NOW I'VE HEARD IT ALL

I am sitting on my couch tonight, listening to the radio as I start catching up on emails (!), and a call-in show is being broadcast. Someone has just called in and said they are in love with their cousin and want to get married (apparently cousin has agreed to this arrangement). The DJ/therapist was a bit shocked by this, and suggested that the caller might want to re-think the relationship.

The DJ/therapist is currently taking feedback calls, and all the callers are mad at him and standing up for the gal who wants to marry her cousin.

Now, perhaps I'm being a snob, but this is just a little bit too Hillbilly-ish for me. There are 60+ million people in the United Kingdom. Logically, about 30 million of them are men. Surely there is someone out there for you, someone who isn't your cousin. Surely.

SO SORE

Ray and I played squash last night with Claire, the post doc for whom I toil. Ray had played a couple of times previously, and so was able to give Claire a bit of a workout, but she completely kicked my butt. That said, it was a lot of fun having my butt kicked.

Squash seems like a good mix of badminton, which I love, and tennis, which I am not so fond of. I like hitting a small ball with my racquet, and I like the challenge of both players being on the same "side" of the court. So many opportunities for collisions! I almost took out Claire once, but seeing as it is Never Wise To Take Out Your Coworker/Supervisor, I managed to stop the swing of my racquet in a pretty abrupt manner.

The only downside? I am so sore today that I can barely type. I expected my racquet arm to be sore, but my butt, lower back and legs too???

FEELING GUILTY...AGAIN

I have this huge "stack" of emails in my inbox, and a long list of people I've been meaning to call, and I don't seem to be getting around to responding in a timely manner.

It's weird; it's not like I don't WANT to keep in contact with people, or that I don't absolutely love hearing from everyone. I think it just overwhelms me when I see this list of people that I need to get back to, and sometimes I'm not an emailing/computer mood, and then that list gets longer...

I don't ever want to get to a stage where I can't send completely original and personal emails to everyone. I think I need to be in a writing mood, and then I need to write like mad before that mood runs out (the mood usually lasts me long enough to get through a half-dozen emails). Sometimes time runs out before the mood does, and I drop to sleep over the computer - this does not make for stimulating conversation!

I want you all to know that I AM thinking about you, that I DO intend to email or call you, and that I am sorry that I am so slow to get around to these things. I promise you will hear from me soon!

NOT BLOODTHIRSTY ENOUGH

I am facing a conundrum: I long to be well-dressed, perhaps even a wee bit fashionable, but I am just too darn cheap to actually want to pay for it all. I can't seem to justify spending 50 pounds on a new skirt/shirt/accessory when a little voice in the back of my head reminds me that Ray and I could DO a lot of fun activities with that money.

I was spoiled in Vancouver because I lived near a designer consignment shop and could find a lot of really nice clothes at very low prices. No such luck in Cambridge - we have an Oxfam thrift shop but the clothes aren't quite what I'm looking for. My other option is to watch for sales (I don't care quite enough about fashion to be concerned that I might be buying clothes as they are going out of season/style) but herein lies a problem: English women are really into fashion, and the good stuff rarely stays in a shop long enough to make it through to sales. If it does, my size is never there!

I need to be more bloodthirsty and dedicated about the whole thing; check shops more often to see when the sales start, put up with the crowds, and not back out of a head-to-head combat over the last pair of size 5 high-heeled sandals (after all, my nails are as long and as pointed as the next gal's). But then again, I would rather take Ray out for a picnic lunch along the river, with a good bottle of wine...

THINKING

My dad's mother, otherwise known as Grandma Zim, passed away ten years ago. Even though I was never lucky enough to know Grandma Zim from the perspective of an adult, I remember her as being a very caring grandmother and a person I wish I could have got to know better.

My "Auntie" Iris is Grandma Zim's baby sister. During this past weekend, I was repeatedly struck by just how many mannerisms Grandma Zim and Auntie Iris share. The same sayings, the same way of laughing. I had forgotten these little things about my grandmother, but suddenly as I listened to and watched Auntie Iris, the memories came flooding back.

