7

Dawn was breaking early in Vilnius, and as usual Lydia was in her kitchen preparing coffee. Today though she was even more awake than her usual habit, for her the dawn seemed edged with golden promise. To her mind dawn had not broken outside her window, but from within her bedroom as she read with deep pleasure the text on her computer screen. It still felt as though she were in a daze. She poured the kettle and the smell of fresh coffee filled the room. She knew it was a luxury, but it was one of the few she would not relinquish lightly and although she knew how the English loved their tea, for her the morning drink must be coffee to start her day properly.

Setting down her mug and seating herself at the kitchen table, she smiled again. How could it be possible? Could it be real? Languishing in this part of Vilnius she had always been painfully aware that Lithuania was an isolated country, first oppressed by Germany, then Russia, and more recently economically excluded from Europe until 2004. How well she remembered the day they had “joined” Europe and the party she had held. It had marked the beginnings of her saving for a computer, and how glad she was that she had achieved her goal. Now to find not just an Englishman, but an Englishman who not only knew of her country but would sing its praises in such a stylish manner! Surely he could be persuaded to visit her? Then surely she would be able to seduce the man of her dreams and finally escape this dump, to travel, to see the big wide world, to stand not just on one beach, but to visit many in the England she dreamed of. Where the men would be gentlemen and respect her and honour her. Surely this was now a reality she could grasp and not just a schoolgirl’s dream? Sipping her coffee she rose and headed for the bedroom, where the computer screens soft glow mirrored the dawn breaking through her window in the kitchen.

Settling in her chair, Lydia brought up the bookmark for ‘Fred Blogs’, smiling faintly at the memory of how such an ordinary name had drawn her to chance across this page. What a stroke of luck that seemed now. Lydia almost spilt her coffee as she saw not one but two comments were already made on the post which had warmed her heart so last night.

Scanning quickly, Lydia saw that this SEG woman was in fact a fellow Lithuanian! Well goodness, and she was shocked to find that this was not a pleasant surprise to her. Visions of another pretty young woman, possibly younger than her, possibly no more than a girl, and no doubt thinner and with more airs and graces, were rushing through Lydia’s imagi­nation. Would Anton be tempted and distracted by such things? She did not know him well enough yet, but this was a possibility she felt the need to guard against. Reading on, she saw the name ‘Olga’ and could not but smile broadly. Her friend was always so quick on the uptake and never missed anything! She must have had a moment alone to look at the computer with her son, or perhaps she had taken his name from the chat and tracked down the site? Either way, here she was, making her voice heard! And what was this about warnings of exploitation? Olga had never shared Lydia’s fascination with things English. She was proudly loyal to her countries traditions and heritage, feeling no need of the “embracing of all things European” which was so much the modern trend. Lydia loved her friend dearly, but did feel she was something of a fuddy duddy and stood in the way of progress for the modern Lithuania.

But putting these matters to one side, it was time to reply to Anton’s post, she needed to acknowledge and welcome his interest in her country, as well as answer the commentators. Who knows, perhaps he could indeed be persuaded to come forth and he must “know where he goes”!

Ah Anton! Joy of joys it is a pleasure to see a gentleman of your discernment rejoicing in our proud heritage and history. But please know we are not so backwards nor so gloomy as some others seem to hint. Only the older generation could think this way. Many men from your country come here when they are to marry. I am sorry to say we often see them drinking themselves silly – but I do not think you would ever do such a thing. These are mere boys and I feel certain you are a man amongst them. Are you not tempted to come to see for yourself? We would be the most welcoming hosts for you, I assure you! LYDIA DYPCHYK ON NOVEMBER 18, 2008, AT 08:01 AM

Settling back in her chair, Lydia checked what she had written. She was wondering if Anton had noticed the extra kiss she included in her email? Perhaps he was the sort of man who took such things in his stride and did not notice, but she liked to think he was secretly noticing these little touches, she wanted her femininity to softly assert itself in his life, so that without realising it he would become drawn to her.

Lydia knew her dreams were a little fanciful, but they had been nurtured so long she would not relinquish them. They were cherished and held secretly in her heart, No one in the office knew of this side to her nature. All the local men thought her a cold fish and quiet unapproachable. Even her closest friend, Olga Dagrova, had only hints of just how much Lydia yearned to leave her native Lithuania and spread her wings in England. Lydia hoped Olga was simply taking a sisterly interest and suspected Lydia of mere flirting online with Anton, as many of the younger women seemed to do in the internet cafes that were springing up on the streets of Uzupis these days.

Readying herself for work now, Lydia seemed to be taking just a little extra care with her blusher, and she had selected one of her better sets of underwear today. Not the racey kind she would wear only when that day she had begun to imagine came, the day she would meet the tall dark Englishman of her dreams and be able to select a glamorous dress to show herself to best advantage. Lydia was happy, and there is nothing like happiness to make a woman shine with a radiant beauty, she brushed her lustrous auburn hair and hummed softly to herself a tune she had heard on the radio lately.

