....but I digress

2011-07-01T12:34:00.002+02:00

Happy Canada Day !

My 'national anthem'.

2011-06-16T19:35:00.007+02:00

Bite Me

So instead of reading a blog about the wonderful holiday I had in London last weekend; meeting up with an old friend and our exploits at Gordon's Wine Bar, the Veuve Cliquot Champagne bar at Harrods and how much fun we had, you get to find what happens when I get bit by insects in Switzerland.

I love all things Swiss, if you've ever read anything here, you know this is true. I've adjusted to the change in climate, food, culture with great ease for the most part (and yeah, maybe a few pounds). But Swiss insects,like mosquitoes and horseflies seem to have some unusual properties that my body cannot handle. Keep in mind, I'm from Canada. I grew up in Manitoba and have been bitten by mosquitoes the size of sparrows, I've survived multiple wasp bites, bee stings and one very nasty bite from a black widow spider (while living on the Wet Coast) without much more than some ice and calamine lotion. Also 'the itch' from Clear Lake on so many occasions during my childhood, I should be scarred. But no, I am Canadian, little biting black flies and dense clouds of mosquitoes don't phase me.

The first summer here, my arms were covered in swollen red oozing bites that I attributed to spiders in the new house. The second summer, after having gone back to Canada and been bitten by both Albertan and Manitoban bugs with no horrendous reactions, I was amazed to return home and watch a simple mosquito bite turn into some large, red, owwy mass that took days to subside. Last summer, I dragged out the Deep Woods Off and basically coated my arms, legs and face every night before I went to bed.

Yesterday I was cleaning the pool and got bit by a horsefly. This is what my thigh and knee looked like this morning, even after icing it for hours last night.

In desperation I took some Benadryl today, all the while knowing that antihistamines are like dropping (bad) acid for me. I get woozy, see little trails of light and basically feel worse for the cure. Then I went and passed out for 4 hours. I still feel achy and weird, but the swelling has gone down a bit and the bites don't look quite so angry.

2011-06-07T18:29:00.003+02:00

For Dani

Just a thought.
via boingboing

2011-06-02T19:17:00.003+02:00

No Matter What You Do, Be Amazing !

via thedailywhat

2011-05-25T16:31:00.017+02:00

Summer Fun

Ack! Has it really been almost two months since I've posted ? And it looks like squatters have been in here while I was away.

* kicks the empty beer cans into the corner, wipes away some cobwebs*

Ahem. Yes, well, what have I been sooo very busy doing that I couldn't even stop in and drop a line or two? It all started with the very early arrival of summer this year. Seriously, since the beginning of April, we have had maybe 3 days with rain and temps above 20C everyday. And with the arrival of summer, I was compelled to deal with some VIP's.

Very Important Projects.

The first of these was dealing with the terrasse, which I let slide into some state of disrepair and stainage last year.

Before After

Once the entire terrasse had been swept and power washed, we had the 70 year old Ungaro (yes, we ARE equal opportunity employers!) come in and repair all the cracks and spalling grout,despite his fervent wish that we replace the entire terrasse with SMOOTH rock.

Then there was this bit of street side property that has been a weed and nettle infested eyesore since we moved in.

This required the accumulation of some rocks:

Weeds begone... Eh, Voila!

Now if that wasn't enough there was another thorn in my side that had been poking at me since we moved in, this slope:

It is much steeper than it looks and cannot be mowed, which means that for the last two summers I have waved the weedwhacker over it and tried to keep the bunch grass and dandelions at bay. But no more, no I am SO done with that shit. I have rocks:

Probably not nearly enough, but enough to start. Stripped and ready to go!

Also, I have the cutest helper in the world:

Did I mention that I'm walking 5 km a day as well? Yeah, because hauling rocks and digging dirt doesn't burn enough calories to rid me of a winter of fondue and raclette, apparently.

The Big G and I have done a bit of travelling in the last few months; Basel, the UK, a wonderful luxurious weekend in Lugano and have more travel coming up : 5 days in Paris (starting this weekend !!!) and then I'm off to London to meet up with an old friend. As always there is more than enough to do and see in Switz alone and if I drag myself away from landscaping long enough I hope to do some Swiss tourism this summer too!

