Thursday, September 25, 2008

Damn the torpedoes!

Ventured south of the Thames for an interesting little AYS job at the Imperial War Museum the other day. The main feature of the front of the building property were a pair of massive 30-foot long gun barrells that fired from a boat on D-Day. Just behind that was an actual section of the Berlin Wall, painted with revolutionary graffiti. I set up the bar for the drinks reception directly between a WWII tank and a mobile cannon, with a Sopwith Camel and a Nazi lutwaffe plane of the type that dive-bombed Harrison Ford and Sean Connery in The Last Crusade just above my head. The fifth floor the building was actually titled Crimes Against Humanity. To say the job was a bit surreal understates things.

There was one exhibit that I had heard about and had wanted to visit there, which was a tribute to Ian Flemming and his historical experiences which inspired James Bond. I got a chance to sneak in and look around before we set up the bar. It was interesting, with interactive displays and a selection of Bond memorabilia, but I'm glad I saw it on the sly rather than paying eight quid for it.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Ratatouille & O'Toole

Try saying my title five times fast.

Brianne and I watched Pixar's Ratatouille last night. A lovely little film, as all Pixar creations are. It's a sweet story with great comedy and heart. One thing that stood out for us was the character of the cynical food critic voiced by Peter O'Toole. A legend in his own time and a wonderful actor to watch and listen to. Here's a YouTube link to a commercial he recently did for The Sunday Times. Just wonderful.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4y4np6H-b8s

Monday, September 22, 2008

Couple's Night / Heaven's Light

Brianne and I went out with our pal Ed from AYS and his girlfriend Sarah last night. We met Ed during our first month with AYS and bonded immediately over Blackadder, with Brianne excitedly acquiring the nickname "Bob" in the process. Ask her to explain the significance of this some time, it's a hoot to hear.

Ed and Sarah met us at Covent Garden, along with some other friends of theirs. It was a just an evening of drinks and chatting, but there's something about being out in Covent Garden which makes a simple night out seem special; the old architecture, the streetlights on cobblestone, it's just very cool. Also, it was the first chance we've had while here to hang out with another couple (the presence of other friends didn't really hinder this.) Usually, B and I are the token couple wherever we go, and people marvel at this strange species (Spousis Ballandchainus) in their midst, alternately cracking wise, playfully bickering, or smooching it up. It was nice to be able to chat with other in a relationship frame of mind.

The other half of my title refers to my musings on a short story by Neil Gaiman, prolific author of fantasy, sci-fi, and comic books. His story, entitled The Price, is included in the collection of his short works that I purchased before our trip to Ireland. I encourage you to click the link I have put below to listen to Gaiman read this story, it's a touching tale:

www.neilgaiman.co.uk/smokeandmirrors/audio

This story caused me to ponder the difference between the powers afforded by good and evil, Heaven and Hell, however you choose to picture that. It seems most often that the dark forces are singular, autonomous, and seemingly invincible. The forces of light are perhaps more muted in an individual, but their prevailing strength lies in their communal whole. God may not always give irresistable strength to one person, and that one person may face trials and injuries, but what God does provide is the care of others to heal and support. Listen to the story, perhaps you'll see why these thoughts came to my mind.

One last note about Gaiman, as he is one of my favourite authors (plus I find his speaking voice very pleasant to listen to - click the link!). Here are some bullet points about him and his work.

- Englishman, residing in Minnesota
- co-wrote one of my all-time fave books Good Omens with Terry Pratchett
- wrote The Sandman, one of the most acclaimed, well-written, intellectual comic books ever
- novels include American Gods, Neverwhere, Anansi Boys
- novel Stardust recently filmed with Robert De Niro and Michelle Pfeiffer
- dark children's book Coraline soon to be a CGI film with Dakota Fanning and Teri Hatcher
- friends with Tori Amos; she referenced him by name in one of her songs
QUOTES
"You can try to create a utopia, try to create a perfect world, but then you fill it with people! It doesn't work. It's like creating the perfect office block. People arrive and start leaving their coffee cups out, and putting up pictures of their neices, and graffiti-ing the toilets; and then you don't have utopia anymore."
"What happens if Lucifer quits? Okay, you were God's favourite angel, you have the fall from grace . . . followed the Miltonian line "It's better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven." What if he says one day "Hold on a minute, why is it better to reign in Hell? I have to watch people punishing themselves, make sure there's enough sulphur? What am I doing here? I'm going to go lie on the beach somewhere, I'm closing the place down." (this was the plot for a story arc of Sandman)
"Stories that matter have ends. Anything that matters ends. It's the end that gives it a meaning."

