It would nice you take your cell phone and do a Rob
Video selfy as lu-la entries instead of writing
On those plastic dusty keyboards we still have,
Wich in fact are not far from the antiques pre-industrial
Revolution printing machines.
Don't be shy. Your scotish accent will be cool, such
As my french one.
Fred, plastic dusty keyboards are saving my pride! (My keyboard, anyway, is special: it also contains vintage crumbs.) But, the pride thing: I wrote my few Christmas cards on Saturday night (yeah, pathetic, innit?) and with the very first one I realised that I am almost unable to write by hand and read what I've just put down! I already suspected something was wrong when I discovered that notes I'd written on various computer-related things were illegible the next time I referred to them. But, with the cards, I was trying to be neat - and still failed!
Video selfies: Fred, you know how long it took me to get to grips with Weebly; you surely don't think I have the patience to attempt
video, do you? Anyway, my Samsung is almost dead now - or at least the battery is, and worse, when I had to change from Vista to W8.1 I lost the ability to work on the Samsung cellphone pictures - W8 won't download them, and I have to wire up the Vista computer again to access 'em. W8.1 also killed off my Blue Eye Pro calibration device that came with the LaCie monitor... Bugger new technology - it destroys and bleeds you to death.
Scottish accent: in Scotland they call me English, in England they call me Scottish. Here in Mallorca, an Ibizan girl thought I was French. But only abroad do I
almost fall into any handy definitions anymore! And I thank Italian for that because it allows me to speak Mediterranean; you must have met many people like me in Spain. Perhaps some of my forebears ganged up together and invented Esperanto. We become a diaspora of the nationality dispossessed, a generation of people owing allegiance nowhere beyond family. And God help anyone messes with family. But you know all that; it comes with prolonged travel: stay away from home long enough and the myths about it dissolve into the reality that home is actually where you choose to make it - doesn't have squat to do with borders and names and flags. Was a time when I still had my hot Escort (well, lukewarm?) that I toyed with having a Dixie flag painted on the roof (enjoyed the Dooks of Haz, especiall the chick!) even though I never shared any America background - it was entirely a visual choice (or would have been) based on the fact that I think it looks a wonderful bit of graphic design
and for me, nothing to do with politics at all.
