Savouring the Salmon of Doubt

The Salmon of Doubt is a posthumous collection of writings (some of them unfinished) by Douglas Adams. He died in 2001. It is a book I've been meaning to read since even before it existed. Perhaps since even before Douglas Adams died. Probably since about chapter two of the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. That's probably when I made the quiet internal decision to read everything this man would ever write.

Despite this sacred vow, I never did buy the book. I picked it up many times in various bookstores, turned it over lovingly in my hands and thought about buying it. But I was afraid. Because if I bought it, then I might read it and then where would I be? I suppose I felt that as long as there was a book out there I hadn't read yet, I could pretend he wasn't really dead. And so I avoided it like Larry Schenker (he used to be my friend in grade school but then he borrowed a couple of my records and refused to return them; he kept insisting that I had to go to his house to get them back but he lived on the opposite side of the school -- I hate Larry Schenker).

You can't avoid things forever though. Well, some things maybe you can. I saw Larry Schenker once after grade school in a bowing alley when I was about eighteen and I still managed to avoid him. It totally put me off my game, though. I was so angry. So that's two things you owe, Schenker: my record albums and an evening of undistracted bowling.

What does all this have to do with the photo, you wonder. Well, it's of my friend Leanne.

Is it just me or are all Canadians extremely quirky and just down right odd? Douglas Adams once wrote (in the Salmon of Doubt as it happens) that "Canada is like an intelligent 35 year old woman". At the time he was contrasting it with America - "belligerent adolescent boy" and Australia - "Jack Nicholson".

I think it is a very apt description. Canadians and intelligent 35 year old woman look normal and well-behaved. They're beautiful, but classy. They have developed beyond the brash belt-skirt and bra sexuality of some younger women (and certain countries south of the 49th parallel). However, all their poise and political correctness can't hide an underlying quirkiness and humour. Just see any episode of Sex and the City for examples. They're all nuts.

My friend Leanne is both Canadian and an intelligent 35 year old woman.

Well, actually, I have no idea how old she is, but, for the sake of argument, let's say she's 35.

She stayed at our house for a couple of days when she popped over to visit her husband who lives in Iceland.

It's a long story. They met in Canada. They got married. His Visa expired. He had to go back to Iceland. They're trying to get him back in the country. Etc.

Anyway. She was here visiting. And she looks normal. And she comes from a country that is widely considered boring and predictable and safe. And what did she leave me as a parting gift?

Jam. Thirteen little pots of jam.

In my bed.

What kind of person puts little pots of jam in their host's bed? This is not a sane and normal thing to do. When one retires for the evening, one doesn't expect to end up lying on a jar of blackcurrant flavoured condiment. Jam jars are lumpy. They are uncomfortable things to sleep on.

On the other hand, the jam was quite tasty.

Leanne also left behind a copy of the Economist and a slightly dog-eared copy of The Salmon of Doubt. The latter of which I am desperately trying not to read. But I can tell even now that I'm doomed.

So, not only did she leave jam in my bed, she also killed Douglas Adams.