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Lydia Dypchyk was extremely proud of her new computer, so much so that she had placed it on her small dining table, removing the dried flower arrangement to a side table. Her lovingly lacquered nails seemed to dance over the keyboard as she explored the internet, and a smile played over her lips only varying slightly in intensity according to the contents she found reflected on the screen which glowed before her. If one was unaware that this was a computer it could almost seem as if there were a small shrine or idol upon the table and she was making offerings and communing with a minor deity by the gestures of her finger tips.

Lydia was a voluptuous woman, but still of an age where every ounce of her physique seemed directed upwards and outwards. To any of the Lithuanian men-folk who dared to court her there is no doubt she was the model of what a woman should be like. But Lydia had no time for the men of Lithuania. She was determined to escape the small minded pettiness of her local village. Ever since she took her first English classes and met the adventures of the Brown family used as an example in the school test books Lydia had become gradually more obsessed with the desirability of such a life style. No horse and cart for the Browns when they ventured on a vacation, Mr Brown has an automobile which he would install the family into before departing for the most romantic of destinations, the seaside. This was another of Lydia’s dreams. Lithuania had no seaside, the Baltic was not a sea to Lydia’s mind, for it connected with no ocean. Lydia’s idea of the perfect romance was to be wooed by an Englishman like the dapper Mr Brown in a seaside town. Although Lydia had never seen the sea she had been to the Kaunas lagoon and so she felt she could dream with some authority. To her mind the Southern seaside towns of England epitomised romance, they had the combined connections of the Atlantic and North Sea. They had the fish and chips and the funfairs, with a pier to provide the perfect venue for a stroll towards the setting sun and perhaps an embrace and a kiss at the end of the day. Lydia still had very fond memories of her first kiss on the Melrage beach, she had been there for the schools only trip away from her native Vilnius and the head boy had been taken with her charms, Alfred had embraced her as she was overcome with yearnings for a REAL beach and not this native one of her homeland, looking West out on to the Baltic Sea. That kiss had confirmed what she suspected; no native of Lithuania could match the passion with which she imagined a “Mr Brown” might kiss her. To her imagination the “seaside” of Lithuania was as pale and imitation as the hesitant adolescent kiss had been. She had shrugged off Alfred and walked back to the hostel alone. Perhaps he took offence, perhaps not – Lydia did not care, all she knew was that the next time she kissed she wanted it to be with a man and not a boy and she wanted it to be not any man but an Englishman.

Lydia was possessed of an extremely practical and tenacious nature for a dreamer. She was at the age where her dreams were ambitions and for her nothing would stand in the way of this dream. Although her school days were some eight years distant now the day-dreams of Mr Brown, and his perfect nuclear family, with the car, the modern house, the trips to the seaside, the family pets and minor dramas of family life; this dream persisted and this computer was a step towards Lydia realising her dream for herself.

“Seek husband England talk” Lydia typed into her google search. She was shocked when up popped the story of British police hot on the trail of a husband they were seeking in connection with the murder of his wife! Then she turned her attention to the advertised sites and found more the sort of thing she had been hoping for… Surely now she had the computer she longed for her dreams of finding an Englishman to become her husband could not be far away. But how to begin her seduction over the internet? Lydia has been assiduous in her research whilst waiting for the computer though, and she knew there was a program for seeking to “chat” online with people. ICQ was named after the phrase “I seek You” in fact, all that Lydia was missing now was the third person, the “you”. The Mr Brown of her teenage dreams.

Lydia had installed ICQ on the computer when she was setting it up initially, but she was not happy with the searches it had allowed her. She needed a way to specify more closely the sort of man she would find attractive and who, eventually, she felt sure, would be very susceptible to her own charms. She had a quite specific idea of how to find the right sort of man, and it was not based on her early fantasies with the Brown family from the text book at school. Such ideas seemed childish to her now and she smiled at the thought of them.

During her school years Lydia had been quite a bright, if somewhat distracted young girl. If she had a subject she felt most drawn to it was probably English. But at the same time she was an avid reader in her mother tongue and the book which awakened her dormant sexuality was “The Year of the Lilies of the Valley” by Jurga Ivanauskaite. Sadly the beloved author had passed away now, but the wonderfully sensual if somewhat despondent characters lived on in Lydia’s memory. As she grew she came to appreciate the works of her very own home grown hero, Jurgis Kuncinas. Living in Vilnius everyone had heard of the man. But Lydia as a young person had rebelled against the authority of her parents, for whom such an author whilst admired was to them beyond their reach to read. Not so for Lydia. With her newfound attitude and a hair style and clothes to match such a counter culture author was just the ticket and to this day her much thumbed copy of “Tula” was a prized possession.

