Sweet little lies

Posted on June 4, 2012


I’m not expecting many people to read this post. At least, not in the UK given that we have a four day holiday to celebrate her Glorious Maj’s 60 years in the same job. Whether royalist or republican, this is seen as a pretty major achievement. That said, by the time we want to claim our pensions, 86 might well be retirement age, although I doubt our day’s work will include standing in the rain on a river barge waving, or having Gary Barlow and Andrew Lloyd-Weber write songs for us. Does the punishment never end!  True to tradition, there has been old testament rain for most of the weekend. How do you eat pork pies and coronation chicken in the rain and still smile?  Drink – a lot (another great (small g) British tradition).  I suspect we are a Kingdom (Queendom?) united in a hangover this morning and not up to reading very much.   This is difficult for me given that I have an Andorran novel to finish.  More of that later. Well, I say more, there’s not much that can be said about 100 page novel in Catalan about time travel except that, thank God it’s only 100 pages and I’ve already read 70 of them.

In the meantime, I’m going on a brief excursion.  Most travels of over 3 weeks end up with someone saying they want to be on their own for a few days and arrangements are made to meet up at some future point.  My excursion has been thrust upon me by my Long Term Love and Live in Programmer, Chad.   This is what happened about a week ago.

Chad is building me a website.  He starts by creating a database of countries. He shows me the list.  ‘Does this look about right?’  I check the list. ‘What are the Aland Islands? They’re not a country. At least I’ve never heard of them? Where are they?’ He clicks and taps – on his keyboard, naturally, he doesn’t make strange noises himself, not all the time.  ‘They’ve got a country code’.  That doesn’t really mean anything. ‘And a flag.’ ‘Oh, well, a flag, that decides it.’ He clicks and taps some more. ‘They have a shield and a motto and a football team.’ ‘Well, they must be part of somewhere else. They can’t be very big?’ Tap, click. ‘About 28,000 people. An autonomous region of Finland.’ ‘There can’t be any writers in so few people though can there?’ Clickety, click, click, click. ‘Quite a lot actually.’ It’s as if they have nothing better to do on their bloody Baltic islands than write. ‘Yeah, well they can’t be that famous.’ Tappedy, tap, tap, bloody tap. ‘One’s got her face on a stamp.’ ‘Bet they’re not translated into English.’  G..O..O..G..L..E. ‘Yup! See. This one. You can’t avoid it babe. You said EVERY country.’

I hate google. I don’t like Chad very much. In nearly 20 years of being together he still hasn’t learnt how to tell me sweet little lies.  Some think that’s a good thing.  I think it means that I’m going to have to read Katrina by Sally Salminen.  It has already arrived, so after Andorra and before Angola I’m going on a weekend break back to the ‘al’s. Catch up with you all in Angola.

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