MORE ON THE WEEKEND

Did I mention that I had so much tea this past weekend that I can almost feel it coming out of my pores? We're talking 5+ cups a day, for two-and-a-half days. I didn't know that my body could hold that much liquid (then again, I don't recall drinking much water over the same interval). Now, I love tea as much as the next person, but I'm a bit worried that I my body is giving off essence of Yorkshire Tea, and that with my brown hair I'm just one step away from being a skinny, walking teabag.

We also ate a lot. By God, we ate. I still haven't recovered my appetite because my system is still so full of food that it doesn't know which way to turn. And Auntie Iris was so worried that we are wasting away in Cambridge that she and Uncle Jos sent us home with a huge bag each of potatoes and beets (grown in the garden of and generously supplied by neighbour farmer Fred), a bushel of carrots straight from their garden, four large blocks of cheese, 28 rashers of bacon, and a new cookbook and pressure cooker to allow us to make the most of this bounty.

I think I'll go waddle over to the fridge now, and munch on a carrot stick or two.

A WONDERFUL WEEKEND AWAY

Proof that we spent our weekend in the English countryside:



We've just returned from three wonderful days with my relatives in Shropshire, and I can truthfully report that we had fun and relaxed in equal measures. We're so lucky to have family that we can descend upon with only a few days' notice, and who welcome us into their homes and hearts with such enthusiasm.

Our trip started on Saturday morning, when I picked up the rental car in Cambridge. You read that right - I was the driver this weekend. I decided that if I have figured out roundabouts enough that I can cycle through them, I should be able to do it in a car which gives me the benefits of a) being able to move quickly, with traffic, and b) encloses me in a steel box in case I screw up the execution and hit/get hit by another vehicle. Driving was surprisingly easy, and I managed so well with the roundabouts that Ray only squeaked twice the entire weekend.

My second (or third, or fourth??) cousin Leslie was looking after a friend's house and farm this weekend and she graciously allowed us to come up, under Uncle Jos' supervison, to feed and play with the critters. They had a large number of ducks, geese, chickens, and pigs. Ray and I especially loved the pigs - they grunt so happily and really enjoyed being scratched on top of their heads and shoulders.





The other highlight of our weekend, beyond getting to visit with everyone and a truly spectacular Sunday roast lunch, was a trip to Powis Castle in Wales. The weather was horrible, sort of like October-in-July, but we persevered and looking back I can say that the rain and mist added a very Welsh feeling to the day.

Powis is unique in that it is built entirely of red sandstone. The inside, which we were not allowed to photograph, is beautifully decorated with hand-carved wood panelling and intricate tapestries. Apparently Prince Charles, being an acquaintance of the Earl of Powis, used the castle as a hideaway for many years, although the guides swore that Camilla had not been welcome. Perhaps she had been smuggled in in the boot of a car.









The gardens were stunning, even on such a cloudy day:









We managed to smile through the rain!

FROM THE GARDEN

I love being able to go into my garden and cut off some bits for the house.

We'll be away this weekend and I won't be blogging; see you on Monday!

NOT AS BAD AS IT SOUNDS

I realize that Tuesday's post probably came off as pretty whiney and perhaps gave the impression that I'm not having a good time in England. I am actually really enjoying our time here. However, I also feel that it's important to be honest about our experience, and I do get homesick every once in a while.

When I was a little girl, I always thought that homesickness was something temporary, a way a person felt for the first few days or even weeks after leaving home. I never imagined it as the sort of permanent notch in my heart that it's turning out to be. Most of the time the notch is filled with Cambridge-putty, but even the brain-iak scientists here haven't perfected a putty strong enough to keep that notch filled all of the time.

And I think that's about the most I've ever used the word "notch" in a single paragraph.

P.S. Ray, what's a feedburner??

P.P.S. Kate has left a lovely suggestion to flop out in the meadows leading to Grantchester (as a way to get away from it all); this weekend we are going to do one better and are going to visit Auntie Iris and Uncle Jos (and family) in Shropshire. Three days in the countryside along the England/Wales border, surrounded by wonderful family, are just the thing we need.

