Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Highway to Hell
Here's a bit of advice for a happy marriage: never, ever, let your spouse give you driving lessons. I made my first Canadian journey last Saturday and it wasn't pretty. Apart from forgetting that I had actually driven before ("Now you thank the driver behind you"), Joe got scared every time I made a mistake, which made him yell, which made me make more scary mistakes. We'd just nearly been wiped out by an articulated lorry when my aunt Marilyn called (good timing). Joe picked up the phone.
"Hi Aunt Mar", he said sweetly. "Yes, things are fine. We're just having a bit of a driving less-"
"HE'S BEING AN ARSEHOLE, AUNTIE MAR!" I screamed hysterically, trying not to veer onto the hard shoulder.
My aunt just laughed and carried on chatting with Joe. I would have stopped the car if I'd known where it was safe to pull over, but I didn't because Canada has all sorts of weird road rules (example: you can turn right on red lights).
Anyway, we eventually got there, after several wrong turnings and encounters with death. Next time I'm driving on my own (at least then I can only kill myself).
We were on our way to see some good friends near London (London, Ontario - the source of much confusion due to Canada's complete failure to think up original place names). They've been through the same driving nightmares as us and are still happily married after about 35 years, so that was reassuring.
They moved to Canada about 30 years ago to make their fortune, and succeeded. Their house in Dorchester (I rest my case about the place names) is absolutely massive and is a cross between a Chateau and the Kremlin. In their basement they have a private cinema and a pub (!), and their back garden is 70 odd acres of land with woods and a racing track. The land itself only cost about 135,000 pounds!!!
So sitting in their living room sipping tea was a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon. It was snowing and the back garden was full of fir trees and the odd deer, so it was like tea in Lapland : ) And this was on Canada’s first day of spring…
It also happened to be our anniversary (you could tell from the way this entry started, couldn't you?). One year of marriage! Even with the occasional argument, I'd recommend it to anyone. Heck, what's life with no one to argue with? Better out than in, that's what I always say.
So we celebrated on Saturday by going to Niagara Falls, scene of eternal romance and that great part in Superman II where the kid nearly falls to his death. At night it's absolutely beautiful – red lights turn the water pink, and frozen towers of rock rise from the mist. We were standing near the top of the Falls, and with the Niagara Gorge yawning before us, it was like staring into the centre of the earth (sometimes the lights are green, and then the Gorge resembles the surface of Pluto).
After that, we had dinner at a restaurant on Lake Ontario. Towards the end of the meal, I overheard an English accent drifting from the bar (well, pseudo-English - Welsh or Brummie or something :) It's true what they say about the accent - he was surrounded by at least five waitresses who were hanging on to his every word. Except he was completely full of it, saying how Oxford Street has the best shopping in the world and stuff like that (er, have you ever been there?). I so badly wanted to go and blow his cover. But of course I had better things to do.
All in all, it was a pretty fun weekend. Unfortunately on Monday I was woken up at 7 a.m. by the garbage men emptying the disposal, which was humming at 100 decibels directly below us. I wouldn't have minded, but I knew that in one hour the drilling was going to start. And sure enough…
Last night, we actually got to bed at a decent time. Unfortunately the fire alarm woke us at 3 a.m. I felt like committing hara-kiri. It went on for about 45 minutes before they worked out that somebody had just burnt their toast. At 3am????
So at the moment I'm a stranger to a good night's sleep. This leaves my thoughts whirring around my head and coming up with all sorts of strange things. Like my idea for a super-musical. Super-groups consist of members from lots of top bands, so a super-musical would consist of a plot and songs from all the top musicals. Something like this…
A cat who’s a prostitute in Saigon meets and marries an Argentine dictator who was born with hideous birth defects and has to spend the rest of his life in a mask. The cat becomes First Lady of Argentina, but unfortunately her husband is jailed for stealing a loaf of bread. Things look up, however, when God begins to give him dreams in prison that bring him to the attention of Pharaoh, who makes him his second-in-command. But the final tragedy occurs when the cat-prostitute and the Argentine dictator discover they belong to opposite sides in a New York gang war and can never be together. They commit suicide. The end.
