“You’re not from here, are you?” “No. Not originally,” Gerry admits, wondering how far he should go with this. After all, this is somebody trying to jump the queue on an open-line show by calling an office number. He doesn’t actually have to produce his papers or pedigree. Just put her through to bother the technician and have her say about offshore oil revenues or Churchill power. “But I’ve been here for thirty years or so.” “I knew it. You’re not a Newfoundlander,” the woman says fiercely. “Would you like me to put you through to the studio?” Gerry asks, deciding that it’s better to roll over and play dead. “Do you think they fly the Canadian flag in the Quebec House of Assembly?” she demands. “Where are you from anyway? Where do you belong to?” “Sort of all over the place,” Gerry says, rustling papers to make a distraction and going for busy-jovial. “I’ve got another call coming in now. I’ll put you right through.” Gerry pushes a couple of buttons on the phone and hopes he’s inadvertently (or not) cut the old hag off.
