From Warren Leno

Indeed, indeed. I think 'Randy' is Ryan's 30-years-junior alter-ego, which i may have spotted in some sort of spritiual shape-shifting moment. I recall a record producer once telling me how he would watch Bob Dylan in the studio, appearance resembling an 80-year old bluesman and and 8-year old child within a matter of minutes, or even seconds. Said it was like watching a shape-shifter - 'he was that child and he was that 80-year man as much as he was his 54-year old self'. 'Randy' is who Ryan once was and who he would now like to be again.

Anyway, further developments on the Boston angle... Called in on Sally Gainsbourg, she barely remembered Searly and struggled to recall him even upon seeing the CCTV footage. Seems it was his first time in the library by all acounts - seven staff members viewed the footage and none recognised him. I asked them to call me if there is any more activity on his account, which they agreed to do so, viewing me as an impeccable family friend prepared to go to any lengths to reassure a worried ageing couple. (I left them a card which claims my occupation to be 'dentist'. Everyone trusts a dentist.

Considering my options over a cream cheese bagel. Must remember to rent a short-stay room before sundown.

In Reply

“I give Ryan the name Searly and ask if he would be so kind as to check … if evidence could be found that he is alive and well, I tell Ryan. Classic story, always works, and Randy duly obliges in accessing the security tape of the day the account had been used.”

To quote you. I don’t know if Randy is Loboda. I assumed Ryan had very briefly assumed the name Randy, then slipped back again after getting you the CCTV footages. I recall the Holy Land pass-through on your way north. You had a camera and had some opportunity to take some great shots, if I remember correctly. Though perhaps limited by weather?

Midges are my only excuse for ever emptying bladder into a drinking receptacle. Though I hear sailors do it for the sake of drinking. I do recall you washing the flask very well. As for sailors, if ever at sea without drinking water, a far safer, and theoretically ongoing, system of imbibing waters, is to use seawater instead of urine, taken from the rear rather than orally. The lower intestine absorbs the water content, blocking out the saline content. After which I assume one shits a bit of salt. If only the great explorers had known this technique, many lives could have been saved. Perhaps the Atlanteans knew. The magician, the physician, the rectal fluid intake technician…

In Reply

Randy as in Loboda? I do not believe Randy and Ryan to be the same person. Randy had a brief period of infamy and as such is a publicly recognised figure, though not particularly high profile in the collective conscious. Ryan doesn't fit the bill - too short, too old, too staid. This leads me to question why someone would use a pseudonym so similar to their real name. Is it due to ease of signature forging - the handwriting appearing more natural as it is closer to the familiar form of one's own real signature, or does it stem from something deeper, perhaps?

The idea that a name close to your original moniker allows for more natural reaction in a person-to-person setting. See low-grade tv actors/actresses who play characters which share their forenames, allowing for more natural reactions due to the multitude of historical instances where the person has been called by this name. This investigator suggests that it would be better for a person wishing to hide their identity to pick a name very different from their own and put in the time and effort required to develop a natural handstyle for signatures and a natural response style to the new name in social settings.

I appreciate your concern that law enforcement may frown upon my vehicular sleeping situation, but I shall keep no grog in the car and shall sleep under a pile of old coats in order to make the car appear unoccupied. I am a seasoned pro at such an arrangement, which leads me to recall the time I slept in my car on the high street of the Holy Island after spending the evening drinking with priests in one of the charming local taverns. After meandering back to my car, located by the post office/bakery, I consumed two brandy and cokes before sleeping in the passenger seat, waking only to empty my bladder into my thermos, before falling once again into the dreamy realm and only surfacing back to waking life once the morning birdsong had reached its peak.