remarque

So Dad and I decided to go to Paris for the Bastille Day celebrations, and promptly managed to miss them all - the Champs Elysee parade, the musical sets, the fireworks (though we did see a kid letting off rockets out the back of a Ford Focus around l'Arc de Triomphe), all in favour of getting drunk in my favourite restaurant in the world, the Auberge Dab. And as it was my birthday, we had a particularly nice Sanserre, followed by equally scrumptious Cognac from the Grand Champagne region.

Yesterday I walked off my hangover around the Louvre, and was utterly astounded to walk into someone I knew - from Canada, she lived in my halls - near the Mona Lisa. She was even wearing her Red York jumper (sweater,guys) so I could pick her out!

The experience has merely reinforced my desire to meet up with R, a Canuck mate, at Gare du Nord at some unspecified time in the future. I don't care where we meet up, so long as it happens. (incidentally, I find the common place usage of initials in place of names, for privacy, quite odd, but I use it here most happily)

Back from a three-day tour of World War I battlefields, a surprisingly uplifting trip! As someone who hasn't seen active service, and of no particular moral character, I don't feel I can add anything to the "Never Again" debate, so I won't, but I do love the peaceful nature of Commonwealth cemeteries and do find it exceptionally important to actively remember the soldiers who die at war, whatever the cause. Simply put, one might disagree with wars in general and wars in particular, but no criticisms can truly be offered of the ordinary soldier - who did his job, and more, and often died doing it. For this reason, the scheduled visit to Poperinge (near Ypres) and the shooting-post, where "deserters" were shot, is especially hard to stomach. Some utter morons, in the visitors-book at the cells, had referred to them as "cowards" and the such. And the chance that any of these sanctimonious, self-righteous bastards had themselves seen military service?

I've made the same trip before, and last time had looked out particularly for soldiers under 18 or who had died on 14 July (the trip was at the time of my birthday). This time, I Canada-spotted, at Beaumont Hamel and at Essex Farm, where John McCrae was inspired to write "In Flanders' Field". He was from Guelph (so I can see why he volunteered for Belgium!). One can barely imagine British soldiers crossing the channel to fight - the courage of Empire volunteers is, to my mind, even more astounding. At Beaumont Hamel, the Newfoundlanders lost 460 of 800 in one day, in a brave but terrible misunderstanding. I looked up at the caribou, the memorial there, and imagined myself setting off for Canada. I wouldn't have gone had there been such a chance I'd never see my family again.

Via Sarah, to whom I am too lazy to link. She's over there somewhere, find her yourself.

