I love interviewing politicians. I don't usually do so on my own initiative, because political analysis is not my field. I prefer human interest stories - and politicians can be great human interest stories; the problem is that few people want to publish articles about The Person. They want articles about what The Person said.

Sometimes I accompany foreign journalists in order to guide, translate and fill in information gaps, and a few times Gal and I went together to Gaza and the West Bank so that he could interview various Palestinian Authority officials for his newspaper, which has a right-wing mandate (although Gal is a classic pragmatic centrist whose attitude is tempered by healthy cynicism of the "plague on both your houses" variety).

Gal, the politics junkie who knows the name and history of every Palestinian politician, militant or activist you can think of, asks the nuts and bolts questions; he lets me ask the soft-but-treacherous questions. He says we complement each other, and I know that he's taught me a lot. He also tells great stories. But as soon as he sees my eyes light up after he recounts another great tale he warns me, "Don't you dare write about what I just told you!" (Me, wheedling: Oh please! He: Are you kidding?! Do you want to burn all my connections?)

I often find myself wishing that I could write more about what the politicians are really like. And it's such a dilemna, because on the one hand it would be great if more people had an accurate picture of who our leaders really are; but on the other hand if you expose all the cynical details then you can bet that that politician will never give you another interview - which means you're kind of screwed.

Once I interviewed a well-known Israeli politician for a puff piece. I was warned by my editor not to blow the interview by asking any tough questions, because the point was to get some nice sunny quotes about a certain sector of the Israeli economy for an advertising supplement. This particular politician has a reputation for being an unusually cultured and soft-spoken man with an impressive education and family background, but that's all I'm gonna say.

Since the politician is a Very Important and Busy Man, his assistant said that he wouldn't have time for a face-to-face interview. Instead, she arranged for us to speak via phone while he was being driven from one appointment to another. I was granted 15 minutes.

I started by introducing myself and explaining the purpose of the article, but he cut me off before I could finish. Speaking in English, he said brusquely, "Look, you're wasting my time. You're writing the article for an English-language publication so just speak to me in English."

Then he said: "Don't forget to write that I have a doctorate from [Very Important American University]. And do you know about my family? Do you know who my father is? Don't forget to put that in the article too."

Then he began to speak about the sector of the economy he was responsible for, claiming that it was on the cusp of a huge development.

"Really?" I said. "Can you give me any numbers? How much have sales increased over the past quarter, for example?"

"What do you think I am?" he yelled. "A salesman? How should I know how much sales have increased?"

Then, without missing a beat, he started to yell at his driver.

"No, you manyak [asshole]! What are you doing?! I told you to go right, not left!"

Okay, everyone's all excited about the huge fiberglass bulls that have been installed all up and down Rothschild Boulevard to mark the 70th anniversary of the Tel Aviv stock exchange. (the photo of Superbull was shamelessly lifted from Savtadotty's Flickr account, where you can see a full range of bull photos).

I confess, I was pretty entranced too. Rothschild is right around the corner from my apartment, and I love strolling up and down the lovely, tree-and-bench-lined boulevard under any circumstances. The bulls, each created by a different artist, were a huge added bonus.

Until today. This Saturday hordes of families with adorable-but-noisy children swarmed into my neighbourhood, taking advantage of the perfect warm weekend weather to make a day-trip from the 'burbs to The Big City. I felt terribly posessive: what were these strangers doing to my lovely boulevard? Where was my sabbath peace? Oh dear, not a single free bench for sitting, hanging out with friends and reading. They were all occupied by weary parents.

I know, I shouldn't be such a cow about the bulls. But I really missed my Saturday peace and quiet today.

P.S.This week's GVO post is up. Click here to read.