The fantastic hopelessness of Craig Murray’s Uzbek local staff colleague as described in the previous posting (she did not know whether guests were coming to the Ambassador’s key dinner party, so she just guessed!) made me recall an episode back in Sarajevo.

I was down to meet a senior Russian colleague (and a friend from my earlier time in Moscow) from the High Representative’s office for dinner on a Monday. I had been Zagreb for the preceding weekend to visit my family who were living there as Sarajevo was deemed too unsafe for young children. But the military plane bringing me back could not fly, so I had to cancel the dinner as I could not get to Sarajevo in time.

I telephoned the Embassy and asked my Bosnian colleague to get on to the Russian’s office and let him know with my apologies that I could not make dinner. When I finally returned to Sarajevo I checked with her that she had done this. "Yes."

A couple of weeks later I was contacted by my Russian friend: "I have been waiting for your apology. I came to your flat for dinner, and then to the Embassy, where I found that you were not in Sarajevo. I am surprised and disappointed at your behaviour."

Whaaaaat?

It turned out:

(a) that she had not called the Russian’s office to cancel the dinner

(b) that she had lied to my face when she said that she had done so

(c) that she knew that he had come to the Embassy looking for me and had not told me on my return, thereby leaving me in an even worse position vis-a-vis my colleague.

I called her in and gave her the Mother of All Final Warnings.

She usually worked hard and well, but if she could not operate to sensible honest professional standards, she would have to leave the Embassy. She now should leave the office, go home, and come back when she had considerd whether she was up to the job.

She departed, returning in due course. But she never recovered her earlier bounce.

Some tendon in the strong relationship between us had been cut; it never properly healed.

Then I wrote a grovelling letter of apology to my Russian friend, and we finally got round to having that dinner.

He of course graciously forgave me for this British Embassy protocol fiasco.

And moved on to much greater things.