THE OTHER HALF CHECKING IN...

Hi everyone!

Seems as though I should contribute a bit more, so here goes... Actually, I'll try and contribute a bit more in the future, but at the moment you just get the results of a few minutes of boredom while I was waiting for Amanda to get home this evening after I finished the crossword in the Sun. The Sun is a really trashy paper, but the crosswords are easy enough that I can almost do them, which I like, so I scrounged up a copy of it in the tea room this afternoon. The thing that really gets me, though, is that I still don't think like an Englishman and some of the clues required google to work out: skittles - rustic pub game for tailors (ninepins!), Innkeeper (I was thinking concierge, turned out to be 'publican', yeesh), and 'stinging painfully' (smarting, I think I was just being slow...). Anyway, I digress; getting back on topic, the other thing that I was doing to kill time was setting up an RSS feed for this site. Turns out there's this site called 'feedburner' that you type the url of a blogger blog into and, well, it just works. Seems like I should be suspicious that it just seemed to work. In any case, if you're like me and can't be bothered to look at a webpage to see if anything new is there you can now add the following to your aggregator:

http://feeds.feedburner.com/LifeWithoutAGoggleBox

At least until it stops 'just working' that is...

ON TOP OF THE LEARNING CURVE...FOR NOW

Had a flashback to last fall this morning: I had to have a bath. A water main up the road has burst (those really old pipes tend to rupture on a fairly regular basis, my neighbour has warned) and we had just enough water pressure to fill a bathtub but not to run a shower. At least the water was warm! But the time it took to fill the tub, and the effort to wash myself while nearly prone, is not something I miss about our student flat AT ALL. Have you noticed that to wash yourself in the bath, a strict order must be adhered to, while a shower allows all sorts of variations. When I have a bath, my technique is "cleanest-to-dirtiest": ie., face first, then shampoo, then conditioner, and finish up with body. I can mix this up any which way in the shower, with the exception of the shampoo-conditioner protocol; in fact, I often do switch around the order, just because I can! (See what months of having to bathe in a tub can do to a person??!!)

But I meant to talk about what I've learned since we first arrived in England nearly nine months ago. Here it is: I didn't bother to fix my hair this morning (I had the day off work). I got up, heard the wind whistling down the street, and realized that no matter how much effort I put into my hair it would look completely bollocks within 10 seconds of leaving my house - so I just gave it a quick brush and a dry and called it a day. Back in September/October I would have spent my usual extra time and effort - if you can call the collective seven minutes per day I spend actually fixing my hair "extra time and effort" - and then be horrified at what happened once I stepped outside.

A little victory for me today, which is all I can ask for, really, given that we still don't have any water and now it's getting time to cook dinner.

MISSING HOME

I've been doing pretty well lately as far as home-sickness goes, but every once in a while I really really miss my family, friends and life in Vancouver. It sort of comes over me in a big wave and tends to strike when I'm least expecting it. Perhaps it's when everything else is going so well in my life that I have time to feel sorry for myself!

While the absence of my family and Vancouver friends is a constant hum in the back of my mind, I've really made an effort to fall in love with Cambridge and forget - just a little bit - how spectacular the west coast of Canada is. For the most part it's working, especially now that the weather is hospitable and I can spend long hours out in the sun. But the nice weather also brings reminders of all the outdoors-y activities I could do back on the coast - riding, hiking, camping, swimming in the ocean, going out on Joan and Alan's boat just to get away from it all - that aren't available (or least easily or cheaply accessible) here. I think the biggest thing is that in Canada I was able to GET AWAY FROM MY FELLOW HUMAN BEINGS, even if only for a few hours at a time. England is just so cramped and lacking in millions of acres of wild space that I often end up feeling claustrophobic. (I have been told that I could find space devoid of people in northern Scotland, but that I would be eaten to death by millions of mosquitoes before I had time to notice the lack of humans...)

