yes Prime Minister

I mentioned not long ago my new quest to love Oxford for its own merits - without constantly comparing it to Vancouver. If I compare it to Vancouver then i become aware of its dearth of lifelong friends & family (those belonging to me, anyway), ocean, fir trees etc.

But if you take Vancouver out of the picture, then this city really has much to offer. Dean and I have spent parts of the last two weekends exploring it by bike now that the weather has improved. Last Sunday we took our time along the canals in Jericho and today we ignored the 'NO BIKES' signs and cruised along Christ Church Meadow (below).

Yesterday was one of those not-so-rare occasions when I though, Ah, THIS is why we live here! In fact, yesterday was the 104th Romanes lecture at the Sheldonian Theatre, with British PM Gordon Brown who joined the ranks of past lecturers Gladstone, Churchill and Roosevelt to name a few.

Dean snagged us a pair of free tickets, which just happened to be in the fourth row - close enough to see the folds of skin escaping over Gordon's collar. Admittedly he doesn't have the charisma of Tony Blair (who gave the lecture 10 years ago), and his talk on science and the economic future got a bit snoozy at the end, but it's not everywhere the general public are openly invited to hear world leaders make an intimate address. Plus, his ability to stay focussed when the voices of protesters outside threatened to drown him out was impressive!

breakthrough

The other day I saw the first rays of the sun coming up as I walked to the bus. A few of those rays were still lingering when I left the School that evening.

I had missed the sight of sunlight on a weekday. I'm glad it's back.

Today I went for a walk around the boating lake to break up the monotony of heavy editing. I saw heaving heron's nests and assortments of ducks I didn't know existed. I even saw some white blossoms on trees, which confirmed it for me - the gloom of winter is on its way out of town.

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Here in London I'm in the thick of magazine production. Every fourth month at the magazine is a flurry of proofs and edits and last minute space-filling articles. After this one big push, I'll get to witness another seasonal breakthrough: my third edition of AlumniNews.

Meanwhile in Oxford we're enjoying some contrasting quiet. We're filling these winter weekends with nights-in and local exploration. I guess it's the calm before the springtime storm when we'll enjoy approximately three solid months of visitors and European travel.

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The latest news:

+ Dean just landed his ninth academic journal publication!

+ no further mice have tried to set up camp in North Lodge (ooo, not sure I mentioned that problem yet on the blogosphere...) though Dean is making every effort to tempt them

+ valentines day was maybe the best ever, complete with dinosaur bones, a long canal-side stroll, perfectly grilled steak, and my surprise for Dean - the Oxford City Orchestra at the Sheldonian Theatre. He had a surprise for me too (to go with my lily bird and the to-be-purchased banana kid sugar bowl. we are suckers for cute :)

+ Dean got new boots. We took Heather with us to the Cotswolds this weekend to test them out:

not so unlucky

happy Friday the 13th everyone! I'm not much of a believer in Fri/13 spookiness, but I did have some bizarre dreams last night which I'm not sure I can attribute to my cold meds.

If I were at home right now, or knew more people in Oxford then you all may have seen a reprise of the notorious 2005 Not-So-Unlucky Friday the 13th party. Instead I'm making not one, but two curries (chicken tikka masala and lamb rogan josh) and the Ewerts are coming over for a good ol' fashioned night of board games.

Now that I think of it, past Fridays the 13th have proved to be anything but unlucky. The day after the aforementioned party was my first date with Deano :)

Tomorrow night I'm taking him on our gazillionth date, but I can't say where because it's a surprise!

The house in Norham Gardens

Sick day. My second in a row. I'm making half-hearted attempts to work in between coughing and nose-blowing and other such sickly activities.

Dean and I live in a charming house, probably one of top-10 cutest houses in Oxford, and certainly the only one with a prime view over the University Parks. But it's a cold mofo, with hefty heating bills, so sick days are expensive.

This afternoon I was tired of being cooped up with only a tissue box for company, so I took a stroll to Jericho to indulge in my two favourite addictions: modern design (just looking) and secondhand books (Atwood's Blind Assassin for 50p - how could I resist?). It started to rain, but I was just happy to have some fresh air and watch the students, riding their bikes and doing their studenty week day things - something I rarely witness with my London commuting and all.

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Dean and I don't know how much longer we'll be in the UK. it could be 6 months, it could be 6 years. In case of the former, I've started a new exercise I think of as: the Love England While You Can project. Basically, enough complaining about the cold, the gloom, the lack of free time, the lack of friends, get off yer backside and appreciate this island.

The weekend was lovely. Sunny and clear with residual snow still frosty on the ground. I took myself to the city while Dean worked on a paper (smarty pants). I munched my favourite Pret sandwiches along the banks of the Thames until I arrived at the much overlooked Tate Britain.

I've long been a devotee of the Tate Modern and rarely have a day out without a little visit. But whether it was proximity or an assumed disinterest in 'old' art, I've always skipped over the Britain.

Saturday revealed this to be a great folly - as I sighed over the pre-raphaelites and William Blake and varying themes of Victorian art I had no idea I could like so much. I am officially a Tate Britain convert. You should be too.

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I took the camera with me on the walk to work last week. it was awfully pretty:

take a moment to mourn

If I thought Domino's demise was a kick in the gut, then today's news about the end of Vancouver's annual fireworks display is like a funeral.

This is always the highlight of my summer. I brave the crowds, the police spotlights and all the sand that gets in my shoes/under my fingernails to revel in the bright lights, minidonuts and the once-a-year cloud of pot smoke. Nothing makes me love my city more than wrapping up in a wool blanket and seeing half a million of my fellow citizens, out to enjoy Vancouver's third-nicest gift to us (the mountains and the ocean, taking first and second place, of course). I was actually hoping to plan my summer visit home around the two weeks of fireworks.

sigh.

recession takes another hit, and this time it's personal.

It's been floating around the net for a week now, but seeing it in the pages of the Times makes it real: Domino is dead.

One interviewee summed up my own feelings about this mag - opening my issue each month feels like Christmas morning. Domino is the one thing I regularly have imported from North America to these Target-deficient British shores, so even though I'm away from Canadian newsstands, I'll feel the absence of the best magazine, ever.