Discovering Gems in My Old Bedroom

After two weeks of having an aunt and uncle visit and having them sleep in the larger bedroom downstairs, I have moved back into that bedroom on their departure. This is in fact my old bedroom. It has a tv in it and the internet modem is also here (meaning the best wifi spot in the house). I might never leave.

Upon moving my few possessions into the bedroom again I discovered some old gems that I'd forgotten and left behind.

First, my old Hello Kitty clock:

You may wonder why the two Hello Kitty dolls set into the face of the clock aren't facing outward, well that is because they rotate and a song plays every hour on the hour. That can be annoying in your bedroom. Hence, they have long been deactivated. Mid-spin.

Then, I discovered these old glasses of mine tucked in a drawer in the closet - they are so old the frames don't really fit my face (they might have been from when I was 12)! Plastic pink transclucent frames. Oh man, I was such a stylin' kid.

Comedy.

The Up Series

I just finished watching 56 Up, the British documentary series by Michael Apted which has been ongoing since 1964. Everytime they describe the premise with the quote "Give me a child until he is 7, and I will give you the man", on the assumption that the experiences one goes through by the time they are 7 are the ones that set them towards the people that they will be. I think the intent of the original series was to take one step beyond this and draw some conclusions on the class system in Britain, and how some of the more or less privileged children had no future but the exact one that they had been born into.  They take 4 kids (3 girls and one boy) from the London East End to represent the poor and 3 really posh boys who sing everyday in class in Latin to represent the ultra rich and privileged. Then they get a mix of those in between hailing from different parts of the country. The original series was meant to be a one-off, but 7 years later someone decided they would revisit these children at 14 (at a super awkward age for them all!) and then 7 years later someone else decided let's do it again at 21, and after that Michael Apted, who at first was a junior casting assistant or something in 1964 and became a accomplished director as time went on, decided to keep revisiting these people every 7 years. This week, they got to 56. Various members of the 14 children have decided to participate or not participate throughout the years, and this time was the first time where they got 13 out of the 14 to participate again (the last one is one of the posh boys who for reasons unknown refused to participate after 21, and has threatened to sue the producers on their continued use of his image - he didn't make it into Oxford/Cambridge as was expected of him, who knows if that is why). To be fair to the dropout, almost all of the participants have objected to the way their lives are editted in the programs, since 15 minutes to recap 56 years of one's life isn't really enough, is it. 

Anyways, I cannot do the explanation of the program the justice that a good ol' wikipedia page can do, so here is the link.

I actually first saw this program on American television, and not from moving to the UK as you might expect. It must have been 42 up (broadcast 1999) that caught my eye, since as I've explained to most of you, my awareness of Western television/film and general popular culture (besides Full House, Saved by the Bell, Jem and the Holograms, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, along with every book written under the sun) was non-existent before 1994 (despite having lived in Canada since 1987).  I think I caught it on television randomly and was captivated - who were these people, how had their lives panned out compared to what they aspired to as children, and did they fulfill the expectations based on class that the original producers clearly intended them to demonstrate?

Back in the days where not everything was available via the internet, I struggled to get a hold of the earlier editions, but eventually I had them all and watched every single one of them, just as spellbound, if not even more so, by these people and their lives. Some have enduring marriages, some never find anyone to share their life with. Some say they don't want children at 28, and then at 35 have 3. Some indicate they do want a family all throughout the programs, and then are single at 35, you give up hope for them as they are getting on, and then at 42 they have gotten married. You think, well that's nice, he found someone, but he and his wife are now in their 40's so I guess kids are out for them, and at 49 they have two young boys. One becomes homeless and endures psychological problems - ironically one of the most precocious, outgoing, and sunny of the 7 year olds. Their hardships make me cry. Their perspectives are eye-opening on how we each view our lives - a barrister and QC, talked a lot about aspirations in politics throughout the earlier editions - this has never come to fruition and he reveals that two of his childhood friends are Ministers in the current government - and he says that he can't help but feel a bit of a failure, and looks down with regret. It's strange to watch him, clearly succesful in his profession and with a happy family, say that and then watch a snippet on one of the other participants who have struggled all their lives, had loved ones pass away, and are on long term disability social benefits.

Personal stories are always what gets me to care about something - history, politics, religion, archaeology, literature, art, whatever the topic, if you don't tell it to me with some personal perspective with it, I won't care. But if you tell me about the people behind it, I'm fully engaged. They don't even have to be real people. It's why I only read fiction, and why I bawled my eyes out at the end of the Time Travellers' Wife - which is about a made-up person who involuntarily travels through time, for god's sake. I wanted things to work out for Henry DeTamble, goddamnit!

