One: Funny Beans
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| Queer as a tin of maple style beans |
To the relief of close-minded immigrants, Toronto's many supermarkets stock an abundance of frankly bonkers food. Care for rainbow trout stuffed with crab, i.e. a fish in another fish? Not a problem, head to aisle three. Heinz baked beans? Absolutely, sir, as long as you like maple syrup. What cannot be acquired, however, is winter staple Ready Brek. I have had to narrow down potential alternatives to just two: either Cream Of Wheat or Oat Bran, neither of which sound as enticing as Ready Brek and its glowing dragon / central heating for kids.
Two: An Old Friend
Call it a coincidence, but just have a look at who happened to be at the mall last week. Yeah, I know it's not the real Santa - I'm not daft - but I also know that he works for him, and that he can pass on messages to the big man himself. Owing to the size of the crowd I couldn't get near enough to pass on my regards, but the spectacle was little short of sensational: a gathering of literally dozens of shoppers jostling to drink in the sight of the Father Christmas entourage descending on an escalator to a magical cardboard workshop. Cue aimless milling about, a one-man band blasting out some Ryan Adams (who else?) and countless kids wondering why Santa is standing around picking his bum rather than taking to his throne and acknowledging receipt of their gift orders. It's the most wonderful time of the year (TM).
Three: The Stubborn Tree
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| Bastard (right) |
The Man of the House warned me that the tree in our yard was the last to shed its leaves - meaning a more drawn-out job than anybody else on the street - but little did I know how truthfully he spoke. Other trees dropped their foliage quicker than Carlos Tevez can spit his dummy, but our sod of a maple/oak/birch/whatever extends the process to a tortuous degree; requiring three or more (!) leaf clearance undertakings, as previously described on these very pixels. It's the worst thing in the world (update: tree is now bare).
Four: U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!
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| Point of no return |
The Land of the Free; the Home of the Whopper. I've only ever been to the USA once: a snowy recon into Buffalo via Niagara Falls. On that occasion border staff were short (in their manner, not their height) and testy (though some were female), and made sure to flash their AKs when I signed a form asserting that I didn't take part in Nazi atrocities between 1939 and 1945 (1946-onwards was fine, apparently). They also stole my fingerprints and eyeballs, figuratively speaking. This time was far more pleasant. It would appear that border control has been instructed to drop a pleasantry or two into their dealings with the general public. Because New York State is grateful for Canadian spenders post-crunch? Perhaps.
Anyway, the butch lady who peered into our car was most genial - half-joking that I should stay on the border with her - and the man tasked with copying my fingerprints and soul (via retinas) didn't scowl, yelp or curse. Result. And the best thing about New York State? The poster featuring all of yesterday's favourite wrestlers:
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| Click for full resolution reminiscing |
Five: Half The Pins, Double The Skillz
Take ten-pin bowling and half the number of pins and the size of the ball (also fill in the fingerholes). Relocate to a working men's club-type environment and populate with a working class crowd in their 60s. Cordon off the majority of lanes for the Friday night league meeting and provide cheapish beer on tap, school canteen-style plastic pitchers and manual scoring sheets. What do you have? Five-pin at the Rouge!
Five-pin is hard. Really hard. In fact, it's recommended that you don't start playing unless you're already an expert. I wouldn't want to bamboozle you with five-pin lingo, but rest assured that it's far easier to throw a five-pin bowling ball wonky than it is a heavier, more trustworthy ten-pin bowling ball. There's also a different scoring system: the middle pin is worth five, the inside two three each, and the outside pins two (make sense?). You get three attempts to knock them all down.
Before you check out one of my many, many clearances, please be advised that:
a) Tony put pressure on me by saying, "Okay, I'm recording."
2) I was pretty tired at this point, having recently bowled two non-consecutive strikes
D) Following awry initial efforts, I showed tremendous fortitude to come back from a scything "I think you're gonna wanna delete this" cat-call to mercilessly smash down the remaining pins