And the pool is open and should be warm enough to swim in by the end of the week! Yaaaaay summer!

2011-04-13T14:07:00.002+02:00

What a drag it is...

getting old.

PS I will really try to post something of substance one of these days.

2011-03-25T13:53:00.002+01:00

Vacation

Just a note ... I'll be away for the next week, up at the flat where the internet access is slim to none. The Max, The Big G and all 3 kittehs are coming so I'm not sure if it's really a vacation from anything but the interwebs, but even that's a good thing sometimes. I'll leave you with some 80's girlband goodness.

2011-03-19T19:13:00.006+01:00

Astronomical

photo courtesy of mjkjr on Flicker

Today – March 19 – features the closest full moon of 2011. Some are calling it a supermoon.
Ooo oo ooo what a little moonlight can do!

2011-03-15T12:07:00.006+01:00

Kid Charlemagne
Owsley Stanley, LSD pioneer, RIP

Augustus Owsley Stanley III, AKA the "Bear," died in a car crash in his adopted home of Queensland, Australia today. He was 76. Between 1965 and 1967, Stanley homebrewed more than one million doses of LSD in the San Francisco Bay Area fueling a revolution in consciousness, music, art, and the counterculture.

Here is a rare interview with "Bear" from 2007. "For the unrepentant patriarch of LSD, long, strange trip winds back to Bay Area"

2011-03-09T14:20:00.003+01:00

L'Image du Jour

I found this at thisisnotporn.net, a most wonderful collection of celebrity candid photos ( and no, not THAT kind).
For me, this pretty much sums up everything I love about Freddy Mercury.

Oh and this too:

2011-03-04T11:37:00.002+01:00

Travelin'

Off to Italy for a wedding this weekend and yes, we get to stay here.

2011-02-16T17:45:00.001+01:00

Obit

R.I.P. George Shearing
August 13, 1919 – February 14, 2011

2011-02-14T17:03:00.003+01:00

L'Image du Jour

2011-02-13T16:38:00.004+01:00

Hand Jive - Basel Style

2011-02-07T13:25:00.011+01:00

Weekend (a travelogue by Roscoe)

Going up to the mountains is always a nice change of pace.

There are new things to play with

What's that up there?

Whooooaaaa..it's a lot bigger close up!

The shift in altitude is always interesting.

The day winds down and jets make their way to Geneva.

The Argentine lights up briefly.

Sunset...off to bed.

2011-02-06T17:16:00.004+01:00

Press Leak

A fable for our times:

The Dumbing Down of America
by Leonard Pitts Jr.

Once upon a time, there lived a stupid giant.

The giant had not always been stupid. Or, perhaps it is more accurate to say the giant had once revered intelligence, reason and the byproducts thereof. Indeed, the giant was renowned for an ingenuity and standard of living that made it the envy of the world.

But much of the world did more than envy the giant. Much of the world admired and respected it. Its basic decency, along with its strength and intelligence, set it apart.

There came a time, however, when, though the giant retained its strength and arguably even its decency, it lost its intelligence.

No one can say exactly how and when the loss occurred. There was no great blast of thunder and lightning to herald it, no sudden instant when the giant's intelligence plummeted dramatically from the instant before.

No, stupidity crept over the giant with the stealth of twilight, a product less of one abrupt moment than of a thousand moments of complacency, of resting on laurels, of allowing curiosity to be teased and bullied out of bright children, of dumbing down textbooks so kids could get better grades with less work, of using ``elite'' like a curse word. And, of behaving as if knowing things, and being able to extrapolate from and otherwise make critical use of, the things one knows, was a betrayal of some fundamental human authenticity -- some need to keep it real.

Read the rest here.

2011-02-04T17:26:00.004+01:00

Track Back

I must confess, when I was a little girl I had such a crush on Dean Martin. I don't know which I wanted more, to be grown up so I could marry him, or have him be my daddy and sing me to sleep every night.

2011-02-04T17:14:00.003+01:00

L'Image du Jour

How fabulous are these globes from ImagineNation? Go check out the Maurice Sendak themed one and more here.