Lydia was thinking about these books and how she could find an Englishman who might appreciate these books. In her dreams he might even be an English author who could approach their mastery of her mother tongue with his own. But how to track down such a gem of a man? It seemed like seeking a needle in a haystack with the nature of the internet. Then Lydia remembered something her friend Olga had told her when she ordered this new computer, “When it comes you shall be able to write in a Blog Lydia! You can call it Uzupis Underground and make us all famous!”. Uzupis was the district of Vilnius Lydia lived in now she had escaped the confines of her parents, it was no coincidence that Kuncinas had also resided here.

With a playful tilt to her head Lydia bent to the keyboard again and typed Fred Brown Blogs into the search box and pressed enter. Right away she could see that the top entry was a blog and she pressed enter to reveal:-

Real men wear brown 0 COMMENTS NOVEMBER 12 Ladies, allow me to let you in on a little secret. The next time you are assessing a potential date, perhaps meeting a man for the first time, or maybe even just deciding whom might be worth your attention at a gathering of friends I have a rule of thumb you may apply. You may tell me if I am wrong, but I believe all real men will be found to wear brown. Please do not misunderstand, they will not wear exclusively nor uniformly brown, but it will be a major part of their wardrobe. The most stylish of men will of course have a splash of colour to attract your attention also. They say you might judge a man by his shoes, and what can be more classy than a stout pair of English Brogues? In brown,needless to say. Of course the shirt will often be white, but have you not noticed the chequered shirt with the brown stripes through somehow seems more manly? When it comes to suits and ties perhaps the rules change a little, but even then a touch of brown for the accessories will always make the real man stand out. Have you not noticed that all the most successful businessmen seem to bear a trusty battered brown leather briefcase? This item is as iconic to that man as the fendi baguette handbag might be to a woman, I am not sure if I need labour the point further ladies. Next time you assess a man bear in mind what you read here. And let me know – am I not right that the real man will be the one in brown? Ciao readers, Anton Lydia was smiling broadly. Here was a man who seemed quite the English eccentric, but much as she admired his command of the English language she could not help feeling he needed to be taken down a peg or two. So it was with some excitement that she saw there was an “About me” link and she clicked without further delay, to read:-

About Fred Allsop It must seem quite extraordinary for you, to find this chap called Fred Allsop writing a blog I expect. Perhaps a book should not be judged by the cover? Then again was it the title of Fred Blogs that made you want to take a look. Well, no doubt there is someone out there called Alfred Allsop, but could that really be the author of a blog like this? A blog which verges on the didactic in it’s eclectic mixture of subject matter and style of approach? Aha – so you thought I was called ‘Fred? Thought I could be called Alfred Allsop and write a blog and call it Fred Blogs? Well think again dear reader – for in reality I am called Anton Fernzeitand I am quite different than you may imagine any old “Fred Blogs” to be! But I thought the site should be called Fred Blogs to draw you in, a sort of Vox Pop name if you will. I have read far wider and think on a quite different plane from any old Fred Blogs. No John Doe here and no rider on the Clapham omnibus. I may pass through Clapham from time to time, but my chosen mode of transportation is more likely to be a powerful motor car than any public transport. So, welcome to the world of Ferhnzeit, I hope you enjoy your visit and come back soon! To Lydia’s surprise the screen flashed up with a refresh – it seemed someone had made a comment upon the posting from Anton. Lydia turned to the screen with interest. So it was that she came to read:-

Comments

1. Anton, let me open your eyes to the truth: it does not matter what colour a man wears, all that matters is his personality and character, or what they call the beauty inside or the beautiful mind! SEG ON NOVEMBER 12, 2008, AT 08:54 PM For some reason this aroused an almost maternal desire to protect what she saw as the “young” Anton against this unknown detractor. She would come to his aid and speak in his defence – who was this upstart young “SEG” to criticise him anyway? Her carefully manicured hands flew over the keys with practiced ease to add a comment:-

1. Dearest Anton, I have always been fond of the colour brown. On a man with a beautiful mind it could create a real vision for me – you are so right that a colour can have masculine overtones and the thought of your mind matched with a fine physique and clad in brown has me wwishing to make your acquaintance. I am sure you have many admirers, perhaps SEG is one? Let me assure you that to meet me would be a great pleasure for us both. Could you make my acquaintance on my ICQ? I shall await your contact, my number is 76941109 on ICQ and the nickname you should see is LydiaLoveless – but perhaps I may be loveless no more if you are to say hello to me? EDIT LYDIA DYPCHYK ON NOVEMBER 13, 2008, AT 05:17 PM Lydia sat back and smiled softly. That should do the trick. That mean spirited SEG would not spoil Anton’s fun, and who knew – perhaps he would get in touch with her after all and she would not have to keep searching on ICQ for the perfect match any longer.

There was the sound of footfalls at the door. Then the boyish chatter and the voice she knew well from her childhood. Her good friend Olga was bringing her son J home with her! What fun, thought Lydia. She loved the chance to spoil J and let out the bountiful maternal feelings within her and now she could do just that. She jumped up from her chair – she must find J his favourite power ranger to greet him at the door and see the smile that sprang to his face whenever he knew she had a treat in store! She was so happy she had baked that chocolate cake now.