Lydia thought her choice of work fitted well with her ambitions. She worked for the local tourist board, and had been lucky to land the job because her English skills were not so far as advanced as several of her colleagues, some of whom were even her junior now. Perhaps it had been her generous curves, but more then likely her ability to ‘turn on’ a highly engaging smile and compose herself to be quite the anglic hostess at a moments notice. She did remember being quite tired from this performance at the interview a few years ago, and equally she remembered well the interviewer old enough to be her father and the slightly leering way he had invited her out to dinner to ‘celebrate’ her job offer. Needless to say she had declines the offer politely and gone home alone to celebrate in mire modest style.

Lydia checked her appearance in the hallway mirror, everything was in order. She smiled back at herself, and for a moment imagined the tall handsome figure of Anton next to herself in the mirror. Her smile increased momentarily, but then vanished as she shook herself and told herself strictly to be composed and calm, especially today, because her secret was special and she wanted to share it with no one (yet). She smiled, keeping her special secret agreed with her and made her feel special.

8

Steve Swift had not seen Fred for a while, and he wondered what the strange urgency was in his voice this morning when he had asked if they could meet up for a beer after work today. To be truthful, Steve was not that keen on meeting Fred just now. He found the Allsop undertaking business morbid in the extreme, and detected it rubbing off on his friend from schooldays. Not that it surprised him, unlike Steve, Fred had been a quiet and introverted boy at school. So hanging around with dead bodies all day was unlikely to make him any more talkative.

Still, thought Steve, at least the beer would be welcome. He ordered a couple of pints from the attractive barmaid and considered striking up a conversation and seeing what his chances were, but then he noticed a the burly landlord’s son catch his eye and place a possessive arm around the barmaids waist. Ah, she was spoken for then. Shame, she had a fabulous pair of breasts and that was always one of Steve’s weaknesses.

He pulled on his pint, gathered the other up, and went to find a table for himself and his friend.

Fred rushed into the bar, he hated being late. Then again, Steve Swift was an old friend and he knew he’d likely be waiting, probably got the drinks in already. Always the extrovert, Steve was more of a drinker and general lad about town than Fred was ever likely to be. Fred knew this and did not begrudge his friend the lively social life or success he had with women. Rather Fred aspired to the same lifestyle for himself and so was usually keen to impress Steve and to keep up with him, if not with the ladies at least he could try to match him pint for pint. In this respect Fred was at a marked disadvantage. Unlike the strapping figure Steve cut, Fred was more diminutive in stature and portly with it. Fred did not understand how Steve had no beer belly like the one he had been dismayed to observe in the bathroom mirror last night.

Looking across the crowded bar and adjusting to the lighting and general hubbub, Fred saw his friend seated in the far corner and made his way over. He was glad he had managed to fit in a lunch-time on the computer researching his idea, because he was pretty sure Steve would ‘bite’ now and then Fred would be able to make the trip to Lithuania without the ordeal of travelling alone.

“How’s it going then Steve? Sorry I’m late, we had a late call out” said Fred, “thanks for getting them in, I’ll get the next”

“No problem Fred. Long time no see. So, what’s new?” asked Steve, raising his glass for another long pull of beer.

“Well now, I’ve got a proposition for you” said Fred with an animated expression. He could barely wait to put forward his plan.

“Have you now?” Steve eyed Fred’s flushed face. He had never seen him quite this excited before, so he was interested to hear what came next. “Well, I’m listening, so tell me all about it, looks like it must be something good?”

“Well, yeah I think it is.” Fred said, although now he was here in the pub with his beer in hand he wondered if his proposal would sound quite the way he had imagined it, was it possible Steve would think he had been a bit carried away? There was only one way to find out, so he licked his lips and continued. “I’ve been googling about a bit on my new computer, and that gave me this idea for a boys only break. Done a bit of research on it actually and I reckon you and me could have a cracking time, if you’re up for it. You see there’s a lot of these new European countries that seem to be sort of competing to get people like us going there, and they’re all trying to come up with something unique.”

“You ever been on a shooting range Steve?”

It was Steve’s turn to pause. Before answering he was taken aback a bit, what had possessed his mild mannered friend to come up with that question? Maybe he had a corpse in with gunshot wounds or something and was just trying to change the subject. “Actually, yeah, I have. But it was a heck of a long time ago. Why do you ask?”

“Well, whenever it was, I bet you never handled an AK-47, did you?” Fred took a sip of his pint, eyeing Steve over it and seeing his interest was definitely sparked.

“No, course not, they’re sort of serious weapons I believe!” Steve looked askance at Fred.

“Don’t know about you”, said Fred, “but for myself I wouldn’t mind having a crack with one of those beasts. You be up for that?”

“Yeah, maybe. But it ain’t going to happen is it? Not with the way the government is cracking down on gun crime and all that. And no way am I signing up for the Army, life’s too short for me to want to put mine on the line”

“Yeah, well that might be true in this country, but if you’re prepared to travel you’d be surprised how easy it could be to have a pop with an AK-47 on a shooting range. There’s official holidays for the lads with just that in mind in Lithuania of all places. I reckon the beer might not be bad there too, and on the website there’s some top totty on the banner, so the way I see it if we get beer, bird and bullets we get a bit of a boys weekend away. I’ve got enough dough stashed, so I wouldn’t mind going – so long as you’re up for it?” Fred watched his friend with more confidence now, he reckoned that line about beer, bullets and birds had been a bit inspired. Heck he should work for their tourist board – it would make a more catchy slogan than ‘Know where you go’ which he had seen plastered over the official site.