2011-02-03T15:15:00.004+01:00

L'Image Du Jour

There are a lot of blogs and pages out there with photos from Chernobyl, but these ones grabbed me because most of them are basically average snap shots, but there are a few that are simply haunting. Browse the set here.

2011-02-02T14:35:00.005+01:00

L'Image du Jour

I found this fantastic French blog, Le Divan Fumoir Bohémien, and spent most of yesterday drooling over the pictures and finding all kinds of nifty little museums to check out next time we're in Paris.

And to keep you in that French state of mind, here's a little Georges Brassens:

2011-02-01T15:06:00.008+01:00

L'Image du Jour

The Big G and I were in Paris last month (for our first anniversary!) and found FLEUX, a shop full of weird, wonderous and beautifully designed things for your home, office or life in general. We saw these serving trays arrayed along one large wall ... can something be charming and creepy at the same time? See more here (under plateaux).

2011-01-31T17:22:00.003+01:00

Track Back

They play this a lot on Option Musique these days and I'm trying to convince The Max to learn the piano bit. I think this video is tres charmant ... kitties and claymation together, yeah!

2011-01-31T16:20:00.008+01:00

Fire Good!

(or she likes it when we've got wood)

We've been conducting a little experiment this winter... heating the house with the fireplace instead of the foul smelling, sooty mazout (oil) in the chauffage (central heating device) and I have to admit, I love it. There is some debate about how carbon neutral burning wood actually is, but the consensus seems to be that the carbon released by burning is not adding to the total carbon footprint, as the tree absorbed the carbon to begin with (the same holds true for petroleum products however that absorption was millions of years ago) and that by burning wood, new trees absorb the carbon faster than the earth does to make coal, etc.

Of course, the Swiss know a thing or two about forest management, having had a couple of thousand years to get it right. Every commune has a forest, that is planted, harvested and neatly stacked for curing and sale, done in that tidy Swiss way. We've burned through about 4 stere (one stere =one cubic meter of wood) so far and it's considerably cheaper than burning oil.

2 stere all stacked.

But for me the very best part is caveman TV. I could sit and watch the fire all day. I am soothed by the glow, excited by the whole chemical process going on and find myself relaxing and thinking about things that seem somehow more important than who is in the top running on X Factor or Master Chef this week.

PS It's also allowed the Big G to make continuous 'wood' jokes as well, much to his endless amusement.

2011-01-13T18:36:00.003+01:00

L'Image du Jour

Basel October 2010

2010-12-24T15:31:00.004+01:00

Merry Christmas

May everyone have a little peace, joy and magic this holiday season!
Here's my favorite little bit of joy: Three Ships

2010-12-20T18:13:00.004+01:00

Press Leak

Best Headline of 2010 (or possibly ever):

'Female squirrels never turn down sex'

Seriously, this is on the CBC News website today!

Also, my apologies for being absent for the last while, this song pretty much sums it up for me:

2010-11-04T09:37:00.004+01:00

Innovation

Researchers at LOLCats Labs have revealed their latest prosthetic technology:

Despite the ongoing 'no thumbs' problem, the new RoscoeArm© offers warmth, unlimited nomming ability and a fully developed 'ronronné ' motor'.

2010-11-03T12:04:00.012+01:00

Beautiful Day In The Neighbourhood

The Big G and I walked over to the next village for lunch yesterday...through the forest

and back to Bioley.

The village is full of little visual delights ...

It was a beautiful day.

	U2 - Beautiful Day .mp3

	Found at bee mp3 search engine

2010-10-27T17:58:00.001+02:00

Track Back

Because it's almost Halloween and it's Bryan Ferry...
I'll be in my bunk for the next little while.

2010-10-23T16:34:00.010+02:00

Please Don't Hate Me Because I'm Lucky

Last week, while we were standing smoking outside a restaurant in Paris (and yes, somehow the anti-smoking league has managed to get even those Gauloise smoking Parisiens to 'step outside') my brother commented on how my good fortune occasionally strikes him as, well, ... irksome. Nevermind the fact:
1) That much of the good fortune in my life has been the result of people I met through him, as well as having him for my brother
2) He was standing WITH me on a street in PARIS !

