Prelude No.10 (in Bb-minor) OR rhinoceros beetles and their allies

04-09-09 OR Where's Wally/Lloyd?

I have a new favourite word: pre-lash. Perhaps you have heard it before. I hadn't. Ben Roberts, lately of the United Kingdom (the English bit), introduced it to my vocabulary. Lasty, fancy joining us for a prelash?

Pre-what?

The easiest way to arrange a prelash is on the old Skype network. Where would I be without Skype? Lund, Sweden. Skype and location are not causally related - you're a fool for even thinking it! Incidentally, before I tell you about prelashes and how wonderfully exciting they are, I'd like to share a little story with you. Don't worry, it's not very long. In fact, I'll even write it in italics...

Often, when you are on a bus, or in a bus, you overhear conversations. John and Jan might be discussing how terribly inconvenient university is ("... it's the attendence that I really hate! And can you believe I have to write a report...") or perhaps Michael and Fiona are comtemplating classic literature ("... do you love Jodie Piccoult as much as I do? She's the best... it's like she says exactly what I'm thinking, but with words..."). In any case, there's usually a dense cacophony of bus banter. Sometimes, people simply make noises. Not words, just sounds. Like whistling. I like to whistle, do you? No? But anyone can whistle - just ask Sondheim! Today I heard a boy whilsting the Skype ring tone. There was a moral to this story, but it has since evaporated...

So, to set the scene, I am in Ben's apartment. Lloyd, lately of the United Kingdom (the Scottish bit), is also there. I am not sure about prelash etiquette, so I have brought crisps. I ask Ben if Wally is coming? Ben turns to Lloyd: aren't you Wally? To cut an awkward story short, Lloyd has a new nickname (Wally 2.0). Ben brings out the liquor, "Lasty, prepare to get prelashed!" Or words to that tune. I try my hardest to endorse the time-honoured icon of Australian-as-beer-drinker. If I were made of stronger stuff, or had a few extra (let's say 50) kilos under my belt, this would not be so difficult. However, I am, as the locals say, en rädd, konstiga, lilla kille , so the drinks go right through me. Later, Ettienne creeps by the window, wearing a raccoon-skin hat. We invite him in, even though he is dressed like a procyonous ruski. Then Volker arrives, escourted by the real Wally. Honestly, I don't know why Martin Handford looked so hard, they're ev'rywhere!

Meanwhile, the crisps have worked a treat.

And that was my first prelash. The actual lash, however, was quite different. I had a vision in my mind of some pathetic hag, imprisoned in the stocks, being whipped by a deviant arch-executioner. It turns out you just go to a nightclub and dance.

09-09-09 OR occasionally, you will learn something

Billy Anachronism. The most exciting thing about being in a master level course is that I have fast-tracked my studies. Today I read an article about Rhinoceros Beetles in South-East Asia. It's all happening, I tell you! Also, Gabriela (whose cousin, by the way, is Nadia Comaneci) has adopted me as her son. In fact, she has invited me to dine with her family next week. If Bram Stoker has taught me anything, it's that Romanians are undead creatures of the night that feast only on the flesh of the living. Usually, I wouldn't go for that, but I'll probably be hungry in a week. Dilemmas...