Canadia Calling 4
Dear Team
I’m afraid it’s that time again. It has been a busy few weeks since last we spoke, what with ongoing media commitments, doing my bit for Canadian tourism and teaching the odd class. I can happily report that CSU Burlington has moved into its official ‘post-honeymoon’ phase. As Tom Lowrie puts it, there was a lot of lovin’ in the first weeks of semester, but the love-in has been ssssssnapped (thanks Wendy Hastings) by the return of the first assignment which just happened to be for my subject. Yep. Tears, insults, death threats and even the odd bribe. So for anyone who harboured lingering doubts that our Canadian venture was the ‘real deal’, time to concede. I must say that I feel relieved.
I’ve just finished a lengthy round of school visits and seen our students (or ‘candidates’ as we have to call them here. Don’t ask me! I don’t know what they’re hoping to be elected to either) do their stuff in the classroom. Would it be un-Australian to say that the standard of school teaching seems very high here and the work of the stu… er candidates also extremely impressive? Perhaps, but this is no doubt in no small part due to the outstanding tuition they have been getting from the ‘dream team’, 40% of which is actually Australian. On a more disturbing note, although I have not picked up an accent I have started using a couple North American/Canadian idioms including ‘cell’ instead of mobile phone and ‘go ahead’ instead of ‘you’re right’ when letting someone go through a door before me. I am seeking therapy.
Now, on to the important stuff. First, we’ve been to the baseball (I can’t bring myself to say ‘ball game’). And not just any baseball. We saw the Toronto Blue Jays host none other than the New York Yankees. Now, let me make one thing clear. It is NOT cricket. Of course, this is hardly a criticism. There’s only one Mona Lisa, right? Actually, not a lot happens at the baseball. A bloke throws a pill at another bloke with a bat, every 45 minutes or so one of the blokes with a bat makes contact with the pill, and occasionally the pill flies far enough for some bloke to catch the pill in the Yorkshire pudding (which he has somehow managed to smuggle on to the field) he’s carrying in his left hand. Once or twice the pill clears the back fence but rather than getting six, the batting team scores (an under whelming) one run. In fact, the game we saw was won by the Jays 6 runs to 5. Now, I know what you’re thinking; he doesn’t like baseball. Incorrect! Much to my surprise, I found myself soothed by the gentle rhythm of the game and quietly ecstatic about the lack of ear-splitting hoopla that you get at the football. There are actually long periods when nobody is trying to sell you something and there is time to discuss the action (ok, action is probably a bit of stretch. Let’s say ‘goings-on’) with your buddies. The game itself was absorbing, Jays jumped to a lead, NY pegged them back and threatened to pinch it at the death but the hosts hung on (see attached photo of jubilant Jays faithful).
What else? Well, I’ve been to Nova Scotia, one of Canadia’s eastern ‘maritime’ provinces. Now, it’s a scientifically proven fact that the quality of a holiday is largely determined by the number and cuteness of the dogs and cats you meet along the way. This being the case, Nova Scotia was up there with the best. To wit: first morning, I woke up in Port Hawkesbury and no sooner was I on my way to my next destination when a ute (or ‘pick up’ as they say here) appeared in front of me with no less than 3 Labradors in the back. Needless to say, I managed to record this magic moment with a couple of ‘high risk’ photos with one hand on the wheel (see attached photo).
I know what you’re thinking; it couldn’t get any better than this. Think again. Sydney (one of Nova Scotia’s larger towns) produced the prince of pooches (do not look at attached photo if you are in any way worried about your own flee-bitten mutt looking decidedly dodgy by comparison; you have been warned!) while Lunenburg managed a close second (yep, see photo). And just as time was running out, I visited the museum-like fishing village of Peggy’s Cove and met a black polydactyl cat (photo attached). As soon as I looked at this bloke I knew there was something not quite right. Well, apparently cats with extra toes are fairly common in these parts, some say because in the old days the fisherman bred them to be steadier on their feet on the high seas. Ok, I also managed to see some unbelievable scenery, get completely plastered with some blokes from Halifax in a bar in Ingonish, swim at Port Hood where the locals looked at me as if I was stupid or something, listen to some country music in French in Cheticamp (don't ask) and do a couple of major (I mean major!) bushwalks (one of which had me face to face with an owl the size of a Labrador. Yes, I know, dogs on the brain). But these highlights obviously could not outdo my new fluffy friends (I’m assuming none of you will stoop to tasteless remarks).
I should also mention that my appearance on Ontario daytime telly was a huge success. I can’t remember what I told you about it before it happened but I was locked in mortal combat with some hapless medico (who actually managed to go ok in the face of my withering onslaught), took a few live-to-air phone ins (each caller got a free copy of the book, lucky devils) and (as usual) cracked some killer funnies. What can I say? The good judges (er… actually Tom Lowrie and Bob Dengate) had me clearly ahead on points when the referee stopped the thing and I walked out of the studio a fully fledged media personality (I know what you’re thinking: it was only a matter of time). I’m currently selling copies of the video for $4000 (an absolute snip at about $100 a minute). This may seem a bit pricey but think of what it’ll be worth 10 years from now, huh? Hurry while stocks last.
