Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Mokey Pending

Yes, I know, it never rains but it pours.

A month between updates, now here I am back on two concecutive days!

This time, a brief word about the impending excitement in our household. There's quite a lot really; a few big things in the works, any one of which would normally dominate.

Tonight, we are expecting Unicyclists. There is a big world-wide event passing through Hubbards today. 34 teams of Unicyclists, from 13 countries are taking part in the "Ride the Lobster 800k International Unicycle Race" and the time trial phase brings them right through our little town. It's the first event of it's kind anywhere anywhen and they are spending the night RIGHT HERE! Two of them are even going to sleep in OUR HOUSE! How exciting is THAT? Pretty cool huh? Major excitement what? Yep.

Then there's Friday night/Saturday morning. We are booked to play at the "Relay For Life" event in nearby Chester - at three in the morning. That's exciting too - only our second real gig here and part of a seriously cool event that should be a lot of fun. (Shame I have to work all day Saturday but hey, see previous post for why I hope that'll be OK, the guys'll keep me awake). Enough excitement for one week right? Wrong!

It is all overshadowed by what's supposed to be happening on Thursday afternoon. Regular readers will know that we lost our beloved L'Uther to bone cancer back in February. That left us with one dog (B'U the Standard Poodle, L'Uther's uncle and nephew (don't try, trust me, it works)) and two cats, Ricardo (aka Tardo) and Yoda The Ragdoll (aka Yoyo). We always knew this mix was uneven. Bu misses Lu, tries to get the cats to play all his giraffe-dog games which they really don't get and generally has a lonely time of it.

We also always knew there would be another dog in the house at some point but were not ready. THEN, last week, the breeder and friend from whom both dogs came, told us she had three 8 month old apricot bitches who had not been sold when they should have been because of other stuff that was going on at the time and, if we wanted one, she was ours.

We deliberated for about 1.07 nanoseconds and said yes. So, WestJet permitting, she arrives on Thursday afternoon. There was much hilarity for a couple of days - including all through wife's birthday/Fathers' Day dinner with daughters - trying to name said pup.

At one point, we had a less-than-original comedy sketch worked out around the line "Hi, this is my dog Bu and this is my OTHER dog Bu". We even wrote a song called "Me And You And Two Dogs Named Bu" but apparently something very similar has already been done!

Finally, we did what all serious minded people do when they have a serious problem of this sort. We reverted to childhood and mined the caverns of kids' TV. I never saw "Fraggle Rock" - wrong age, wrong continent - but it seems there was a hippy-like, female Fraggle (not even really sure what a Fraggle is/was, truth be told) called "Mokey". Suddenly, there was unanimity, consensus, agreement and a modicum of regret that the naming hilarity was over.

So, "Mokey" it is. She'll be a handful, no doubt, but cute as a button and a playmate for Bu and she might just even up the feline/canine balance a bit. Today was "Buying Of Stuff", a huge tug rope that Bu has already claimed and a couple of harnessy things that make it easy (sayth the label) to walk two dogs that a) can't agree on which way to drag you or b) CAN agree on which way to drag you or c) don't want to go ANYWHERE, even though you need to AND d) weigh more than you do. Not bad for $8.99 each if they work.

Don't forget to tune in for next week's exciting episode.

Monday, June 16, 2008

Good Thing I Said Nice Things About Them!

No famous people this time, just what this blog is SUPPOSED to be all about, a sorta kinda dyary thing.


Lots has happened since my last update so I hope there'll be a few in quick succession now.


Back when this whole blog idea was new and shiny, I did a brief series on "Shopping In Hubbards", one of the main parts of which was about my experiences in and impressions of the local liquor store, the NSLC (Nova Scotia Liquor Corporation) (see the entry on on December 13th 2007).

It's there for rereading by anyone who feels so inclined but, in a nutshell, I expressed the opinion that it was probably the nicest retail outlet in this small town and waxed lyrical about how impressed I was by the service, the selection and, incidentally, Nova Scotian wine.

I have also mentioned at least once that I have been job-hunting, albeit half-heartedly most of the time because of all the distractions and upheavals we've had since arriving here.

Well, here's the thing see. About a month ago, I went in the NSLC and noticed a sign on the door advertizing for a "Casual Clerk". I asked what that meant and came away with an application form. A very nice (unstressful) interview a week later and, Abracadabra, I now work there!

