Hillary Clinton Surprises Onlookers on Grafton Street in Dublin *updated*

How would you like to be walking down the street outside the local pub and run into the U.S. Secretary of State?

I’d be thrilled!

[Kirit Radia of ABC tweeted a little while ago that she had a beer (a small Harp) and coffee inside the pub]

Update: Thanks to Lucy for giving me the heads up about this article:

THIRTEEN CARS and three buses wound their way to Farmleigh and another piece of history was made as the first US secretary of state to make a dedicated visit to Ireland emerged from an armoured 07 BMW.

She came dressed in a royal blue “pantsuit”, feminised with a ruffle, a large silver necklace and black kitten heels, none of which detracted from that formidable gaze as she and the Taoiseach swapped diplomatic phrases under a lowering sky.

It was a transformed Hillary, wrapped in a black coat and jolly yellow scarf, who stepped from a limousine on South Anne Street in Dublin city centre a few hours later as dusk was falling.

The Irish are not a slow people. The Garda presence on South Anne Street was a giveaway and the lads in Kehoe’s pub were ready and waiting with a big cheer. Suddenly, from the emptying streets, humans were emerging from all angles, beaming just-got-lucky grins and wielding their camera phones, as a totally relaxed Hillary smiled and chatted her way towards Bewley’s, the usual wary secret service crew keeping watch but giving room for an astonishingly intimate love-in.

“Got your Michael Jackson glove?” she asked merrily, showing the stuff that made her great by clocking – in the dusk – the single white glove on a small boy’s hand.

Two little red-haired girls, Laura and Emma Smithers from Knocklion, Co Cavan, presented her with flowers : “Oh my gosh is that for me? Can I take them with me?” she asked, wide-eyed.

The sole dissenter was an earnest young man in a black windcheater who asked when she would be getting the solders out of Afghanistan, Iraq and Shannon.

“We’re working on it,” she said, by which time a few well-practised shoulder movements from secret service men swiftly bundled him to the back.

Next stop Bewley’s, where a couple of small boys stood clicking their iPhones in her face as she waited for her cappuccino.

“You guys together?” she grinned, drawing them both in for a picture.

How was she maintaining the pace, asked The Irish Times ? Multi-vitamins and “a bit” of exercise. “I’m not up at 4.30am. No! But I exercise a bit and I like to walk . . . ”

On then to McDaid’s pub where the patrons were climbing on the counter for a better view.

“She’s a great ambassador for women,” said one. “Fabulous,” breathed her friend. “She’s just . . . just a lady,” said another, as George Hook ensnared her in a corner.

As she sipped a beer, someone asked was it Guinness.

“This glass has a harp on it,” she replied sharply, as in “that’s good enough for me”.

Back outside, a stunned Joanne and Bob Kalinowski from Scranton, Pennsylvania, stood almost in tears. “We live 14 miles from her, and this is our first time to see her.”

This is a photo I found of John Kehoe’s pub on South Anne Street, just off Grafton Street:

And this is McDaids pub on Harry Street in Dublin:

inside McDaids pub, Harry St. Dublin