The World Is Out Of Order

My first birthday present has arrived. Christine sent it to me. She's probably the person who knows me best. I don't mean that she knows the drolleries of my entire life. I mean that she really knows me. If you were ever to write my obituary, please contact Christine.

But first I have to get angry with the Swiss Post. The parcel, she sent me, was 4 grams (62 grains) heavier than the stamp would have allowed. The poor girl had to pay a heavy penalty. Good intentions are not always rewarded.

The lovely but severely punished parcel contained a card, showing a bear catching a fish in a river (Christine knows me), and a book. This shows (again) how Christine knows me. Send me neighter champagne nor jewellery. My heart beat rises when I'm holding a brilliant book in my hands. The book is The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon in the adult edition:



Strange things happen. On my flight from Malaysia last night was a too handsome young man sitting in my row. The type of man who is just a bit too tall to be average, muscular but not too much, slim but not skinny, well balanced cheekbones, out-of-bed hairstyle but far from bad-hair-day. The kind of man that has to be stupid just to establish a minimum of justice in the world. He was reading this book that I was to hold in my hands within an hour after leaving the airliner.

Christine has never given my any crap. The book is well chosen. The bloke must be witty and charming. My view of the world is out of order big time.