Quandry

One of the friend's of the family's daughter is becoming quite a looker. We get along quite well. She's 11 years younger than me. Is that a problem, her being 21? Ask any randy mid-life crisis man that question and you'd get a unanimous response.

It's weird as I've known her on and off for years. She was always the curly haired little 9 year old that, while attractive in that "she's going to be a looker one day" way, you'd never do anything about... that's just illegal. As time goes by, the age gap becomes more manageable (c'mon 21 and 32 are slightly less illegal than 9 and 20) and you begin to reassess things in an adult light.

Last time I saw her was two years ago and a party my parents held and we got along famously there (having a burgeoning English accent helped, as did the shifting of 50-off pounds from my previously hefty frame). I've been told that she talked about me endlessly to her mum afterwards.

Of course, friends of families kinda frown on 11 year gaps in anything, so nada came of it.

Tonight at this Boxing Day evening was weird, having not seen her for two years, but being told of this alleged spark. I've come to it over the last couple of years as a sort of solace. "I still got it," in the parlance of the Fonz.

Thus, it was with a sense of trepidation that I entered into conversation this evening. Being 32, two years is nothing (how sad that that is really really true). Being 21, two years can be a period of intense upheaval. So, things (read this as "feelings") that were there two years ago could easily not be there now, and my snatch of solace could so easily be so easily go up in a puff of smoke. I could look back on the "I had it and lost it" phase of my Fonzie emulation.

I have to say, my fears - from my side anyway - were all for nought. The conversation was easy and "bippy" and I don't think I told any stories that will come back to haunt me (I've shelved the "I pissed purple" University exam-period story... girls don't dig it). I dread the quiet periods where the other side of the conversation will realise I have nothing to say. Thankfully, there's always the "so, how's school/work/etc." or "what's the plan for new years" or what have you to fall back on at this time of year.

The convo was actually going really well and I felt a sense of lament as she left prior to dinner, and hope to see her again before the next two years is up. She's finishing up college and seems to have her whole life ahead of her, funny what a decade can do... it's hard to remember that I felt like that once.

If only I lived in Canada. I keep telling myself that. I AM ... an idiot.

Eatsville = Weight Gain

I gotta really curb the crap intake. Everyone still says I look thinner than ever, but i feel all fat and bloated trying to survive the Christmas season. Too much of everything - bread, booze, chocolate, meat, you name it and not enough exercise.

Still, with over 35 cm of snow outside, the last thing anyone wants to do is walk.... trust me, I've tried. Slush on the trousers isn't fun and a head full of snow isn't cool either.

I've just gotta my intake and coast until I get back to a more controlled environment. Tonight we were out at a Boxing Day evening shin dig and I really had trouble getting me freshly washed trousers to fit. NEVER a good sign...

Boxing Day

Went shopping today with the bro, as is the boxing day tradition. Not even blizzard like conditions can stop those determined to part with hard earned cash. At the end of the day, you end up buying stuff you might not care to really own, just to take part in the impulse buying of "door crasher specials" and "Boxing Day only" sales.

I have to say that since I inherited the "do i really need this?" voice at the back of my head, it's been harder to do much of anything on impulse.

Years back I would have spent first and asked questions later. Now, I'm asking questions first and not spending money later. Sometimes, however, it's nice to have a sanity holiday and I think a couple of my Boxing Day purchases will bear that out.

On a lighter note, it's bloody cold here in central Canada. I'm sitting in the basement on my parents' PC and I can barely type for "chattery" hands. You'd think we could get some heating in here.

Winter is coming!

Not for the first, but for the first time in a few years, it looks a dead cert that we're going to have a white christmas.

Today, the flurried began. At first it resembled that Hollywood snow you see in movies that are shot in places that NEVER get snow.... all powdery and fake. Then the hard stuff began to fall. The weather hacks reckon we'll receive around a foot of the white stuff tonight and there's no way it's leaving us anytime before Saturday, so HURRAH!

Currently, we're sitting pretty at -2C which is ample temperature to keep the stuff from turning into a wet puddly mess. I'm really looking forward to sitting out in the hot tub, with the snow falling down as I suck down a couple of cold ones. THIS is what winter's all about!

Yahoo!

Today I awoke at 7am. It's a holiday, so why, I hear you ask, did I put myself though such a work-day non-holiday thing?

Well, I had a phone interview at 8am with Yahoo! back in London town. Thankfully, it was more of a meet'n'greet and only lasted about 10 minutes, but I had to prep myself mentally and all that and subsequently had a rather unrestful sleep.