But he has a point...I have been extremely fortunate for most of my life. This is not to say there weren't times of great economically-driven stress, times when all I wanted was for someone to love/love me who wasn't neurotic and fucked up, when loss and pain and fear broke my heart. But over all, I've been one lucky bitch ... and it's not fair. I'm not a bad person, but I'm not a particularly good one either. There are people in the world who give more of themselves,who do truly good works for simple rewards, people who change this planet for the better and I can only hope they get the joy and happiness from their lives as I do from mine. And I know there are people who seem to have it all; money, love, family, education and they are miserable. So perhaps being fortunate isn't measured only by how much you have or where you have it. Maybe there's an element of perspective to it all.

All of this is a preamble to me posting the photos below. I want to share my pictures, my love of Paris with you, my faithful blogreaders. And if you feel a twinge of envy (justifiable and not really too bad of a sin) please know that there is much in your lives (that you share here on the interwebs) that assures me that you, too, are very fortunate.

We did, indeed, get to stay at the Hotel Caron de Beaumarchais, and it was as charming and wonderful as I had hoped.

We went to Versailles (The Big G had never been) and as it was a Saturday and packed, we spent most of our time wandering around the gardens.

But my favorite thing was just wandering around Paris (although we did see a couple of excellent exhibits Tresor de Medicis and France1500).

2010-10-18T20:47:00.003+02:00

Track Back (en voyage)

Bien sùr...there is no place quite like Paris.

2010-10-11T13:07:00.008+02:00

Tradition
This weekend many of my compatriots were partaking in the October ritual of Thanksgiving, feasting on turkey, mashed potatoes, baked yams (mmmmm), brussel sprouts, carrots, cranberries and pumpkin pie (mmmm) and I hope each of you had a surfeit of food, family, and things to be thankful for. Here in La Suisse, they have traditions as well, but it is more of a season than just one day. On Saturday we drove up to Gryon, dumped Roscoe at the flat (because I haven't found any wee hiking booties for his lil paws), tied on our hiking boots and hiked from Solalex

to Anzeinde.

This is what it looks like on a map:

It's about an hour or so of climbing (a little longer for those of us that need to stop and catch our breath and let our heartbeat return to something that doesn't resemble tachycardia) and the view is spectacular. After the walk down (another hour or so) we treated ourselves to the traditional autumn Swiss Feast: Chasse at the Refuge de Solalex. I have mentioned chasse on this blog before, but this was perfection. All the game (cerf, chevreuil, lievre) was local, cooked perfectly and accompanied by the tastiest carmelized marons, tender baby brussel sprouts, pears poached in red wine and followed by a digestif of chilled abricotine. I think the Swiss have figured out a few things in the last couple of millennia, despite the lack of pumpkin pie.

2010-10-06T17:51:00.009+02:00

L'Image du Jour

Since fawning over 'mon petit chaton' has been approved, I present you with a little bit o' Roscoe:

K...I'll stop now.

2010-10-02T19:02:00.004+02:00

Track Back

This is for one of my favorite bloggers, idleprimate, an ape with more sense than most and the wherewithall to show us.(reallly, go check out his blog).
For Ape, because 1000 years is just the blink of an eye.

2010-10-01T15:38:00.002+02:00

L'Image du Jour

I was out shopping in Lausanne yesterday and messing around with the new Pentax.This is the clock on St. Francoise Cathedral. It was either this or many, many pictures of Roscoe.

2010-09-27T13:16:00.013+02:00

Birthday Bonanza

I haven't been much of a webmonkey lately, sometimes real life takes precedence, consequently my comments on other blogs have devolved into the cyber version of the "hi...howyadoingniceseeingyou" grunt in passing, and for that, I apologize, you people deserve better. Even the Image du Jour has fallen by the wayside...I know, it's pathetic. But I have excuses (lots and lots of excuses). For starters there's this guy:

Roscoe is a going concern, wanting to go outside like the big kitties, coming up on the 4 month mark and feeling 'his oats' these days, so much so that his current nickname is 'Nads Lebowski/Roscoe Testiclees'. He does get to be outside without the dreaded 'baby harness' tied to a long rope now, and he will come when he's called (in typical cat fashion, ie. when it suits him). He is a constant source of amusement, distraction and pure joy (yes, yes, I know that the same thing can be said about the interwebs).