“You put it like that and it sure does sound like fun. “Steve looked at his friend with new respect, his idea had impressed him. Every once in a while Fred seemed to pull something out that you didn’t expect from a guy like him, and Steve reckoned that was why he kept up the friendship – for these occasional surprises. “OK, yeah – let’s do it!”

That night Fred had some immediate material and was excited when he got in from the pub and posted to his blog:-

My aim is true

0 COMMENTS NOVEMBER 18

Well good folks, something I did not tell you about earlier is one of Lithuania’s more renowned citizens. This was a man who made his mark in history, a man whom I feel commands respect, whose name lives on and probably inspires respect or even perhaps fear to this day.

Who do I speak of? None other than Mikhail Kalashnikov, creator of the infamous AK-47 assault rifle, probably the most renowned firearm in the world today! I happen to regard it as part of a modern man’s “armoury” (pardon the pun) that he should have the skill of shooting. Naturally I long ago mastered the English shotgun, and many a fine pheasant I have enjoyed as a result. But the AK-47 is quite a different beast. I must admit to a certain fascination and I have hopes I shall lay my hands on one soon and experiment with my abilities and the weapon.

Please do not misunderstand, I am a peaceful man and a gentleman. But I admire the machinery and functionality of the Kalashnikov. Who can doubt that to be a crack shot is an asset for any man? But one can never know what the future holds, and if I were called to arms I should like to be able to defend myself in some style.

So it is that I and some friends are planning to embark on a trip. I’ll keep this post brief, and so you can read all about it here. So soon enough I shall be leaving these shores for a suitable venue to practice with the weapon that has become synonymous with modern day combat. Doing so in the place where the weapon originated is an added bonus.

He settled back in his chair. He liked the way he had worded that, it seemed very manly to him, and to his mind being able to handle firearms had an air of the suave about it and was not so brutal the way he had put it. He liked to think it conjured and air of the secret agent or James Bond about Anton Fehrnzeit, and not the brutal army thug or mercenary. He was pretty sure Lydia would see it that way and he was wondering what she would make of his plans to visit her homeland. What he wanted to do now was see if she was living anywhere near the place he would be heading to for the shooting.

9

Lydia had been wondering if she could keep her desire to check on Anton under control. Now it was lunchtime she knew she could resist no more, try as she might. Even during the morning, if she was honest, she had been having difficulty concentrating on her work as she usually did. Perhaps it was because she had to work at the computer this morning, so she could not help thinking that a few clicks and she could be viewing his blog or composing her next email to him. She realised that she had not really told him about her work, even though she had asked him about his. And she realised that in her eagerness to reply her poor English might have been a bit too apparent. So it was really important to her that she hear from him soon, and yet she knew that as a lady she could only wait. To email him again at this stage would be a very grave error. A man must be the one to pursue and he must think everything is his idea and action in the world of romance. They are such simple creatures really, once you know how they work, at least the ones in her country were. She wondered if Anton was any different? She liked to think he might be.

Lydia could resist no longer. Even though she was at work where leisure time browsing was frowned upon. Worse yet there was the risk, however slight, that a colleague or manager might notice what she was up to and even perhaps notice her entries on his blog. She almost blushed at the thought. But the office was becoming quiet as people went out to get their lunches, so she put her worries to one side and typed in the now familiar address of his blog.

As she read a big, goofy grin formed on her face. She had good cause for her concerns, and was fortunate indeed when no colleague observed this. Within the offices of the Lithuanian tourist board it was somehow frowned upon and seen as almost unpatriotic to be overly familiar with visitors to her country. Lydia herself never understood this, she took the more liberal and modern view that her attitude was far more appropriate. No doubt the older generation’s o­pinion was in large part due to the seeming exodus of young people from their country since 2004, when Lithuania had finally been admitted as part of the European Union.

She needed to add her own comment to those she had read. A man hated to think you were not almost hanging on his every word. Like babies and plants, they thrived on attention. So Lydia decided, hang the risk, she must add a positive comment below the existing ones.

Comments Anton, I wish you could put your weapon down and find a more peaceful hobby. The world would be a much safer place without so many guns and rifles easily obtainable. How can you possibly admire a Kalashnikov which can kill an entire village in 10 minutes? All I can hope for is that you will be so taken in by Lithuania and all the sightseeing to be done that you won’t have time for the shooting practice…

SEG on November 18, 2008, at 10:00 PM

Comrade, how dare you suggest that I am Lithuanian? I was born in the southern Altai area of Russia in 1919. The guns which I designed did not originate in Lithuania, although I understand that bourgeois imperialist tourists can visit that former part of the glorious Soviet Union in order to fire them for frivolous decadent enjoyment. I curse you and insist that you correct this scurrilous western error. I still have access to my inventions, you know. Yours in peace, Lieutenant General Mikhail Timofeyevich Kalashnikov

Lieutenant General Mikhail Timofeyevich Kalashnikov on November 18, 2008, at 10:42 PM