Now: switching from how crammed-in by Brits I feel to how much I would love to be crammed in by certain other individuals. Family and Vancouver friends: why are you so wonderful??!! Do you realize that because you are such amazing people, it makes me miss you terribly? My life would be so much simpler if my friends and family were louts (ha ha). Has this blog convinced you that Cambridge is a nice enough place to move en masse? And the people we've met in Cambridge are such a great group themselves that I'm sure you'd all get along famously. (The trouble being, of course, is that we will eventually leave this town as well, and have TWO groups of people whom we miss dearly).

DISNEYLAND FOR NERDS

Living in Cambridge is sort of like living in a big academic theme park. The undergraduate students are gone for the summer but their number has been replaced, in quadruplicate, by tourists from all over the UK and the rest of the world. These days, downtown Cambridge is bustling with people of all nationalities and it would be very unusual to walk down a street and hear only English being spoken.

The steets surrounding the ancient downtown area are lined with dozens of tour buses every weekend and queues sometimes extend outside the large tourist information centre. Every second person has a map in their hands, and I'm getting very good at giving directions to just about any college or church. I'm also getting adept at ignoring camcorders pointed my way (in truth pointed, I'm sure, at attractions behind me) and resisting the impulse to make a funny face to be immortalized on anonymous home video.

I'm certainly no stranger to tourist towns as both Gibsons and Vancouver are popular tourist destinations. In fact, I consider myself very lucky to have lived most of my life in places so wonderful that people travel all over the world to visit them. I like tourists, for the most part - except when they step out directly in front of my cycle without looking where they are going - because I love meeting new people and sharing what I know about "my" city. (It's actually a little sad just how much Cambridge trivia I have acquired in the last nine months). They make sleepy Cambridge just a little more cosmopolitan, and give the entire town a holiday air, because so many people are here just to wander around and enjoy the sights.

LAZY SUMMER DAYS

Ray and I slept in this morning, wandered downtown for some leisurely window shopping and a lunch of paninis and baguettes on the wall in front of King's College, then strolled home and spent the afternoon reading our new books. I should mention that Ray has a copy of the newest Harry Potter novel in his hot little hands and he reports that so far it's very good. It's a sunny, breezy day and our little house is cheery both inside and out in the garden, where one of the little trees has started to bloom the most glorious large purple flowers. I have no idea what the tree is, but the flowers look like something I would expect on a clematis. My garden continues to shape up well, and I've started a new planter box full of herbs. The basil is like it's own beast and once I can bring myself to trim its glorious foliage Ray and I will feast on homemade pesto.

Last night our teenage neighbours were having a party (oh, the joys of Mom and Dad being gone for the weekend) so we vacated our place and took in a live theatre show, followed by walking around downtown in the warm summer night. Tonight we are off to a salsa party thrown by one of my coworkers, where we plan to eat a great meal and dance the night away.

I'm enjoying myself so much right now that it's almost hard to remember the long, cold, dark days of winter. I am absolutely soaking up the sunshine and these wonderful, lazy, fun-filled days. Please remind me of today in, oh, November!

PIDGEY HAS LEFT THE BUILDING

Pidgey is gone. Ray and I had been checking on her daily, watching her turn her eggs, listening to her coo and laughing at how she watched us while we ate dinner below her, seated at our picnic table. She'd been sitting for nearly three weeks so we were eagerly anticipating the arrival of chicks. When her nest was empty this morning we figured she'd just gone to get a snack, but tonight it is after dark and she's still not back in her place. Something is amiss.

Perhaps she got bored; after all, she's been sitting on eggs for about 6 weeks already this year. Perhaps she couldn't take the heat of sitting on hot eggs during these hot summer days - we've noticed her panting the last couple of days. Perhaps she got tired of watching us eat baguettes in front of her and has gone off in search of her own carbohydrate binge. Perhaps she has become the lunch of a crafty cat or raptor (this fate befell our nesting dove, about a month ago).

Then again, perhaps she eloped with the handsome male pigeon who has been cooing at her most seductively from the maple trees out back. Yes, I think that is the answer. I am going to imagine that they are in the midst of a happy pigeon tryst, flying over the city and stealing Chelsea buns from unsuspecting tourists. It's just better that way.

