Skip to main content

Europe: Prologue

Twenty odd years after the trendy, "lets go to Europe after graduation", my partner and are making the big trek Over the Pond, Across the Drink, to the Old Country, well, for some people, not for us (but still, it's maybe not OUR Old Country, but it is very old.) It won't be the back packing journey where you can sleep wherever you want and just see where the wind takes you. Not with kids. There will be no hostels or drinking off brand liqour outside the club that won't let you in. At least, we aren't the type of parents that take our kids through hostels. That's the sort of parents who do crossfit, then have their kids do crossfit, and probably say namaste more than is reasonable.

I expect to see churches and schools older than my home country (Canada), heck I expect to see corner stores, sports teams that are older.

There is the slight worry that when I tell folks there that we are Canadian they'll assume I'm just an American trying to come off well, but I guess as long as I don't crush a budweiser on my forehead and refer to every automobile as a 'truck' it'll be fine?

It's London first. A truly great world city. It'll be difficult to not be overwhelmed by all the history and culture, also, being a huge fan of plaques, I suspect our walking progress will be severely curtailed. To decide on what amazing old thing to look at and read about will be the biggest challenge, for sure. And at least there will be no off-brand liqour.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Insults From A Senile Victorian Gentleman

You SIR, have the hygeine of an overly ripe avocado and the speaking habits of a vaguely deranged chess set. I find your manner to be unctuous and possibly libelous, and whatever standard you set for orthodontal care, it's not one I care for. Your choice in news programs is semi-literate at best and I do believe your favourite news anchor writes erotic literature for university mascots. While I'm not one to point out so obvious a failing, there has been rumour that the brunches you host every other Sunday are made with too much lard and cilantro. If you get my meaning. There is something to be said about your choice of motor-car fuel, but it is not urbane and if I were to repeat it, mothers would cover their children's ears and perhaps not a few longshoremen within earshot would blush. How you maintain that rather obscene crease in your trousers and your socks is beyond me, perhaps its also during this time that you cultivate a skin regime that I'm sure requires the dea

Learn A New Thing...

Man, you really do learn a new thing everyday. There have been a few shocking realizations I've had over the past month or so: -bizaare is spelled bizarre (how bizaare) -scythe is pronounced "sithe", not the phonetic way. Which is the way I've been pronouncing it in my head for my whole life. My entire youth spent reading Advanced Thresher Sci-Fi and Buckwheat Fantasy novels, for naught! -George Eliot was a woman, real name Mary Ann Evans. -Terry Gilliam is American. -Robocop is a Criterion Film. I shit you not . -Uhm, oh damn, just after I post this, I find that, this movie is a Criterion film as well . Maybe I don't know what being a Criterion film really entails.. Alright all (three) readers of my blog, post and lemme know some earth shattering facts you've learned recently.

Absolute Write Blogchain #10

We interrupt your usual lackadaisical one post a week with a blog chain! There are many desriptions of a blog chain, but it's basically a blatant attempt to bring new readers to your blog by writing about meandering topic. I'll be riffing off of Midnight Muse's post about salmon, I think. And smoking. Oh, and produce! I think it has to be a mark of adulthood to be excited about produce. When I was a kid, and we'd go for some vacation to yet another boring landmark (with not a single arcade in sight) about some misguided explorer who had died along the way to a destination (where I'm sure he was expecting opium and cheap women, but who the plaques invariably cast as a starry eyed dreamer, bent on discovering the world for road-side diners and the more boring parts of textbooks). We'd inevitably find some long lost fruit stand. Abandoned except for a weather worn sign and a disaffected youth who oozed small-town teen resentment. My dad would stop our full sized v