Ah, a man of convictions and distinction! It is so pleasant to me to hear you plan to visit out country. And of course a man like yourself would not do so idly on a holiday with no purpose. To be acquiring a new skill is always to be admired, and let us just hope you never have to use it in anger, as I think the English say. As for the comments of the Russian military although he is correct in his facts he has omitted many others, no doubt from shame at the brutal oppression of our proud peoples which his weapons helped to enforce. And had SEG suffered under such imperialist rule then I think she would soon change her tune. I cannot believe she could be a fellow countrywoman of mine! So please come to our fine country and learn this new skill and I should personally wish to welcome you! LYDIA DYPCHYK ON NOVEMBER 19, 2008, AT 05:46 AM

Lydia was just reading over the comments again and feeling a growing dislike for this SEG and her contrary views when the ‘phone rang. She picked it up and was rewarded with the cheery voice of her friend.

“Hello Lydia, still daydreaming about your fine Englishman?” asked Olga

Lydia blushed a little. So Olga had guessed at her infatuation. Well that was hardly suprising, and Lydia remembered the matter of the earlier comment. Clicking to check it she asked, “Well, he is an interesting writer. Funnily enough someone called Olga seems to have opinions on the man too”.

“Ah, you noticed. Well no point pretending otherwise, that was me. I could not resist after seeing the way you looked all gooey when you had that chat. Not everyone is what they seem on the internet you know Lydia”

“Perhaps, but I like to think I’m a good judge of men”, countered Lydia.

“I am not denying it. But you need to judge more harshly those Englishmen I see wandering our streets after too much beer, looking at the ladies and saying bad things about them, thinking we do not understand what they are saying.” Olga sounded angry and self-righteous. “Just the other day I hear one looking at me and saying to his friend that I had ‘lovely tits’. The fellows were staggering drunk and wandered around the corner before throwing up. Your beloved tourist board does nothing about such matters though, do they?”

“Well no, but that is a matter for the police and street cleaners, not our concern” Lydia answered.

“Maybe yes, maybe not” said Olga, “in any case I was just checking up on you, wondering how you are.”

“I’m just fine. Better then fine maybe” Looking to the wall clock she realised there was only ten minutes left for her to grap a bite and get back to work. She stood and headed briskly for the door, but Olga would have noticed just by her walk a new zip in her step that was a pretty clear sign of what was happening in her heart.

10

Fred was struggling. He sat before the computer and grappled with the question, how to keep a woman happy and encourage her to look upon him favourably. What had Steve told him about this? He racked his brain for pearls of wisdom from his friend. Fred also wanted to soften the persona of Anton, show a more human cultured side. But he dare not overplay it and write anything overly romantic.

Then it came to him, a remark Steve had made when telling Fred how he liked to pursue “yummy mummies” as he referred to women with children in tow that he found attractive. Steve had remarked how they loved it most if you paid attention to the children, which was a double bonus if at the time you were not so keen to engage with the woman in question.

Fred wanted to do something with regard to this ‘J’ Lydia had spoken of. Surely that would impress Lydia. But what to do, he could not really afford any gift to send her for him.

Then, with a flash of inspiration, he had it. He would write J a story. Should not be entirely too difficult thought Fred. Fired up with enthusiasm he settled to the task and began to write….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~­~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There’s a wind that blows, and it starts over Spain. In Spain the sun shines so hard it makes the rocks very hot in the day, but the sea keeps cool because it’s so big and blue. Then, when night falls, the air rushes in from the cool sea to the hot rocks and a special wind is born. It starts from the sea to the rocks as a gentle breeze, only just enough to blow a crisp packet along. But as the night gets cool it blows a little stronger and starts to blow its way further up the hills. The hills in Spain can be very steep indeed, and in some places they are like mountains, except that they are flat on top. As the wind blows up these hills it gets very strong and can even blow some small trees up the hill if they haven’t got their roots into the soil properly. Here the wind often helps birds to climb up high into the sky without even having to flap their wings – it is like an up escalator for the birds. They soar high into the early morning sky, because that’s when they start their hunting. It has taken all day and all night for the wind to blow from the sunny seaside to the top of the hills in Spain.

Up at the top of the hills in Spain it is called the plain. It’s called the plain because it is very flat, but it also happens to look very plain indeed because the sun burns so brightly that not much grows. Here the wind gets tired in the midday heat, just only blowing hard enough to make the grass sway a little and ruffle the manes of the horses that play there.

The wind pauses and thinks of a place where it blows into the Americas; here there are ponies too. Some of these ponies have come all the way from Wales a long time ago. They are very pretty ponies and their owners still speak to them in Welsh. This place is called Patagonia and the people who live here have to live a simple life. When the wind blows they are glad because it often brings some rain.

