Horses Heads...
I am very fortunate to have a small collection of very good friends. (On occasions, they do not consider themselves fortunate in reverse - like the day I pulled out in front of a Range Rover with "N" in the passenger seat of the Mustang. Well, I thought he was indicating...). Anyway, N has hired a villa in Sicily for two weeks and has invited a few select friends to join him. My wife and I are going out in the second week and I naturally asked the question "Where is it?"
He promptly mailed me the email tennis he had with the villa owner. Which started with "meet me in the cafe in the middle of Ragusa" and ended with "we have never sent anybody directly to the property before, unfortunatlely there is not a postal address, the post does not go there! This is why we always make the meetings in Ragusa and the owner takes you to the property himself."(sic). The interim conversation involved questions about GoogleEarth coordinates and Lat/Long figures with N getting slightly irate - "Now, if the road does continue, perhaps as a dirt track, that's fine, but it does look like it goes nowhere!"
I gently pointed out where the owner lived.
"Ok" says N, "I'll play the game and meet him in the cafe. So I'll take my hand-held+satnav thingy and mail you the coordinates using my GPRS link on my WAP-enabled phone" (or something like that...)
They duly arrived today and I fed them into the Garmin.
"Turn, left, at the, horse's head"
He promptly mailed me the email tennis he had with the villa owner. Which started with "meet me in the cafe in the middle of Ragusa" and ended with "we have never sent anybody directly to the property before, unfortunatlely there is not a postal address, the post does not go there! This is why we always make the meetings in Ragusa and the owner takes you to the property himself."(sic). The interim conversation involved questions about GoogleEarth coordinates and Lat/Long figures with N getting slightly irate - "Now, if the road does continue, perhaps as a dirt track, that's fine, but it does look like it goes nowhere!"
I gently pointed out where the owner lived.
"Ok" says N, "I'll play the game and meet him in the cafe. So I'll take my hand-held+satnav thingy and mail you the coordinates using my GPRS link on my WAP-enabled phone" (or something like that...)
They duly arrived today and I fed them into the Garmin.
"Turn, left, at the, horse's head"
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