T'was the Night Before Christmas...

Gather 'round children and let me tell you the story of a very special gift.

What gift you ask?






Why, dear readers, this gift.








This gift came to me all the way from Norway from my very own sister. And what an adventure this package went on! Let me tell you the tale...



A few weeks ago, Sarah told me that she had mailed a Christmas gift to me and that I should look out for it. A couple weeks went by, didn't receive anything and didn't think much of it (considering mail was backed up for months following the Olympics, I figured I would get it just in time for Thanksgiving 2013). When Sarah mentioned it a few more times, I started checking the mail more frequently, asking the concierge at my building and still found nothing. Finally it got to Friday and still nothing (and only 2 more post days until Christmas--oh no)! This is where the story gets interesting. Or boring, depending on how limited your patience is. Mine had reached a critical low by the end of Friday afternoon.

 Sarah gave me the customer number and tracking number. I decided to stop in to my local post office to see if, for some reason, they had my parcel and just hadn't delivered it yet. No dice...attempt one. After getting home, I tried one more time with the front desk to see if it had been delivered in my 45 minute absence...nope. Attempt two. I called the courier company that Sarah shipped it with and the oh-so-unhelpful woman on the phone told me that I would have to drive to one of their convenient locations to pick up my parcel, about 300 miles away. Thanks love. Attempt three.

I then tried to see if the tracking number would work on one of the main courier services for England--it worked! Success. It seemed like I would be fourth-attempt lucky and have my parcel before bedtime! So off to the local Royal Mail depot I trundle, 10 miles away, and wait in line. It turns out that there are two Royal Mail depots in Northampton, one serving the post codes of NN1, NN2, NN5 and so on...and I had chosen the depot that served all other postal codes but mine. Fourth attempt strike-out.

The next adventure involved a 15-mile backtrack to this rather smelly little post office near my apartment where the woman behind the counter informed me that I hadn't reached the post depot, but rather just a mail office; lovely. Fifth attempt.

Patience wearing thin, the postal depot that proved as easy to find as Narnia was finally found and the line was literally out the door. After standing in line and explaining, for about the 72nd time, my quest to find this bleep-ing gift, the woman behind the counter took my information, checked her whizzy little computer and cheerfully informed me that my tracking number had nothing to do with Royal Mail and I had to contact the other major courier, ParcelForce. Sixth attempt.

On the drive back to my apartment, of course we hit heavy traffic. I found the phone number for ParcelForce and managed to get through...to a waiting line for a call centre. Teeth-grittingly wonderful. I am finally answered, explain my story for now the 117th time and the next unhelpful woman in my encounters cheerfully informed me that my parcel had been in the UK since December 3. Lucky number 7 it seems.

Without trying to sound like a shrieking banshee, I asked why I was not informed that my parcel had arrived. The woman informed me that there was a customs charge on it that needed to be paid. Fine and fair enough I replied and then sweetly enquired how in the sweet mother of everything holy was I expected to pay the customs charge if I was never informed of the package arriving in the UK?! Somewhat sheepishly, Miss ParcelForce said that there must have been a slight oversight and my letter just must have been left out. She then asked me if I wanted to pay an additional extortionate amount to have it delivered to me the next day. I politely (mentally) told her to stuff it and (verbally) asked what my other options were. I decided on a Christmas Eve delivery and then had another little spat about the concept of leaving the package at the front desk and that I was not, in fact, going to wait outside my building between the hours of 8AM and 5PM to get the.........wonderful........thing. Really, it was probably safer for Mr/Mrs ParceForce delivery-person that we never meet.

So, seven attempts and a few spikes in blood pressure later...

See how pretty it is?!

Alright, it was definitely worth it in the long run. I'm looking forward to my first truly British Christmas tomorrow; even if I am thinking of friends and family far across the Atlantic. First Christmas away from home in all my 25 years and I'm pretty excited about it. Now. I have milk and cookies to leave for the fat man. 

And, on that note...a Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

It's That Time Again...

It's that time of the year again. The countdown to Christmas is on--not necessarily for me, but for seemingly every store, supermarket, Internet and TV advert, and bargain home store. Usually I can hold out until at least the 1st of December before I start decorating and I usually don't put that much effort in, considering I'm usually going home for Christmas.

 However, this year, I'm staying in England for Christmas. This is my first Christmas in England, my first Christmas away from home. I've decided to actually put some effort in. So, on the particularly wet and miserable evening that was last night, I bought the first round of decorations. A 3-foot artificial tree for the entryway, snow globe (complete with Santa), candles, window hangings and garland. I dread to think what the place will look like when Christmas actually rolls around. Must stick to a budget. Must stick to a budget. Must not spend more than half my entire bank account on Christmas decorations...sounds like a reasonable budget.