I am surprised by how few of the people I know in the UK have heard of this program, or had watched it (none of you, by my last random survey). I think it's interesting and worth the time just by virtue of the fact that in the present world of reality television and instant gratification, a program like this would never be commissioned - wait every 7 years for the fruits of your labour? No way Jose!

p.s. If they ever come out with a box set, Keith, you're set for my Christmas prezzie.

Pottery Painting

Depite having no creativity whatsoever, I love pottery painting. It was what I made all my friends do on my hen do, along with afternoon tea. It was a very civilized affair.

One of the first things that my sister organised for her and my niece and nephew to do was to go pottery painting. Initially it was just going to be a girl thing, but Ethan insisted that he wanted to participate, only to finish in 10 minutes while the girls were still umming and awwing about what paint colours to choose.

My niece Kaylie painted a box, even though her parents say she already has about a dozen boxes in her room for her odds and sods. I painted a dish, even though I have about a dozen dishes that I painted at pottery painting. This dish has the express purpose of being Keith's junk dish, as he likes to fish everything out of his pockets when he gets home and toss them on a desk. Putting them in a dish makes the desk look so much tidier!!

Here is my masterpiece, and a picture of my niece and I painting (censored as my sister has a weird thing about her kids' photos being online - I also put a lightning bolt across my sister's face for extra measure)

The colours come out much darker after they've been fired in the kiln, so it's always a surprise what it ends up looking like. Can't wait to pick it up next Sunday!

I've already picked out what I'll paint next - a ladle rester dish thingie. Then a mug with a slot at the bottom for biscuits. Then some chip and dip platter/bowls. This place is going to suck up all my money.

Richmond Night Market

Went to the night market tonight! Haven't been in at least 3 years - it's an annual market that gets set up over the summer months and opens on weekend evenings. Originally just one row of stalls in an empty parking lot selling mostly junk (I think I bought 2 mechanical pencils from there in its first year), it has evolved to become more of a food market with all sorts of street food, mostly of the Asian (and by Asian I mean South-East Asia/Oriental) variety.

Stef wanted to go tonight so we braved the crowds by going early-ish and being very methodical in our food search - first we went up and down the 3 aisles to fully peruse the offerings before choosing what to use our precious stomach space on. In the end we settled on the following:

Some Chinese dimsum - curry fishballs for Stef (not pictured), pork siu mai for me:

We then moved on to a new experience for me - the Hurricane Potato. Apparently this was introduced last year and this year multiple stalls were copying it. Rightly so, it is genius. The Hurricane Potato is a whole potato sliced thinly into a corkscrew, slid onto a skewer, and then deep-fried. Can't picure it? Not to worry! I have a video, complete with Hurricane Potato man chanting about the merits of his potato throughout:

 It is then dipped into ketchup or mayo or a variety of flavoured powders. They took it to a whole other level this year by sticking a hot dog in the middle of the potato, so of course we had to try that. Stef kept hers simple with ketchup topping and I ordered sour cream and onion flavoured topping on mine (in hindsight, a slight mistake, because it just made the potato taste a bit too much like chips/crisps). This is a winner - I will definitely have it again:

Last but not least, I wanted to try a okonomiyaki (japanese octopus pancake) - potato, cabbage, and octopus pan fried and topped with shaved dried onions, mayo and a special sauce - a thicker and sweeter worcestershire sauce.

All to be washed down with a nice mango drink - mine was mango with tapioca and coconut milk. We queued at least 25 minutes for these bad boys, all the while commenting on the stall's production process and lamenting that we could do it faster and better:

But don't forget, the original intent of the night market was to sell junk products. So of course I had to pay $2 for a comedy eye mask. Look! I have pretty anime eyes!

p.s. did you notice the girl behind hurricane potato man had a fake hurricane potato skewer in her hair? if not go back and look again. also comedy.

Bad driver

I really should not be allowed to drive!! I am sooo out of practice and I never had any spatial ability anyway (yea that curb is way far away...CRUNCH), but driving everyday and everywhere to do audits for years helped me get to a passable skill level, and I was confident. Now, I am a mess, yet I slide back into the comfort and alertness that I used to employ, resulting in some near disasters already.

I have already managed to scratch both cars - mine and my parents. Pulling into the garage, thought i had plenty of space between my front left bumper and the parked car's rear right bumper. Nope. scraaaaaaaaaaaaatch. on both cars. don't care about mine, i own that car so no guilt necessary, but not so nice on my mom and dad's car. Oops.

