Hello again!

I'm still here, but since Melanie arrived a couple of weeks ago I've hardly been at the computer. The days preceding her arrival were spent in a frenzied attempt to make the apartment look presentable, and since then we've had a fine time being busy doing nothing. It's been great spending some time together after three months apart, and I'm trying to put the fact that I have to return North in a little over two weeks firmly to the back of my mind.

Now, I say we've been busy doing nothing but that's not strictly true, because over this last weekend we spent a hectic, yet hugely enjoyable, couple of days in the States. It was my second road trip into America this summer following on from Dave and Gid's Excellent Adventure last month, and we actually travelled many of the same roads as on that journey, although this time there was no giant cutlery to be seen.

When Mel went to the Hard Rock Calling event in London, one of the acts she saw was the Dave Matthews Band, and ever since then she's developed into something of a fan and wanted me to see them live too. The nearest place we could get tickets was for their date in Hershey, Pennsylvania (home of the chocolate bars), and on Friday we drove all the way down - a journey of about 600km - and caught their show in the evening. By all accounts it wasn't one of their best performances but we enjoyed ourselves, and if you have a few minutes spare I suggest you take in this performance of Funny The Way It Is from the show:

I should probably explain the reference to cow shit at the beginning of the clip. Hershey is renowned for two things - its chocolate and its cows - and Dave Matthews' opening line of the evening was "Hershey - tastes like chocolate, smells like cow shit," a state of affairs of which he reminded us at regular intervals from thereon in. We didn't actually take the film ourselves, but it was shot from roughly where we were sitting, and it may also be of interest to the group of girls who were sitting near us as they saw very little of the show. They were in their late teens/early twenties, and they spent virtually the entire time the band the were on stage either on the phone or texting. Perhaps that's what people do nowadays, but I don't see the point in forking out for a ticket and then spending your time completely ignoring what you've paid to see. This might work for Celine Dion or Mariah Carey, but otherwise I just don't get it.

We spent the night in a hotel just outside of Hershey, and the next day we decided to do some sightseeing. Historic Gettysburg was just a short trip from where we were staying, and we were torn between visiting an iconic location in American history or a chocolate factory; I'll let you know what we decided in the next post...

The genie-us of the BBC

It's been a very wet summer in these parts thus far, and as I look out of my window it's raining once again. Hopefully some of our rain will eventually make it across the Atlantic to save England's cricket team, who are kicking off the Ashes series in traditional fashion by struggling alarmingly against the Australians. I've been invited over by my Aussie friends, Dave and Tarni, tonight, so that rain better get there quickly if I'm going to be able to enjoy a mockery-free evening.

Speaking of mockery, I read an interesting story on the BBC website today, but I wasn't originally going to comment on it for fear of appearing offensive or mocking. Apparently, a family in Saudi Arabia is trying to take a genie to court, accusing it of theft and harassment, amongst other things. Now, I was going to avoid remarking that, by the sounds of it, this family might have issues with different kinds of spirits in bottles, as this might be seen as being disrespectful to the Islamic religion. However, it would seem that the BBC have no such issues; this will probably only mean something to our British readership, but take a look at this screenshot of the BBC home page, and focus your eyes on the 'Weird and Wonderful' section in the bottom right:

(click on image to enlarge)

Sheer 'genie-us', eh? (see what I did there?). Oh, and have a read of the 'fact of the day' piece too; I knew Tim Hortons was good for you!

Wife of Brian

Unlike many of the blogs that you may come across, Life In A Northern Town eschews the use of advertising on its pages, but I will make an exception today so that I may shamelessly publicise my sister's wonderful website.

It's said that the English are an eccentric race, and Vicky's Wife of Brian certainly fits in with this concept. Basically, if you've ever fancied owning an item of knitted facial hair then this is the place for you; beards, moustaches and eyebrows can be hand woven to order, and never again will you be caught short when the occasion demands some hirsuteness below the hairline.

I think there could be a real market over here in Canada, where the tradition of the playoff beard is ingrained into the national psyche, and I can just picture the scene next season where fans of both sexes are able to sport the ultimate 'game face.' This also means that even Sidney Crosby can now have an authentic playoff beard, rather than having to wait until puberty finally kicks in.

So, get your orders in now, and to any of my family or friends who are reading this: you now know what you're getting for Christmas!