On and on the wind blows across the plain, leaving the rain behind as it blows along. After another day the wind reaches the end of the plain and here there are mountains rising up high into the clear blue beyond. The wind gets thin and cold as it goes higher and higher to pass through the Alps. It gets so cold that the rain that’s left turns into snow and hail. The wind finds gaps to blow through in the rocks that make the mountains, whistling as it blows higher and higher and thinner and thinner through the mountain passes. It seems to be calling out a sound which might be the name this wind is given in Spain. Here it is called the Scirocco. Or perhaps it just got the name since it blows from the sea to the rocks of the Andes mountains. After a while the wind blows right up to the tops of the mountains – here it is so fierce it can turn the snow into the hardest ice in an instant. If a man stood up straight when it was blowing its hardest he would be blown straight off the top of the mountain into the valley below. There is a rumour that a creature called the Yeti can stand up here without getting too cold, because the Yeti can live here – but no man has seen such a creature and lived to tell the tale.

The next day the wind blows down the other side of this mountain range into a new country, far from the sea where it started out all those days ago. This country is called France, so here the wind has a new name. It is called the “Mistral” and it brings the cold weather that is the start of winter for the countryside of France.

The people in this French countryside are used to a wonderful long hot summer, so it is a big shock when this wind arrives from the mountains blowing along lots of snow and ice. All the French farmers rush inside and put their heating on at full blast to keep warm in the storm as the Mistral blows through. If any of them have left their grapes still growing on the vines then they get very upset because it’s too late to harvest them when this wind blows and brings the cold to freeze them on the vine.

After another day and night the wind has blown all the way across France and left the cold of the mountains far behind, It blows over the channel and picks up plenty of rain to worry any farmers who haven’t finished making their hay or harvesting their crops. But this rain only falls on the hills where the sheep are feeding – so the farmers can relax and the sheep can enjoy nice green grass for pasture.

After another few days of peacefully breezing over the English countryside – where the wind is known as Gale if it gets too strong – then the wind blows up to the lowlands of Scotland where the land starts to rise and the wind gets a little bite to it again. Because Scotland is lucky at this time of year the sun is shining and the wind gets warm again in the lowlands.

Then after another day and a night the wind gets up to the Scottish mountains where the Golden Eagle nests in the mossy crags at the top. The eagles fly out from their eiries (that’s what these big nests are called) onto the breeze, which lifts them up high over the plains below so that they can hunt baby sheep and rabbits. Here the wind blows so peacefully and quietly that it hasn’t even got a name – or perhaps its name is just forgotten in the peace and quiet.

Eventually the wind reaches the sea at the end of Scotland. Here the land is quite barren and rocky and the wind blows more strongly with all the open sea and islands ahead.

This is where the wind blows over the sea to Skye (which is one of the islands) and it once took a Prince to hide away on an island – but that’s a story for another day.

As the wind blows out to sea at the end of its journey, and at the end of summer too, it lets out a long sigh after blowing so far and falls gently off to sleep on the softly rippling waves of the deep blue sea. Just like you and me at the end of the day when we go to bed.. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~­~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fred gasped and sat back, that had taken more energy than he expected to write. He would have to leave the dedication until later. But he was proud of it, and felt sure that to a non –English speaking woman with maternal leanings this should seem like a genuine masterpiece. This really did give him an edge, now he could allude to the literary side of Anton, and she would surely be more or less his for the taking. He had noticed she put not one, but two, kisses in concluding her last email, surely the increase marked a warming of her feelings and the kisses were not just perfunctory frendliness? He tried to imagine her lips curved in a kiss… the picture shimmered and brok without more substance though – perhaps his powers of imagination were exhausted after his writing?

Now – the best vehicle for the delivery of his work? Surely not a blog post. Although he would, he felt, blog on the process of writing and allude to his literary works. Might as well make them plural and vaguely refer to the different styles and works, that should do the trick. Fred was surprised by how excited he became at the idea of Lydia fascinated by him, or rather by Anton. He had never in his life received the loving attentions of any woman other than his mother. Adolescence had seemed tortuous for him, surviving one crush after another and learning to accept that any advances he made were either ignored or met with derision. He had rapidly learned to ignore the promptings and yearning of his growing body and accept the single life, only occasionally allowing the odd fantasy to impose itself, usually in his sleeping hours and involving some improbable celebrity of the moment. Having rested his fingers, Fred returned them to the keyboard and settled to the final task of delivering his masterpiece to Lydia.

“Dearest Lydia, Hearing of your friend Olga and imagining your closeness with her boy, J, I have a small gift to offer you. Please find attached a small story I dashed off today for you to read to the lad. It is tentatively titled “When the Wind Blows” and I hope he may enjoy reading it with you to practice his English soon. Of course with your excellent language skills you may choose to translate it for him, but unfortunately your mother tongue is beyond my abilities to offer to do the same for you.”

Fred paused. He had just remembered Lydia had asked his profession and income. What was he to say? Anton could never be anything so mundane and distasteful as an undertaker! What was he to say? And how to indicate he wanted for nothing with money? He had already hinted towards a posh motor car, not the eight year old bicycle with a patina of rust and squeaky brakes that he kept in the back yard.

To say he was a writer or lived from an inheritance might encourage a gold digger. In any case to maintain such a pretence was likely to be beyond him. So what could he find to tell her? He guessed that saying nothing would appear rude and only delay the matter. Something had to be said. “You asked about my profession and I am happy to tell you that I earn quite a good income, even by English standards. So I want for nothing, and am able to indulge all my earthly desires (which are mercifully modest, I prefer discrimination to indiscriminate consumption and I seek to be very selective in my expensive tastes). I am not sure if you have seen the television program we have here called “Dragon’s Den”? It features venture capitalists and people in search of their money and experience. Well this is my exact field of investment and I like to specialise in the more advanced computer technologies and software.