Then today I had a mild panic when I started the car up, looked at the dashboard, and was faced with this:

There's no GAS! THERE'S NO GAS!!! PANIC!!!! I had noticed the tank was getting close to empty over the past week, and each time just thought - I better gas up soon, and then neglected to do it on account of sheer laziness. And I'll admit it - I was a little afraid of the gas station. I've forgotten how most things work and feel a bit like a fool. Even though it is full service in Richmond (you can't fill it yourself, strange by-law in our suburb) I'd still put it off. And now it was on the E line! Noooooooooooooo. I'd never experienced this before because anal retentive me in the past would never risk it getting that low. I don't even ever remember seeing this orange light go on - I'd fill it back up well before this point each time. But I fought the panic and told myself they always leave a bit of leeway so you don't get stuck, and then used my new Gas Buddy app (thanks Elaine!) to find the nearest gas station, and set off. Made it, and was relieved that I could take this picture aftewards:

All full. yay. No idea what that other light is about. Is the car telling me I have a ball in my lap? Whatever. I'll ignore that one.

Baby steps, May, baby steps. Next, I will work up the nerve to fill up outside of Richmond and self-serve. You can do it May, you used to do it all the time.

My Cute Grandma and My Weird Lunch

I left London 9 days ago and have eaten out for every single meal since. That has got to be a record for eating out when not on holiday!! Was really starting to feel icky so today started my self-imposed diet. Thie involved me saying to my Grandma that I needed to buy spinach, carrots, and mushrooms, which were going to be my base vegetables for daily salads for lunch. Was then going to top that off with grilled chicken and find some balsamic vinegar to toss over all of it. I just wanted dear Grandma to tell me which of the supermarkets were the best so I wouldn't get ripped off due to my lack of local supermarket knowledge (compounded by the fact that I never cooked therefore rarely grocery shopped in Vancouver even when I lived here).

So this afternoon Grandma trotted me over to the independent produce shop over the road. Chinese run of course. I bought spinach (unwashed and all still attached in a bunch) a giant carrot, vine tomatoes, and celery. The celery was initially in a whole bunch but my grandma made the grocers halve it for me - then she tried to take the piss and ask if we could rip off just a few sticks, but I stepped in, thanked them for halving it in the first place, and said half was fine. No chicken in the shop and grandma refused to let me go to the Marketplace IGA to buy some, so we bought some frozen sea bass, (which again my grandma tried to make them halve, but they were four pieces in a vacuum sealed bag so I had to shush her again).

Back home, grandma started washing the spinach (and yes I did say I would do it myself) but then Keith messages me on skype so I told grandma I was just having a quick chat and would be back in to cut up all the vegetables for my salad. Halfway through the conversation I ws summoned away from the computer to the kitchen where I found my her blanching ALL of the spinach. I was like "what are you doing silly, I was going to eat just some of that and also put it raw into my salad!" but of course that was too weird a concept for her, so cook it she would and don't you try to stop her. So in the end my lunch looked like this:

Strange but surprisingly quite tasty. Thanks Grandma!!!

gvb.B.

All over the world, they are a problemo

Whether you call them shopping carts or buggies, whether you're buying scrapbooking material at Target or groceries at Tesco, whether you call the level above the one that is on solid earth the 1st floor or the 2nd floor, and whether you are in North America or the UK, we all know that you gotsta get your cart upstairs to where the goods are at in a megastore.

It's just freakin' hilarious the devices that have become normal to make it easiest to do so. Elevators are so passe, I guess. We need crazy cart escalators, or we need angled travelators that magnetically lock the wheels of your cart onto the travelator, preventing punk kids from creating their own free roller coaster. Behold:

In North America:

And in the UK:

which is better, in your opinion?

Chill Bachelorette

The trip to the Bay area and Napa Valley has been a success!

We started off the weekend with Vivian's birthday on Saturday, which involved a lot of her driving me and Gina (one of her bridesmaids) around the Bay area. The first thing she said to me when I woke up and came downstairs in the morning was "WAIT. you cannot wear that. Let me give you a t-shirt to change into." Now despite my lack of wardrobe (due to a variety of reasons: ruthless closet purge in the UK before moving back, resulting in the Trinity Hospice charity shop on Northcote Road selling most of my tattiest clothes second-hand, some clothes being shipped via sea, and some clothes being mule-d over by Heidi in June), this was not a comment on my poor dress sense (I hope). It was a precaution against the epic lunch that was to come, which came with epic fumes that stay on your clothes and in your hair for a LONG time. We had Korean BBQ, which involves getting lots of marinated meat and grilling it yourself right at your table. The flame grill is great fun and makes delicious meals, but it also causes lots of smoke which gets in your hair and clothes and make you feel a bit like you've been barbecued yourself. Making this particular Korean BBQ even better was the fact that it was all-you-can-eat buffet style. Weekend food coma #1.

