The glistening, inviting Swiss slopes of Davos, and by the steps of the hotel sat a woman alone, crying, forlorn. I comforted her; “Cheer up, Rachel – at least Keir is standing by you.” She cried all the harder.
What were they really discussing in secret at the WEF as we mingled over supper and at the ski-runs? Well…
It was a large haggis last night. A proper Burns Night in Switzerland is unexpected, but this was done very well. I smirked to watch the utter puzzlement of the miscellany of foreign officials who received invitations and went for politeness. Pausing in terror of the blood-curdling screeching heard coming from the venue, they approached gingerly, to be engulfed in a whisky-fumed, tartan-clad, moneyed class version of Brigadoon. Then they sat in bewilderment, their refined palates shocked by good, wholesome food, and incomprehensible poetry. Thank goodness they got Scots to read the poems. An untutored Englishman should never be allowed near Rabbie’s verse.
Forks dabbed uncertainly at the strange food on the plate – apart from the French of course who will eat anything with offal. Their cooks spend hours labouring with a cupboardful of ingredients, spices and wine, then wie;ly smother the result with mustard to hide the flavour. It must have shocked then to find a simple haggis is better than that which all the kitchens of Paris can produce. As the Address was read in full flourish, the stony face of my Gallic neighbour at the table I attributed to his not understanding a word, rather than a reaction to the passage about French cooking.
The ‘Great Chieftain of the Pudding Race’, I explained, is not Scots for ‘President of the United States’.
These events should tease out the secrets, but the would-be cosmocrats were tight-lipped. I had to tip whisky into their “Slovakian” aides to get anything about what was going on. Their reports to Putin will be very bland, alas. The politicians and wonks were tight-lipped out of embarrassment. As Rachel is finding out, politicians are not really in charge. When you meet them, you will be thankful for that. The power they have is to ruin things, but even then the wealth-generators can hide in Switzerland or America until the storm passes.
There are gorgeous hotels in Davos, which I would recommend to anyone who can get their taxpayers to pay for their holiday. Elegant gowns, sparkling jewelry – anything donors can supply. We were warned to look out for thieves operating in the resort, but they are easily spotted as they wear badges labelled ‘Finance Minister’.
The weather chart showed clear skies ahead that should have invited delegates to the slopes, but at the edge loomed a worrying orange blob, who addressed the conference by video. He proclaimed a commitment to peace, to much approval, and then declared war on Canada, Denmark and Panama, causing outrage and a determination to protect those countries, apart from Panama. The most horrid thing, according to my sources (if I was understanding their slurred Russian) was the fear the plutocrats have that The Donald is right.
The skies are clear, the snow is smooth and deep, and there is a good hospital down in the town. The other important things I discovered over the week covering the World Economic Forum are that diplomats prefer to cower in heated hotels, that not all French officials are disgusting lechers – why tarnish all with the faults of a majority? – and that even an unlimited expense account can be pulled if abused. The same as last year then.