I realise your field of work is different and I promise not to bore you with my job. But please tell me all about yours by return, I have a feeling it shall be something which draws on your obvious intelligence. If I had to guess; it would be that you are a librarian, could I be right?”

Fred paused. In his mind’s eye he had a figure of a blonde woman, about his height but with a very different figure. She was clad in a blouse that was tight across her ample chest, with a pencil skirt that clung to her hips and shapely thighs. Her face was friendly and happy to see him, with piercing blue eyes looking over tortoiseshell half lenses. Her lips pursed into a kiss as he drew closer… and closer… “FREEEDDDD!” Came a screech from the landing. His fantasy popped like a bubble and he turned to leave his bedroom. Marge always had to summon him to the table, despite it coming at the same time every day. Hastily, Fred finished the email and clicked ‘Send’.

He was smiling and feeling happy though, he felt sure he had an email to look forward to soon and it would be interesting to see how she reacted to his email. She already knew he was coming to her country soon, now would be the test to see if she was ready to meet him.

Margaret Allsop had gone to town again, and set before her beloved son a meal of toad in the hole smothered with gravy, with roast potatoes and buttered greens. She knew how he liked the more traditional English meals and she was good at cooking them. But as he ate there was an abstracted air to him, his eyes seemed to be dwelling on a far away place. She had long harboured hopes for him to begin a romantic attachment and bring home a girl-friend, it would only be natural now that he was, after all, a young man and not a growing boy. But she wondered if that computer in his bedroom was responsible and there was a little niggle of unease in her mind about it.

“What are you up to on that machine dear?” She ventured, “You seem to always be at it and they say you ought to take regular breaks you know.” “Oh don’t worry so much Mum, you know how they are more cautious then they need to be on these things. Anyway, it is proving pretty handy in some holiday plans I am making now that I’ve managed to save a bit of money from the overtime I’ve been doing.” Marge brightened at this, who knows, perhaps a holiday romance would be in the offing? “Is it anywhere nice then love?” She asked. “Not sure you’ll know it.” Fred said between mouthfuls. “Me and Steve are heading out to Lithuania for a bit of local exploring and fun, they have this shooting holiday we want to try.”

“Shooting!” Marge was alarmed now, “heavens above, whatever next! I do hope you lads will be careful, not sure what gave you that idea. You do surprise me Frederick, I can’t think what is wrong with a break in Bognor like me and your father used to take when you were little”. Fred smiled to himself. He could think of plenty wrong with that. He kept to himself the other part of his hopes for the holidays – in his mind he would be able to take on the manly persona of Anton. Yes, he felt sure, this would be the holiday he would finally make the conquest of a woman and return home a proper man!

11

Steve was surfing the web. This in itself was a slightly adventurous move by Fred. Steve seldom used a computer and his googling and the like seemed to always throw up the more risqué sites. Quite frankly Fred found it shocking. His main worry was that Marge might drop in with some teatime snack or cake, so he took the spare chair and wedged it carefully under the handle. Now he could relax and pay attention to the computer screen.

When Fred did look at the screen he was glad the spare chair had been wedged against the door, because there smiling out at him alluringly was a scantily clad blonde showing a great deal of her more than sufficient cleavage and raising a foaming glass of beer towards him and though in salute.

“Steady on, Steve!” Fred bluterd out, “how did you manage to find that?”

“Not so hard”, muttered Steve, “I just typed into google Birds, bullets, and booze then clicked about a bit. Eventually I hit on this place. Apparently the Old Town is where it’s at for a night out in Vilnius, your idea is looking like a pretty hot one now Fred, good for you. Here come and have a read of this.” And Steve brought up another window with some text for Fred to read.

Old Town Strip Club Rūdninkų 14, tel. 212 13 94.

Expect a thumbing, throbbing, erotically charged escapade. These ladies do not mess around when it’s show time. Well actually they mess around with a lot of toys. The hardcore Eros on display here is unparalleled in this city, but the very best part might just be the deliciously innocent waitresses who somehow manage to keep all their clothes on.

Open 21:00–06:00, Sunday: Closed Entrance 80Lt

YOUR COMMENTS DEARS SIRS I NEED SOME INFO IF YOU CAN HELP MEIN THE NIGHT CLUB WE CAN ONLY ENJOY A STREP OR WE CAN HAVE SEX WITH THE GIRLS IN THE CLUB AND OUT ALSO IT LEGAL IN LITHUANIA PROSTITUTION? I NEED TO THE ABOVE BECAUSE I’VE TO ORGANIZE A LAST WEEK AS A SINGLE FOR ONE OF MY FRIDAY AND WE WISH TO GO IN VILNIUS. AWT YOUR KIND REPLY HAVE NICE TIME PINO

Editors reply: Prostitution is illegal in Lithuania

PINO ITALY / MILAN

2007 August 29 Wednesday 12 12 31 PM Just a word of thanks from the guys from the stag do from Coventry, England. Our visit to your club made our trip. A big thanks to all the girls. Will be back to visit soon.Andy Brady england / coventry

Fred’s mouth was almost hanging open. He had never been sure that places like this existed even! Now here it was and his friend Steve was clearly planning that they pay a visit there!

