[Dailydrool] London Adventure: Saturday. Escape in Ireland

[Sally King via Dailydrool]

Younger Clara here 
So there we were about to try to avert a terrible diplomatic crisis by being royal and loyal. I thought we’d be OK, because although the Irish have a fairly mixed opinion of us Brits, they seem to love Americans and we were there in a whole throng of Americans, including American royalty. It would be easy.

Captain Thanet was at the top of the walkway, in his white dress uniform, looking ruggedly handsome (and yes, I saw that look pass between him and Ipo). He blew his whistle and we started the stately parade down the gangplank.

Ipo, Emma, Jed, Hooter and Christmas jogged down first, making much of surveying the surroundings. The queens and princes, with their consorts, started a slow descent, with Heidi, Kaitlyn, Kylee, Daffodil, Duchess, Mac and Ted sedately stepping and flying behind.

A crowd had gathered on the quay and the Irish Guards were there playing their bagpipes to welcome us.

The rest of the hounds followed, serenely. Lots of people were holding up signs welcoming the American Royalty to the shore, but there were a few at the back telling us Brits exactly where we might go.

“Our Queen was last here in 2011,” Rolph whispered to me “She was the first British Royal to come in 100 years. Things seemed to settle a bit after the IRA called a ceasefire, but tensions have been a bit high again recently. That’s why she is so unhappy.

I looked at the rude signs and tried to smile. It’s hard for a friendly hound like me to feel rejected when I love everyone.

“Look” woofed Rusty. I can see Sophie she has bought Rooney in a carriage.”

“Hold your places,” barked Rolph. We have to be officially welcomed before we can go anywhere.

Mr Kenny stood up on a platform covered in flags and shamrock. He’s a fairly good sort and didn’t  go on for too long. The bands carried on playing and small children were waving flags, our queens were being most gracious accepting posies and pictures, then handing them to their staff to carry. The rest of the entourage were being solidly snooty. But I realised Mozart was missing.

"Why on earth did you make him a private secretary,” I growled at Rolph. “He’s too young.”

“I wanted him where I could watch him” he responded. “Fat lot of good that did.”

We scanned the crowd. There he was, pushing his way through the masses to where Sophie and Roo were.

“Perhaps no one will notice,” hoped Rolph, but at that moment, the puparazzi, which had been snapping all of us, spotted him and all the attention shifted. And at that precise moment, as he walked past a small child, he couldn’t stop himself snaffling their sweeties.

That was it. The child howled, Rolph howled, the Taoiseach yelled and suddenly the whole party broke into chaos. Our entourage had scattered, our “security team” was trying to round us up and our American royalty were suddenly surrounded by Irish Guards, who were making sure no-hound could get anywhere near them.

Morse, Rolph and I were pointedly kept out of that circle and threatened when we tried to retrieve our friends.

Sophie had made her way forward from where all the non-royals were collecting around Roo’s cart. “Quick” she barked “come to me and we’ll make a getaway. We came in your Uncle Frank’s car - it’s just round the corner.”

Everyone ran and jumped in - it was certainly a bit crowded, even without the royals. Sophie put her paw down and we shot off into the countryside.

“Don’t worry bout the others,” Sophie woofed. “They’ll be put up in posh hotel and escorted back to the UK. But while you’re all here we may as well have a bit of fun.

“So long as Rolph, Clara and Morse keep quiet and don’t let their English accents be heard, no -one will notice them.
Oh how I wish I'd made them all go shopping instead.
Clara, on the run in Ireland, with half of my friends and a real concern for my safety.
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