"So, when are you going back?" The Swede asked. His resemblance to Daniel Craig was uncanny. Everybody tried not to hum the Bond tune. Well, I know I was trying, anyway.

"I have to go back for Christmas so I'm not struck from the inheritance list," I said. He sat up, eyes bulging, a little pale.

"They can do that in Portugal?" He meant it - I checked.

"Oh yeah; we take Christmas very seriously." He shook his head a little horrified. I promised the other day I wouldn't lie anymore but it was a little late now to explain myself.

"We're not like that in Scandinavia. So you have to go to a government office and sign ourself in or what?"

"And take two witnesses of course. For the signatures." 

He looked out at the milky waters of the afternoon sea, his eyes scanning the dusty horizon for Pirate ships and Portuguese bureaucrats. But it was three o'clock, almost four and neither of them are very active after lunchtime.

 Later I was telling his Asian wife:

"Well, I've more or less worked six months, not worked six months the past three years." It's almost true, too, given the flexibility of the term "more or less" (and the flexibility of the word "almost"). "But I'm hoping maybe I can keep my job a little longer this time."

"So next time we see you, you will still be in Thailand? Married a Thai wife and ten childen like this one?" She pointed to little Gustav who'd collapsed next to us after our long session of hide and seek.
"No hairs on his arms, but all hair all curly on the head from your white man genes?" Ten? The mind reels but accomodates.

"Well, I can always start my own tribe I suppose."

"And your own dive school?"

"Oh, no. I hope not."

Magical ambition we accept - but let us check it's material sister. It could make a serious person, (the so-called mature adult), and we'd find ourselves writing about VAT and cholestrol levels and investing in stocks and bonds. Or, God forbid, taking politics seriously.

Shoot us if we ever.


Please.

(Robert Zimmerman above, Corey Cogdell by Lucas Jackson below)