Some (sadly unsuccessful) shoe shopping, a Jamba Juice break, and some wild and crazy office supply shopping rounded out the day, and we feted the birthday girl with 3 rousing rounds of Bananagrams at her home in the evening, and went to sleep in anticipation of Vivi's Bachelorette Weekend (which also involved a lot of her chauffeuring us around).

Saturday dawned and we set off bright and early for the Napa Valley. How exciting. I'd never been. Plus, I hadn't had a drop of alcohol since leaving the UK (ye gads! the horrors! a whole week off the booze!) and was well looking forward to some nice vino. We started off the day with some, guess what, that's right, binge eating at an amazing brunch buffet place. I resisted the urge to order a mimosa or peach bellini at 11am in the morning, wanting to make a reasonable impression on Vivian's California friends, whom I've never met. I'm sure I did well by rolling my mini egg benny off my plate and onto the table before i even sat down. Do not take me to classy joints. The best bits of the buffet were the oysters and the tri-tip steak. Weekend food coma #2.

During the brunch, Vivi was forced to wear her bachelorette tiara - a subdued and subtle accessory made personally by her other bridesmaid Stefanie, but the attention-shy Vivi had to be convinced it wasn't too outrageous. She was constantly reminded that we could have gotten her a penis necklace instead, but that didn't seem to help. She was so cute she insisted on being accompanied to the buffet queue for her food, because she was so self-conscious about her tiara. I obliged on one occasion, presumably so that were anyone to approach her and enquire, i could shout "BACK OFF! GET YOUR OWN SANDWICH!" at them (non-North Americans will have to youtube this late 90's advert to understand the reference)

We then headed off for some wine tasting, visiting the Rombauer winery first. Despite a solid 6 years of drinking wine at least two nights a week, I still don't know what the hell I'm doing. Fine stuff is wasted on me. It all tasted good. Got a pretty wine glass out of the tasting though - a good souvenir. Then it was off to a tasting room in Yountville, where our hotel/spa was located. The area was super picturesque (when I upload my pics onto my computer I will append this post with some pics) and I would definitely go back to the Napa Valley just for the views.

We rounded out the evening with a 5-course tasting menu at Redd restaurant, which serves what Stef likes to describe as West Coast Fancy Fusion. Tuna tartare with crispy rice and foie gras were some highlights. Weekend food coma #3.

The two bridesmaids and I then stayed over with Vivi at the Bardessono spa hotel overnight, where they had left no relaxation detail unattended. The TVs in the bedroom played a loop of relaxing images such as fluffy clouds floating across the sky, some beautiful waterfalls in Hawaii, and some dude flyfishing in a river.  This morning Stef Vivi and I went for spa treatments, where I was pummeled with hot stones for a good 90 minutes, followed by a dip in the outdoor pool, which was surrounded by shaded cabana beds that were more comfy that the bed I sleep on at home. Two thumbs up for the Bardessono - highly recommend and I hope to be back.

Overall, a lovely time, even despite the fireman stripper failing to show on Sat night. Jokes - she didn't even want to wear the tiara.

It has been confirmed on this trip that I snore loudly enough to wake people up in the middle of the night. Sorry!!!

Also, I am becoming increasingly aware that my blog is mostly about the food that I eat. Is that all I do?

On my way to California

This Harry Potter post just does not seem to want to happen. I literally started typing it yesterday, got two sentences in, then grew exhausted and stopped. The first few days back home perhaps have been emotionally and mentally exhausting since I certainly haven't been doing anything physically exhausting!

Am now at the YVR airport enjoying free wifi as I await my flight to San Francisco to visit Vivi and celebrate her bachelorette weekend with her. I am sich a globe trotter!! Very excited, have not seen Vivian in 6 months and before that not since she was a bridesmaid at my wedding.

Looking forward to some R&R, a little fine dining, some Napa Valley wine tasting (where I intend to get pissed even if I am the only one to do so - is that socially acceptable?), a night in a fab hotel, followed by a long hot stone massage. Going to ignore the cost of all this!

