Bledddy hell. I just seen Prince Charles and Camilla in Warrens down in
Braunton! I just popped by to treat myself to a peppered steak pasty and
they were just coming in as I was going out and we had one of those
shop door moments. I didn't know whether to bow, take off me hat,
prostrate my self before him, curtsey to her
or stand back and let 'em pass. In the end I did a combination of the
lot and found myself being bundled into the cold cabinet by a big bloke
in a dark glasses before being hoiked out onto the pavement and finding my self face to face with a rather florid looking gentleman in a dress military uniform who turned out to be the Lord Lieutenant of Devon. Well I
never. I hope his pasty was all right as we all know they had a spot of bother in the past serving up supra-heated pasties to unwitting visitors.
As I had come down from parking me bike in South Street Carpark I had bypassed the crowds of people lining the Square and thronging about outside of Slee's Home Hardware so I knew nothing of what was going on. It turns out that the Royal couple had come to pay a visit to those businesses that had been flooded over the course of the Great Devon Deluge back in December. Outside Caen Street School the crowd had the school waitng for HRH to come out of Warrens which he did after a few minutes. As a few people started shouting questions at him about the hoped for sex of the forthcoming Royal baby I saw him pass Camilla a couple of greasy pasty bags and she slipped them into her handbag. Being the Duke of Cornwall I reckon he pushed the boat out and went for the Cornish Steak Pasty rather than the lower value Devon Pasty. Of course he could always have been swayed by a real local delicacy the Trevisthick's Pie. He wiped his hands on his handkerchief which he popped back in his breast pocket. He gave the crowd a wave and started moving my way again. As he approached I noticed a look of alarm on his face which gave way to a tortured grimace. I didn't know what to do, meeting Royalty and other dignitaries always makes me go daft. Instinctively, I started a bowing and a scraping, cap in hand while walking backwards as I do know you are not supposed to turn your back on Royals. As even at the best of times it can get crowded on that stretch of pavement I could see that we were heading for further manoeuvering problems. Fortunately, just as I tumbled back into a woman in a wheelchair's lap HRH and his party turned into the London Inn. Phew! that was close. I apologised to the aged woman in the wheelchair who I recognised as the rather grand old lady who always gets wheeled to the front at every local celebration and municipal occasion. Bless her but I don't think she has much idea of what's really going on. Meanwhile the crowd had by now surged across the road and were trying to peer in through the windows of the pub. Soon those pressed up against the panes at the front started relaying what was going on inside to those behind them. Apparently, Charles was having a swift half and Camilla a glass of Cherry B. I decided it was probably best to make myself scarce before they all came out again no doubt heading my way once more up to Tiki or Cawthorne's. So I beat a hasty retreat back to me bike. Besides, not only was I getting bleddy freezing so was me pasty. All this proper meddle and caper had left me feeling a bit mazed so I thought the best idea was to get back home, light up the fire, have a glass of cider, put me feet up and see if I could see myself on Spotlight later on
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