I've done a few short training stints, some on-line courses and, last Saturday, did my first full day. One of the training modules quite naturally and understandably goes into the need for confidentiality and so on and, since I only read it a few days ago and have no grounds whatsoever for claiming to have forgotten, I can't say too much about the details. I don't think anyone's going to mind, though, if I say a few nice things about the place an the people in general terms.

Before I do, I'd like to point out that I would not be doing this if it were not genuinely felt; I'd just shut up! This is not a place where I want to slag people. Neither is it a place for "brown-nosing". I work by the principle of "If ye cannot say owt good, say nowt".

So, although it's busy (very busy sometimes), sometimes strenuous (when the new stock comes in) and, frankly, highly repetitive, it has not ceased to be fun and neither do I expect it to. I've worked in enough different environments to be able to tell the difference between the novelty factor and a genuinely good place to be, and this is the latter.

As with every job I've ever had, from the most modest egg-delivery round to the biggest management responsibilities, the thing that makes the difference between enthusiasm and drudgery has ALWAYS been the people. If the job is "retail" in nature and involves the public, then they will naturally figure large in that equation. I've said before that this is a very frendly town with some of the nicest, straightest and most genuine folks it's ever been my pleasure to meet so there's no problem there. In any job where you have co-workers (A horrible word, try it without the hyphen for full effect. Brits should read "colleagues" or "work-mates" instead, much nicer), they, of course, make up the rest of it.

I've already commented on the staff's service skills and general professionalism but I now have a much deeper respect for them. The way they have accepted me, my idiosyncracies (I can see many readers nodding sagely about now!) and my too frequent confusions has been beyond any expectation I might have had. I feel at home there already and look forward to going in to work (I go in about 30 minutes for a four hour evening stint today).

They work hard, they work together, they help each other (especially me!) and they have fun. They crack jokes with the customers and each other, they do it right, but not "stiffly right", they know their stuff and are not backwards in sharing their experience. There are the usual grumbles about the sillyness (usually, as elsewhere, directed at the systems which, I have to say, are pretty good but have the usual nonsensical bits) but none of the cynicism I've grown used to in recent years. It really is a breath of fresh air.

OK, I have 30 minutes to proof-read this (you reading this, folks who write the training modules?), post it, get changed into my brand-new, freshly laundered NSLC uniform and
drive the six minutes to work.

So, to close, I say thank you, NSLC Hubbards people, all of you, good bunch one-and-all, for taking this Old World dinosaur into your midst and for all your help in getting me started. I'm Lovin' It, and it ain't even McDonald's.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

After a long absence, MORE FAMOUS PEOPLE

The apologies for my long neglect of this blog are, I know, wearing thin. I am therefore not going to make any more - so there.

Before the two posts about poor L'Uther, I was boring everyone with my encounters with famous people as suggested (sort of) by Nellie Of Vancouver.

We were in 1967, I believe, and had just met Tony Blackburn. Oh wow, how could you all have waited so long to see who's next???

Wait no longer, gentle readers, for, with a new simplified format, here is the continuation.

1968. Les Gray and the rest of MUD. "Who?" I hear the non Brits in the audience asking. Well, some years later, about 1971, I think, Mud became quite the pop sensation. They were part of the same Chinn & Chapman stable that gave the world The Sweet, to name but three. Hits like "Tiger Feet", "The Cat Crept In", "Lonely This Christmas" and "L'L'L'Lucy" abounded for several years. Back in '67, though, they were a struggling local group, playing, among other things, school dances. That's how I met them. They were a wannabe psychedelic group back then; they ALL were. Their first single for CBS was even called "Flower Power" ! It was pretty poor and sold both its copies at Thorpe's Record Bar (qv). I was a wannabe too at the time (we all were), but I was a wannabe drummer. I had the sense of rhythm (still do) but not the dexterity (still don't). Anyway, one sad, best forgotten night, I actually got to play their kit for a while, in front of about 20 people in our school hall. We were the "support" act (mostly to make them feel important I think, for we served no other purpose). Our school dances were odd affairs, mostly because we were a boys only school and, although the girls' school were invited, only about six usually showed up and the whole point was to hear the band (note the singular) and get to the pub before it closed. The only converstation I remember was with the drummer (natch, although his name escapes me) and it wasn't so much a conversation as it was a warning concerning what would happen to me if I hurt his drums. I didn't. That was the only success that night.

There are probably more in between but the next one that comes to mind is......

