And so, I have returned from distant lands (well, 20 miles from Cherbourg) with a clutch of facts, desperately snatched from any English-language source I could find, usually with just minutes to spare. I've only got an hour to find a fact for today, so we'd better get started:
On Saturday, my Bob Dylan ignorance was exposed yet again, as my brother informed me that 'All Along The Watchtower''s lyrics are in reverse order. Sunday, meanwhile, revealed shameful ignorance of a different kind, as we discovered after a whistle-stop tour of the bars of Normandy, that the men's Wimbledon singles final isn't shown on French TV. Upon entering the first establishment and uttering 'le tennis sur le tele?', we were greeted with an ominously blank look. In the end, we resorted to experiencing perhaps the greatest tennis match in history through a Radio 5 broadcast that sounded like it was coming from a bunker deep within Communist Russia, as phrases such as "this is beyond mere sport - this is a war" and "tears are literally rolling down my cheeks - what a volley" leaked through the fuzzy speakers. Ah well.
Monday brought the slightly less exciting news that Anya is a type of potato, rather than a way of cooking said potato. Moving swiftly on, on Tuesday we visited Mont St. Michel, a delightful place but sadly devoid of facts - there was in fact no information whatsoever on its history, which I almost respect. It's as if it's sitting there on the cusp of the Channel, defying you to question its existence. Good shops also. In the end, I resorted to a dusty copy of the Eden Project guide, found in the back of my mum's car, which told me that 40% of terrestrial organisms live in treetops.
The next two days' facts were gleaned from the Ultimate Book of Trivia, a weighty tome which really can be judged by its cover. On Wednesday I learnt that Caesar salad is not named after Julius Caesar, but that caesarian section is named after his son, um, Caesarian. I kind of like that idea - any son of mine will be called Niallian - poor little bastard. On Thursday, meanwhile, I unearthed (struggling to find different ways of saying learnt now) that Pas de Calais, the name given to the very north of France, is the French term for the Dover Strait. Whilst perusing the pages of the trivia book, I also came across a question on Frida from Abba's nationality. I intended to use this, until I read the answer: Swedish. Ah. Then, in a frankly bizarre coincidence, whilst sailing close to the Dover Strait on the ferry back on Friday night, I read in a review of Mamma Mia: The Movie (have you seen the poster? The horror) that Frida from Abba is the daughter of a Nazi soldier and a Norwegian mother. My faith in the Ultimate Book of Trivia is irreparably shaken.
Yesterday, upon returning to Blighty, I learnt that dyspraxia is a condition which affects your hand-eye co-ordination. Anyone who ever witnessed my attempt at running the egg-and-spoon race will know that this isn't a strong point of mine, and I'm now convinced I have it. I plan to miss several days of work as a result of my new-found condition. And so, to tonight. I was sans fact until I opened an e-mail from my brother, linking to a website called 'Women of Strength' that he claims to have Stumbled Upon. There are a number of useful facts, but I'm plumping for the entirely irrelevant news that St. John was the only one of the 12 Apostles to die a natural death. With that mammoth fact-o-rama out of the way, I'm off to celebrate with a baguette, a glass of duty-free wine and a quick game of boules - though I may lose again, as a result of my dyspraxia, of course...
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