Hope to return to Vancouver mellow as jello!!!!

More Getting Old

This time it's jet lag. I used to be able to take a morning flight from London (one that I would have to get up at 5:30am for), land in Vancouver in the afternoon (despite sitting on the plane for 10 hours, the 8 hour difference means you arrive in Vancouver and there's still a whole day ahead of you), and power through to night time so as to correct my jet lag immediately.

It's 5:41pm right now, I've been up for 21 hours, and my eyes need toothpicks to prop them up. Dinner is at 6:15 and I feel there is a genuine risk I'm going to plonk face down into whatever it is and start snoring.

I'm hoping the high of seeing my niece and nephew will get me through to 8pm! that's all I'm aiming for!

First pro of being home: there's more water in the toilet bowl here

First con of being home: I have no idea where to buy hangers. Bed Bath and Beyond?

Ooh a pro Londoners will be jealous about: it's 23 degrees here.

Also who is the local dry cleaner?

Oiy vey.

Exhuastion blog posts are almost as incoherent as drunken blog posts!

Almost Outskies

Last sleep in London

Had a very fun day with Keith. National Portrait Gallery again, afternoon tea at The Wolseley. Walked by quite a few London tourist spots, like Leicester Square, Picadilly Circus, Westminster, and Tower of London and Tower Bridge. None of them on purpose, just in the course of getting from Gallery to tea and then to stay at Chez Ahlborn-Mooy in Shad Thames for the evening.

When I first arrived in London in September 2005, I stayed in corporate apartments overlooking Tower Bridge. This was the view I had from the living room window - I was awestruck at the time.

(That's Wilbur, my stuffed pig, looking out the window with me. He was my only friend at the time! Sniff!)

So it's actually quite nice to stay right near Tower Bridge again on my last evening in London (thank goodness Heidi and Tim live centrally right by it!). Tower Bridge is still my favourite London landmark.

Starting to feel sad, but will stop myself. I will be back soon and 3 months goes by in a blink.

I miss all you Londoners already, but you're not rid of me so quick.

Hope the jet lag isn't too bad and I can update with new blogposts in Vancouver soon. I still owe one on Harry Potter Studio Tour.

Bye for now!

Leaving!

Thanks for the leaving London drinks y'all. It was great and I am so drunk but I have a filet o fish inside me now and some fries and that is good and I will miss you all so much and if I think about it too much I will cry so just say thanks and I will miss you all and I will come back every year and have a reunion. I love you!

This is just like that time I was really drunk and sent an email and all it said was I will come to the pub golf guys i am so drunk and I love you. Which I do.

I had a filet o fish and Keith was a slave to advertising and had some kinda Chicago Supreme burger it looked crap and oh no my keyboard is all greasy with McD's grease now. where are the wet wipes?

WEEEE

National Portrait Gallery

Last weekday of moseying around London on my own.

Today it is beautiful and sunny in London, but I chose to go to the National Portrait Gallery instead of read in the park. I've always wanted to go to the National Portrait Gallery but hadn't ever made it there. Yesterday I went to Trafalgar Square with the intention of going to it but ended up spending an hour in the National Gallery instead.

National Portrait Gallery = portrait paintings
National Gallery = any painting

One receives a thumbs up from me and one does not. You might ask - is there really a difference? And in my opinion there is a BIG difference.

To me, the national gallery is about art. The paintings there are by famous artists, but only interesting to those who actually appreciate art and art history. Due to a strike yesterday, over half the rooms in the National Gallery were closed. So the biggest deal thing that I saw was a painting by somebody somebody (see, already forgot) of Diana and Callisto. Diana is the goddess of the hunt (Artemis in Greek mythology, which I prefer) and her posse of maidens were all supposed to be virgins, but one of them (Callisto) was seduced by Jupiter (Zeus) and knocked up. The painting is about the moment that the handmaidens and Diana all realize she is pregnant and kick her out of their little club. I like Greek mythology and I was still like, whatever. The National Gallery does not get a thumbs up. It doesn't necessarily get a thumbs DOWN, I'm just not interested because I don't get art.

