Wanted, Preferably Alive, Please.

So every now and then one looks at one's blog's statistics, and one oohs and aahs over people from exotic faraway lands dropping by (thank you), and then one checks traffic sources and stuff to see why those people ended up here and discover that they were probably seeking a learned dissertation from an expert on some esoteric subject but got me rambling on about some inanity instead, or they were looking for another Gitte Christensen (usually that Danish actress or the bigwig manager of a major company). This week someone - how exciting- put in the search words 'Gitte Kristensen criminal'.

Not me, was my first thought. But then I reconsidered. Maybe, I thought, a group of friends from my wild youth in Denmark were having a reunion party and my name came up in conversation, and then they began to wonder what had become of me, and maybe in their drunkenness they forgot that I was a true Christensen, not one of those pretenders starting with a 'k', and maybe they surmised that by moving to Australia, a shady land riddled with the descendants of convicts where TV production companies obsessed with tattooed criminals spend a substantial amount of their budgets on creating countless mini series about underworld figures, I would naturally fall in with a bad crowd (they're drunk, remember) and turn to a life of petty larceny.

That, or someone out there is looking for a Gitte who is a lot meaner and tougher and maybe bigger than me. Possibly she has tattoos - not that there's anything wrong with that.