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Thoughts which haven't a leg to stand on

I can make puns too, though my limping wifey's are better.

We've been icing and elevating as best we can, but my B is a trooper. In a line of strong women, she's one of the strongest I know. Perhaps we'll move on to frozen brussel sprouts next. It's better than eating them.


We recently did a very small catering job at a fashion show for London's Fashion Week. And before you get on my case about "Hey hey! Checking out the models, huh?" let me assure you that the skewed unattainable "ideal" of the catwalk high-fashion model is actually quite repugnant to me. These girls looked so thin as to be sickly; "a famine relief poster with style," as a favourite book of mine says. The job was just me, Brianne, and another AYS girl handing out about 45 glasses of champagne to entourage of the event. They literally disappeared in seconds. The designer Julien MacDonald (see below) downed about five straight before the show even started; he was very nervous.



I did another job last night with a bit of celebrity flair. It was the Alliance Ball to benefit UNICEF. One of the auction items was a motorcycle driven by Ewan MacGregor in his bike trip around the world. I thought of my dad as the bids peaked at £32,000. The opening act for the entertainment of the night was Escala, a string quartet that competed on Britain's Got Talent, which I've mentioned in the past. Good musicians that happen to look like cover girls. If this sounds familiar, there was a another quartet a few years ago called Bond, with the same "formula." The headliner for the night was the guy who sang the song Tainted Love! He brought down the house.

Brianne and I ventured forth from the house today (gingerly) to explore a park just north of us called Alexandra Park. Lovely views from it's rolling hills, plus a farmer's market today where we got some sausage buns and cupcakes for lunch. At the peak of the hills in Alexandra Palace, an odd but stately building we've yet to find much info for yet, save the fact that it houses a year-round ice rink and is nicknamed "Ally Pally." How drole.

Friday, September 19, 2008

My Blue Foot

I can't say that it has been a very graceful week - as I hobble around the city. It all started last Saturday night when I fell down a flight of (3 - count 'em - 3) steps. I was carrying a very light tray of cookies and apparently decided I wanted to toss them. (come on people, I thought that was a great pun!) So I have tried to stay off of it as much as possible as the colours change.

Andrew has been icing it with a series of vegetables - peas, carrots - pretty much anything we can find in the freezer.
When I first arrived home after the accident I thought the foot was just a little swollen and would heal within a day or two.
Unfortuately when we unwrapped it the next day the colour had changed dramatically.
You can also see my surprise at the colour that my foot was - at least it was close to purple!
so for now I rest and the adventure will continue once things look a bit more natural.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Work Hard, Dance Harder

Wow. There can be no doubt that my wife is an amazing writer. That last entry was sheer poetry. I don't have anthing to match that - just an account of my recent activities. Informative, surely. Uplifting . . . not so much.

Last Saturday I served at an AYS job in Essex, about half an hour outside of central London. It was a surprise birthday party at a private home, with drinks and canapes sereved in a tent in the backyard. I've done several tent jobs, but this one was unique, and the interior was decked out to resemble a tale from Arabian Nights - deep-coloured fabric hangings, silks, curtains, plush pillows for sitting and low wooden end-tables, all in a very Middle-Eastern flavour. I did not have a camera on me, but I hope to get some pics from a fellow server who had a camera in their phone. I was dressed in an eggplant-purple nehru jacket and served plenty of Pimms. If you haven't encountered Pimms (I never had before I came here), it's a light summery cordial that's mixed with lemonade (the British "lemonade", which is like a slightly bitter Sprite) and a selection of chopped fruit - in this case strawberry, lemon, cucumber and mint. It's delicious and refreshing, but it's also a bit insidious, because it's so light-tasting you don't realize how drunk it makes you until you're falling over!

Greenwich is just southeast of the centre of London, and is home to the observatory that measures the precise time on Earth from the Prime Meridian. I've never taken the time to really look around the area, but I have served at jobs in Greenwich several times and sailed past it on the Thames on three separate occasions. Sunday night was a dinner job at the Queen's House, an historic house/museum just down the hill from the observatory, and it served to remind me that I need to take some personal time in this lovley little district.