It's also been the latter half of the month of September, and in this household that means BIRTHDAYS GALORE!!! On September 22, it was not only the equinox and a fantastic full harvest moon, but also The Max's 18th birthday (my baby...how in the world did this happen?):

(the shaved head thing?? I have no idea)

A beautiful fall day (much like the day he was born) segued into an evening of champagne and present opening:

And then onto Max's favorite meal: fondue...mmmmmmm fondue:

Three days later it was my birthday...and yes, I am officially an an antique now. Quick! Trot me on over to the Antiques Roadshow and see what I'm worth! So another evening of champagne, presents and MY favorite meal (schnitzel) ensued.

Also, The Big G spoiled me silly with this gift:

Squeeeee! I fear the Image du Jour may digress into pictures of my kittehs and Swissitudes, but I will try to restrain myself.

Because two bottles of champagne on Saturday wasn't enough, Sunday was The Big G's b-day. T'was another beautiful autumn day so we walked over to St. Barthelmy (the next village over) and put the Pentax through it's paces:

There were presents to be opened, and, of course, more champagne and then The Big G's favorite meal, steak & pomme de terre (that's my guy!):

Well fed, well fêted, we are. I must admit though, I think I've developed a taste for champagne in the evening...anyone having a birthday soon?

2010-09-14T18:10:00.006+02:00

L'Image du Jour

Science is still pretty!
Grains of pollen come in all shapes and sizes. The large object in the centre of this image is pumpkin pollen; the tiny speck just below and to the right of it is forget-me-not pollen.

via telegraph.co.uk

2010-09-09T15:17:00.002+02:00

Ikea Cats
Yeah, so Assbook and Twatter are fouling up the interwebs with banality, but there can never be too many kittehs! Here's a brand new ad for Ikea.

Ikea Happy Inside Cats
- Watch more Videos at Vodpod.

Via imjustcreative

2010-09-09T13:02:00.003+02:00

Press Leak
Too Much Information Age

Here's a great piece that pretty much sums up how I feel about 'social networking', Assbook and the overwhelming vapidity of what's happening on the interwebs these days.

Orwell That Ends Well

by Randall Amster

In just the past week, a friend lost his cellphone, and another was robbed. One fell asleep in the bathtub, and another visited her old elementary school. A number had interesting fare for dinner. Some liked the weather, others lamented it. One notable presence in particular diligently posted her whereabouts at all times. Pretty typical stuff actually, and almost none of it interesting in the least.

This isn't the Information Age - it's the Too Much Information Age. Everyone is posting their diaries, dalliances, likes, and longings because they have an audience of "friends" who border on being voyeurs. Disconcertingly, there's no compulsion to participate in this apart from peer pressure, which is apparently a powerful motivator even well beyond one's high school years.

And this is precisely the genius of the Self-Surveilling Society in which we find ourselves: it taps into the psychology of our teen years (to know and be known) and exports it to the world writ large. In this lexicon, your friends become (as in high school) your style-setters, sounding boards, commiserators, gossip sources, reality checkers, and existential validators. If you do something and don't share it, did it really happen?

Read the rest of " Orwell That Ends Well" here.

2010-09-03T11:48:00.012+02:00

Short Cuts

This is funny and heartbreaking at the same time. Remember your three R's people...reuse,renew,and recycle!

2010-08-20T12:54:00.002+02:00

L'Image du Jour

I think I'm becoming a little bit Swiss...
via thingsorganizedneatly

2010-07-29T19:10:00.003+02:00

L'Image du Jour

Guess what I got today! This lil guy (as yet unnamed but currently being referred to as 'the lil dude'). All together now...Awwwwwwwwww!

2010-07-20T11:53:00.003+02:00

L'Image du Jour

Science is pretty! This image is one of a series of particle track images from the collider at CERN.
"Bubble chamber particle tracks. Coloured image showing a collection of tracks left by subatomic particles in a bubble chamber. A bubble chamber is a container filled with liquid hydrogen which is superheated – momentarily raised above its normal boiling point by a sudden drop in pressure in the container. Any charged particle passing through the liquid in this state leaves behind a trail of tiny bubbles as the liquid boils in its wake. These bubbles are seen as fine tracks, showing the characteristic paths of different types of particle. The paths are curved due to an intense applied magnetic field. The tightly-wound spiral tracks are due to electrons and positrons."
Via My Milk Glass Heart.