The National Portrait Gallery, on the other hand, to me is about history. Who are the important people that got painted, how did they want themselves depicted, what era of their life does the painting come from, etc. etc. I only had time today to walk through the Tudor period (Henry VII, Henry VIII, and Elizabeth I) through to the Hanovers (The Georges), spanning the 15th to 19th century. And to me, this was extremely interesting because it was like a historical gossip magazine. This dude got overthrown by that dude. This exiled king's grandson then led a army to try to reclaim the throne. This advisor to the King was executed when a Catholic monarch came to power, etc etc. It wasn't just kings queens and dukes either. There were galleries of poets, explorers, inventors, etc. I got to see the portrait of Lord Byron and Percy Bysshe Shelley, which I actually recognised from my English literature textbooks, except these were the real portraits that are hundreds of years old. Cool!

But the cutest anecdote of the day comes from the Gallery staff giving a talk to a class of schoolchildren around 10 years old. She was telling the children that when Henry VIII wanted to divorce Catherine of Aragon, it angered her father, who was the King of Spain at that point. She asked them, "Who else do you think it upset? Do anyone of you remember? Someone from Rome?"

And one little boy immediately answered enthusiastically: "Julius Caesar??"

Cute.

The Perfect London

London is amazing if you have no job but yet have access to unlimited funds (i.e. you are stinkin' rich, and mostly because Mommy and Daddy left you a payload, so you're still young and not had to endure some kinda high stress banker job for 20 years to accumulate said riches before retiring. Being a young goldigger would also fit the bill.). Not having a job means you can go and explore and appreciate the quaint venues which are oversubscribed and therefore a nightmare to navigate on the weekends. Having loads of money means that you can actually afford to enjoy these quaint venues, since not a lot is free in rip-off Britain, afterall (although before you Londoners protest, yes I realise that the museums are mostly free and that is indeed awesome - London gets 5 points for that).

If one did indeed have said lifestyle, I imagine what this is what life would be like:

Moseying up the full length of Portobello Road in Notting Hill on a Tuesday, to find a "London's best" brunch spot per Time Out, Lowry and Baker:

Even on a Tuesday afternoon this place was packed. Granted, it was one of those tiny cute brunch places, with maybe about room for 15 to sit-down, but every single table was taken up and when people did get up to leave more immediately arrived to take their table. I looked around me in disbelief, as I always do in London on a rare weekday that I'm not working, and thought - who ARE these people? Surely they aren't all Canadian ex-pats weary of  the London life who have quit their jobs and are experiencing their final week in London before they move home to Canada, like I?* There were some usual suspects - a few yummy mummies, a couple of middle-aged ladies, but also inexplicably there was a group of 5 women in their late 20's milling around enjoying the trendiest meal of the day.

You would never find me on at Portobello Road on a weekend otherwise, crowds jostling, elbowing past a little old lady to score that last red velvet cupcake at Hummingbird Bakery (do not worry! they stock them aplenty!), so this is something that I can only enjoy under these rare weekday circumstances.

Then on Wednesday lunchtime, meeting up with Keith and Babs near their office at Waterloo, for a nice pub lunch at Anchor and Hope, where Babs and I devoured this steak pie for two, complete with a piece of bone in the middle of the pie to hold up the pastry, which Keith and Babs tells me is usually an egg cup. I forgot to take a pic beforehand, so forced Keith to do a thumbs up in this pic of an empty dish pie to make it more interesting:

The Anchor and Hope is a yummy gastropub, but one of those that are too cool to have a website. Now, normally, I am against all such nonsense. If you are a restaurant, I demand that you have a website. Better yet, have an electronic table booking system on said website, so that I don't have to interact with mere humans when trying to get myself there for a meal (with the added convenience of being able to book a restaurant at work without advertising loudly on the phone that I'm not actually doing work - it's just a 2 minute conversation, RELAX!).Also, I demand that you put your menu on the website so I can choose my courses before I even step into the establishment (also done at work when I need a break from the ol' spreadsheets). But no. The Anchor and Hope is not this kind of user-friendly establishment, it doesn't need to advertise via a website, because idiots like me are queueing out the door for the privilege to dine there even without it. Keith and I only know of it because his friend Ryo took us to its sister restaurant, 32 Great Queen Street (another restaurant too cool to have a website! In fact, too cool to even have a name, since its name is just its address!), and it was only because the food was delicious there that I was bothering to try to eat at Anchor and Hope. Unfortunately, the only other time I managed to arrange to go to it was when Heidi and I were meeting for dinner one Thursday evening, and when we arrived at 8pm, were told that there was a 90 minute wait for a table for two. Uhhhh no thanks - and we would have known that IF YOU HAD A BOOKING SYSTEM!!! Anyhow, again, without work to go to, another experience to enjoy if you are foot-loose and fancy-free but can afford to pay £16 at lunch time for steak pie.


