AU-DC

Washington - what a place!  And there was me thinking it was Bonn on steroids.  This place is so cool. 

First of all, Julian is happy because the hotel is great.  What he wants, he says, is what he needs without any fuss.  Room to swing a cat and a coffee machine plus internet access.  So he's a happy bunny - sad and easily satisfied human that he is.

More importantly, it's the people and the relative calm.  If a cab driver beeps his horn, its to say "I'm here", not "Oi!" as elsewhere.  People talk to you.  Even me, and I am used to the sheepist approach most humans take.

Not that everything is wonderful.  I was most annoyed to discover that my American cousins were no longer allowed to graze on the White House lawn.  I also, in the spirit of farm animal solidarity, attempted to bring Welsh greetings to the lame duck Congress but apparently they were too busy arguing about tax cuts in or with the barracks to receive me.    Nevertheless, I left my business card with the President and expect him to call at any moment.

Julian spent a lovely day in the capital.  A morning meeting with the delectable and delightful Maryamu Aminu followed by a wonderful lunch with Richard Herbert.  Maryamu works for Bono's ONE campaign and Richard has tried to retire twice from the World Bank and is hoping to succeed this year.

Then the evening reception which couldn't have happened without the extraordinary efforts of Debra Cope (genuflect, genuflect) who set us up in the wonderful offices of a prestigious DC law firm on Pennsylvania Avenue, just a stone's throw from the White House.  We didn't just have a great turn-out from those we knew were coming ... others turned up as the word of mouth spread.  (I would hasten to add that word of mouth spreading is very different from foot and mouth spreading.)  The room was bouncing and, as usual, all one has to do is say hello, give them a name badge and watch them get on famously together just as they did when they were Aber students.

I have one other caveat about DC.   I think they ought to look at their security a bit more.  Look at the following photograph.

Just a police car, I hear you say.  But look at the writing on the bottom of the car:  "United States Secret Service."  What's bloody secret about that?  A great white car with "Police" written all over it, blue flashing lights and a garish trim ... secret??  At least The Professionals drove round in boy racer cars and James Bond in an understated Aston Martin.  Well, we're off to Chicago tomorrow where I'm expecting to see burly men of Italian extraction walking around in fur-collared greatcoats and trilbies with arrows sticking out of their heads saying "Gangster". 

What youse lookin' at?