2010-07-12T19:19:00.002+02:00

L'Image du Jour

via blackeiffel

2010-07-09T11:10:00.011+02:00

La Mode d'Hommes

Here's a taste of the latest fashion trends on display in Montreux yesterday. It all started with this guy:

I, for one, thought his attire was...striking! Then I began to look around...

The lonnnng plaid bermuda short is BACK!

Surf's up DUDES!

Retro Hippy is also very popular this summer.

The well known and never to be forgotten "Roberto Benigni Look" continues to be a fashion fixture on the continent.

And yes, folks...CURLZ are back!

The younger set is sporting matching hats and medallions worn backwards:

But MaxStyle?

TIMELESS!

2010-07-07T22:09:00.002+02:00

L'Image du Jour

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack.

2010-07-01T20:09:00.004+02:00

L'Image du Jour

I could play with this little applet all day...design heaven! Head on over to Wordle and do your own site (or somebody else's).

2010-06-29T22:08:00.002+02:00

L'Image du Jour

I found this via mymilkglassheart, wonderful, whimsical and thought provoking comics by Alex Noriega on his blog, Stuff No-one Told Me.

2010-06-19T14:38:00.003+02:00

At Last!

In November 2007, after spending an idyllic 10 days in Switzerland, accepting the Big G's proposal of marriage and realizing that I was going to up and move The Max, the 3 kittehs and myself to live in this mountainous little jewel of a country, I submitted my first visa application to the Swiss consulate in Vancouver. Yesterday, almost three years and an unbelievable amount of nonsense later, I received copies of our 'permis de sejour' . What a long strange trip it's been.

March 1, 2008, Max, the kittehs and I arrived in Geneva, with no visa other than the standard 90 day tourist visa (implicit) that all Canadians get. And we were a little concerned...to be legal, the Big G and I would have to get married within that 90 days...of course, he would also have to get divorced first.*Ahem* Needless to say, that didn't happen for another 18 months, a bitter and sore point that I have yet to find forgiveness in my heart for. But no matter, we bought a new (ancien) house in summer 2008, went back to Canada for a visit, returned to Switzerland with not so much as twitch out of the immigration service at the Geneva airport.

In January 2009, I paid slight attention to the fact that Switzerland had become a nation member of the Schengen Agreement and we made plans to go to Canada for an extended vacation, possibly with a wedding, for July 2009. Knowing that we had long overstayed our 90 days in Switzerland, we had a little story brewed if we were asked about how long we had been in Switzerland; we hadn't really been here that long, we'd been traveling in France, Italy, etc, never overstaying our 90 days...should have worked, except...Schengen...we'd been in schengen the whole time and that, according to the officious, Swiss German Immigration official at the Zurich airport on our way out, was very, very bad. As the minutes before our flight was due to leave ticked away, The Max and I sat in one of those little rooms where they take the bad people, filled out forms and were told, by a slightly nicer but still officious Swiss German Immigration officer, that we would most certainly be fined and could be banned from entering Switzerland for up to two years, but that any decision or judgment could be appealed.With a strong sense of foreboding, we went to Canada, (where there was no wedding *sigh*), and visited, swam, folk fested, all the while wondering how The Max and I were going to get home.

A plan, of sorts, was hatched where we would travel to the UK (not a full member of schengen) and try to *ahem* sneak into schengen via France, thinking that immigration control at the Dover/Calais port would be more relaxed than an airport.Looking for all the world like two day tourists, with two HUGE suitcases, we bought our ferry tickets, boarded the bus and were whisked to French Immigration.After a quick scan of my passport, the nice and polite French officer asked with some concern,"What did you DO in Switzerland???!" Apparently, my passport now had a serious interdiction on it, with no explanation as to why...I could have been a serial killer, a drug lord or even an investment banker, and there was no way a suspected criminal was to be allowed into Schengen.The Max, however, could go if he wanted to (he gathered up his bag and ran to the bus, quick like a bunny). The British police were called to escort me back into the UK (and very kindly drove me to a nice pub where I could down some 'courage' and call Big G who was waiting in Calais) and thus began the exile.

