my oft-uttered words about nothing ever happening here. How do I explain - I just met Tony Blair at our local hillside hostelry, shook his hand, had a jolly little chat in that forced British way that we all do so well, and got my picture taken (to follow). Word had reached me that he would be dropping in - quite literally, as he arrived by helicopter - to a private American event to give a speech. I never voted Labour but hey, he's a Brit and world famous and he was coming here - this was a chance not to be missed. With the help of the hosts at the Kreut-Alm (go there - eat, drink and be merry, it's wonderful) I got to masquerade as a be-dirndled waitress. I had to work for my prize though. For over an hour I made my way from group to group of kind Americans, plying them with croissants and danish pastries. (A couple of them registered my accent and asked me if I worked for the Secret Service, to which I replied, no, but then again, if I did, I wouldn't tell you. Loud guffaws all round.) The minders were giving me suspicious glances as I tried to position myself in assorted vantage points. Just when I was about to give up and chuck my pastries over the wall, a shout went up in the kitchen and I was instructed to make my way, pronto, to the private room inside where Mr Blair was having his photos taken with various dignitaries. I introduced myself to him and he fixed me with his sparkling public persona grin and asked me a couple of questions. The camera flashed twice, then I was whisked out again and that was that.
It was cute though. On my way out, some of the kind Americans asked me 'did you see him yet?' and I was happy to affirm. I wondered how it would be if 900 Brits were gathered together and Bill Clinton, for example, was the VIP. I guess they'd be craning their necks and jostling for a glance in just the same way.
Tomorrow we are setting off for a week in South Tyrol, and I dare say I will not be blogging from there. In any case, I need a week off after all my recent adventures. For a quiet village, life here can be quite exhausting. My neighbours are going to have to find something else to observe in our absence. They are never happier than when the sun is out, and they can sit in their garden and watch our every move. I was spotted this morning going off in my Bavarian finery. Frau NN said her perfunctory good morning, and went to carry on with her business, but I could see that she wasn't going to be able to resist. And where might you be going, all dressed up so beautifully, she asked. When I told her, her jaw nearly hit her freshly-washed paving stones. I've promised to go and tell her about it later.
It was cute though. On my way out, some of the kind Americans asked me 'did you see him yet?' and I was happy to affirm. I wondered how it would be if 900 Brits were gathered together and Bill Clinton, for example, was the VIP. I guess they'd be craning their necks and jostling for a glance in just the same way.
Tomorrow we are setting off for a week in South Tyrol, and I dare say I will not be blogging from there. In any case, I need a week off after all my recent adventures. For a quiet village, life here can be quite exhausting. My neighbours are going to have to find something else to observe in our absence. They are never happier than when the sun is out, and they can sit in their garden and watch our every move. I was spotted this morning going off in my Bavarian finery. Frau NN said her perfunctory good morning, and went to carry on with her business, but I could see that she wasn't going to be able to resist. And where might you be going, all dressed up so beautifully, she asked. When I told her, her jaw nearly hit her freshly-washed paving stones. I've promised to go and tell her about it later.
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