1976. Rolf Harris. This is one of the biggies. Both because Rolf is genuinely famous just about everywhere and because I actually did meet meet the man, FOUR times, and had a conversation with him each time. Wow, so close to greatness.
I was staying in a hotel in Newcastle-Upon Tyne where I was working for the week. Rolf and his TV crew were staying there too, while shooting an episode of a TV show where Rolf went to primary schools and sang and painted with/for the kids. I never got to see the Geordie episode, though I deliberately watched the show when I could in the hope that I would.
Our meetings took place over breakfast. The first morning, Monday, I went into the restaurant of the hotel to see that a long table had been put together down he middle of it and about 16 or so people were all having brekkie together. I paid no real attention. The waitress warned me, though, in her best Geordie, that my "Full English" might "tek a mite langer" because they were "Jest afta tekkin a big orda y'see pet",and she pointed knowingly at the big table. When I looked where she pointed, I saw a very familiar face - Rolf - smiling back at me, presumably having heard the waitress. I smiled back, like you do, and stuck my head in my book.
Some while later, the crowd at the big table had thinned to just Rolf and a couple of producer types, everybody esle having gone off to set up the day's shoot. I could hear the jokes passing back and forth and laughed at something I'd heard. Rolf shouted over something like, "Bring yer coffee over'ere sport, no good sittin' over there on y'r own". So I did. Sat there with them for another 20 minutes or so before we all trotted off to work. Same thing the next three days.
Now, Rolf has taken some flak down the years for things like "Two Little Boys", "Stairway To Heaven" (yes, he covered it) et al but let me go on record as saying he was the nicest, funniest, humblest and definitely friendliest celebrity I could ever wish to meet. I'm sure he doesn't remember me from Jan '76 in Newcastle but, if I should ever run into him again, he's the ONLY one on all this list whose memory I would feel comfortable enough to jog. Fair play to you Rolf, you're a true star.

More soon
Dyve out.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

L'Uther

Very quick today. No wisdom, no stories.
L'Uther, as I type, has about 75 minutes.
He has an appointment at 3pm, and it will be his last.
Back to happy stuff next time, promise.
Won't even see February out, damn leap years!

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

There ain't no justice

Just a quick, diary type, note today.
Just a year to the day since my wife's father died of bone cancer, we have just come back from the vet having learned, as near to surely as makes no difference, that our beloved L'Uther, the less-than-two-year-old red standard poodle who has been in charge of everything since the day we got him, has bone cancer too.

He's been limping, losing weight, resting and generally not being quite right for a while now and we've been waiting for the radiology lab to catch up after yet another series of bad weather days and give us their thoughts on the Xrays taken early last week. It's not QUITE conclusive but, in part because there's nothing else that could plausibly cause his problems, we are told to expect the worst. Morphine and a few months (if we're lucky) of being spoiled rottten. That's all there is for him.

He deserves a whole lot better. My wife, who loves him more than anybody BUT him deserves, also deserves better; our girls, who love him much too much too, deserve better; his uncle/nephew (yes, both!) Bu deserves better too. He's losing his playmate, allbeit slowly, and won't even know why. That shouldn't happen to a dog. Come to that, "I" deserve better too. I love him too, damn it. Much as I always curse when he has to inspect ALL the new snow before performing his ballet entitled (if I'm translating this right from the original poodle) "L'Uther Poohs In The Snow Very Slowly But With Great Style", when he just stares at me from the couch when he knows full well what's needed of him. Oh he can be a pain sometimes but we ALL love him and, for the last time I say, he deserves MUCH better.

Well, my role in all this now, I suppose, is to not get too morose; stiff upper lip and all that bull. Hold the fort, be there (wherever the hell that might be) and just DO whatever it is that has to be done.

So this is my little rant about injustice, and it stops right here. I'll keep my loyal (and frustrated) readers, many of whom are L'Uther's friends too, updated as time goes on but you won't hear THIS theme again. Done. Just dealing with reality after this. Good luck L'Uther. As I put in my Facebook profile a few minutes ago, I hope you have some good times coming. You're a trooper, a star, a very special dog (I know they all say that but even other dog owners admit, this guy's unique) and you deserve SO MUCH more than this (Oh OK, so it wasn't QUITE the last time just now, but THIS is).
Thanks for reading, folks, typing this has helped.
I'm glad I have a blog. I ignore it most of the time but, today, I'm very glad it's here.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Famous People

Nellie of Vancouver suggested rather strongly that I should put the text of an email reply that I sent her on my blog. I looked at it and thought, "no, wouldn't read right without the rest of our conversation as background" so, instead, here is an amended version. The original was all about "Famous People From Mitcham", that's where I grew up. This version will include most of those people, because I met, or probably met, most of them at some stage. This is about famous people I have met. Well, in some cases, as you'll see, I didn't actually MEET them, but had some other contact over and above just, say, seeing them on stage somewhere.

