Kungen Carl

A colleague is headed off to dinner tonight with Carl XVI Gustaf, the King of Sweden, in the nation's capital, so naturally the request is made (a few times, this morning) to get a little note from His Highness to my dear old friend Anna, lover of her country's Royal Family. When you fall in love at first sight, you tend to remember the circumstances and I can recall that moment at a Glasgow pub in 1999 when I first caught a glimpse of her exhuberant face. Friends only we became, apart from a few moments, yet friends we remain these years later, of course. Though sadly I only last saw her in Eskilstuna in September 2004 and have heard no word since this past May, when she was several months along with child. I do hope no misfortune has befallen her.

Tonight I plan to be drinking Guinness at the Old Triangle (jingle, jangle) around the time of the fesitivities at the Rideau, in an effort to vex King Carl to put pen to paper via the charms of our man, Art Guinness. His dinner begins at 7:45 EST, therefore so will my toasting. Think on it around that point, I charge you, and help us prove that the world still looks favorably on such wondrous and majestic randonymity. It would be an excellent excuse to get back in touch.