Just another stupid quiz, happily US in origin


1. Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly? Fred Astaire
2. The Great Gatsby or The Sun Also Rises? The Great Gatsby, though it's close
3. Count Basie or Duke Ellington? Duke Ellington, because Kyle loves him.
4. Cats or dogs? Dogs (the film 'Cats and Dogs' beats both, by the way)
5. Matisse or Picasso? Matisse
6. Yeats or Eliot? Yeats.
7. Buster Keaton or Charlie Chaplin? Buster Keaton.
8. Flannery O’Connor or John Updike? As long as it's not John Updike.
9. To Have and Have Not or Casablanca? Casablanca.
10. Jackson Pollock or Willem de Kooning? Jackson Pollock (thanks to the Albright-Knox in Buffalo - the only good thing in that godforsaken town. except wings.)
11. The Who or the Stones? The Stones.
12. Philip Larkin or Sylvia Plath? the who cares?
13. Trollope or Dickens? Trollope.Joanna. :-)
14. Billie Holiday or Ella Fitzgerald? Billie Holiday.
15. Dostoyevsky or Tolstoy? Dostoyevsky
16. The Moviegoer or The End of the Affair? The End of the Affair, cos I love Ralph Fiennes, though the film itself isn't up to much
17. George Balanchine or Martha Graham? George Graham.
18. Hot dogs or hamburgers? *Beef*burgers
19. Letterman or Leno? Leno. Yay!
20. Wilco or Cat Power? no frigging idea. you what?
21. Verdi or Wagner? Verdi. Though Portillo, of all people, made a good case for Wagner
22. Grace Kelly or Marilyn Monroe? Monroe.
23. Bill Monroe or Johnny Cash? Johnny Cash.
24. Kingsley or Martin Amis? Kingsley. on the grounds that Yellow Dog is crap
25. Robert Mitchum or Marlon Brando? I feel like a heretic, but Mitchum.
26. Mark Morris or Twyla Tharp? Who?
27. Vermeer or Rembrandt? Rembrandt. Check out the Rijksmuseum at Schipol.
28. Tchaikovsky or Chopin? Tchaikovsky.
29. Red wine or white? White.
30. Noël Coward or Oscar Wilde? Oscar Wilde.
31. Grosse Pointe Blank or High Fidelity? Grosse Point Blank. I HATE High Fidelity. Musical twaddle.
32. Shostakovich or Prokofiev? Prokofiev.
33. Mikhail Baryshnikov or Rudolf Nureyev? Baryshnikov - and not just due to Sex and the City!
34. Constable or Turner? Constable.
35. The Searchers or Rio Bravo? The Searchers. Wayne can act! Who knew?
36. Comedy or tragedy? Comedy. Because tragedy is always more profound in conjunction with comedy, ref Blackadder IV.
37. Fall or spring? Spring.
38. Manet or Monet? Monet.
39. The Sopranos or The Simpsons? The Simpsons.
40. Rodgers and Hart or Gershwin and Gershwin? Rodgers & Hammerstein. Yeah, I'm gonna go with Sarah's alteration to this one!
41. Joseph Conrad or Henry James? Joseph Conrad. No, wait, wasn't he responsible for that colonialist joy Heart of Darkness?
42. Sunset or sunrise? Sunrise.
43. Johnny Mercer or Cole Porter? Cole Porter. Absolutely de-lovely :-)
44. Mac or PC? PCs. Sara's MAC hated me.
45. New York or Los Angeles? New York. But not in the fall.
46. Partisan Review or Horizon? Horizon.
47. Stax or Motown? More bloody music...motown, on the grounds that I can identify it.
48. Van Gogh or Gauguin? Van Gogh.
49. Steely Dan or Elvis Costello? Costello (for Oliver's Army). Bang on!
50. Reading a blog or reading a magazine? magazines. though it depends, I wouldn't pick "Bliss" over a blog.
51. John Gielgud or Laurence Olivier? Gielgud.
52. Only the Lonely or Songs for Swingin’ Lovers? What the? Ultimate Acoustic CD 3.
53. Chinatown or Bonnie and Clyde? Bonnie and Clyde
54. Ghost World or Election? Election. There's no 'r' in election. hee.
55. Minimalism or conceptual art? minimalism. it's cheaper.
56. Daffy Duck or Bugs Bunny? Bugs Bunny
57. Modernism or postmodernism? postmodernism. in the IR sense.
58. Batman or Spider-Man? Spiderman. oh, how I hate to abandon my Batman, but for the films alone...Val Kilmer HOW COULD YOU!
59. Emmylou Harris or Lucinda Williams? er....
60. Johnson or Boswell? Johnson
61. Jane Austen or Virginia Woolf? Jane Austen. Neither float my boat. if they're choosing random female writers Rebecca West anyday! Sorry J K, you just missed the topspot there.
62. The Honeymooners or The Dick Van Dyke Show? Dick Van Dyke Show. Mary Tyler Moore, whoo hoo!
63. An Eames chair or a Noguchi table? Eames chair. but a SMEG fridge more.
64. Out of the Past or Double Indemnity? Dunno, don't care.
65. The Marriage of Figaro or Don Giovanni? Figaro
66. Blue or green? blue
67. A Midsummer Night’s Dream or As You Like It? Midsummer Nights Dream, for the many happy memories.
68. Ballet or opera? I detest both, but you can at least laugh more at opera.
69. Film or live theater? Film. you can pause it and pop to the loo. :-) yes, I'm a philistine.
70. Acoustic or electric? Acoustic.
71. North by Northwest or Vertigo? North by Northwest. That was me in the crop sprayer. Cary Grant. mmmm.
72. Sargent or Whistler? Whistler. the ski resort.
73. V.S. Naipaul or Milan Kundera? V S Naipaul. i reckon
74. The Music Man or Oklahoma? Oklahoma. because I know it
75. Sushi, yes or no? I love sushi - except when pushing out mushrooms with cucumber in lectures. well, sashimi and assorted bits.
76. The New Yorker under Ross or Shawn? Not the New Yorker full stop. Vanity Fair under Graydon Carter
77. Tennessee Williams or Edward Albee? Williams. who I thought for years was a woman
78. The Portrait of a Lady or The Wings of the Dove? Portrait of A Lady.
79. Paul Taylor or Merce Cunningham? Dunno
80. Frank Lloyd Wright or Mies van der Rohe? Frank Lloyd Wright!
81. Diana Krall or Norah Jones? Diana Krall, what a mistake that was! I do like Norah Jones to relax to.
82. Watercolor or pastel? Watercolour.
83. Bus or subway? Subway.
84. Stravinsky or Schoenberg? Stravinsky.
85. Crunchy or smooth peanut butter? Crunchy. but not with jelly.
86. Willa Cather or Theodore Dreiser? huh?
87. Schubert or Mozart? Schubert. if only for Ave Maria.
88. The Fifties or the Twenties? Twenties.
89. Huckleberry Finn or Moby-Dick? Huck Finn. though Moby Dick is partially redeemed by Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistlestop cafe
90. Thomas Mann or James Joyce? Mann, due to James Joyce's exclusion from this category on the grounds of unreadability. it's a word!
91. Lester Young or Coleman Hawkins? jazz musicians, right. I'll hold Kyle responsible for my ignorance.
92. Emily Dickinson or Walt Whitman? Walt Whitman
93. Abraham Lincoln or Winston Churchill? Abe.
94. Liz Phair or Aimee Mann? well I don't like Aimee Mann, so that's easy.
95. Italian or French cooking? Italian.
96. Bach on piano or harpsichord? Bach IN a piano, preferably.
97. Anchovies, yes or no? No. even at 79 degrees north
98. Short novels or long ones? short.
99. Swing or bebop? Swing.
100. "The Last Judgment" or "The Last Supper"? The Last Supper.

