The King and him (and the princess)

Reading a post by Shelley of At Home in Rome about celebrity sightings, I was reminded of the time my man’s foot almost got stuck underneath the King of Sweden’s car, and how I could have lost him to one of the princesses.

It was last summer and we were staying with friends in Stockholm for a few days. Since it was my man’s first time in the Swedish capital we agreed we might as well do the obvious and start in Gamla stan (the old town). We were walking past the castle when we noticed that a side door to the inner courtyard was open; curiosity got the better of us, and so we went over to have a look. Suddenly the big doors swung open and a car appeared with a very cross-looking man at the wheel. It was the King of Sweden driving with some security person next to him. My man had his back turned and swung around (in response to my and my friend’s yelps of excitement) just as the King (or Gustaf as we now call him) impatiently turned the car in the general direction of my man, who had to more or less throw himself out of the way in order to avoid having his foot crushed by the wheels.

Afterwards my man was cursing and swearing at the missed opportunity. He was convinced that had he only allowed Gustaf to crush his toes he would have felt obliged to offer him the hand of his youngest daughter, Princess Madeleine in marriage. And what about me you wonder? Well, I suppose he expected me to become the maid or something. Or maybe I would have been disposed of altogether. It’s nice to feel so irreplaceable.

By the way, Gustaf is renowned for his love of fast cars, and for being a very hotheaded driver. And because he can't be tried for any driving offences, he could, I suppose, literally get away with murder.