1. 1964. Chas Chandler - Famous because: Bass player of the Animals, later manager of Slade and others. Place: Mitcham Carnival. Nature of Encouter: Getting sworn at. How: A friend and I had gone to the carnival because.....well, because that's what you do when you're 12 and there's a carnival. The Animals had gone there because, although they were now famous with "House Of The Rising Sun" blaring from every tranny for miles, they were, I guess, still playing gigs that were booked before anyone had heard of them. We had heard of them, liked them, but they weren't the reason we were there. I'm not even sure we knew they were going to be. Anyway, sneaking across the front of the little stage they were playing on, I happened to catch my foot in the the cable that connected (I can now reason) Chas's bass to the monitor. It came out. The bass went quiet. Chas got loud. This is a family blog so I can't tell you what he said. It was in Geordie, anyway, a language I didn't learn until much later, so I don't even really KNOW exactly what he yelled. Such was his eloquence, however, that the sense was perfectly clear, even to my 12 year old ears. Whatever he wished on me has not happened yet so there's not even a clue there either.

2. 1965 (ish). Ken Barrington. Famous because: Cricketer, Surrey and England. Place: Mitcham Cricket Green. Nature of encounter: Actually I think this happened more than once. Ken was a local lad, by now in the later stages of his career and he used to come back to Mitcham annually (I think) for testimonial and other fund raising cricket matches at his old club. Like most cricket watchers, he could not sit still for a whole game and neither could I or the friends I was with. So we'd all walk aroud the rope that acts as a boundary to the playing field. Someone always spotted Ken and wanted his autograph. I never got one; not that much of a cricket, or autograph, fan, but several friends did.

3. Eary 1960s. John Rostill. Famous because: Another bass player, this time with the Shadows. He was their third, from about 1963 on and was another local lad. For those that don't know (that would be the non-brits), the Shadows were, among other things, Cliff Richard's backing group. Cliff was the biggest pop sensation Britain ever saw until the Beatles came along (and he's STILL big!) so that made the Shadows quite a big thing, even BEFORE allowing that they were, in their own right, the biggest, and best, instrumental group to come out of the UK, like, EVER. Nature of Encounter: He probably sold me lightbulbs or something. How: Actually, I don't KNOW that I met him (I warned you this would happen, remember?). I only know that it was widely believed in Mitchamian circles for many years that John Rostill, before finding fame and fortune, had worked in Mitcham Woolworth's. This would have been in the late 1950s and/or very early 60s; roughly between the ages of 6 and 10 for me. I was in Woolworth's at least once a week through those years, either with my mother, buying lightbulbs or the U.P.O.'s* for which Woollies were famous, or on my own or with friends buying toys, caps for our guns, cheap birthday presents for relatives or just getting out of the rain. I reckon John MUST have sold me something, loads of times probably, but since his name badge didn't say "Future Famous Dude", I totally failed to notice.
*U.P.O's are Unnecessary Plastic Objects. The phrase belongs to singer Nancy Griffiths, I turned it into an acronym some years back and find it very useful. Be my guest.

4. 1967. Tony Blackburn. Famous because: A disc jockey, formerly on the Radio Caroline pirate station but, by the Summer of '67, absorbed into the warm innards of the Beeb Beeb Ceeb, Radio 1 where he achieved much wider fame. The butt of many jokes down the years for his lameness and uncoolitude, he was, for a time and very incongruously, something of a heart-throb with the young girls of the age. Where: Tooting & Mitcham Football Club, Sandy Lane, Mitcham. Nature of encounter: There was a charity 6-a-side tournament held every year at T&M, where I was a regular supporter. Some friends and I had gone and, because Tony was going to be there as a ribbon-cutting, fund-raising-celeb, a girl of our acquaintance who later acquired some claim to the title "My First Girlfriend" (there are other contenders, it depends on your criteria) had come along too; not for the football, you understand, for Tony. Well, Tony was on one side of the field, under cover in the stand (the "VIP box") and we were opposite, on the terraces. At a certain point (have I mentioned it was raining tigers and wolves?) it became clear that Tony was signing autographs. The girl in question produced a very pink autograph book and started to explain what a shame it was that there were no chivalrous gentlemen around who would go and stand in the rain holding a pink autograph book waiting for Tony Blackburn's autograph so that her life could be made complete. Well, she was right, no chivalrous gentlemen around. There WAS, however, one besotted muggins. And that's how I "met" Tony Blackburn.

