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Memory Lane Can Be Painful
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| Tuesday, May 29, 2007 |
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Funny the things that trigger memory flash-backs. Often it’s through hearing an old song that you’ve associated with a past event or time. Every time you hear that song, all the memories and feelings of a past life come flooding back. Or a scent... like last week as I was pulling ferns out of the garden. The smell of broken ferns instantly transported me back to a cottage memory, when as little boys my brother and I paved our way through the ferns in the forest like two great adventurers.
This week, it was getting in touch with an old friend through Facebook (thanks JM!). Getting in touch with someone from the conferencing and gallivanting days of uni, I suddenly remembered the url of the homepage I created just after graduation. And guess what – it’s STILL THERE! Eeeek! This is before the days of supersi.com, a couple of years before the likes of wallis.ca, and many years before anything .co.uk-related.
I gingerly opened up the time capsule and took a peek...
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Royal Teas
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| Thursday, May 24, 2007 |
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One of the things we like most about Greenwich is all the little cafes, restaurants and boutique stores. Our favourite Saturday morning routine is pastries and coffee at one of the little spots round the corner. This past weekend we went to a café called Royal Teas. The writing on the front window tells the full story:
Once upon a time there was and still is, just,
a little treasure called Royal Teas
in the enchanted land of Greenwich.
But like all fairy tales there are the good guys
and the bad. In case you were wondering,
we are the former.
A dark force has emerged threatening
our existence. Boo! But we play to fight. Hurrah!
On a special diet of cheesy bread and carrot cake
and with you at our side we shall be victorious.
So there – grab your carrot cake and your latte and join the resistance! Uh, yeah… some people just get *way* too carried away with their coffee. Or tea, as the case may be...
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What Do YOU Want Out of Childbirth?
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| Thursday, May 10, 2007 |
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Next week is the start of our prenatal classes. When we first met the midwife holding the classes, it was at a meet-and-greet at a children’s clothing store beside the local Starbucks (natch). During the classes, she explained, she would be there to offer all the support and advice we needed, and help us determine, for example, what Melody would like to get out of childbirth. Melody nodded and said, “Mmmm hmmm.”
“What would we like to get out of childbirth,” I repeated silently to myself. “Uh, you mean *besides* a baby??” One is wise to keep one’s male mouth shut under such circumstances. Instead, I squinted my eyes and nodded my head understandingly. Man, just as I thought I was starting to comprehend things… well, “comprehend,” as in, “there’s some quick breathing, you say ‘push’ a few times, there’s a screech and -- a stork flies overhead and drops a baby from the sky.” As long as you *catch* the baby, that’s the key. Or so I thought. Now I felt suddenly in the dark…
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Sympathetic Pregnancies
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| Monday, April 30, 2007 |
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Due to my lack of knowledge of the female species, and in particular the ordeal of child birth, I picked up a recommended book on the subject. “Recommended,” as in, “Sweetie, read chapters 10 through 15 in this book. You may start now.”
I came across a very interesting phenomenon called “sympathetic pregnancies”. The explanation goes like this:
Some men become so emotionally involved in their partner’s pregnancies and labours that they share certain physical symptoms. This is known as couvade – from the French word couver, meaning ‘to hatch’ – and is usually a sympathetic response that emerges from a man’s extremely close identification with his partner. Men who experience couvade may gain weight, become constipated and suffer from morning sickness. Occasionally a difficulty arises during labour when the father finds himself becoming more than usually distressed at the pain of childbirth and even experiencing labour-type pains himself. If you find yourself suffering from such symptoms, you should seek professional advice.
Now, if you ever see a man laughing uncontrollably reading a book on pregnancy, you might be tempted to think that he’s a pathetic husband with no care or concern about the ordeal that his poor wife is about to go through. But give him the benefit of the doubt: he’s probably just come across the info box in chapter 10 regarding “sympathetic pregnancies”.
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Paris for Lunch
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| Monday, April 16, 2007 |
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I remember an episode of the old television show Bewitched where Samantha and her mother Endora go to Paris for lunch and a day of shopping. I didn’t have a broomstick on hand to do that, but I did get tickets for the Thalys. At 1:20h from Brussels to Paris (300kph), it might be the next best thing. Amazing what French engineers can accomplish on a 30 hour work week!
I arrived at Paris Nord station at around 9:45 and first went to get a bite to eat. I was so proud of understanding the amount I was supposed to pay that I didn’t notice until afterwards that €5.80 is a lot for a baguette and coffee. Not to mention the lady used a separate, open till that didn’t print a receipt. As a tourist there’s something about being pretty sure you just got ripped off and knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.
With renewed enthusiasm I picked up a city map from the tourist office and headed out on foot towards the Seine...
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Canal Hopping
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| Saturday, April 14, 2007 |
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Mel’s big recruiting event week is here, which lands her (and me for a couple of days – hey someone needs to carry the pregnant lady’s bags, right?) back in Brussels. I had planned in advance to go to Amsterdam for Saturday, so as Mel was working I got up early to make the 2.5 hour train journey.