The phoner (as we used to call them in the journalism trade) went well and I've been invited back for a second interview, this time face to face. Again, I'm not too sure if I want the job, but I know that where I work right now is quickly, QUICKLY losing its appeal. Loads more cash usually helps!

UPDATE

I have a follow up interview on Thursday, 13 January, 2005 at 4pm. So, when I get back from Canada I have to buy myself a new suit and attempt to shift some Christmas weight and wear an air of respectibility and knowledge. All steep requests. Will I do it? Doubtful. Will I be successful? Doubtful.

Made it

Well, I'm back in the great white north and it's definitely living up to its name. It's white, and very cold and windy.

Flight was a long slog - almost nine hours, but I've made it and I'm glad to not have to see an airport for another few weeks. My mate G went to the airport with me, and for that I'm more grateful than I think he'll ever know. Travelling can be a rather lonely experience and to have a friendly face see you off is worth more than anything.

My face

Dunno if it's due to age, but my face feels like I've been vigourously scrubbing with sand paper and I really put it down to the wintery weather here. I did live 20 years with these conditions, so it must be age, or I'm just getting so doddery I don't remember.

Faker

As much as I look forward to my visits back to Canada, there's something rather fake about the whole existence here. London is becoming a depressing hovel, but there's an overwhelming sense of fakery about being here... like someone's going to yell cut at any time, or the backdrop will fall away and show real life at some point. It's hard to contextualise, but it doesn't seem real.

Aside from that, it's great seeing friends and family. It's rather crap, however, realising that as friends start to have families, I'll only ever be that weird guy that's around a couple of days a year, and not an integral "uncle" figure.

As they say, I made my bed and now I have to lie in it. I'm also increasingly aware that I need to be careful for what I wish for.

PSB Christmas!

Further to my post months back about the PSBs doing Battleship Potemkin at Trafalgar Square, today my annual PSB Chrimbo card arrived in the post.

Not so much a Christmas card for the mantle, it's a DVD of highlights from the Trafalgar Square performance. I haven't watched it yet, but I hope for the best.

It's going to Canada with me, so hopefully I'll be able to watch it there and let my mates see what I got to stand in the rain to see in person.

Elation!

I have to admit to a certain sense of elation these past few days and weeks. On Friday, I begin a three week festive holiday back in Canada and I have to admit I'm really looking forward to it.

England, London in particular, has become a den of Chavs, fuelled by beer and cheap women who'll do anything to appear on the cover of Nuts or similar low-rent lads mags.

Getting away from that is going to be a definite breath of fresh air.

With most holidays, I find the best period is the anticipatory pre-holiday time, when you wind down, and let that sense of elation overwhelm you. When it's Christmas, it's even better as there's work parties, lunches and drinks with friends to get you there. I don't feel my holiday starts on Friday, I feel it started over a week ago, what with all the celebrations.

My holiday proper, however, will commence when I reach Paddington Station and check my bags in at the Air Canada counter. After that, I get my Caffe Nero coffee and Heathrow Express ticket and we're officially "On Holiday".

Of course, the run up is also full of manic running around, and if you're me manic MP3 recording for friends. I realise that all my prepping will be for nought as I sit with my case open in my parents' front room remembering that vital present is still sitting on my bed and hastily go out and re-purchase a similar item in time for Christmas. But, I feel, that is all part and parcel of the holidays.

This period of the year is grand and I can't wait to see all my old school mates and friends and mates.

Growing old gracefully

Will there ever come a day when I'm happy and content with getting old? Doubtful.

It's funny, growing up all I wanted was to be older. I wanted my body to fit into the 17 or 18 year old mind that I was adamant I possessed. I was the oldest 12 year old you ever met. Now that I'm early-30s I want to be 18 again. I think deep down, everyone does.

An age of innocence, experiementation and no responsibilities. All you had to do was pass exams and make enough pocket money at McDonald's to afford your CDs and concert tickets.

Even though I'm not comfortable being almost double my ideal age, I am happy that I'm a child of the 70s. I was young enough that I didn't need to deal with the whole flares situation or brown and orange furniture (and they say the 80s is the decade that taste forgot??), yet I was old enough to live through the 80s pretty aware of what was going on around me.

I think the 80s were the last innocent decade before big business got their claws into everything and financially proving yourself was the buzzword... whether it be in music, movies, work, life, etc. The rot probably set in in the late 80s as the me-decade overspilled into the corporate UPC barcode decade.

So, while I envy the 18 year olds for all the things I used to have, I don't envy them the era they're 18, and I can only see it getting worse for the next generation. At least the current crop will be able to remember a time before "the threat of terror", similar to my generation and the "time before AIDS".