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING TIDY

Some of you may not know this, but I am a bit of a clean freak. In fact I am comfortable describing my obsession with tidiness as just one notch below compulsive, but Ray might argue on that one; he is, after all, the one I follow around with a dustpan and broom! My sister Kim could also tell a few funny "Clean Amanda" stories, as she had the misfortune of sharing a room with me for several years and I vaguely recall harassing her about picking up her toys, drawing a line down the middle of the room, etc., etc. So I acknowledge that this is not a new issue for me.

BUT. Tuesday night I was rewarded for my diligence because we finally got to go out with our next-door neighbours and at the end of the evening they came over for a tour of our house. Turns out that I am not the only one with a burning curiosity to see just how individual you can make each house in a long line of terraces. In any case, Jane and Dale got the full tour and I am pleased to report that I didn't have to scurry madly about in front of them, tossing laundry in bins or closing doors to scruffy rooms. I think the house was even clean enough that I would have felt comfortable showing Granny around.

Score in Clean-O-Meter:

Ray: about 5000 (number of times he has a valid point that I am perhaps a little too clean)

Amanda: 1 (but a very significant 1, nonetheless).

STAND UP AND BE COUNTED

This blog seems to be growing into quite a beast and it has allowed me to reconnect, and stay connected, with more people than I ever imagined it would. I initially thought that our immediate family would be the only ones interested in what we're up to, but I am so glad now to have the opportunity to share our lives with a larger group. On a personal basis, I find that writing "to all of you" helps me feel more in contact, less further away, and less homesick than I would otherwise be. When I sit down in front of my computer, I think of all of you out there and it's a very comforting feeling.

The only catch is that I am curious just how many of you are along for the ride with us. To address this issue, Ray kindly found time today to add a counter to my blog. The counter is at the bottom of this page - let the number game begin!

THE SECRET GARDEN EMERGES

With dozens of hours of work over the last few months I'm happy to report that our garden is finally starting to take shape. We've ripped out 90% of the weeds, put down lawn in the back, cleared out the area around the shrubs at the front, and just tidied things up in general. I've put in a couple of small flower beds that I will expand upon next year, while Ray plans to establish a small cactus garden along the fence (I'm dubious this will work in such a wet clime as is England's, but Ray is optimistic). We've yet to put down some bark mulch or prune the trees, but all things come in time.

Here's a shot from the back of the house, looking out over the garden:



It's hard to see all the details of what we've done, but if you compare it to the photos from a few months back I reckon you'd see a major difference. For starters, I'm no longer worried that a simple stroll down the path will end up with carnivorous vines wrapping themselves around my ankles, or about getting lost between the back of the garden and the house.

Totally non-garden related, but I wanted to also report that my inaugural cycle to Madingley on my new set of wheels went very well; I shaved nearly 5 minutes off my time into work (uphill) and it was a much more pleasant - and safe! - journey all around. Now, if only I could get the weather to cooperate for the rest of the year...

BECAUSE KIM ASKED

Behold Myrtle:



May she be fleet of pedal and sound of chain, henceforth.

Tomorrow she embarks on her first round trip out to Madingley.

HOT WHEELS

My cycle Sally marks me as a denizen of Cambridge, as an authentic resident, as someone who perhaps lacks the good sense to ride a safe, reliable machine.

Alas, the mark of someone lacking the good sense to ride a safe, reliable machine was quickly becoming the hallmark of Sally. No longer did my charming rattle merely warn pedestrians that I was approaching. Rather, a dangerous clatter and grinding noise drew stares and chuckles as I rode through town. The situation had degenerated from riding a Really Cool In A Funky Sort Of Way cycle, to riding an Embarassing To Be Seen In The Vicinity Of cycle.

I adore Sally, but I had to face facts and acknowledge that a) I have already spent her initial purchase cost (30ish pounds) in repairs this year, b) the grinding noise is most likely a major bearing about to disintegrate at a really inconvenient time, and c) I have no idea just how many cycle parts are involved in the dangerous clatter but I suspect it's a vast majority of the components that comprise the machine. Add this to the fact that I'm cycling to Madingley on a fairly regular basis, and will have to do so in winter, and it all sums up to a pretty persuasive argument for a new set of wheels.

