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I got to talk to the Minister today! (Yeah, just because I work in the Minister’s office doesn’t mean there’s ever an actual Minister in the office as such.) She said, “How are you?” and then I put her call through to my boss. It was pretty exciting. I was a bit hazy on actual Minister-confronting etiquette – a friend of mine suggested that the proper address is “Your Glorious Excellency,” with a curtsy and no eye contact; but he’s from England and Ministers probably do things a wee bit differently over there.

Speaking of friends across the sea, remember that guy I made out with my first evening in Paris? Yeah, me neither. He remembers me, though: I just got an e-mail from him, expressing his sorrow that I never called him like I said I would. (Oh, are you supposed to call people you make out with dead drunk in taxicabs late at night in foreign cities? I must have missed that tip in my Lonely Planet guide.) Apparently he got my e-mail address from a friend of his who was in the bar that night. (Look at me, handing out my e-mail address to all and sundry! I’m going to get a reputation as an e-ho! “Why buy the domain when you can get the e-mail address for free,” as me old da used to say.) It is clear that Robin Smith is a big hit overseas. Anyway, I e-mailed him a few flirty tidbits in my mediocre French – it’s always handy to keep a lovelorn boy in every port, after all.

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