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eventually we met up, presented bona fides and answered a host of questions. They did know something had gone on; there was news from Ireland and news from the ships that had turned back, there were a whole host of wild reports about grey ships, horseless carriages and things that flew through the air, so our outlandish ways were at least partially understood. There was a great deal of disbelief and the Second Secretary took some convincing, especially as with regard to his lost estates - that required a certain amount of flannel, as I don’t think anyone had thought of how what we now call trans-persons who had lost out in the Dislocation who might have claims on property in the United Kingdom could be dealt with. Luckily all five members of the embassy had their immediate families with them; others were not so lucky. Some of the other early diplomatic arrivals had different problems - we were denied access to Spain, our man in the Austrian Netherlands refused to speak to us and things were very sticky in Cologne. However, as news got about, we were more and more accepted.
     
    Just about every writer since the Dislocation has usually made a song and dance about how filthy and disgusting they found their first encounter outside the United Kingdom. I do not intend to do that; I think it is fair to say that some of the accounts, especially later ones from the mid-1980’s, were just regurgitating popular prejudices. It was fairly grim, to be honest - although our experiences helped the next tranche of expeditions abroad, who went equipped with bug powder, their own bedding, Elsans and Andrex. Our medical precautions were also useful; I don’t believe from later experiences that trans food is inherently dirty and certainly plenty of it is tasty, it is just that we needed to gain compatibility in certain ways. Certainly our some of our early trans guests had to deal with dicky tummies a few times, despite our much higher food hygiene standards.
     
    Having got to Paris, there was the question of actually getting to Versailles. We had prepared a note which was sent through official channels requesting an audience; it was felt to be rash to try and just drop in, especially as there was now a noticeable military presence hanging around the embassy. I was reminded of the emergency procedure by one of our drivers, which was quite scary in itself. Essentially, some of our drivers were not as it seems, and in absolute extremis they would call in a helicopter; I have never asked if there were guns secreted on the land rovers, but I suspect I know the answer. However, by noon an answer had been received from Versailles; the Cardinal could see us around 3pm. Time, of course, was a lot more flexible in trans-land due to difficult travel times and the lack of accurate clocks.
     
    Our big advantage was that we knew a lot about the Cardinal Fleury: that in general he had done a good job of restoring France’s finances; that he was flexible on some matters but not on internal religious affairs - and especially not on Jansenists; that he had usually sought peace above war; and that he had great influence with the King but somewhat less with the nobles, many of whom resented him. We managed to make the 12 or so miles to Versailles in about forty minutes, and eventually - with the help of our terrified guide, who crossed himself about every two minutes - pulled up at one of the smaller wings, where a sparse, elderly man was looking - no, staring at the LandRover in amazement.
     
    I will say this about Fleury, he has no side to him. He took us in and he listened to us; occasionally he asked a question; occasionally he would signal to a secretary to take a note. He asked the usual questions about the Dislocation: How, What, Why? I carefully phrased things so as not to indicate our total ignorance of the matter in question. I also carefully trailed a Catholic cloak in front of him, which he picked up swiftly and which led to a number of other