When one mentions Amsterdam, you sometimes get a funny look as if the only thing there is magic coffee shops and places of ill-repute. Although that side from the 60’s and 70’s does remain to some degree, it is much more a beautiful cityscape of canals and 17th-century town houses. During its “Golden Age” in the 1700’s, it was the centre of a vast trading network and colonial empire, whose wealthy merchants built their residences along its 160 canals and between its 1200 bridges. Also, it was Canada that liberated Holland after WWII, so they love Canadians! Not that I have ever been ashamed to don my red Canada Olympic team backpack anywhere in the world, mind you. Since the train didn't arrive until almost lunch time I decided to just stick to the local touristy stuff and hopped on one of the hop-on, hop-off canal boats.
One of the things I noticed about all those lovely town homes, is that at the top of every one there was a big iron hook attached to the roof. I found out that these are there to help with moving furniture in and out. Some of the homes are ridiculously thin, to the tune of only 5 feet wide in some cases. So how do they g ...
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Eire is for Ireland
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| Thursday, March 29, 2007 |
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This past weekend we made a wee trip to Ireland. We wanted to hop over to see Jenna in the North and Paul and Melonie (Mel’s cousins) in the South before the impending “10 weeks till due date” travel ban. We caught the late flight into Belfast, and as it turns out Ciaran was on the same flight, so that was cool to chat on the way there – kudos to Ciaran for reserving us the emergency exit aisle! That’s about as close to First Class as you get with easyJet.
Jenna and her mum picked us up from the airport and took us to stay at their summer home in Port Stewart for the night. What a beautiful spot! A panoramic view of the ocean and just a short walk to the beach. On Saturday they took us driving through Northern Ireland. We visited a couple of ruined castles, the Giant’s Causeway, and had some lovely strolls along the beach. We also witnessed quite a few very brave surfers catching the waves. The weather was nice and sunny, but I’m sure the Atlantic was still frigid. On Sunday we visited with the Armagh meeting which was most enjoyable, everyone was so friendly to us.
It was really sad to leave on Monday morning. After spending just a weekend with the Agnews we felt like we’d known them for years! Jenna took us to the train station and after a sad goodbye we caught the train to Dublin. As we rolled south across the countryside, we reflected on the amazing people God has brought across our path during the last year and a half. This i ...
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The Knowledge
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| Saturday, March 17, 2007 |
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It’s been proven: London cabbies have bigger brains. Brain scans show that London taxi drivers have a larger hippocampus (the part of the brain associated with navigation – absent in most men) compared with people in other professions. As we have learnt first-hand since moving to London, navigating your way around this city is a brain-straining feat – and one that a mere mortal shouldn’t attempt without GPS.
London cabbies don’t have GPS though, and neither do they have a dispatch centre to call for directions. In order to become a licensed cabbie, you must pass a gruelling test called the Knowledge. To pass the test, one must prove they have a detailed knowledge of the 25,000 streets, major buildings and open spaces within a six mile radius of Charing Cross, and a more general knowledge of the major routes throughout the rest of London. They have to be able to recite 320 routes in either direction with all points of interest along the way, and account for traffic disruptions at the same time. An aspiring cabbie studies for three years before taking the test, and usually requires at least 10 or 12 appearances before receiving a passing grade.
Imagine my surprise, then, when one day I laid a real stumper. It was on our way back from a recent trip, sometime after midnight when the Tube had closed. We hauled our suitcases across a desert ...
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The “M” in GMT
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| Wednesday, March 07, 2007 |
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The dust has settled from our move, and we awoke this morning south of the river. The historic docks of West India Quay and the towers of Canary Wharf are behind us, and Greenwich is our new home. Glad it’s over, too. Of the four moves (yes, four) we’ve endured over the past year and a half, this was definitely the most stressful.
Of course, having Canadian-sized furniture doesn’t help. For the past three weeks I’d been going back and forth with property management to get approval for use of a furniture crane. Taking our couch out the patio doors and five floors down to street-level is the only way to have it removed, due to the size of the tiny elevators and narrow hallways in the building. I paid the property management office a visit on the morning of the move to let them know that things would soon be underway. “Hi. The moving truck and furniture crane will be arriving in an hour. Here are the registration numbers of the vehicles.” “Oh, but you don’t have approval yet.” “SAY WHAT???”
I’d provided all the documentation, and more, that they’d asked for. Site photographs, operator certifications, risk assessments, insurance documentation, DNA samples from all the movers, a litre of blood, and a letter of reference from QEII. No worries. But as I stood there, mouth open in the management office, I was faced with the reality that we may not get this couch out after all. Do I try to sell the couch to our landlord? Saw it up into cubes and g ...
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Mamas & Papas
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| Friday, March 02, 2007 |
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The other day we went on a reconnaissance trip. Neither of us knows the first thing about prams or buggies or anything like that, so we went to a well-known store in London to check out the goods and take some notes. The store is called Mamas & Papas and is located off the shopping mecca of Regent Street (nestled uncomfortably close to the likes of Burberry and Coco Chanel).
The store itself is immaculate, brightly lit with grand displays and groovy lounge music playing in the background. I sent Mel a text when I got there and she responded that she was upstairs in the café. (Note #1: any nursery products store with an espresso bar selling Peter Rabbit Organics could well be indicative of high prices). They may only charge £5 for a cappuccino, but they’ll get you later when you buy that mahogany change table...
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