Well the hurly burly of the last week meant that I never did get time to write that epic blog post about leaving the UK and moving to Canada and everything that meant. So to summarise: I've left the UK and I'm now in Canada and so far so good.

24 hours in and I've been into the office where there was a warm welcome, found out that I'm starting a project on Monday, got a ski trip to Sunshine planned for tomorrow and moved into my (temporary) apartment. Shame it's temporary as it's lovely - right downtown and next to the river. And there is a view of Calgary's most important landmark: the ski jump where Eddie the Eagle captured the hearts of the world...


The view of the river is nice too:

the metrosexual / heteropolitan man-about-town, well, man-about-W12 is mostly wearing: white tights, shorts, moon boots and a coat (because it's still cold right?)

Had my leaving party last night, as tradition dictates, at the fabulous South London Pacific. I'd intended to take a lot of photos but well, I couldn't be buttered in the end.

Thank you, thank you to everyone who came. And to Bea: apologies for the whole German thing... ho sento!

Off on Thursday!

I've started another blog today. It's for all the work-related stuff I don't want to inflict on you good people. But if any of you have ever wondered about what the hell it is I do then you could go and have a look. It probably won't shed much light and be warned: it's full of geeks over there so do be careful.

The first post is all about headphones. Really.

Anyway it's called Cards Ahoy!

I was back in Oxford last weekend catching up with family before heading off to Canada. After seeing my aunt Anne and uncle Christopher, plus cousins Miranda and Trio, I headed down to Modern Art Oxford to see what was cooking.

Acting on a tip-off (thanks Ellie!) I had reason to believe there was a Callum Innes exhibition in town. My sources were right and it's absolutely brilliant. It was the most comprehensive exhibition of his work I'd ever seen and as he is far and away my favourite painter I was in raptures. It's easy to say all his stuff looks the same but for me there isn't another artist in Britain today who can match him for visually and emotionally engaging work. His work is contemplative, not outrageous, and that's probably why he's not bigger news. If you are in the Oxford area before April 15th, go see.

I was then planning on going home, but acting on another tip-off (thanks Trio) I hung around till the evening to catch Luminox. I'm very glad I did because it was the most amazing sight.


Apparently 2007 marks 1000 years of Oxfordshire.* Broad Street, infamous for fiery events in the past, hosted a modern celebration via the medium of fire, a spectacle devised by French spectacliers (c. J Johnston 2007) Carabosse. It was the sort of randomly fabulous public event that I find it hard to believe that nobody in the Council didn't ban. I wandered round with Trio and a friend of hers and even had the great good fortune of bumping into my former neighbour Cyrus Mower. Magical is a hackneyed phrase but the crowds, music and firelight created a wonderful atmosphere that was gone as you moved back into the world of electric lighting. That's magic.



* Hmmm - seems like a rather made-up excuse for a party but lets not quibble.

Preparations for my departure for Calgary are well under way. I've found two lovely friends to rent my flat and my ticket is booked for 29th March.

"What's the weather like I Calgary?" I wondered today...

I went to see Arcade Fire at the Brixton Academy last night. It was a top gig: the Fire (as we're all calling them now, right?) make this HUGE sound, aided no doubt by the fact that there are hundreds of them in the band and they lug a giant pipe-organ around on tour with them. So that was great.

What was less great was the inter-song banter. There wasn't very much (not a problem) but what there was was mostly of the berating-the-crowd-for-not-being-lively-enough variety. I HATE that. I hate being told how to react to something. It's tricky because I also hate London gig audiences: it seems that most gig goers would rather talk loudly to each other than listen, or heaven forbid, dance to the music. But while I may disagree with their mojo, I'll defend to the death their right to, erm, "moj" it. This glacial "here we are now, entertain us" mentality is part of our cultural distinctiveness! If you want a crowd that whoops and hollers when you say hello then you can always go to the USA. When I was a stand-up dying on my arse in front of a hard to please crowd I didn't stop and berate them for being a bad audience. No sir! I got the hell off stage and resolved never to do it again... (Thinks - maybe that's not helping my point...)

Anyway my point is that it all gets a bit too Nuremberg for my liking when someone on stage instructs us how and what to feel. And now I've gone and proved Godwin's law which means I've lost an argument with myself. Pah!

Many years ago I appeared in a profound and provocative theatrical happening called "Dennis and the Ultimate Sandwich". Modesty forbids me from telling you who I played (it was Dennis!!). Dennis was a young (desperately handsome) man afflicted by some kind of ennui and looking for answers. You know the type. Every now and then a mysterious character would appear and dispense pearls of wisdom. This was played by my real life sensei, Andrew Walker. Life imitating art.

The play featured a sandwich. I seem to recall it was two slices of Mothers Pride and loads of smarties: that's the kind of renegade theatre it was. I don't remember what happened when I ate the ultimate sandwich. Probably some form of enlightenment or at least alignment with the human condition. I moved on. Other interpretations of the eternal Dennis/Sandwich story came along. Governments rose and fell. Over the years the memory of this all faded.

Until today.

Today I went for lunch at Fuzzy's Grub in Bow Lane. When I saw the lady assembling my sandwich I had a sudden flashback to the Bedlam Theatre, Edinburgh. Once again I was Dennis. And this was truly the ultimate sandwich!

my... sweet.... lord....



That's good eatin'. It's a terrible idea for lunch though - I was desperate for a sleep all afternoon!

Well nearly: it was a total eclipse of the moon in fact. I've just spent the last half hour out in the street watching the eclipse and it was fantastic. It was like watching waves of shadow lap across the moon as if some umbrageous tide was coming in. (Are you loving my use of the word umbrageous? Believe it!) Slowly and imperceptibly the moon turned dark. In the end it looked like a grey ball hanging in the air and you really had no sense of how far away it was. I couldn't help but think "That's no moon, that's a space station..."

I set up my tripod and took LOADS of photos. And they were rubbish!

the Mark Viduka song

There's an office block near the TW office in the centre of London that's been deserted for as long as I can remember. It's a grim, grey concrete lump that hardly brings any further lustre to London's glittering West End^TM. Until now... Right now it's covered in white polythene, completely wrapped and coated. It's rather lovely:


I'm starting to hope they keep it that way.


*favourite. blog. post. title. ever