Yes, I know, I know. I’m a bad blogger. It’s just that I’ve been very busy with the illness, and the flying, and the jet lag, and the flying, and the jet lag, and the working, and the working, and the SNOW. Not only in Canada, where you’d expect snow, but also here in London, where you very much wouldn’t. Poo.
The highlight of my holiday was the day I left; and for once, I’m not just being snarky: after finding out that my flight was delayed for an hour, I parked myself in the single airport bar, which was populated almost entirely by Brits on their way home from skiing holidays. (I didn’t know Brits could ski.) And it so happened that there was a football match on the TV. And it was a West Ham match. AND…they won! For a fucking change! (After a very dodgy goal decision, but whatever! We’ll take what we can get!) I met a pair of very, very East London Hammers fans, who were completely gobsmacked to meet another West Ham fan at all, let alone a female one in Canada (sakes alive!). They pumped me so full of beer that I actually don’t remember getting on the plane. It was great. Of course, I spent the next nine and a half hours with a blinding headache. Fuck off, air travel.
And fuck off Calgary. Putting aside for the moment the interminable winters, I could never move back there just because of the endless men in baseball caps. And women with scrunchies in their hair. England may not be the world’s fashion pinnacle, but at least people who wear track suits outside of sporting events are treated as social pariahs.
I’m brain-fuckingly busy dealing with several document control emergencies right now (you wouldn’t think there could be such a thing, would you?), but remind me next time to tell you why I’m moving out of London in a month. Ooh, bombshell!