For those of you who have been reading this blog for a while now, you know that The Big G came to Blackheath every weekend and we spent many many hours having 'the visa conversation'. We had heard no word from the Swiss authorities on the outcome of the forms that were filled out at the airport, other than a bill for 600 francs, which was paid, and waited and wondered and worried how to begin to solve the mystery of my schengen interdiction.When The Big G finally got his divorce decree in November, and after some furious letter writing to the Canton, we received a letter stating that as we were soon to be married, I could come to Switzerland for ... you guessed it ... 90 days. I got on a plane on Christmas Eve and on arriving at Geneva airport, no one even scanned my passport so we were still left in the dark as to wtf was going on with schengen.

In January 2010, The Big G and I flew to Canada to get married and when we returned to Switz, there was a lot of confusion for the Immigration Police at Geneva. Fortunately, we had a copy of our 'acte de mariage' and despite whatever the schengen computer was telling them, they said I now had the 'constitutional right' to be here and was effectively, a resident, but we should contact the ODM and get this straightened out if I didn't want a hassle everytime I traveled. More letters were written to the canton, showing that we were now married and btw, could you please look into this schengen thing for us? In the meantime, since my original visa application had been mysteriously cancelled in September, The Max and had to start that whole process anew, filling out new, complicated schengen visa applications which required we get new passports, as ours were about to expire in less than 12 months.Ah yes, and the consulate in Vancouver??? They made it clear there was no way I could be applying for 'regroupment familiale' while living in Switzerland, to which my response was, 'Yeah, whatever.'

In March, The Big G and I had to go back to the UK to close up the exile flat. Armed with my new passport, the schengen scanner didn't detect that it was actually me, the dangerous criminal, and we left and re-entered with no problems. We returned home to find a somewhat schizophrenic letter from the Canton, stating that the Schengen Authorities (or ODM) considered me 'a threat to the safety and security of the nation' and I was banned from entering until August 2011 and we should really look into clearing that up...oh and by the way, please go and register at the local commune so that we can issue your permis de sejour. Uh huh..ummmm...gotta love interdepartmental bureaucracy. It was time to get a lawyer...

Herr Kenny (This is actually his first name, something I find endlessly amusing for some reason) spoke with the officials at the Canton, who assured him that YES, I was allowed to be in Switzerland, and as stated before, now had the right to be here because of my marriage. The ODM/schengen guys told him that the Canton had it all wrong, had mishandled the dossier and that, NO I was NOT allowed to be here.So, Herr Kenny took the ODM to court (actually it's called a tribunal here) asking to appeal the interdiction and be allowed to remain in Switz until the appeal was completed. The tribunal looked at the case, pointed out over and over that I was married, but declined to tell the ODM what to do and gave them 30 days to present their case. The ODM's response was basically, "Oh yeah, right, we don't think you're a criminal anymore because now you're married so we're taking that nasty little flag off your passport now." Herr Kenny scores one for the little guys!!! In less than 2 weeks after the ODM backed down, the Canton issued our permis de sejour! Phew!

And that, my faithful bloggy readers, will be the last time I write about, think about or care about 'the visa conversation'.

2010-06-18T15:46:00.003+02:00

Legal!!!

Yahoooooo! Long, possibly boring, post to follow!

2010-06-15T15:20:00.003+02:00

L'Image du Jour

I found the above photo today over at LoveAllThis and it instantly reminded me of this:

Who says the Swiss don't have a sense of humour?

2010-06-04T13:11:00.003+02:00

Gesundheit

So, I have yet another cold...and I know I'm repeating myself, but I really don't do sick very well. The last cold/cough/plague that I endured had me coughing so hard I know I herniated something, the pain from which lasted longer than the cold itself. Currently, my nose is a shiny, sore, red dripping mess and the virus has migrated to my bronchioles, which of course, leads to...coughing, hacking and me holding on to various abdominal areas (not to mention squeezing my legs shut) so I don't splat my entire body all over the place (or pee my pants, gawd menopause is fun).