“Yeah, looks pretty cool huh?” said Steve, “and the best bit is I checked what the funny money’s going to cost us, and basically that eighty Lithuanian whatsits is less than a score! So we can get in and have a few bevies and a right eyeful of the local talent without breaking the bank. That Italian looks like a plonker, but look that Andy guy from Coventry seems to say they’re OK. He even says they were going to go back. And it gets better…” Steve made a few clicks – navigating to the “Old Town Club” website. “Check that motor”, he said, bringing up a picture of a customised stretch limo with some text alongside:-

Every car collector could be proud of it. His beauty, elegance and finesse match to royalty… This is the design of masterpiece, which has been created for a long time. His relatives could be found near the sultans’ palaces’ or caliphs mansion-houses’. He is the only one here in Lithuania, there is not even similar or another one, and will not be. However, you can be a traveler any night, and you will not be lonely near the sexy and curvaceous stranger…

We are making all possible efforts to improve the level and quality of services. Today we would like to present to society an idea that has been matured for one year already and is absolutely innovative in Lithuania and probably in the Baltic states. This is a “strip-tease on wheels” in a very exotic limousine that does not have analogues in Europe.

Fred was shocked to see a picture come into view with not one, but TWO naked female forms draped across the zebra patterned upholstery of the stretch limo. He fought hard not to blush. It was obvious Steve had seen it all before. Luckily for Fred, he was concentrating on the computer so would not notice the effect this was having on Fred. He read on;

If you thirst for new entertainments, not experienced feelings, or just want to originally relax by having a night trip along the streets of Vilnius in a exotic limousine – be sure we kindly provide you with this unique opportunity. Please, take seat in our exotic limousine, relax and enjoy watching how an OLD TOWN strip-tease dancer strips naked only for you or your guests. Are you guests visiting Vilnius? Do you, your friends, or your clients thirst for special entertainments? Please, entrust this job to us! You or your guests will be really able to experience hot feelings in our exotic limousine, in which a super sexual girl strips naked only for you traveling in night Vilnius in our exotic limousine.

BRIEF INFORMATION ABOUT A CAR CADILLAC MOZELLE STREHTLIMOUSINE

This is a handmade, very rare, and very exotic car. Its length is 7.5 m and it is equipped with a 5.7 V, 182 kW engine. This car was manufactured in 1973. In 1985, the car was lengthened and reconstructed into Limousine in the USA. According to available information, this is a very rare car not only in Europe but also in the USA. This is a reason why we were searching for this car for a really long period of time. We have chosen this model because it is not only exotic but also matches the style and spirit of our night club (for instance, OLD TOWN). In the world classifier, it is treated as an exotic-stretch Llimousine. Every model is manufactured according to a special order and therefore each model practically does not have analogues.

Reading this last selection Fred felt a sort of glow of inspiration. He had been worrying about how to resolve the matter of Anton’s motor car and transport. Well, surely Anton Fehrnzeit would think nothing of visiting such and establishment, and isn’t this EXACTLY the sort of unique transportation that Herr Fehrnzeit would use on such a trip, and perhaps to meet a new prospective ladyfriend?

Fred smiled and returned to the planning for their trip with Steve. He was getting more excited by the day and they were hoping to depart the next weekend, if the bookings could all be made and confirmed before the flight was booked.

12

Lydia was having such a boring day at work, and yet she was so excited inside. She had had to rush her lunch, which she usually hated to do, but this time it had not troubled her in the slightest, for some reason her appetite seemed reduced, which gave her a secret pleasure at the thought of the effect it might have on her figure. During the afternoon she had prepared some information packs for a business that was due to attend Vilnius with a view to a possible relocation. This was the dry, boring, uninteresting side of her job so far as she was concerned. But with the repetitive work she found she had stayed a little late and everyone was leaving.

As the last colleague left and waved goodbye Lydia realised she could check her personal email without any concern for being overlooked. Opening the hotmail page she saw with mounting excitement that there was an email from Anton, and when she opened it she was almost breathless – it was pages and pages long! Sitting back, she settled down to read and discover what had made him write at such unexpected length.

Twenty minutes later Lydia was feeling thoroughly sentimental. How could this man she had thought she was beginning to know have allowed her to see his sensitive side so soon? In such a considerate and giving way too? She was touched deeply that he had the generosity to have gone to so much trouble, and not even directly for her, but rather for a child. Surely he would make a most excellent parent. But she stopped that line of thought before it went further. Thinking over the story again, how he had involved educational details from his knowledge of the world, how he had tried to make it like a journey for the child to follow and yet one which ended with peaceful sleep for bedtime. All this seemed quite lovely to Lydia and she was looking forward to the next time when she might have the chance to read it to J. She printed a copy right away for this purpose, and folding it into her handbag prepared to leave the office and journey home. Her movements were less flustered and excited after a day of steady work and after reading the email. But internally she was playing over the email and thinking that now she would feel quite comfortable to allow Anton into her life. She has a clear idea that he was to be trusted now. Whether he was “the one” or not remained to be seen, but she knew that now she would give him the chance to find out.