Back in Toronto, our circle of singer/dancer/actor/waiter friends knew all the scuttlebutt about different studios which offered open classes in various styles of dance, so as to keep the instrument tuned, as it were. Here in London the biggest and best studio is called Pineapple, and it offers a multitude of styles of dance classes - from the standard jazz/ballet/tap, to hip-hop, Egyptian, ballroom, and . . . Michael Jackson style, which is the class I tried out last night. I found it advertised on the studio website, as well as an article in a local paper praising it as a fun time on the dance floor, so I slipped on my rhinestone glove and moonwalked down to Covent Garden to see what it was all about. The teacher was a move-for-move carbon copy of Jacko's style, and he did his best to impart the subtleties of the steps to the class, with Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough blaring in the background. The secret of Jackson's style really is in the isolation, so that you move exactly one body part (as specific as left pectoral muscle) while the rest of you stays still. All in all it was a fun time, but my emulation of the King of Pop left a great deal to be desired in my eyes. I thought to myself as I looked at my reflection in the studio mirror, "I didn't think it was possible to find anyone "whiter" than Michael, but I'm looking at him right now!"

Sunday, September 7, 2008

The Changing of The Seasons

London weather changes rather rapidly from summer to fall in comparison to Ontario.
Here in London one day it will be sunny, close to 20 degrees, the next it will turn to cold rain and continue for three long days until you have forgotten that you were ever warmed by the sun's light.

Back home the autumn would creep up on you - like an old friend playing a common prank. I always noticed it most in the final weeks of August around 5 o'clock in the afternoon. It is at that time that I would feel the air change and suddenly I would notice how golden and rich the sun had become. I remember looking out the back door of Vintage Video, gazing at all the greenery growing on the back wall and noting how many leaves had fallen to the ground.

There is a change in the feeling; a gentle calm without any rushing - before the buying up of school supplies and the chore of homework. I know that Scout would also feel it as her playfullness would pick up, no longer the drudgery of hear weighing her down. The walks and games in the park would last longer, her tail wagging more lively and easily than in the heart of summer.

As the dinner hour drew near I would notice a smell that would sweep across the neighbourhood; of barbeques.

In Carp it meant my father making dinner on the back porch, home made hamburgers, hotdogs, and if I was really lucky - cheese filled sausages. With the Barbeque came the excuse to have as a side-dish: chips. As children this would be an immense thrill, a wonderful and thoroughly accepted alternative to peas and carrots or broccoli.


As the weeks rolled by I knew my Mother would come home with a bag of sweetcorn, picked up from the local area, to be cleaned and de-husked on the back porch in bare feet. Once cooked, every bite would be so succulant that the juices would drip down our chins. Such bliss.


Yes, here in London it is quiet different. The storms have not stopped and it is never ending rain upon us.

This year, I have missed my golden moment.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

The Best Medicine

I've had some thoughts swirling in my head about laughter. My wife can make me laugh like few other people can, especially because we have in-jokes that NOBODY else could possibly understand. Just watch when we're home for Christmas, she'll make a seemingly obtuse reference and I'll drop to the floor giggling.

The like it that everyone has different types of laughter. I know for myself I have a hearty Errol Flynn-style laugh at the best of times, though I'm embarassed to say that I can bray like an ass or cackle like a hyena, very unattractive laughs from very unattractive animals. Brianne has several different laughs: one's musical, one's a low bellow, one's girlish, one's a snort.

Here's a list of random characters; can you recollect their signature laughter?

- Bert
- Ernie
- Oscar the Grouch
- Woody Woodpecker
- Steve Urkel
- Janice from Friends

I hate forced laughter, as does my father. There's something hollow and grating about it. I've known people who simper, bark, hack, whistle, wheeze, or hiss when they laugh, and it's a singularly unpleasant experience to hear in each case.

The idea of forced laughter is actually what started this train of thinking for me. Who has the most forced laughter associated with him? Santa Claus, of course. "Ho Ho Ho" is not a declaration, it's not a statement, it's not even a motto, it's supposed to be an easily-recognized representation of the good-natured laughter of a large older gentleman with a deep soothing voice. (I've never seen James Earl Jones play Santa, but I'm sure it would be a mystical experience.) It irks me when I see a Santa belting out three syllables of forced laughter and expecting us to believe in St. Nick, when I know in my mind's ear -- somewhere deep childish heart -- what real Santa laughter is supposed to sound like.

