‘Did you see that photo that Trump posted of himself as pope, dressed in a golden tiara and glitzy papal regalia. Didn’t see the papal slippers though,’ I said as Vicky served us our first pints.

‘Unbelievable,’ Camp said, shaking his head of grey curls. ‘Only a fool would do that. Pissing off one and a half billion Catholics. I would like to be pope, he apparently said.’

‘I’m all for it. I think he should give up the presidency and become pope. He can then rule as an infallible autocrat and dress up in funny outfits every day and be adored by ten times as many devotees then he has now. He would also get to live in his own gilded palace in his very own country.’

‘It’s an interesting fantasy. He wouldn’t have to tolerate any kind of gender diversity and he would get the popemobile to parade around in.’

We both sipped our beers, looking out at the never boring harbour scene.

‘Now that our newly minted PM has made his first pilgrimage to the shrine, the White House, are we any better off today than yesterday,’ I asked Camp.

‘Not really, considering the buffoon’s latest posts on his own social media site. He doesn’t just want to make the US great again but Hollywood as well and then he wants to dance with Canada. It takes two to tango, he wisely admitted but nobody wants to dance with a wanna-be pope. We either ignore the whole circus since there isn’t a thing you or I can do or we move to New Zealand.’

‘Funny you should mention New Zealand Camp. Clare and I are planning a trip there this coming November. You know she worked there twenty-five years ago. We lived in Auckland for six months and loved every minute of it. We didn’t miss a thing. It’s civilized, the people are friendly and have a great sense of humour, the beers and wines are just as good as here and the weather is pretty well opposite what we have here. Summer starts in November and ends in May.’

‘I’ll have to sit and drink here by myself? It won’t be the same. You think New Zealand is further removed from Washington than Canada and Gibsons?’ 

‘They don’t share a porous border north and south and are an island, 3000km from the next continent across the Tasman Sea and nobody is trying to buy or invade it.’

‘But it’s a long way away from our pub and the people you know.’

Camp had a point. It’s the people we know and share our days with, family and friends, which gives our lives a purpose. Seeing the rest of the world as tourists and visitors just makes us appreciate what we have here. One of the best places on this planet. And it’s not for sale or up for grabs, not by the real estate punter who wants to be Pope, Napoleon and Genghis Khan, all in one.’

‘We haven’t heard the end of it yet,’ Camp said. ‘It’s an ongoing soap opera.’

We finished our pints and Vicky, with her usual aplomb didn’t miss a beat and served us two fresh, cold, foaming mugs. 

‘Sunshine in a glass,’ I said. 

‘Enjoy the moment,’ she said.