It is Saturday. We walk into the bookstore where I regularly buy The Communist, as we call it, but I cannot find it in the usual place. “Has The Economist arrived?” I ask a store attendant. “All the foreign newspapers have arrived,” he replies sourly, “but it is not among them.” I raise my eyebrows: “What’s wrong this time—volcano, snow, earthquake?” He is not amused: “No idea.” “When do you expect it?” Now he raises his eyebrows and puckers his mouth tiredly. “I am sorry,” whispers my beloved as we are walking out of the bookstore. “Ah,” I wave my hand, “what the hell!” As though I will be writing my letters to the editor of the mighty newspaper for ever. The Communist be damned, too.

Addendum I (March 8, 2011)

The Communist—sorry, The Economist—arrived only today. And it is Tuesday. The reason for the three-day delay remains as obscure as before. Anyway, around noon I walked out of the bookstore carrying my favorite read. And I dashed three letters to the editor by two o’clock. According to my weekly norm, which has held for quite a few years, three more letters still await me. And I have the whole day tomorrow. Phew!

Addendum II (March 11, 2011)

I sent this lament to The Economist with a cryptic explanation: “FYI.” In other words, watch your Croatian distributor. I was surprised by the reply from the editor’s office. They were sorry to hear that their copies did not reach Motovun in a timely manner. Apparently, they thought the hilltown had a bookstore with foreign newspapers. That would be the day! But the rest of the message was delicious: “The editor has asked us to pass on the thanks for the letters you regularly send to us on a wide variety of topics. We very much enjoy reading them.” I was over the moon, of course. What a joy to have faithful readers in the mighty newspaper!