Okay I'll come clean
For those of you who haven't been following Not a Fish religiously for the past year (Infidels!), I have to explain a few things. It appears yesterday's post might have given the wrong impression.

I was not some weirdo Matilda-esque child protege. English was actually my mother tongue. This is a quite normal state of affairs for children living in industrial towns in the North West of England, although people in the South of England may disagree. I must confess that on my more recent visits to the said industrial town I have also found the natives difficult to understand (no offense intended, John).

One day, when I was nine, these tall people who lived in the same house as me dragged me on to a plane, yelling and kicking. Well actually, they were far more devious than that. They managed to brainwash me into thinking that they were my parents and that coming to live in this God forsaken lunatic asylum with them was a great idea. And, as they say, I never looked back (If you believe that you're more gullible than I was).

So frequenting the British Council Library was not really as weird as it might have sounded yesterday, if you were not privy to this little piece of information.

I did continue to communicate with my parents in English, on a daily basis, if "Pass the salt" and "No, you can't have a motorbike" could actually be seen as communication, till the army sent me to serve Country and King (er President?) in Jerusalem (Shouldn't that be King and Country?). Then I moved to Tel Aviv.

Anyway now Roger L. Simon has put me on his links. On false pretences. I am mortified.