 Work has been rolling on, as it tends to do. Not much to comment on work. It's there. It pays my rent and living expenses. The kids make it worth it. I will definitely have to make some post about those darn kids saying the darndest things, just waiting to accumulate a good collection.

  I went to see Phantom of the Opera with Leigh at the beginning of the week. This is my first experience seeing the show on the stage and I definitely loved it.

See? Really thrilled.







I am beginning to accumulate a huge amount of memorabilia from trips, events and outings since I've moved here. Plane tickets, show tickets, movie stubs, luggage tags, museum leaflets...I probably should make some type of scrapbook but, honestly, who wants to do that? You, random reader? Are you going to make a scrapbook for me?

Didn't think so.

That was quite sharp of me, apologies.

 I am in the process of looking for a new place to live. Several options, all quite feasible and would be a nice change of scenery. As always, stay tuned for new developments.

This Tuesday marked the 20th anniversary of the passing of someone I miss and love every single day. I was only 5 years old and it has changed me more than I will ever understand. I thought about finding some quaint little quote from the Internet, but rather than use the words that are not my own, I will simply say that I love you, I miss you and I hope that you are happy and at peace. That's all I could ever ask.

That could be read as all I ask of you. (Get it?)

Still Alive!

I am alive! I am sure my dedicated fanbase in, you know...Russia...have been very worried about my lack of updates. I'm just sure of it.

 Well, here I am, finally on half-term holiday. I can say, without a shadow of a doubt, this has been the helfterm from hell. Work has been, without exaggerating, absolutely life-draining. As is my unfortunate annual tradition, I became ill and missed work. Unlike other years, I was off for 3 days last week and spent most of those 72 hours asleep and/or struggling to breathe. There has been so much pressure put on us at work, from all sides, that it has worn everyone down. Utterly and completely has taken our souls, violently, from our bodies. Well...I have a week to recover and get ready for the next halfterm. Oh joy.

 There have been several noteworthy occasions over the past 8 weeks that I just haven't had the time to record. I went to the Warner Bro's Studio Tour where Harry Potter was filmed with Mary and Hannah as a late birthday gift. It was the best 4 hours that I have spent in a long time. The studio is divided up into several lots and, apart from a slightly guided tour at the beginning, it is really wander-and-experience on your own....loved it! Took a ridiculous amount of pictures and had an amazing time. I'd love to go back and see everything again.

 Last weekend, I came to Norway to celebrate my brother-in-law's 30th birthday. My sister and I bought him a bottle of 30-year-old whiskey for his 30th birthday and I had to come to help take credit for it. I've told all the other important men in my life to expect the same gift on their 30th birthdays as it is one of my better ideas (if I can get away with saying that).  I arrived Friday night and left again on Sunday and it was absolutely awesome. I saw all of Kristian's friends, met some new people and took over 400 pictures. Everything from Kristian opening his whiskey to beer pong to stacking red solo cups all over the birthday boy at 5AM. I was completely drained for work this last week, but it was definitely worth it.

 I have made the decision to stay in England for Christmas this year. It's going to be very strange for me, being my first Christmas away from home, but I am excited to spend it with my English 'crew' as it were. I will definitely miss my family, the snow, and all those Christmas traditions that I have lived with for the past 25 years but I am excited to start some of my own. I am determined to continue with my eggnog ban and plan to spread the word to the English. They just need to know--it is that important. It is strange to think that I won't see my parents for almost a year and I definitely would have been much more upset when I left this summer, had I realized it then. School ends late for Christmas holiday this year and that would mean travelling through Heathrow on the busiest weekend of the year. Busiest weekend of the year = ridiculously expensive plane tickets = my first Christmas on the European side of the Atlantic. But, hey, spending Christmas in England, New Year's Eve in Norway and a holiday quickly following in February....not such a bad deal after all. I say that now. When I wake up to a green Christmas morning on December 25th, I might be singing from a different song sheet.

 Thus far on my holiday, I have eaten food, walked the dog, been dragged by said dog, covered in drool from aforementioned dog, cooked and relaxed...a lot. I'm going back to England on Thursday night, just in time to wind down my holiday and start counting the days until Christmas break. Not that I would ever do that.

 So, let's see. Work, Harry Potter studios, Kristian's birthday, Tanja (the dog) drooling, being introduced as a Canadian terrorist at the pub and getting ill...yep, that covers the last 8 weeks. I sincerely hope that it won't be another 8 before I update on here again. I have my loyal, dedicated and amazing readers to think of....all 6 of them.

