Well, I suppose you could say it was the witch’s incredible writing skills that took her and the Resident IT Consultant to the Statsraad Lehmkuhl last night. And, no, the name is almost as incomprehensible to me as it is to you. It’s a tall ship, a three-masted barque, I understand. I’d call it a boat. What I’m trying to say is that this has nothing to do with books.
When the envelope from the Norwegian embassy arrived, I did that annoying thing people do in books; turn it round wondering what it could possibly be, rather than open it. I decided it had better be an invitation from the ambassador. And it was! He was throwing a party on board the Statsraad Lehmkuhl in Liverpool for the Tall Ships Race.
So, we went. In fact it wasn’t the great writing skills that took me. It was the family car, and it did so with difficulty, and let me tell you there are countless ways of getting lost in a Liverpool with diversions. But the first man we stopped to ask, knew we wanted the Malmaison car park without us saying a word. So it ended weller than it should have.
The boat was teeming with Norwegians and a small scattering of us other Nordics being tolerated for the day. The food was wonderful! Masses of fish, and all of the highest quality. The Resident IT Consultant felt under dressed until he saw all the Norwegian knitted cardigans worn by those in the know. He should have worn his fake one.
When the band struck up The Leaving of Liverpool, we took the hint and went home.
The brilliant writing that I mentioned earlier is that piece I wrote in Dagens Nyheter (leading Swedish paper) about the threats to the Scandinavian church. People are easily impressed, I can tell you. My latest technique when receiving compliments, is to agree completely with whoever I’m talking to. But whether this will help save the church is still uncertain.