I have a problem with the power cable on my lap-top and the battery's almost kaputt so that's gonna haveta be all for tonight. I'll try to finish this soon. By the way, I applied for a job today. Next time.

Friday, January 4, 2008

At last, a waeguk answers a question!

It's taken more time than there is any excuse for but, here finally, is my attempt at an answer to the first question this blogger received. Simon, late of England, now in New York, has a professional background similar to mine; a career in foreign exchange which includes vault work in multiple countries, a variety retail operations at a variety of levels. The main difference between us is that Simon is substantially younger than I so, while I look back on 37 years finished, he is still doing it and looking as much forward as back. His question, reflects that. He asks:-

"I was wondering how you would cope with being who you are now, but back in Berkeley St (our mutual company's HQ in London until the 90s, D) in the 70's, and having to do your job of that time, but with the knowledge and experience you have now? Do you think you would fall back into the old routines or would your 21st century experience change your views and methods? Would you try and move things forward for them or let them work it out for themselves? Would you take advantage of your advanced knowledge and aim for promotions and praise or sit back and have an easy life?

In an attempt to prevent this from being either a) as dry as old bones to any unfortunate reader not versed in all the same things we are or b) turning in to an old dinosaur's rant about the good old/bad new days, I will try to couch the answer in the most general terms possible.

A number of things changed in the 37 years I was in that business and most of them seem to have changed elsewhere too

1. Systems. In 1970, the word never came up. There was one computer and only the white-coated specialists were allowed in its hermetically sealed room. It took up most of a floor of the building and only did two things. For about half the time, it processed the serial numbers of traveller's cheques, changing their status from "ordered" to "printed", "shipped", "in central stock", "in transit to agent", "in agent's stock", "issued", "lost or stolen", "paid" and, the demon of the bunch "PWA" (Paid Without Advice). The other half of the time, it processed payroll. It was not connected to anything anywhere, got it's data from punch cards and huge rolls of tape and churned out huge reports on "music paper". In contrast, the desk I just retired from housed four computers, each many times more powerful than the 1970 mainframe and connected, quite literally, to the entire world. Each could run several applications at once, even the simplest of which - a dinosaur VAX system some 20 years old - would have been beyond the grasp of any system, except possibly one run by NASA, in 1970.

2. Promotion/Recruitment policy. In 1970, and for some years after, in order to be promoted to a higher position, even at very lofty levels, you were expected to understand EVERYTHING your underlings did. You didn't need any fancy qualifications. There were a handful of chartered accountants in the Finance department, a few engineers in "EDP" (that's Electronic Data Processing, or IT as we know it today) and possibly some other professionals I didn't know about but, in general, you came in with "O" levels, occasionally an "A" level, started as a trainee cashier and went as far as you could or wanted, learning as you went. Progressively, down the years, the MBA's, PHD's and various stripes of accountants took hold and made most of the senior positions their own. Never mind that they couldn't tell a Franc from a Dong, thought a "hedge" was something you clipped at the weekend and "forward" was a position in football. They knew BUSINESS! "Business is business", they had been taught. "Don't get bogged down in the detail", they had learned. And boy did they know how to mess things up.

3. The 80/20 rule. I first heard this described sometime in the late 1970's by a new kind of professional called a "business analyst". I became one for a time and, as callings go, it's fun. What the 80/20 rule says, in a nutshell, is that, in any project, 80% of the job is completed with 20% of the resources (time, money, equipment, whatever). It's the other 20%, that messy list of exceptions, oddities, manual bits of awkwardness, that swallow up the big bucks/hours/kit. As an observation, this was wonderful and right on the money; I've seen it proven 100 times over. BUT, the fussbudgets got hold of it and tried to argue that we should therefore only do 80% of the project, thereby saving 80% of the money. At this stage, nobody had really caught on (and many still haven't) to the downside of #2 above; to wit, in a labour market dominated by qualified professionals, they can all work anywhere. Under the old regime, my experience and knowledge might be of some use to a handful of companies similar to my own but no oil company, drug store chain or truck manufacturer was going to want me. I was most valuable where I was so I had a vested interest in making sure that any new systems would work, even in the messy 20% bits, even if I myself moved on in the organization. These new guys, though, the pros, were like elected politicians. As long as they could look good long enough to get the next job, which would be elsewhere, they really cared not a jot if the whole house of cards collapsed after they'd gone. "Stay Within The Budget" was all that mattered. The result has been a succession of iterations of the 80/20 rule, each one doing 80% of what the last one did so that, eventually, the LATEST system only does 80% of 80% of 80% of 80%........ of the whole job (that's "not very much" in old money). I shouldn't complain, that's what kept me valuable through the last years - I was the guy who knew how it all REALLY worked.