As soon as Lydia arrived home she threw down her coat, kicked off her shoes, and poured herself a glass of juice from the ‘fridge. She took this through to her computer and sipped it while the screen flickered into life. Anton deserved a reply that honoured his email, and she intended to use her very best English and craft the best reply she could manage.

Dearest Anton,

How sweet of you go to so much trouble! I am truly touched by the generosity of spirit in going to so much trouble as to personally write such a story for me, even more touched that it is offered to J. You are right, he is very dear to my heart. And the story quite takes my breath away! So well crafted and with such accomplishment and style, even being educational for the child and yet clearly a good bed-time read also. I am certain J will be most appreciative. Thank you again, you must be sure to let me know how I can possibly repay you.

I am a little confused by the “Dragons Den” you speak of. But I think I understand what venture capital means – do you help people with inventions perhaps? That is also a very admirable profession it seems to me. I think your income is probably modest by comparison with your talent.

How interesting that you imagine me to be a librarian! I am afraid I am probably less intellectual than you though, I work for the local tourist board. Today I had to help a company looking to show some potential and existing employees the town though. I hope this is not such a disappointment to you? I surely have less money than a successful man like you, but perhaps I have riches in my heart?

I am so thrilled that you are very soon to visit our country! With my work it would be my greatest pleasure to welcome you, not only by my best wishes in email, but in person too. It is my hope that you will be able to accept my offer and meet with me so that I may personally offer you the hospitality and welcome that a person of your stature and generous spirit deserves to find here in Lithuania.

As we say at my work, “Know Where You Go!” and I think it would also be good if you could come to know me (and I you, of course).

Please consider letting me know your travel arrangements and flight arrival time at Vilnius International if you agree to allowing me to show you our country, or at least parts of it during your visit. It would be my honour!

Yours most sincerely,

Lydia

xxx

Lydia was interrupted in her review of the email she had written by the sound of the doorbell. She decided quickly that this was good enough and clicked send before rising and heading to the door. Opening the door she saw Olga beaming her lovely smile and J hanging back kicking his heels on the landing.

“Can I use your computer again please Aunty Lydia?” He asked her, obviously keen to have Ben-10 mastering those aliens again.

“Well now of course you can J”, she replied, “But first where is my kiss and my hug?”

J ran gratefully into her arms, rushing his hug and kiss and wriggling to be allowed to get down and run onwards to the computer. Olga smiled to see her friend so generous with the precious new addition to her gadgets. This reminded her too that she wanted to ask if there had been any more email exchanges with this Anton Fehrnzeit fellow.

“Let’s have some tea and sit in the kitchen, shall we?” Lydia ushered her friend through and busied herself with the tea things.

“So, any news from your fine Englishman?” Olga asked her.

“Well, yes, as it happens. And I think you will be the one who it pleases every bit as much as me. It is most surprising and generous at heart. Just wait and see what I mean.” And Lydia fished into her handbag for the printout from the office. She found it and flattened the pages on the kitchen table.

“Have a look at that Olga, it is for us to read to J, perhaps he can learn some English from it too? It’s never too early to start with that these days, you know how it helps with my work and it is the modern way. This has really impressed me. I want your opinion too.”

Lydia watched her friend smooth the pages and start to read. She poured the tea and smiled to herself. She felt cure that Olga’s heart would warm to the man once she read this, what mother could fail but be touched by such a kind gesture directed towards her own son. Who knows, perhaps one day Anton would seek publication and there might even be a dedication to J. Imagine that! Lydia found herself in a reverie where she imagined Anton Fehrnzeit’s name appearing on the spines of books in an English bookshop. She loved bookshops with an almost sensual pleasure and the idea was startlingly intimate to her. Olga cleared her throat and brought Lydia back into the present with a start. She poured the tea for them and sat at the table opposite her friend, watching her closely.

“Well now, your Englishman certainly has a way with words, doesn’t he?” said Olga, taking her tea and smiling, “I can only think he must have wanted to impress you very much. Of course it will be nice for J, but you know he really enjoys his comics so much I am not at all sure he will appreciate it. I can tell Anton has never had children himself, but I suppose you already know as much?”

“Actually the subject never came up, at least not directly. But I suppose not, after all I think we would have heard about them if he did have any.” Lydia was wondering why she had not asked yet, but she knew that as a person with no children herself such things could seem more important to the parents in this world.

“Literary merits aside, I do believe his aim was to impress you.” Said Olga, with a teasing smile playing on her lips.

“Perhaps” answered Lydia, fully aware that if such were his intentions then he had succeeded in no small measure.

“And you are, aren’t you?” asked Olga

“Why yes, of course, why shouldn’t I be. He seems both eloquent and kind hearted to me, do you think he is not?”

“I shall wait to see.” Said Olga “After all I have a hunch you two are actually going to meet before too long, am I right?”

“Well…” Lydia fiddled with her tea cup, playing for time, “maybe. But nothing is arranged for certain.”

“OK, but in that case can I ask you not to meet him alone? Apart from anything else I want to meet this great Englishman who seems to fascinate my best friend for myself”.