I suppose it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t mention our weekend up at Muskoka where the Lowries and I were entertained by a lovely family at their gorgeous lake cottage. First things first, the cottage came fully equipped, including Buddy the wonder dog (see photo) who is the first hound I’ve ever seen bare-foot ski. He’s a bit special, our Buddy.
The weekend was full of all sorts of hi-jinks, but tube riding (see attached photo of super-athlete carving up at about 120 kmh!) and Tom Lowrie coming agutsa in a canoe (what can I say, some people just aren’t the outdoor type, see attached photo) probably crossed the line in a ding-dong go for first place. And surprise, surprise, on the Saturday night over a terrific nosh-up I managed to get into a barny with the bloke from next door because of my ‘unconventional’ views on obesity. This was actually a couple of days before the TV gig and my interlocutor was kind enough to tape the show for me, so obviously no hard feelings.
Next week Jan Wright and I will launch the book at University of Toronto bringing the total number of launches to 43, which raises the question of how many times a book can be launched before its authors admit that the thing just won’t bloody well fly! A fair question, I suppose, but we are pressing ahead. A large media contingent is expected.
Finally, it gives me no pleasure to report that things have hit rock bottom on the chick front. Somehow, I managed to find myself at a bar a couple of Saturday nights ago, the likes of which I have never seen before. I suppose it is best summed up as a kind of slightly (ever so slightly) upmarket 35s and over pick up joint although my mate and I managed to get off to a lively start by finding a couple of youngies, one of whom ran a weight loss clinic (yes, I was thinking the same thing, life truly is stranger than fiction), while the other (who also worked at the weight loss clinic) lived by herself with a collection of snakes, tarantulas and assorted other creepie-crawlies. I know what you’re thinking, it cannot (repeat, cannot) get any worse than this. It did. I made a late and desperate play for a (actually quite cute) body builder only to get sneered at by her two (chick) body builder mates! Needless to say that I am only now beginning to recover from the ordeal although I am not at all sure when I will be next venturing out in public. And to think, I am going through all of this for my beloved employer.
Actually, there has been one bright spot, the night four of me best mates came around for a beer. Bloody drank me out of house and home they did (see attached photo of my posse at the window seat, apologies to non-CSU readers).
But enough tales of endless self-sacrifice and humiliation. I will sign off with news that it now appears that rumours about Canadian winters being a tad on the chilly side appear to be true after all. Not sure what this will do for my ailing social life but there is nothing like a cold snap to re-ignite interest in something which beats human contact every time: winter clothes shopping!
Love yous all
MG
I’m afraid it’s that time again. It has been a busy few weeks since last we spoke, what with ongoing media commitments, doing my bit for Canadian tourism and teaching the odd class. I can happily report that CSU Burlington has moved into its official ‘post-honeymoon’ phase. As Tom Lowrie puts it, there was a lot of lovin’ in the first weeks of semester, but the love-in has been ssssssnapped (thanks Wendy Hastings) by the return of the first assignment which just happened to be for my subject. Yep. Tears, insults, death threats and even the odd bribe. So for anyone who harboured lingering doubts that our Canadian venture was the ‘real deal’, time to concede. I must say that I feel relieved.
I’ve just finished a lengthy round of school visits and seen our students (or ‘candidates’ as we have to call them here. Don’t ask me! I don’t know what they’re hoping to be elected to either) do their stuff in the classroom. Would it be un-Australian to say that the standard of school teaching seems very high here and the work of the stu… er candidates also extremely impressive? Perhaps, but this is no doubt in no small part due to the outstanding tuition they have been getting from the ‘dream team’, 40% of which is actually Australian. On a more disturbing note, although I have not picked up an accent I have started using a couple North American/Canadian idioms including ‘cell’ instead of mobile phone and ‘go ahead’ instead of ‘you’re right’ when letting someone go through a door before me. I am seeking therapy.
Now, on to the important stuff. First, we’ve been to the baseball (I can’t bring myself to say ‘ball game’). And not just any baseball. We saw the Toronto Blue Jays host none other than the New York Yankees. Now, let me make one thing clear. It is NOT cricket. Of course, this is hardly a criticism. There’s only one Mona Lisa, right? Actually, not a lot happens at the baseball. A bloke throws a pill at another bloke with a bat, every 45 minutes or so one of the blokes with a bat makes contact with the pill, and occasionally the pill flies far enough for some bloke to catch the pill in the Yorkshire pudding (which he has somehow managed to smuggle on to the field) he’s carrying in his left hand. Once or twice the pill clears the back fence but rather than getting six, the batting team scores (an under whelming) one run. In fact, the game we saw was won by the Jays 6 runs to 5. Now, I know what you’re thinking; he doesn’t like baseball. Incorrect! Much to my surprise, I found myself soothed by the gentle rhythm of the game and quietly ecstatic about the lack of ear-splitting hoopla that you get at the football. There are actually long periods when nobody is trying to sell you something and there is time to discuss the action (ok, action is probably a bit of stretch. Let’s say ‘goings-on’) with your buddies. The game itself was absorbing, Jays jumped to a lead, NY pegged them back and threatened to pinch it at the death but the hosts hung on (see attached photo of jubilant Jays faithful).
