For some reason not everybody agrees that i have the face of a, it has to be said, slightly battered angel; A face of a certain rougish charm; A strong yet serene face. In fact it would seem that some people think i have the face of a thug, or a mean nasty cold nasty criminal. This, i s'pose i could live with. I mean some women like cold hard steely eyed 'sorts' .James Bonds description in the books; Clint Eastwood made a few bob playing that Dirty Harry type character,and film n' books're filled with cold ruthless enigmatic characters such as this. But my problem is, the people who think i'm a bastard n' a criminal all work for airport security and customs. I went through a patch where i could be on a plane full of international criminals, terrorists and all-round bad guys. And, i would be the one pulled into an office, questioned, searched. etc.(i have to admit to having been spared any body searches involving rubber gloves and the sort.) People with AK47-shaped wheelie cases, or, rocket launcher-shaped shoulder bags were allowed through. Whereas i got the ,oh so familiar, "Could you please come with me please, sir."
One good thing about marrying 'The Lovely Lynne,'(One of many, of course, imust point out.) Is that marrying a bank manager, as long as i'm with her, pulling the cases, like someone who knows their place, as a good husband should. I am part of her airspace of respectability. Rather like Parker carrying Lady Penelope's bags. Even criminal sorts like me n' Parker become respectable. As long as the 'Lovely Respectable Lady Lynne' is nearby, i'm fairly safe. As she knows too well, if i wander off by myself, like hounds chasing a fox. Trouble will catch me.
This must all be borne in mind as we go away to the U.S.ofA. in a few days time and the excitment is building in the house,(all this excitment building and us without planning permission!...sorry!).
I'm not excited, i know i'll enjoy myself there. I enjoy myself, wherever i find myself. It's just getting up at ungodly hours, farting about for hours in airports specifically designed for maximum discomfort. I always end up sleeping on the floor, thats how comfy the seats are. Then when we arrive in yank airspace, the filling of absolutly hilariously ridiculous forms inquiring if i've killed anyone, peddaled drugs, been a nazi, took the dog for a walk without a poo- bag and wether i'll be doing any of these fun things during my time in the good ol U.S.of A.
They do say the longest journey begins with the first step. I'll probably trip on the doorstep.
Anyhow, all the best, see you in a couple of weeks, if they dont send me too Guatamelo(?) bay, mind you i think those orange overalls look quite smart.