When Barthelemy, the Factory's old hand in Kinshasa, told me how many seats are held in Democratic Republic of Congo's National Assembly by a former rebel movement, he confused me.
"Pardon?"
"Nonante-quatre," he said again.
"OK, thanks," I said as it registered and I hung up the 'phone. Of course, he would say "94" in the same French that people speak in parts of Belgium. And that's a numbering system which generally confuses me less than the "standard" French "quatre-vingt-quatorze" ("four-twenties-(and)-fourteen"). After all, his huge African country was once considered the private reserve of the King of the Belgians.
Even now, when French people give me 'phone numbers the high side of 70, when 73 becomes "sixty-(and)-thirteen", I tend to check them by repeating the figures back individually.
I'm glad the word "innumerate" exists because it was invented for me, but the thinking behind my query brought me back to an old favourite. For French-speakers who care to know where the numbering systems diverged, since the alternate usage can sometimes still stump us, editor Luc Bentz's "hand-sewn and non-profit" 'Langue française' reveals all.
Well indexed and with a FAQ and S.O.S. service (the latter on holiday this month), Langue française enlivens what could be one of the dullest academic subjects on earth with a few good jokes.
That takes me to the award of this month's prize for a Factory note. When AFP, like the other huge news agencies, updates a story with a "lead" using the same master-search words as before, we also like swiftly to tell clients what's new with what's known as a "trash line" under the headline.
Nobody's going to beat Lauren, now working out of Dakar, for updating one of today's "stupendously tedious but necessary" items by telling the simple truth: "ADDS SOMETHING INTERESTING". Unfortunately, the house rules wouldn't allow me to send it on to the punters quite like that.
My most interesting and rewarding musical find so far in July comes not from the totally modern repertoire I'm still exploring on the sampler discs that come with various good music magazines, but from an almost newborn (May) recording of an absolute foundation stone of western classical sounds.
French organist André Isoir has stunned me with his interpretation of "Grandpa" Johann Sebastian Bach's Art of the Fugue, which has become the third version of the work worth a place on my iPod.
Though performed countless times in a multitude of ways, Bach's art still gets something new from Isoir, who provides technical reasons for a re-arrangement of the order in which he plays the fugues; this doesn't in fact need explanation both to surprise and make total sense to keen ears.
By discovering the freedom that can be the fruit of strict discipline, Isoir uses the remarkable tones and colours of the organ of Saint-Cyprien en Périgord, in the heart of a lovely part of southwest France, to offer one of the most joyful "readings" of an inexhaustible piece of music you could ever have the luck to hear. For about 10 euros on the adventurous Calliope label, it's a must.
As a sometime aspiring (ethno-)musicologist, I also savoured the unusually good programme notes (mostly translated into English) by Jean-Michel Verneiges, who even manages to bring modern chaos and complexity theory and approaches to infinity into it without being insufferably pretentious.
I found this CD at a local bookshop whose tastes are much appreciated by the Kid and me, but have just taken in a rather evident but easily overlooked fact. On the Net, for those who don't have a habit of reading the music magazines but want to keep an ear to the ground, by the simple expedient of exploring the "new releases" links in the Amazon empire, you can make some most interesting discoveries.
Calliope, it would seem, is the Muse of Eloquence. With another new moon coming -- I can already feel certain influences waning again -- I think I might need some of her help soon. The 'Circle of the Muses' is closed to newcomers, but remains informative and possibly inspiring.
As for the somebody who recently told me that something I wrote to her was "kind of interesting", she's lucky. She's far too lovely to be strangled for it. And has even usually been kind of kind to me. So far.
9:12:35 PM link 
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