Return to Rideau Hall...
I arrived in Ottawa and went directly by cab to the front entrance of Rideau Hall. Secrecy was useless.
I was shown in to a reception room where I'd been told Stephen Harper had been kept waiting for hours. I lit a cigar and enjoyed the moment.
At length, Her Excellency sat opposite me and asked: "Well?"
"I must tell Your Excellency that your appeal to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council has been dismissed."
There was a pregnant pause. "Shit," she said.
"Nevertheless, I am commanded to express to you Her Majesty's views on the present constitutional problem in Canada."
"Which are...?"
I told her.
"Furthermore, Her Majesty, through the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council, has commanded me to present to you her private views."
"Which are...?"
I told her.
"I didn't know she could use language like that."
I'd been waiting avidly for this moment.
"It's the Queen's English," I said.
She gave me a black look and said, "Thanks, I guess."
I let myself out the tradesmens' entrance and repaired immediately to the Chateau Laurier in a dishevelled state. It occurred to me that being a constitutional lawyer was a pretty good gig.
I was comfortably into my third Screech on the rocks when I was approached by a pair of cowboy boots, above which was a cowboy suit to match.
"Hi," said the owner of the suit. "My name's Ed, and I'm looking to take Alberta out of Confederation."
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