9 May 2013. John Shipton, Julian’s father, was interviewed about his son’s candidacy for Australian Senate and his life in the Ecuadorian Embassy.
“He can’t look out the window because if well-wishers know it’s your room they might throw, who knows, a leg of lamb or something…”
Eddie and Freddie from Hebden Bridge arrived at Aunt Sophie’s door this evening with a side of lamb. They said we could have it if we promised not to ask where it came from.
“You boys better be careful, “ said Sophie. “Or you’ll end up with a one-way ticket to Australia.”
Eddie giggled. “I could be Julian’s running mate.”
“You’re not cute enough,” I told him. “Bet you ten quid it’ll be Jennifer.”
Sophie and I left them in the sitting room arguing politics with Gertie and Maud, and hefted the lamb into the kitchen.
Sophie took her athalme from the Kali altar and hacked off a leg, drizzled it with Gertie’s homemade absinthe, and put it in the oven. But no sooner had she placed the sizzling roast on the window sill to cool, than Little Fudgie grabbed it and dragged it under the piano. It took six of us twenty minutes to get it back. We hid the teeth marks with parsnips, arranged it on a serving platter, and took the train to London.
But we did not lob it at the Embassy window. Please. That’s a guy thing.