*Is this sentence gramatically correct or am I being a total douche? I cannot rest until I know the answer!

Finance vs Food and Man vs Food

Everyone loves a food challenge.No matter what your background and what your interests are, almost everyone has heard of that Japanese guy who used to win all the hot dog eating contests, despite being tiny. He is held in esteem and awe by all. So I would like to share some thoughts and experiences on two of my favourite food challenges.

First up: Finance vs Food (a Sky company "tradition")

The final Friday of the News Corp month-end calendar was always a dull day at work. Sure there would the mild weekend plan chat at lunch whilst munching on a chicken pesto wrap, and the weekly joke and fact, whose responsibility was a rotating number of first year graduates, which would cause a mild smile at best. It was clear there was a void, something missing, no-one could put their finger on it, no-one quite knew how this filling would manifest itself. Then 3 visionaries put their minds together, and combined two forms which people said could never be done, and together became the founding members of the Finance v Food committee.

It may not shock you to find that this opening paragraph was written by one of the "visionaries" themselves. If it had been up to me, I would replace "visionary" with "dufis" and I also question how much you can say that a void has been filled given there has been a total of two challenges organised. Does it fill every dull month-end Friday with joy? I think not, given that it has only happened on one month-end Friday and one random one, then dissolved into chaos.

Nevertheless, it can be said that when the said committee has managed to pull themselves together to organize an event, it has resulted in much mirth and merryment. It all started when a group of the guys at work discussed the Ferrero Rocher challenge, which involved eating as many Ferroro Rochers in a minute as you can. The world record, apparently, stands at 8. The organisers were particular about the rules - you could not cram more than one Ferrero Rocher into your mouth at one time, but you could unwrap them in advance if you wished.  Fueled by testosterone, each claimed that this world record was doomed to fall. And so, this serious challenge escalated into this:

Yes, a meeting room booked especially in the formal system for this very special inaugural challenge. The first contestant awaits his opponents, with his careful row of Ferroro Rochers waiting to be inhaled.

In the end, the winners ate only 5, a far cry from the world record of 8, but a large crowd gathered to watch this event, including 3 Directors of Finance, who were either so impressed they noted the names down for reference or to submit to HR for pink slips.

Unfortunately only one more challenge has ensued since this epic one, whereby another winner managed to eat 3 cream crackers with no water in one minute. An Easter one was planned, but abandoned due to unwieldy room booking logistics.


Man vs Food

The other tidbit of information that inspired me to muse about food challenges is that whenever we can't find anything to watch on television, we often turn to one of the food challenges and watch Adam Richman eat bucketloads (sometimes literally!) of food all over the U.S. I secretly would eat most of the crap that he goes around eating - not in his challenge proportions, but I wouldn't mind tasting it. Even the challenges that contain what the cheese snobs around me sniff as "fake" cheese. No matter who I watch it with, however, we always wonder how it is possible that this guy hasn't already dropped dead from a heart attack, and how long it can actually carry on. So I went to trusty old Wikipedia to read up on him, and lo and behold - Adam announced in January 2012 that he was no longer continuing with the show or engaging in any food challenges! So Man vs Food is no more!!!!

Eloisa with Auntie May

Check her out! She's 4 pounds 8 ounces so she's pretty petite. Which just makes her even cuter! You can basically hold her in the crook of one arm. And she rarely cries! Just sleeps and sleeps and sleeps. We visited her today and it was like any other of our prevous family gatherings except there was a teeny tiny baby in a cot in the corner. Hope you stay this nice and easy for your dear parents Eloisa!

Stats (that I know of, as an aunt who's seen her twice)

Days since birth: 5
Days at home: 2
Number of baths: 1
Most MLs of milk drank in one feeding: 35ml

Unemployment

My last day at work at Sky was today, and my work leaving drinks was last night. Somehow a leaving drinks tradition has started whereby the leaver has to drink their name in shots - i.e. one for M-A-Y L-E-E. That's a pretty short name relatively speaking, and I got let off easily - I did the MAY and that was it. M for Malibu. A for Absolut Vodka. Y for Yagerbombs (spelt poorly, should be jaegerbombs).

No hangover today - I am slowly tricking myself into believing in my drinking invincibility again. All I did at work today was show up at 10, go to the pub for lunch for 2 hours, then put together a reading pack for someone who is going to join the team in 2 weeks, and then get a leaving speech from my first boss Simon and my successor Stu. Then I said my thank you's, during which I of course cried and couldn't look anyone in the eye (it reminded me of how I was making my way fine through our wedding vows until I looked Keith in the eye and then blubbered/snotted my way through the second half of the ceremony). Then opening my embarassing card (full of drunken pictures of me at the Christmas parties!) and lovely presents (my first Tiffany blue jewelry box!), a piece of cake, some hurried goodbye emails, and that was it. Handed my laptop and access card over to Stu and called it a day.