I think I need to get more sleep.
"Hi Aunt Mar", he said sweetly. "Yes, things are fine. We're just having a bit of a driving less-"
"HE'S BEING AN ARSEHOLE, AUNTIE MAR!" I screamed hysterically, trying not to veer onto the hard shoulder.
My aunt just laughed and carried on chatting with Joe. I would have stopped the car if I'd known where it was safe to pull over, but I didn't because Canada has all sorts of weird road rules (example: you can turn right on red lights).
Anyway, we eventually got there, after several wrong turnings and encounters with death. Next time I'm driving on my own (at least then I can only kill myself).
We were on our way to see some good friends near London (London, Ontario - the source of much confusion due to Canada's complete failure to think up original place names). They've been through the same driving nightmares as us and are still happily married after about 35 years, so that was reassuring.
They moved to Canada about 30 years ago to make their fortune, and succeeded. Their house in Dorchester (I rest my case about the place names) is absolutely massive and is a cross between a Chateau and the Kremlin. In their basement they have a private cinema and a pub (!), and their back garden is 70 odd acres of land with woods and a racing track. The land itself only cost about 135,000 pounds!!!
So sitting in their living room sipping tea was a great way to spend a Sunday afternoon. It was snowing and the back garden was full of fir trees and the odd deer, so it was like tea in Lapland : ) And this was on Canada’s first day of spring…
It also happened to be our anniversary (you could tell from the way this entry started, couldn't you?). One year of marriage! Even with the occasional argument, I'd recommend it to anyone. Heck, what's life with no one to argue with? Better out than in, that's what I always say.
So we celebrated on Saturday by going to Niagara Falls, scene of eternal romance and that great part in Superman II where the kid nearly falls to his death. At night it's absolutely beautiful – red lights turn the water pink, and frozen towers of rock rise from the mist. We were standing near the top of the Falls, and with the Niagara Gorge yawning before us, it was like staring into the centre of the earth (sometimes the lights are green, and then the Gorge resembles the surface of Pluto).
After that, we had dinner at a restaurant on Lake Ontario. Towards the end of the meal, I overheard an English accent drifting from the bar (well, pseudo-English - Welsh or Brummie or something :) It's true what they say about the accent - he was surrounded by at least five waitresses who were hanging on to his every word. Except he was completely full of it, saying how Oxford Street has the best shopping in the world and stuff like that (er, have you ever been there?). I so badly wanted to go and blow his cover. But of course I had better things to do.
All in all, it was a pretty fun weekend. Unfortunately on Monday I was woken up at 7 a.m. by the garbage men emptying the disposal, which was humming at 100 decibels directly below us. I wouldn't have minded, but I knew that in one hour the drilling was going to start. And sure enough…
Last night, we actually got to bed at a decent time. Unfortunately the fire alarm woke us at 3 a.m. I felt like committing hara-kiri. It went on for about 45 minutes before they worked out that somebody had just burnt their toast. At 3am????
So at the moment I'm a stranger to a good night's sleep. This leaves my thoughts whirring around my head and coming up with all sorts of strange things. Like my idea for a super-musical. Super-groups consist of members from lots of top bands, so a super-musical would consist of a plot and songs from all the top musicals. Something like this…
A cat who’s a prostitute in Saigon meets and marries an Argentine dictator who was born with hideous birth defects and has to spend the rest of his life in a mask. The cat becomes First Lady of Argentina, but unfortunately her husband is jailed for stealing a loaf of bread. Things look up, however, when God begins to give him dreams in prison that bring him to the attention of Pharaoh, who makes him his second-in-command. But the final tragedy occurs when the cat-prostitute and the Argentine dictator discover they belong to opposite sides in a New York gang war and can never be together. They commit suicide. The end.
I think I need to get more sleep.