It took me ages to find a replacement, but I'm happy to say that after two months of searching in many, many cycle shops I have brought home Sally's snazzy cousin from back East: Myrtle. Myrtle boasts 24 gears (to Sally's one-and-a-bit), working brakes and nary a shudder. She's a decorous, earthy blue and I've kitted her out with a cushy seat, front and rear storage, a lock that will hopefully keep her in my possession, and lights bright enough to compete with those in Vegas.

I'm hoping all those gears will make it easier to cycle around town and to work, allowing me to be a bit lazy and to even stop building the muscles that are making it difficult to fit into my jeans. Not that Sally has been cast aside; rather, she retains a place of honour in our household and will be reserved for lucky visitors, Rob (because he thinks she's just the bee's knees), and for those times when I need to leave a cycle somewhere overnight; let's face it, Sally's not too likely to go walkabout unauthorized.

AMANDA, WARRIOR PRINCESS

This post's title has nothing to do with my response to Thursday's bombings in London; I had written it in advance with the thought of posting on that day but something so silly was of course pushed to the background. Now I am back to dealing with everyday life here in Cambridge, so here it goes:

I think I have discovered my inner "Xena, Warrior Princess" (a campy television show, for those of you in Britain who may not have heard of this gem). Xena was this woman who did things like wrestling alligators and bad guys - I think - and I remember that she had long black hair and a special yell when she was on the attack. While I possess only shortish brown hair and don't generally wrestle alligators OR bad guys, I did get a chance to try out the Warrior Princess Yell last week.

I was cycling through town on one of the roads with pretty heavy traffic when I noticed a cab trying to pull over to the curb on my outside. Never mind that I was cycling at a good clip and not blocking his path, and never mind that I am supposed to be treated just like any other vehicle and not forced off the road - he decided after a few seconds of following to drive directly towards me and try to force me to bail.

It's pretty impressive what one can do when one is sufficiently motivated. I UNLEASHED one heck of a mighty yell, something along the lines of "Aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, WATCH OUT!!!" (The "aye, aye, aye, aye, aye" is the Warrior Princss part). My yell was so startling and effective that it not only drew all passers'by eyes to me but those of the cab driver, who actually STOPPED and put his hands in the air as if to say "Who, me?". He looked suitably chagrinned when I glanced over my shoulder as I carried on my way.

What did I learn from this experience? One, don't trust Cambridge cabbies not to run you down if they think it will save them 0.0001 seconds getting somewhere. Two, British people don't appear to be used to hollering and yelling on their streets (at least by sober individuals). And three, don't be afraid to try out your inner Warrior Princess, you might be suprised with great results.

THE DAY AFTER

British people are amazing in their strength and determination to carry on today. People went into work, took the Tube and buses. Congregated in large crowds. Expressed their sorrow for those injured and killed, and vowed not to be intimidated by the cowards that set the bombs.

In the spirit of carrying on, we went to my office BBQ tonight and had a really nice time. I have always been blessed with terrific colleagues and the crew at Madingley are no exception. I ate too much, drank only a wee bit, and froze my butt off (the weather is horrid here at the moment). People talked about the bombings, but it was not the main subject of conversation. They were angry but definitely not afraid.

I know that the next time I travel to London the bombings will be high in my mind, but it won't because I fear for my safety any more than on previous trips. I will be thinking of the people who lost their lives or were injured, and feeling sad for them and their families. And like my coworkers, I will be mad at the terrorists but determined not to let them rule my life, or my choice of where to live and travel.

I want to thank everyone who has sent emails over the last day in response to my note - it was great to hear from you all. Thank-you for thinking of us, and for sending your heartfelt sympathy and wishes to the people of London.

I CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO THINK OF A TITLE FOR TODAY'S POST

I am sickened and horrified and full of so many emotions that it's hard to sit down at a keyboard and write this all out.

