She’s arriving tomorrow morning. I should be asleep as I’m picking her up from the airport at 8am, but I’m a bit too excited.

I’ve “known” April for over seven years now. We first encountered each other because of the “next blog” feature on either mine or her blog. Hers was an online account of things she observed in her daily life as a young mum in British Columbia – called simply “Pissoff”, she liked pear cider, but didn’t get enough of it, and she had little time for short men. Mine was also an online account of my daily life, but mixed with the sometimes surreal hypothesising of parallel encounters where I actually opened my mouth and told people what I thought of them, or even acted on my desires to maim those who crossed me. I think the election of the new pope and his resemblance to Ann Widdecombe had something to do with April Pissoff commenting for the first time. Or maybe it was Ryan the catholic (“Bravo!”) whom I’d torn to shreds after he decided, unwisely, to make a comment about about gays being cursed and destined to eternal damnation.

I guess you had to be there.

Over the course of a few months in 2005 there grew a friendly band of like-minded people who shared a creativity with words, pictures and graphics. In a strange sort of way, we got to know each other through our virtual lives; there’s a brutal honesty that comes through when people write about stuff on the internet, even if it is something as mundane as Coffeemate.

So it came to pass that I became more comfortable relating my thoughts to people I’d never met than those who were part of my real life – nothing new there – but I struck up a close bond with that woman from Vancouver Island and it only took one invitation for me to book my flight over there to visit in the summer of 2006.

She popped over in 2008 with Mish-Mash (who John Pigster joked “used to be a man”).

And then there was also the Vegas trip of 2009, where I travelled alone and met up with April and her friend for a few days, enjoying the museums and galleries in that cultural capital of Nevada.

It’s odd that somebody who you only meet on a small number of occasions can be counted as a genuine good friend, but the internet is a great ice breaker when you’re a bit nerdy and shy.

I wish I could promise the bright lights and excitement of Vegas during the next couple of days, but I can’t – this is Bolton. I have, however, fixed my security light in her honour and there’ll be food, wine, laughter and the odd Coast Salish death stare to put me in my place.

The proceedings may see me increasing my credit limit to allow for an Italian road trip next spring. And what the hell if it does? Life is made up of experiences; spend more time with those who love you and who you love and, on balance, it’ll be great.