Ribs, Roddick and Ross

It was the annual ribfest in Gananoque this weekend, and after what was a pretty sedentary week last week I took a stroll into the town park this morning to sample what was on offer. I say this morning, but it was actually well into the afternoon by the time I left the apartment due to the length of Roger Federer's fantastic victory over Andy Roddick at Wimbledon. I like Federer so I'm pleased he won, but I was also looking forward to Andy Roddick's victory speech had he emerged on top after that titanic fifth set. Roddick was a guest on the Jonathan Ross radio show in the UK last month, and he'd promised to mention Ross on court had he won, thanking him for all the 'advice' he'd offered during the show. Maybe next year...

Going back to my ribs (which was also the title of Odyssey's poorly received follow-up to their 1981 smash hit Going back to my roots), I enjoyed a rather nice half rack for my lunch, provided courtesy of the Kentucky Smokehouse, which has won the 'Best Ribs' award at the festival for the last four years. There was a long queue outside the Smokehouse, and I felt rather sorry for the other 'ribbers' on site as nobody seemed interested in their ribs, although my sorrow didn't extend to giving them my trade, I have to say. I think I've just about digested all that meat now, and it's my intention to be far more active this week so I will hopefully be able to work off the pork over the next few days.

Maybe I can talk Melanie into a game of tennis when she arrives next week; Melanie doesn't normally like playing, but perhaps I can get her a copy of the Jonathan Ross coaching manual.

Fey to go, Sarah!

I see that Sarah Palin has announced her resignation as governor of Alaska.

Apparently she wants to devote more time to her burgeoning career impersonating Tina Fey.

There has also been some speculation that Mrs Palin might be preparing to make a bid for the White House in 2012, but a report on NBC news suggested that Mrs Palin intends to get "out of politics for good".

The report didn't say for whose good that might be though.

No longer being served

It's already been a grim few weeks for celebrities, and it was with sadness that I read yesterday of the death, at the grand old age of 97, of Karl Malden, the bulbous-nosed star of, amongst other things, The Streets Of San Francisco, although I must admit that Mr Malden did fit into the 'I didn't realise he was still alive in the first place' category. TSOSF was one of the first 'grown-up' shows that I can remember watching, and today I learned that one of the stars of another favourite show of my youth had also gone to the great studio in the sky.

Mollie Sugden was an iconic figure on British TV back in the seventies and eighties, and for Brits of a certain age she will always be remembered as Mrs Slocombe from Are You Being Served?, a true gem of British television comedy. I know that the show managed to achieve something of a cult status over here - hi, Vikki! - and it is actually still shown from time to time on Canadian television, but nowadays you have to search the more obscure cable channels at even more obscure times of the day - or, more usually, the night - if you want to watch it.

Are You Being Served? was a wonderful show, stacked full of double entendres that I never understood as a child, and when you watch it today you wonder how they got away with a lot of it in a show that was always broadcast in an early evening timeslot. There was always something up with Mrs Slocombe's pussy - Mollie Sugden's indignant, deadpan delivery of her lines always made the situations even more comical - and it is with great fondness that I present to you now this wonderful tribute to Mrs Slocombe (and her cat!):



Mollie and Karl, you will both be sadly missed.

Happy Birthday Canada

It's Canada Day today, the day that the nation celebrates its birthday. Everybody gets a day off, and there are parades, fireworks and beer, although not necessarily in that order; indeed, if the beer comes first then the other two may not materialise at all or, if they do, the results may well be interesting and possibly life threatening to boot.

I've been celebrating by being even more lazy than usual, and I've been embracing my Canadian-ness by watching the all-day Corner Gas marathon on the Comedy Channel, although I will probably peel myself off the couch to go and see the fireworks in town this evening; I hope that the beer hasn't come first in this instance.

Most people here are surprised when I explain that there is no equivalent of a 'national day' in the UK, and that surprise turns to disbelief when I regale them with stories of Brits who are banned from flying the Cross of St George or the Union Jack for fear of offending immigrants or because they might constitute a health hazard. That would simply never happen here; Canadian flags are proudly flown all year round - gladly without the gung-ho approach that you so often see in the States - and the national anthem is sung every morning in the nation's schools.

Despite what I said recently about Canada being a 'collection of thirteen independent nations', the notion of being Canadian still binds its population together - well, maybe not in Quebec - with a closeness that is fast disappearing in the UK, and that's one of the reasons that I like living in Canada. Patriotism is not a dirty word here, so happy Canada Day to you all, and to all a good night!