I Twice Met George H W Bush. By Tim Moult

In 1986, my company transferred me from London to Sydney and put me up in a small flat at the end of Darling Point, a quiet, smart part of town. Directly across the road was the United States Consulate. Apart from a flag and a discreet plaque, it looked much like all the other waterfront mansions in the area. Driving home from my new office one evening, I was surprised to see a couple of police cars outside my apartment block, with all their lights flashing. I was directed to pull over and then ordered out of my car. A beefy Sydney cop pinned me against my vehicle – but wasn’t keen to explain why. I worked it out when several large black limos came round the corner. They were too big to get through the gates of the Consulate. So the passengers, including the then Vice-President George H W...

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