Time Turner
. . . fiction by Odyssea
. . .Eleven Pipers Not Piping. . .
I am really not a fan of Scotland.
So, Grandmere decided I just had to accompany her on some diplomatic mission in Edinburgh. Never mind that Michael and I were going to see a double feature of Ed Wood movies, or that Grandmere�s idea of a diplomatic mission is bringing cognac to the starving masses so their sidecars are perfectly mixed.
I begged Mom, but she and Mr. Gianini are too busy with Rocky to really care what happens to her oldest child, and Dad wouldn�t stop talking about the many interesting cultural and historical hotspots I could visit. So, off I went with Grandmere, who had enough sidecars on the plane to fly herself to Scotland.
Of course, this whole �diplomatic mission� thing was a big fake, and Grandmere wanted to visit some friend of hers � Countess Something or Other � who is just as big a fan of sidecars. After two days, I was ready to see all those boring history places rather than listen to Grandmere and her friends prattle on about Mitzi Someone (who apparently cheated on her husband) and Baden-Baden while Rommel and Countess� Yorkie nibbled on my ankles in matching angora sweaters.
So, finally, after a week of boring talk and even more boring tours of historical sights, we finally got to do something royal. Not that I really wanted to, because formal events and me? Totally a bad idea. But we had to meet the Lord Provost, who is in charge of the city council, because he wanted to give a speech welcoming the royalty of Genovia to his fair city. Or something like that, because I wasn�t really paying attention, focusing instead on smiling and looking happy to be there.
At least until I fell over.
It wasn�t intentional � my leg really itched because Grandmere made me wear pantyhose. So I tried to scratch my leg with my other foot really carefully, and then I lost my balance because I was wearing heels.
And then I fell over into the bagpipers.
I�m never going back to Scotland.
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