Thursday 27th August 2009 - High Powered Meetings Concerning the Direction of Government

          I have a gift for timing: or so I like to think. Nothing to do with me, really, some kind of gift of nature or nurture. I can sometimes turn up to pick someone up, not just at the appointed hour, but when the last of the Greenwich pips is issuing from the car radio; without having made any particular effort to do that. I expect if I tried I would be markedly less successful.

          I had set up my meeting with my legal advisors to give me plenty of time to rehearse and get there. Needless to say I was late. My advisers were most understanding, but I was very cross with myself. It's just another example of nothing going right this trip; I hope it is not an omen.

          I had parked at the Mall of America (that's quite a name, isn't it) to get the tram (Metro Transit) up to town. The on-board map gave an estimate of the time between the stations. A quick sum told me I had to phone and admit my error.

         

          Recent experiences in huge car parks, particularly in Las Vegas, ensued that I wrote down where I had left Rozzie. Otherwise I might never see him again.

          The point of the meeting was to persuade me that this course of action was worth taking. I was predisposed to do it anyway, since government telling me I can't do something which is manifestly reasonable just bring out the anarchist in me. There were definitely cheaper solutions, but none that might be this much fun (of course, there's a subjunctive there: I've never tried to take on the newest branch of the richest government before).

          I started by asking about why I shouldn't just take the cheap option. Well, they said, this is the age of the database, and you've already marked your card (an unkind and unnecessary reference to my earlier failure to achieve what I was hiring them to do.) They might now notice the object of your cheap solution.

          Anyway, I said, as you've just so ungraciously pointed out, you're only going to do what I've already done. Ah, they said, but we'll try to do it right this time.

         Don't hold back, I thought, don't try to spare my feelings. So they asked me for a retainer. And all done, as the late Kenny Everett used to say, in the best possible taste.

         The outcome was that I had a whole lot of things to do, as quickly as possible. If I want to stay, I have to provide the most concrete proof that I want to leave.

         Ah, the paradox. Suddenly, it makes sense. As I left the fine Lumber Exchange building in downtown Minneapolis, I felt that I might manage this.

         Then I had to get Dulcie out to tell me which way to the tram: and then my notes to tell me which way to Rozzie.