So, what's the answer to Simon's question?

I would NOT use my knowledge to climb the ladder and take an easy life - I don't like rarified atmospheres and don't think it would work anyway.

I WOULD have a lot to say about systems. How not to paint yourself into corners, get stuck with non standard formats, etc.

I would know the trends of the future, of course, and many of them I would be powerless against. I would therefore just have to be prepared, recognise the demons at the gate when they appeared and do my best for myself and my colleagues.

I would buy more of the rare and odd notes and coins that came my way and live off them now. Better than any pension. I would also keep my savings in Swiss Francs.

I would be better able to "not sweat the small stuff". Many of the crises I and others faced down the years felt, at the time, as if they were the end of everything. Clearly, they weren't. The Sun still rose, the paycheck still came, the lunatics still took over the asylum and, guess what, I'm still here.

Otherwise (and I've had lots of time to think about this), I wouldn't do it very differently. I would know better who to trust and who not, and that would lead to some changes but, by and large, I'd do it all again. I would get different breaks, I guess. Probably would not end up in Canada this time because that was a fluke that isn't likely to happen twice. But I would travel, take all the relief jobs, the overseas assignments, experience life as it came along.

People don't tend to think of "Foreign Exchange Cashier", if they think of it at all, as a career that lets you see the world. It took me all over the UK and Ireland and to France, Spain, Luxembourg, Germany, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Belgium, Portugal, Italy, Greece, Egypt, Hong Kong, Singapore, Macao, Australia, lots of bits of the USA, Canada, Mexico, and I've probably missed a few. If I tried to change the past by reliving it, I think I'd fail. I would use what widom I could, but, mostly, I like how it went the first time.

Simon, I don't suppose that's the kind of answer you expected, or possibly even wanted, but I had more time to think about it than I should have and, really, that's it. When I was happy in my working life, it was because I was being ME. When I tried to live in someone else's world (like my brief trip into "upper management", I wasn't me and I wasn't happy. So, I'd be me, and that hasn't changed much (sepfer the grey and the wrinkles).

Thursday, January 3, 2008

So that was Christmas, and what did you do?

Well, that was quite a ride - literally for much of the time. Here's an abridged version of what I've been doing instead of updating here.

I mentioned last time, a family party in Moncton NB that went on till the wee small hours. Well, after a few hours of couch-kip, we picked up "Grandma", my mother-in law and brought her back here for the holidays. The plan was that my sister-in-law would follow down on Xmas day with her two sons and dog, stay for OUR big party on the 27th, then head back, probably taking Grandma (let's call her "G" for short) back with her, on the 28th.

"G" has had a rough year by anybody's standards. She lost her husband of 50 odd years last February and, although they were, by then, already in separate nursing homes, it was quite traumatic for her and all the extended family. But this lady has, let me tell you, spunk by the bucketload. No one who knows her has seen her brighter, happier, more active, than these last months. Then, back in the summer, following a long tradition that goes back to the dawn of the aged, she fell out of bed and broke herself quite badly. Wrists (1), hips (1), egos (1) confidence (0). She was in the hospital for a spell and everybody thought that, at the very least, the good times were over.

Not a bit of it! The "G" that toured our new house and lot, made jokes and told stories was, if anything, even brighter than the one I had last seen, before the fall.

So, of course, someone else had to get in some trouble. Sis-in-law (let's call her "D") had brand new winter tyres on her Honda when she set off from Riverview NB loaded up with family and Xmas stuff around lunch time on Christmas Day. On the highway, just before Truro NS (that's about half way, 90 minutes to go), BANG, a blow out.