London was attacked by terrorists this morning.

At the height of rush hour, bombs went off in a co-ordinated attack on several Tube lines and on a double-decker bus. I'm sitting here listening to the radio and the casualty and fatality count keeps climbing. We don't know whether to expect further attacks over the next few days.

I have ridden the Tube lines that were hit, and Kings Cross, the train station nearest the worst blast, is where we connect for our train to Cambridge. Ray and I were there just over two weeks ago, and Ray had been planning to go into London again tomorrow. This hits very close to home.

I can't get pictures of what those blasts must have looked like, in those dark Tube tunnels. I can't imagine being trapped underground while the lines filled with flames and smoke. I keep thinking of the people going down those long escalators, the escalators that I can see so clearly in my mind.

I know that just because I am somewhat personally affected by these events doesn't make them any worse than attacks that have happened elsewhere. I know, logically, that more people probably died today in car accidents than in the Tube and on that bus. But somehow the sheer maliciousness of this attack, and the fact that the people targetted were just like me, minding their own business as they went to their place of work, upsets me a far greater amount. Perhaps that is illogical.

I want to say that my thoughts are with the injured people, their families and the families of those who died today. My heart aches for them.

I just don't know what else to say.

OLD RIVALRIES DIE HARD

London was awarded the 2012 Summer Olympics today and I read with bemusement the BBC headline: "London beats Paris to 2012 Games". Not, "London wins the 2012 Games" but "London beats Paris to 2012 Games". Way to stick it to the French, particularly in light of French President Chirac's jibe yesterday at English food.

Good thing most Brits don't know what I happened to say about their food yesterday.

MORE ON FOOD

I'm obviously going into a munchies phase as I am demolishing bags of crisps at an unhealthy speed and food is the only reasonable topic I could think to write about, again, tonight. Perhaps it's all that cycling, stimulating my appetite.

Today's food rant has to do with the complete incompatability of British cuisine with warmer summer weather. Don't get me wrong - a good roast and pudding is just the thing to warm the heart when the wind is blowing and the rain is pelting down. But in the, oh, two months of the year when the weather isn't Cats and Dogs, I'd be most happy to find at least some attempt at what I consider "hot weather" food: meals of Spanish and Mexican origin, salads and margharitas come to mind.

Of course you CAN find this kind of food in London or some of the larger cities (I'm assuming) but Cambridge suffers from a dearth of such eateries. What I'm really after is the equivalent of an Earl's patio, and Cactus Club or a sushi bar. We do have a sushi place in town but one California roll costs as much as an entire meal back in Vancouver; I'm just not desperate enough that I'm willing to pay those prices yet (but I feel my resolve will weaken as the summer progresses).

It doesn't help that Warren has just flown back to the West Coast to spend his summer there, and that Alicia is heading home to Vancouver at the end of this week - their departures make me acutely aware that they can soon be enjoying cheap, healthy food in countless restaurants and I am still stuck in Bangers-And-Mash-Land. Do you think sushi would survive being shipped to Cambridge??

CURRY CURRY CURRY CURRY CURRY CURRY CURRY CUUUURRRRRRRRRYYYYYY

Mmmmm...am sitting on the couch tonight with a belly perhaps a wee bit over-full of curry. I keep telling myself that I need all those carbs to make up for the calories that I burn cycling to and from work (I can justify anything).

Curry houses in Cambridge are like sushi joints in Vancouver, although not nearly as cheap. I have to say that while I won't miss much British cuisine once I'm back in North America (more bangers and mash, anyone??), I will miss the curry. Although, technically, I guess it's not really a "British" food...

WIFE OF THE YEAR

I just realized that I forgot to mention a big event that occurred a couple of weeks ago, that definitely nominates me for Wife Of The Year.

I attended a Green Day punk rock concert - I, and Ray, and 65,000 of our closest, sweatiest, punkiest friends - I, who tends to prefer Sarah MacLaughlin and Michael Buble. This should be an indication of just how much I adore my husband.

