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The Elegance Network: Browsing Mel Rook The Ambassador's Wife
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Melanie Rook
Mel Rook The Ambassador's Wife

It isn't all glamour, being the Ambassador's wife. Sure, a cushy posting to London, Paris or Rome might be very high-life and the latest collections from Milan, but there's always the chance of being shuffled around the bureaucratic roulette wheel and ending up posted to Outer Flipineckestan, or wherever they were. No designers, no superstores, no tennis tournaments, no champers, no chocolates and precious little in the way of edible food or drinkable water. The local brew tasted like Yak urine, and the local delicacy actually was Yak urine. Yuck. Plus there's always the chance some rampaging riff would kidnap you from the amabassdorial "complex" (well, shack) and hold you for ransom until darling hubby got on the satellite phone and arranged for the dismantling of the whole apparatus of Western Imperialist Capitalism by midnight tonight... or got his hands on a thousand non-forged US dollars, whichever was easier.

It wasn't even much of a fright. It isn't all glamour, being the Ambassador's wife...

She wasn't really worried about the kidnapping. The local tribes were so skint that a thousand greenbacks would see them in high heaven for the next six months, and she hardly begrudged them that. What she DID begrudge is that some horrible hairy oaf had stolen her Jimmy Choos, and there were simply NO decent shoe-shops in the entire COUNTRY! She hated to imagine whether her exquisite footwear was destined for some grubby slattern from the local tribe, or worse yet was a little "keepsake" for the hairy oaf to remember her by...

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