Now for those of non-North American persuasion, I will have to explain the "donut". No, it's nothing to do with the Simpsons. It's what passes for a spare wheel in these parts. As long as I've been here, I have failed to understand why in Europe, where cars are traditionally small, roads of mixed quality and space at a premium, all cars have always come with 5 identical wheels, 4 on the road and one in the boot (trunk) just in case while here, where cars are traditionally huge, trunks spacious and roads (especially in Canada) generally pretty smooth, you get 4 wheels and an apology. The apology for a spare wheel is known "affectionately" as the "donut". It's much smaller than the others, has the advantage of taking up much less room but the DISadvantage of being all but useless as a means of keeping your vehicle off the ground, let alone mobile. You are supposed to put on the donut and limp no further than necessary to the nearest service area and buy a new REAL tyre. On Christmas Day. In rural Nova Scotia. Right.

What you ACTUALLY do is (unless you want to brave 150 km of highway followed by our bobsleigh run of a street with now't but a Boston Cream betwixt you and the tarmac) limp to the nearest service station (they're called "Irving's" here, like saying "Hoover" for "vacuum"), park inconspicuously at the back and call your destination on your trusty (and suddenly worth its weight in gold) cellphone.

So it was that I spent Christmas afternoon driving to Truro and back. That was OK though, roads were quiet, I had a new CD to play on the way and chats to have on the way back; I enjoyed it.

So we had a late Christmas dinner for (I think) 10, played "Wii" bowling, boxing and golf for a few hours, allocated sleeping spaces and turned out the lights. Boxing Day continued in like vein but with some serious garage-arranging thrown in. Have I mentioned, we have a HUGE garage. It's a garage in the same sense that London is a village; that is to say, no sense at all.

To us, it's party room, sound studio, extra bed room if needed AND a place to keep the lawnmower but definitely NOT the garage. I've said before that this is a small town but, even so, when you go around, as my wife had been, inviting everybody you meet (or even pass) to "come over on the 27th., the door's open", you just better be ready.

More family arrived, brother-in-law "E", his girlfriend, his son and his son's friend (invited at the party in Moncton the week before) some in a TOYota Yaris that made it up the road better than some snow ploughs I've seen. The weather, an ever present factor in all this, kept most of the others away. A few neighbours ventured out to join us but anyone who had to drive thought better of it.

The party was, if I say so myself as shouldn't, magnificent. Live (real) garage band playing almost constantly with revolving line-up of family, friends and friends of family. So good was the party, in fact, that Friday was officially cancelled. Cancelled, that is for everyone except "E" and the Yaris party who, making the mistake of watching the weather channel, saw that another storm was coming in and decided to race it home. They won, but this was still the WRONG CHOICE. They should have stayed and helped us revive the party because, the storm, the tyre (remember the three and a half wheeler? It's still out back at the Truro Irving even as I write this) and some other logistics had conspired to keep everybody else here until the weather and the holiday hours conjoined to make a window of escape.

We (that is, my wife & I) had a show to do on Sunday. We were booked to play at a Xmas party for a drugstore chain on Dec16th but, weather again, it was postponed to the 30th. So now, with all the extra people around, we expanded the band. Eldest daughter was drafted as an extra voice and friend of son of departed "E" as and allrounder - guitar, bass, vocals. My old "Snail" taiwanese Gibson copy of a " 6 & 4" double neck, known around here as "THOR" even came out of retirement. So more rehearsals were in order. In two days, Friday & Saturday, we knocked a set list into shape and prepared for the big day.

More weather! All the while we were doing this, we were also waiting for the call saying "sorry, postponed again" but no - Sunday evening, two cars, loads of gear, four folks, of we trot to Oak Island (famous buried treasure place, by the way) to entertain the PharmaTroops.

We go there, convinced we'd never get back, did the show (and have been hearing good things ever since, that's nice), DID get back OK, but WIRED. Two hours or so of garage based decompression time and we were ready to cancel Monday.

New Year's Eve, as you can imagine was anticlimactic. The weather prognosis was getting even worse so a 2am squad set off for Moncton leaving only 5 (I think) left.

A low-key game of (would you believe) Scrabble (TM) and that was that. More driving to get everybody back home over the next two days and here it is Thursday, Jan 3rd 2008 already.

In the interest of speed, I'm not even going to proof read this yet - just get it out there.

Tomorrow, I hope to get on with other matters; questions and the like
Oh, the weather? Cold, clear, no storms for at least a week and a THAW at the weekend. Hoodathunkit?