What else? Well, I’ve been to Nova Scotia, one of Canadia’s eastern ‘maritime’ provinces. Now, it’s a scientifically proven fact that the quality of a holiday is largely determined by the number and cuteness of the dogs and cats you meet along the way. This being the case, Nova Scotia was up there with the best. To wit: first morning, I woke up in Port Hawkesbury and no sooner was I on my way to my next destination when a ute (or ‘pick up’ as they say here) appeared in front of me with no less than 3 Labradors in the back. Needless to say, I managed to record this magic moment with a couple of ‘high risk’ photos with one hand on the wheel (see attached photo).
I know what you’re thinking; it couldn’t get any better than this. Think again. Sydney (one of Nova Scotia’s larger towns) produced the prince of pooches (do not look at attached photo if you are in any way worried about your own flee-bitten mutt looking decidedly dodgy by comparison; you have been warned!) while Lunenburg managed a close second (yep, see photo). And just as time was running out, I visited the museum-like fishing village of Peggy’s Cove and met a black polydactyl cat (photo attached). As soon as I looked at this bloke I knew there was something not quite right. Well, apparently cats with extra toes are fairly common in these parts, some say because in the old days the fisherman bred them to be steadier on their feet on the high seas. Ok, I also managed to see some unbelievable scenery, get completely plastered with some blokes from Halifax in a bar in Ingonish, swim at Port Hood where the locals looked at me as if I was stupid or something, listen to some country music in French in Cheticamp (don't ask) and do a couple of major (I mean major!) bushwalks (one of which had me face to face with an owl the size of a Labrador. Yes, I know, dogs on the brain). But these highlights obviously could not outdo my new fluffy friends (I’m assuming none of you will stoop to tasteless remarks).
I should also mention that my appearance on Ontario daytime telly was a huge success. I can’t remember what I told you about it before it happened but I was locked in mortal combat with some hapless medico (who actually managed to go ok in the face of my withering onslaught), took a few live-to-air phone ins (each caller got a free copy of the book, lucky devils) and (as usual) cracked some killer funnies. What can I say? The good judges (er… actually Tom Lowrie and Bob Dengate) had me clearly ahead on points when the referee stopped the thing and I walked out of the studio a fully fledged media personality (I know what you’re thinking: it was only a matter of time). I’m currently selling copies of the video for $4000 (an absolute snip at about $100 a minute). This may seem a bit pricey but think of what it’ll be worth 10 years from now, huh? Hurry while stocks last.
I suppose it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t mention our weekend up at Muskoka where the Lowries and I were entertained by a lovely family at their gorgeous lake cottage. First things first, the cottage came fully equipped, including Buddy the wonder dog (see photo) who is the first hound I’ve ever seen bare-foot ski. He’s a bit special, our Buddy.
The weekend was full of all sorts of hi-jinks, but tube riding (see attached photo of super-athlete carving up at about 120 kmh!) and Tom Lowrie coming agutsa in a canoe (what can I say, some people just aren’t the outdoor type, see attached photo) probably crossed the line in a ding-dong go for first place. And surprise, surprise, on the Saturday night over a terrific nosh-up I managed to get into a barny with the bloke from next door because of my ‘unconventional’ views on obesity. This was actually a couple of days before the TV gig and my interlocutor was kind enough to tape the show for me, so obviously no hard feelings.
Next week Jan Wright and I will launch the book at University of Toronto bringing the total number of launches to 43, which raises the question of how many times a book can be launched before its authors admit that the thing just won’t bloody well fly! A fair question, I suppose, but we are pressing ahead. A large media contingent is expected.
Finally, it gives me no pleasure to report that things have hit rock bottom on the chick front. Somehow, I managed to find myself at a bar a couple of Saturday nights ago, the likes of which I have never seen before. I suppose it is best summed up as a kind of slightly (ever so slightly) upmarket 35s and over pick up joint although my mate and I managed to get off to a lively start by finding a couple of youngies, one of whom ran a weight loss clinic (yes, I was thinking the same thing, life truly is stranger than fiction), while the other (who also worked at the weight loss clinic) lived by herself with a collection of snakes, tarantulas and assorted other creepie-crawlies. I know what you’re thinking, it cannot (repeat, cannot) get any worse than this. It did. I made a late and desperate play for a (actually quite cute) body builder only to get sneered at by her two (chick) body builder mates! Needless to say that I am only now beginning to recover from the ordeal although I am not at all sure when I will be next venturing out in public. And to think, I am going through all of this for my beloved employer.
Actually, there has been one bright spot, the night four of me best mates came around for a beer. Bloody drank me out of house and home they did (see attached photo of my posse at the window seat, apologies to non-CSU readers).
But enough tales of endless self-sacrifice and humiliation. I will sign off with news that it now appears that rumours about Canadian winters being a tad on the chilly side appear to be true after all. Not sure what this will do for my ailing social life but there is nothing like a cold snap to re-ignite interest in something which beats human contact every time: winter clothes shopping!
Love yous all
MG
posted by MG at 9:11 PM
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