Don't Cry For Me...

...I'm already dead.

From work.

Work is to me what Dementors were to Barty Crouch Jr. BOOM. Still coherent enough for a good HP reference.

So Long, Farewell

It's about that time again. My entire six-week holiday is 24 hours away from ending and I am on my way back to England tomorrow. It has gone by so incredibly fast and I can't believe I'm leaving tomorrow. I've started the goodbyes already; really, I started them two weeks ago. It doesn't seem to get any easier--it almost seems harder each time I leave. These six weeks have been filled with lunches with friends, Tim Hortons coffee & Timbits, watching hockey with my dad, looking at shooting stars around a campfire and spending (not enough) time with family and friends. I've had a great time at home and am sad to say goodbye.

I celebrated my 25th birthday yesterday surrounded by family and friends and it was a great way to end my trip. When I get back to England on Tuesday, I'll have a couple of days to unpack, catch up on sleep and get myself turned around again before I have a second round of birthday celebrations. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone when I get back to England.

Well. Until next time Canada. So long and thanks for all the fish. Eh.

I think seeing the stars at night will be one of the things I miss the most.

Sunny Days!

It's been a week since I have left England and it feels like much, much longer than that. I've spent the last week relaxing, taking care of the gardens and talking to the cats an alarming amount. I've also spent the last week unwinding from one of those travel experiences that makes me want to take a canoe back to England next month.

After school finished, Tom was waiting to take me down to Heathrow. Thankfully, there was no traffic on the road and we made it to the airport with a couple hours to spare. No issues with check-in, security and I was lining up to finally board the plane to get home. I was sitting in the back of the plane--second row to the back, to be exact--and realized I had a window seat. Not too bad. Then I saw the women sitting beside me--a mother and daughter duo, the mother in her 50s or 60s, mother in her 80s or older. The women were Israeli, spoke very little English and seemed to have brought their entire lives with them in the form of carry-on luggage: stuffed in the overhead, piled on my seat, piled under all the seats in the row, including mine, and more on the laps of both women . What the hell happened to one piece per passenger? Nevertheless, up they get, the luggage is shifted and I'm squeezed in next to mama--and mama is one hefty woman. 

 As soon as the in-flight entertainment was switched on, Mother gets me to bring up the map of our flight on her screen (which isn't an easy thing to do when you can't see the damn screen) and then Daughter wants the same. I tried explaining I couldn't see her screen but told her step by step instructions, through which she kept shaking her head, saying "no, you--you, no me--you" and pointing to her screen. Around this time, the in-flight service started and, ignoring the looks the dynamic duo gave me, I was more than happy for an in-flight drink.

 Every time I tried watching a movie, Mama would slap her large arm down on my armrest, effectively turning off my screen and making me want to pull my hair out. About four time, I tried delicately shifting her arm which just led her to really take hold of the arm rest and I gave up. It seemed like I wasn't destined to watch The Lorax after all. Well, turns out I was wrong.

 Mama removes her arm from my armrest and I gleefully switch my TV back on. In the 30 seconds between turning my TV and my movie starting, I hear a sound. Crying. Not the usual screaming-baby-on-an-airplane-crying. But definitely crying. I look over and see Mama just wailing. Dear God. I lean forward and then seen daughter with a veil over her head, hands over her eyes and she is rocking back and forth, praying--loudly. The racket was drawing attention from, well, everyone. The cabin crew took turns coming and asking if they needed anything and were effectively ignored. I always got a sympathetic look...which didn't do much to stop the staring. The dynamic duo finally quiet down just in time for dinner. God knows that they didn't want the kosher meal specially prepared for them and they wanted to have a picnic at 37,000 feet. What a stink! I don't know if the food was prepared when Mama was still a young woman or what they put in it, but the entire back of the plane started smelling like their food...and it was not haute cuisine...just saying.


The remaining 5 or so endless hours of the flight didn't see much improvement. There was no personal air-flow control on the plane and both Mama and Daughter seemed to overheat quite quickly. So they were up about twice an hour. Every hour. And all that baggage had to go somewhere. Onto the seats, under my seat, on my lap. Good God. I couldn't get off that plane fast enough.


So, I've made it home for the next six weeks. Aside from a trip to Halifax for my Visa, I plan on relaxing at home and catching up with friends and family. I'm finally getting to enjoy some proper summer weather; it's not going to be much fun when I have to start wearing makeup or shoes again. Well...33 days left to enjoy it. Excellent.