By Arthur Conan Doyle

Radio and I were casually walking through the streets of Berne, the capital of Switzerland. No really, it *is* the confederation’s principal settlement. I never get that answer correct in Trivial Pursuit either.

Anyway, we were wiling away some time, in pursuit of cheap bookshops. It’s my undoing. (I’ve bought another five from an antiquarian dealer today. I only chanced upon his shop because I followed the directions for ‘cheap framing’.)

Anyway, my German is woeful. Pitiful. I’m sly enough to work out a solution that makes it appear that I’m being modest: Anytime I need to speak German, I always think ahead so that I’m prepared, and start my conversation with “Hi there, ever so sorry. I’m not from around these parts, so my German’s not good.” That’s fine for getting around conversations, but it doesn’t help with books.

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