Okay, so I'm eating my breakfast toast and tea, reading an article in the New York Times magazine of a few weeks ago about travel safety and terrorists. I'm passing tips on to my spousal unit who is across the table from me, equally absorbed in his breakfast goodness.

We are two people who live in a log cabin in the woods, most of our travelling involves motoring 12 miles into the sleepy local village for groceries, but we are discussing anti-terrorist measures for travellers.

Hey, you NEVER know, eh.

So first expert quoted is this retired American colonel who says he has done a lot of spying in the Middle East and now runs a counter-terrorism and security foundation. Among other stuff, he says to tell people you're Canadian.

Woo HOO, we ARE Canadian! We've been implementing anti-terrorist travel measures and didn't know it! Maybe that explains why the Marnmobile has never been hijacked on one of its weekly grocery runs, eh.

Next up in the article is a guy who runs an international risk-management firm. He says to always take a window seat when you travel because they're much safer.

I guess terrorists don't say to the person sitting in the aisle seat, "Excuse me, would you mind tipping back so I can lean over you and pistol whip the person by the window? Thank you."

And here I thought I was taking the window seat when I bus into Montreal because I was enjoying the scenery. Nuh UH. It seems I was practicing anti-terrorist travel procedures. Who knew?

One last nugget that stuck in my mind came from a professor of international relations. He said to never wear khaki if you're going to Europe because only American tourists wear that colour, it makes you a target for baddies.

Again, more cunning anti-terrorist planning. First, neither the spousal unit nor I have any plans to go to Europe. Take that, you nasty terrorists! Second, we both own wardrobes with eye burning fluorescent orange for hunting season, considerable amounts of terrorist repelling plaid, BUT NO KHAKI!

And here I thought my tiny little life -- the fact that I don't go anywhere, that I live in a country almost nobody knows about, and that I am almost terminally fashion-challenged -- here I thought these things might all just be further confirmation of my general dorkiness.

I didn't know I was simply practicing cunning anti-terrorist moves, eh.

Thank heavens for The New York Times.