The concert coincided with stunning weather - low 30s and not a cloud in the sky. Perfect for a summer concert, except that apparently it's rarely that clement for summer concerts in England, and the organizers ran out of water relatively early in the day. Thank goodness Ray thoughtfully stockpiled our liquid supply. The first performers came on the stage around 4pm and we watched a variety of bands until The Band came onstage once it got dark out. The crowd went absolutely wild and we were soon in the middle of one of the largest groups I've been in outside of the Symphony of Fire in Vancouver (and downtown London!).

I will admit, although at a whisper volume, that I actually quite enjoyed the show. Green Day certainly knows how to entertain a crowd, and they were really great at connecting with their audience. I felt a bit awkward during some of the sing-alongs, as I suspect that I - and perhaps a few chauffeur moms - was one of the few people not to know the words to the songs, but I can lip sync with the best of them so it all worked out in the end. The evening ended with dramatic fireworks and a mad rush to the gates - we were lucky to be one of the first ones out and so didn't get stuck in the hours of traffic we had to deal with on the way into the concert. All in all, a good outing and a great opportunity for me to expand my aural horizons.






(Please ignore the sketchy quality of the photos; they were taken with Ray's camera!)

HORSEY HEAVEN

Today Ray, Alicia (visiting from Gibsons/Vancouver) and I got the heck out of Cambridge, where graduation ceremonies and tourists were totally clogging the city, and travelled to the nearby town of Newmarket. Newmarket is renowned in the horseracing world as the heart of English flat racing and was home to such legendary sires as Mill Reef and Hyperion. While there weren't any races being held today, we did get a chance to wander around the charming downtown area and to tour the National Stud, which is a famous government-run breeding farm. The farm was absolutely beautiful and the horses, of course(s!), were absolutely lovely. The tour was very well-run and the guide really knew her stuff; she was able to give histories of all the stallions and their offspring, and it was interesting to know how their horses fit into the international racing scene.

I meant to take many photos but got distracted petting the critters instead; here, though are a few shots:


Ray at the entrance to the Stud


Alicia gets some love from a yearling filly


Some of the pastures (out of 500 acres in total); these horses are yearlings


The stallion barn and breeding shed


Silver Patriarch on his way to meet a lassie

Funny event of the day: there were several children on the tour and it was quite entertaining to watch the guide try to explain, in PC terms, exactly why Silver Patriarch was so excited to be heading to the barn/breeding shed. You'd have thought that their parents might have guessed that on at a farm whose main purpose is BREEDING, there might be some horsey hanky-panky going on...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CANADA!

Today is Canada's 138th birthday and I am really missing being at home to celebrate with my fellow Canadians. Canada, and my particular slice of the West Coast, is so spectacular at this time of year that no matter how nice the days are here in Cambridge I find myself always saying "...but it's not the same as home..." in the back of my mind.

Last Canada Day Ray and I packed a picnic lunch and spent the day hiking around Lighthouse Park in West Vancouver. It's funny to me that I can recall that day so clearly, and it certainly doesn't seem like 365 days ago. I remember the heat of the sun, the wind that caressed us as we sat out on a huge boulder with our picnic lunch, the small snakes that slithered all over the boulder and the gulls that called above. I remember meeting fellow Canadians on the beach and in the trails, sharing a greeting and a laugh. I remember, most clearly, how happy I was that we took the day out to appreciate what our great country has to offer.

Being overseas has given me the opportunity to learn about the strengths of another culture and to see my own from a distance. What I am learning and seeing makes me even more proud to be Canadian - I love how we are a friendly and welcoming nation, how we value fairness and equality, how we stand up for human rights issues, how we value our environment (I realize there are exceptions to all of the above statements, but I still feel these generalizations hold true). I love our food, our music, our languages, our history of immigration and multiculturalism. I am proud of how my ancestors worked to build my country and of the high opinion that people in other parts of the world hold of Canada. I love that we have bears, beavers, moose and even nasty geese (and maple syrup, and buttertarts, and poutine).

Happy birthday, my dear Canada. The maple leaf is flying high in my heart today.