scottish pride

Subtitle: Making my own national identity

Preamble:
Though it's mildly fallen out of fashion in North America, the British still loooove to be PC. A large part of this is ensuring ethnic diversity in companies. As such, any job application you fill out requests that you identify yourself with one of a long list of racial groups.

Other objections aside (potential for reverse discrimination etc) I always resent being made to choose. Afterall, I could check the box beside "White - English", but that would preclude me checking the box beside "White - Irish", and checking either would mean denying my paternal "White - German" heritage, which is not even agiven option (obviously neither is the "Colour withheld - Canadian" classification). You can understand my predicament.

Solution:
I went to Brighton this week, too briefly, to meet with our design agency.

Over lunch, our designer Fiona asked me how long I'd been living here.

My straightforward reply was, "well, we've been in England for about a month, but we lived in Scotland for almost two years before that."

She guffawed and made me repeat what I'd said for the rest of the table. They all reacted with similar glee, but the joke was lost on me!

Someone explained that they would never make that distinction, and before I could explain that this was because they're not Scottish, the onslaught began:

"I confess I'm bothered by the increasing number of Scottish accents in parliament."

"Sure, they want 'independence' but they don't want FINANCIAL independence!"

"Andy Murray was such an arse at Wimbledon."

"The oil industry isn't as significant to our economy as they think."

"The only good things to come out of Scotland are whiskey and footballers!"

"Haggis is vile."

"It's bloody cold in Aberdeen, why would anyone live there?"

okay, so the last comment was mine...

All this to say, I suddenly felt VERY defensive. I made my case - haggis is quite nice with a spot of gravy - but no one was convinced of Scotland's merits.

I had an inward pout and it occured to me that Scotland has become part of my identity (though yes my accent is rubbish). Sure, I have my own things to say about Scottish food and weather, but that's just it - I feel I've sort of earned my right to slag Scotland, in the same way black kids are allowed to use racial slurs. I know and love the people there, and can even understand the crazy North East Doric.

On the train home, I resolved that my British identity henceforth shall be connected to the Scots. Kilts and thistles and Mel Gibson statues and all that jazz. No more puzzling over check boxes!

bank holiday music deposit

It's a lazy Monday morning for me, but the academic is at work... this means some overdue me-time, ie get all the crap done that I've been putting off: namely cleaning the house, getting things drycleaned, and running around town getting all the things I need for a certain new housemate who's arriving in less than two weeks! It also means a post or two on the ol' Front Lawn!


I'm always hesitant to share new music discoveries at the risk that they are old news back on North America.

Our recent visit home made me aware that radio offerings in the UK actually DO differ from those in Canada. Thus, across the Atlantic you are still deprived of our favourite Scani-pop sensation: Alphabeat.

For a few sugary tracks that will be bouncing in your head all day, find them on youtube:

Fascination



Other great tracks:
10,000 Nights
Boyfriend (for a bit of an early-80s Madonna throwback)

enjoy!

Be a better urbanite

This TimeOut piece can certainly apply to any city dweller:

30 ways to be a better Londoner.

Lessons from London #1

Wet city sidewalks and flip-flops don't mix well... unless of course you plan on ALSO mixing your ass with asphalt.

Falling in the middle of rush hour on Baker St would probably have been a lot more funny if I hadn't been on my own. And if there had been no large puddles in close proximity. boo hoo.

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Lately I've been appreciating my size. No, not just the ol' bigger-they-are-harder-they-fall number, but all this time on busses and airplanes has shown me that legroom is a prized commodity. And I always have plenty of it.

twenty-eight

In the morning, walking to the bus, I gauge my lateness by the others I pass: the Chinese lady who wears her backpack as frontpack, the man in the tracksuit, the lady in turquoise Crocs. Today I saw them much further along in their commute because I spent an extra few minutes in bed enjoying birthday cuddles.

Last week, visiting home, I could also gauge my oldness by the others I passed: niece and nephew who can now engage in full-on conversation (when they slow down long enough), a grandfather - half the size I remember him - who's at the end of life's final season, parents who I now talk to about real adult issues, and highschool friends - 10 years later - who are so accomplished with whole families and careers and levels of maturity you were sure we'd never reach.

I guess all this means I'm a "grownup".

Home was blissful. Vancouverites are so spoiled. I hope you guys know that.

We made the most of it: exploring Denman island with a favourite couple, cruising on Dad's boat to a floating pub and picking our dessert off the nearby blackberry bushes, sunning poolside and flipping the kiddies off my shoulders, saying goodbye to my only surviving biological grandparent, meeting my little cousin's fiance over dinner with a hilarious crew of Smiths (and honorary Smiths), eating sushi and sipping warm beer with friends on the beach (sunset backdrop, of course), brunching with best girls and BBQing with best couples. whew! Throw in 5 trips to the aiport and you won't need to ask why our schedule was so inaccessible.

The icing on the cake was, of course, my ten year reunion. TEN YEARS! Jules and I managed to spend two full hours laughing over all the evening's comedic moments before we finally hit the sack that night.

a week of visits!

Our first North Lodge dinner guests will arrive in Oxford this evening! Jason and Nina Lui are making a detour from their London explorations to pay us a wee visit.

We'd hoped to picnic in the park, but it seems summer was just enjoying a brief stop-over in England last week. Even with the rain, I'm so excited to have dear friends from home here with us.

Come Thursday I'll get another visit with a friend when Amanda Goletto makes an overnight Heathrow stop en route to Africa. Living in a world hub certainly has its advantages.

Because of the busy week ahead, Deano and I enjoyed the chillest of weekends. Sleeping in, treating ourselves to shmancy bread at a local patisserie, climbing the tower at the University Church of St. Mary the Virgin to get a good view of our city, and making some serious progress on our garden.

In fact, i spent nearly 4 hours doing yard work that day. As kids a common punishment was to spend an hour weeding in the yard, and I'm not sure when this task made the transition from torture to leisure. But I found my Saturday afternoon entirely therapeautic - thorn-pricks and all.


Talking to my mom later that night, she pointed out that gardening is in my blood. My grandfather was passionate about plants, fanatical about flowers. My mom's reminder was poignant for me: among other things, like my love of story and my interest in people, perhaps my interest in gardening is part of my inheritance. I like that idea. And if I'm right, then there may be a green thumb for me yet!

new stomping grounds

We've talked about the commute, now how about the job?

Fact is, all my preconceived notions about my place of employ (which I typically refrain from typing out due to the prevalence of GoogleAlerts in university press offices) were false. It's actually a pretty chill, happy, enjoyable place to work.

Contrary to my belief that my fellow employees would be stuffy and overly driven, they are interesting and interested people of all ages - I'm not the baby, and above all I'm treated as an equal by those who have been in the biz decades longer than I.

My current office is on the top floor of a row house, with the External relations team on floors below. It gets a bit lonely up here, but there is an overall sense of autonomy - as long as the job gets done then I can essentially come and go as I please. For me an ideal working environment.I cannot complain.

But what makes it worth the equivalent of a daily drive to Kamloops? The City itself.

Lunch in Regents Park. Post work shopping on Oxford street (when I can brave the crowds). And, bliss, Marylebone High Street - home of the iconic Conran shop where I can while away an entire lunch hour (who needs food when there's classic design).

I still smile when I alight from the bus in Oxford each night. It's a good place to call home. But London is a good place to pass summer days.