Royal imposter

After the interim update about border difficulties, it is time to bring the loyal and eager readership up to date with other news. 


In the previous hotel, we were delighted but a little surprised by how hospitable (even a little sycophantic?) they were towards us. 


The owner of the restaurant (in a symbiotic relationship with the hotel), who also spoke good English and who was charming, introduced us to her business partner and then the chef. They all sort of bowed and half curtsied. Strange we thought. Perhaps this is normal in these parts. 


Realisation dawned when a friend of Caron sent a newspaper clip from a Turkish newspaper. They have mistaken us for ‘members of the British Royal Family’. 


It’s my fault. When checking in at a hotel I was asked my name. “Charles” I replied. “Carl?” She responded. “No. Charles, as in King Charles.” Knowing looks were exchanged by all who overheard this conversation. News spreads fast. 







It was also Caron’s birthday. Nellie organised a cake, which arrived 12 hours early, but hey!




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