Omigod! A pregnancy on Blue Peter! Isn't that, like, soooo illegal?!?!?!

I thought sex woz banned!

Wait, now she's having an ultrasound, live. Sweet, but not for tea-time consumption, methinks.

Phew! A two week family holiday is over (the good and the bad) and I've shaken off the jet lag to report my new experiences on the far side of the Atlantic. It's been two months since I returned to England, believe it or not, and I had felt that I was fully back in the swing of things. Returning to an environment heavily influenced by the American lifestyle (we were in the Caribbean) was very bizarre, especially with my family, who hadn't themselves experienced it before. Every time we passed a Wendy's, for example, I'd cry a craving for a Jr Bacon Cheeseburger. Even the television adverts reminded me of what I had missed.

Most bizarre, however, were trips to the supermarket. We were in Aruba, a Dutch island, where the population officially speaks Dutch and is imbued with uniquely Dutch attributes. The other national language is Papiamento, a bizarre but pleasant-sounding mix of approximately five languages, mainly Dutch and Spanish; many also speak Spanish. In the supermarket, it was American and Dutch influences that won through. I had expected to wander round pointing out brands I liked to my sister (mmm, Chips Ahoy!) from Canada, but what I was totally unprepared for was the overwhelming sensations I felt at seeing old Dutch favourites such as specialty mayonnaise. The last time I lived in Holland was when I was 8, yet the smell and taste memories have lingered powerfully. (of course, at that point I was standing near the deli counter!)

I don't think there is anything 'profound' to be taken from this, other that it is nice to think that good memories linger much more powerfully than bad.

mwah hah hah hah hah

Oxford English:
Robert Kilroy-Silk

Erstwhile Labour MP, later talk show presenter, whose national politics lean somewhat to the right. In other words, a self-righteous, sanctimonius, smug jackass.

laughing out loud. a lot.