I don't think I'll really feel it until Tuesday rolls around and I don't go into work (Monday is a bank holiday here) but it already is a bit weird. I have only ever left two employers in my grown up career - KPMG and Thomson Reuters. Although at KPMG I think of KPMG Vancouver and KPMG London as completely separate places. In Canada I was trained, did my exams, made some of my most enduring friendships (my three bridesmaids all came from KPMG Canada). When I left KPMG Canada I thought I was going to be back in 18 months, so didn't really have to do a mental or emotional goodbye. At KPMG London, I was sick of audit, and hadn't really grown or really put in the right effort in my year in the UK. When I left, it was well past time to go, and I had stayed only so long as to sort my UK visa out. It was very much a sense of relief to leave. Besides the significant personal event of meeting my husband there, it really hadn't added anything to my career. So, glad I was there, thank for the inadvertent matchmaking, see you later. It was scary to leave audit but I had no doubts it was the right thing.

At Thomson Reuters (which I still prefer to think of as Reuters) again I made loads of friends, had a lot of fun (month end Thursdays = 5 beers for Andrew and Xav and 2.5 glasses of wine for May, conveniently downstairs in one of the 3 pubs attached to our building in Canary Wharf), got some much needed non-public practice experience, and networked my way into a department move into Group Finance a year later. When I joined I didn't understand fully what my role meant (who does when all you've done is audit?) and knew fairly quickly that I wanted to be in Group Finance instead. Unfortunately that same year Reuters became Thomson Reuters and London Group Finance ceased to exist. Financial reporting being what I considered to be an essential experience area, I gave the newly created technical accounting role reporting into various US-based managers a few months before deciding to jump ship again - seeking work in Feb 2009 right after the global financial meltdown. Likewise, sad to leave friends, but again necessary for the career.

So then we get to Sky, where I've worked for 3 years, and the job has been exactly as it said on the tin, and therefore given me the experience that I was looking for. I learned so much and if I weren't leaving now I would have the opportunity to rotate into commercial finance and learn even more. I'm not saying it's been perfect, and many a day I would hit brick walls that made me want to shoot myself, and it's not like I woke up every Monday morning bright eyed and bushy-tailed, but certainly it has been the most rewarding job I've been at. So when I leave now I know I gave it my all but I'm not sure I've exhausted what I could have gotten out of it yet. Which makes leaving really quite a weird feeling. Weird not really being an apt adjective - wistful? sad? I don't know, but maybe it best sums it up to say: Surely it's not time yet?

I also haven't been unemployed since, well, ever. I got my job with KPMG when I was still in university and was 19 years old. I've never since left a workplace without having already secured my next job. I can't properly start looking in Vancouver until I'm back in Vancouver, so I am in a limbo stage. I am trying to chill the F out given Keith is bringing in income and we have decent savings (and I haven't had a break between jobs since, again, ever) but having no employer is an uncomfortable feeling for me.

Well much packing to do still and leaving country responsibilities, so won't have much time to dwell, just moving on, moving on to the next thing on the to do list. But can't help feeling a little gray and a little blue.

Eloisa Ann Bailey

The world welcomes Eloisa Ann Bailey, born 2nd of May 2012, my newest niece. Can't wait to meet her!

Starting to Get Stressed

I am starting to make lists over and over again. The only thing that makes me feel better when i'm stressed is making lists and then getting things crossed off the list. I've tried to allocate some of the list to Keith who is cool as a cucumber (as usual). It doesn't help that more possessions seem to crawl out of the woodwork - who even remembered that we had a George Forman grill?

Not helped either by Keith trying to add "2 cannisters of gas" to the shipping list (they are for outdoor camping).

Uhhh.. what are those Keith? Are they flammable? 

"Yes".

You want to declare some flammable cannisters of gas in our customs duty declaration on entry to Canada?

"Uhhhh.. yes?"

How much did they COST Keith?

"I dunno, £3.49?"

LEAVE THEM HERE, KEITH. LEAVE THEM HERE.

Ynyr, if you are reading this, you got two cannisters of camping gas comin' your way.

Here's a picture of me from a better state of mind (3 mojitos in!) from Thursday's karaoke adventure