Bjorn, Henrik and I have been in contact a whole lot lately. The three of us and our old dears are trying to pick out a fish camp to share the cost of buying. We have spent a lot of time in other folk's fish camps and the one Henrik owned many years ago before he sold out his half interest of the camp. A place in the woods to pound beer and whisky and piss and vomit in is what makes life here in Canada a better place to live in than the clearcut, overcrowded Europe our forefathers fled in centuries past.
Bjorn phoned this morning to say a suitable place has come on the market near Homegrown Lake. Henrik and I agreed to meet him at the lake tomorrow to check out the place and the growing neighbourhood.
After we looked at the property in our computers we looked over the surrounding area in the google space camera. Cottage country in Beetle Kill B.C. is not what it once was. What were once green mountains are now brown wastelands or cleared of forest until we can figure out what will grow there sustainably in our ever warming climate. I am thinking cactus plantations would be a good bet. A very good bet.
Henrik says his son Nils finally caved to the wishes of his girlfriend and boxed up his Swedish pornography collection and got rid of it. As a hedge Nils only sent the box of spreadeagled blonde beauties as far as his younger brother in case he ever needs to visit. That's what brothers are for.
Henrik also passed word that his daughter is now working with prisoners on their way to freedom. She has to check on them periodically at night. Apparently the men she is charge of are fond of making sure they are having a creamy wank when she peers in their door in the night. One way or another the guys are always where they are supposed to be until they are nearly ready to live unsupervised and freak out, escape and have their parole revoked thus sending them back to wank in the dark of their halfway house existence.