The Cold War is Over

This blog, has, I feel, been running away from its original purpose in the last few posts - perhaps because now that I'm settled back into England and into what might be termed a "routine" (lie in,get up, eat, clean up, eat, watch tv, bed, repeat ad infinitum) I've begun to lose sight of the differences which accumulated whilst I was away.

So, in the spirit of remoulding my blog, I'm not going to be referring to this, though I will say it came about 60 years too late, or, more importantly,
this.

Instead, today's post is about how much it sucks to have a whole year of working deleted from your life due to visa restrictions! In Canada, the only place I could work was on campus - and of course, all the long-term international students snapped up those places. So, no job, no money, and no long-term references. That sucks! You want a free market economy that encourages global trade and co-operation and enhances links between countries (those increasingly anachronistic groupings)? You want a trained, skilled, intellectual and open-minded management level? Well for God's sake, let them go abroad, and let them WORK abroad.

And for that alone, you've got to love the EU!

Find a Happy Place, Find a Happy Place

Absent without leave for a week, I've been working at a holiday camp for under-privileged children. Well, I say 'working', but it was more like a relentless succession of games and activities, with kids aged 12-14 whose enegry levels were considerably higher than mine! Absolutely knackering, but totally addictive.

Evidently, I don't want to write about it too much, as the kids deserve their privacy (only marginally less than they deserve our utmost respect - all the children I worked with were young-carers), but one less than savoury incident sticks in my mind. We took the gang to a local theme park, and had a wicked time on the water-slides, drop-slides and various ball parks. However, two found themselves being pushed about on the pedaloes, and swiftly on the receiving end of a tirade from an uninvolved third party (funnily enough, it went along the lines of "Don't swear in front of my fucking family"). Our kids aren't afraid to back off from a fight, bless 'em, and us supervisors were even more on edge when we heard that this had been followed by "You should be in a home". The whole incident came to naught, and we headed home later on all pointing and laughing at said woman and her family in a very mature manner.

If I ever see that woman again (in a scenario where I'm NOT supposed to be setting the good example), I'd seize the opportunity to gently remind her that, regarding her opinion, no-one gives a fucking damn, because such ignorance and arrogance, aimed at children, is utterly unforgivable. Yes, by the time they are teenagers kids should be starting to take responsibility, and can't be seen solely as victims, but the special middle class arrogance required to act the way that woman did is far worse than the street-smart chutzpah and sarkiness that those kids have got.

Notre Damn!

Just lost a post, which hasn't improved my mood..

Mixed news today. Returned from an overnight trip to Paris avec mon pere, which was wonderful. The weather was beautiful yesterday, and we walked from L'Arc De Triomphe (de l'etoile, as dad insists on calling it) down the Champs Elysee, along the Seine to Notre Dame. A leisurely return to the hotel, dinner in wonderful company at a seafood restaurant, and a trip this morning to Montmartre completed the trip. And I've fulfilled a promise to myself (and certain Canucks) to appreciate Europe more often.

But on my return a Dear John letter awaited from my interview, which after postponement had finally gone ahead on Wednesday. I felt it went well overall, with me impressing on personal characteristics but less so on dedication to the cause (tax laws - lets face it, who is?!). In the short term it has no real impact, I can actually obtain a better paid job with more flexibility in hours and a long term contract. In fact, there may be an opportunity to return to Paris and work there (nothing like nepotism for improving your French!)In the long term it means less on my CV, and fewer valuable contacts.

Although I accept that I probably wouldn't want a career in tax law anyway, rejection is always galling. It's about time I accepted it as a fact of life: people don't alway like you, jobs don't always go your way, bad choices are made. I've had it remarkably easy so far. This might finally teach me to, y'know, PREPARE for interviews.

But at the moment that all means very little. I feel like a personal failure, and given my fairly mammoth memory it's a feeling that is likely to linger.

Suck it up, buttercup.