Remember, you can be pretend to be serious but you can't pretend to be funny - just as you can't pretend to laugh.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

Try to remember that time in September . . .

When Brianne and I talk about the time we've spent together since we met at Randolph, we both encounter the same paradox -- it feels like no time at all and forever all at once! I'm not sure if the swelling romantic sentiment tinged with our trademark sarcasm really makes it in print, but just go with it.

The London Showboat was a wonderful soiree. Brianne looked exquisite as always, and I just did my damnedest to look presentable next to her. It used to bemuse me to see sitcoms which paired average shmoes with stunning wives (Everybody Loves Raymond, According to Jim, etc.), but I have readily accepted that I am living that sitcom every day! Average Shmoes of the world unite!

We had a great laugh at the pan-flute music that wafted along the dining deck. Classics of Rod Stewart and Whitney Houston as performed by Zamfir . . . unparalleled auditory experience. B made it very clear that she hats pan-flutes, as well as regular flutes, recorders, pretty much any instrument you blow into, as she described it. Luckily the flutes were replaced by piano later on.

The meal was delicious, the wine was excellent, and the cabaret singer was quite entertaining. She didn't take herself too seriously, so any schmaltz had a self-awareness about it which made it okay. We tore up the dance floor with the rest of the passengers, took a little break and breather topside to see Tower Bridge, then made our way back to the now-empty dance floor to put our seal on the evening. A moonlit stroll topped it all off.

As you wish.

Monday, September 1, 2008

One Year Down - Eighty To Go!



Last night Andrew and I celebrated our One Year of Marriage. My how the time crawls...(kidding, kidding!) And in our truly romantic way we had to celebrate with a night cruise through the heart of London on a boat. (And no, it was not called "The Love Boat" - although good guess.)

Upon arrival at Westminster Pier (you could hear Big Ben announcing the hour) we were served a welcoming drink and shown our table near the front of the boat. Andrew had let the company know that we were celebrating an anniversary and so we had one of the best seats. A window seat right near the dance floor. It was a four course meal and because I am still wishing that I could have had seconds I will describe it for you. The first course was shrimp with a delicious smoked salmon with lemon garnish,(so yummy) followed by potatoe and leek soup (mmmm, soup!) and then a main course of chicken followed by a dessert of our choice. I chose the chocolate cake and Andrew and the white chololate cake that tasted like whipped air with raspberries. (Of course I had to have a bit. )

We had to have a laugh on arrival due to the background music choice - pan flute of all the greatest hits. I entertained Andrew by lip-synching and occasional coming up with strange sign language to go along with the lyrics.


I was also (apparently) not paying attention to what utensils I was using as seen in this photo. Can you tell me where I went wrong?


Following dinner (after we had passed the more interesting sites) we were serenaded by a woman who had an amazingly clear voice and fun sense of humour about her 'lounge act'. She performed only songs from West End musicals but in such a way that you had to laugh along with her. I was rather impresses considering Andrew and I had made silly jokes about her coming out and playing more pan flute music.


Onto the dance floor! Woosh! I can honestly say that Andrew has not lost his stride in this department. Great music and the Italians who were on the boat with us were easily convinced to get up there. Andrew decided (okay - WE decided) to recreate one of the lifts from our first wedding dance (think folks - it's been 364 days not doing it) and pulled to off to quiet a bit of applause. Now for my favourite dance...there was one Italian gentleman who was quiet the mover, and he invited me to dance with them. He was so tall and strong that he didn't necessarily turn me so much as big me off the ground and move me. Quiet dizzying but fun. Well, Ra ra Rasputin came on while we were dancing and Andrew broke out onto the dance floor with some Kazak (am I spelling that right?) steps followed by a flying Russian jump to steal me away! I think everyone had a good laugh about it - including the staff.

Speaking of our wonderful staff for the night. I felt bad that during the dancing they could only stay out of the way towards the back and look onwards. They did however join in a bit on YMCA - and it was so cute I had to film it and put it up for them. So they can see the video I did of them - here is.

In the end Andrew and I walked past Westminster, up to Trafalger Square, caught the tube home and were snoring before we hit the pillow. An amazing anniversary - Thank you Hubby - and here's looking at the next eighty!