Tuesday, before I was infected, we made plans to go up to Meiringen for the weekend, a beautiful spot in the Bern Oberland mountains most noted for the 'death' of Sherlock Holmes at the hand of Moriarty, when they both fell over the falls (Arthur Conan Doyle actually had to 'revive' Holmes after public outcry).So I'm hoping that by tomorrow my head will stop being a snot factory and I can go enjoy some altitude and fresh air.

The wonderful picture above is from a project called ...Gesundheit which "aims to be the biggest artistic study of sneezing to date" and has some wonderful shots.

2010-06-02T18:56:00.004+02:00

L'Image de Jour

This photo posted to the Guatemalan Government's Flickr feed shows a spontaneous sinkhole ("hundimiento") 20 meters deep and 15 wide that appeared today in Zone 2 of Guatemala City, after overwhelming saturation of rains from tropical storm Agatha. Local press reports that it swallowed an entire 3-story building. Not Photoshop, sadly: these happen from time to time during major storms in part because of unstable geology, and in part, bad urban engineering—read more about it in the comments. A break in the over-stressed sewage pipes after the storm was the cause for this one. There are rumors of other sinkholes now forming nearby.
(Via boingboing please check out their post if you want to help)

2010-05-30T18:18:00.005+02:00

Montée des Alpage

So I was all excited this weekend, we were going up to Gryon and I was finally going to see the Montée des Alpage, where les vaches get all shampooed and dressed up with spring fleurs in their horns and get taken up to the alps, accompanied by traditionally dressed Swiss farmers, terrible brass bands and alphorns. (for your edification, the alps are actually mountain meadows, as opposed to the Alps, which are a mountain range). I was looking forward to posting pictures that looked like this:

But, alas, the cows had made the journey two weeks ago and so now I can only offer you these pictures of The Max, following a SPECTACULAR fall into a mudpuddle on our 2 hour hike around Tavayannes and Les Alp Des Chaux. Please note, for your security and safety, do not hike in running shoes and never threaten your mother with a snowball or instant karma will bite you in the ass. Enjoy!

"Way to go! Now you have to try and wash your pants in the snow!"

Butt cleaning...

Well that's kinda presentable...

2010-05-27T18:12:00.002+02:00

L'Image Du Jour

(via Gizmodo)

2010-05-26T13:34:00.004+02:00

L'Image Du Jour

Where I want to stay next time I go to Paris...can you believe those rooms?! Do check out their website, very cleverly done.

2010-05-20T16:45:00.003+02:00

L'Image du Jour

Poster from a series called 'The Transcendental Chair' highlighting the semiological and cultural significance of the chair.
(via www.ventralisgolden.com )

2010-05-18T18:53:00.001+02:00

Track Back

It's all too beautiful..

2010-05-18T18:47:00.002+02:00

L'Image du Jour

I really want this book.
(via Cannabis Rose)

2010-05-17T23:42:00.002+02:00

L'Image du Jour

I first found this site about a year ago, BLU paints on a huge scale on buildings all around the world.It is 'guerrila art' and not technically graffiti and you can see more (plus videos of how he does it) at his site: www.blublu.org

2010-05-12T19:08:00.004+02:00

L'Image Du Jour

I'm off to the flat in Gryon for the next few days due to some Swiss holiday that falls on Thursday, which means everything is closed that day and most people take Friday off as well. Four days to work on my French (yeah...uh huh that's the plan), lounge around and enjoy not having to get up at 7:20 am and if we're lucky and it doesn't rain all weekend, maybe get in a hike. The downside...I have very limited internet access so the l'image du jour will be pre-empted. See ya Monday!

2010-05-11T20:53:00.002+02:00

L'Image Du Jour

The glamorous, gorgeous, great Garbo! Gaaaaaaaaaah!
(via Cannabis Rose)

2010-05-10T17:20:00.001+02:00

Track Back
It's been awhile since I've posted one of these...

I don't think I've ever seen people singing so happily about 'troubles'. *snark*

2010-05-10T13:22:00.003+02:00

L'Image du Jour

Akitsushima by Lola
(via mocoloco)

2010-05-09T11:32:00.003+02:00

L'Image du Jour

This is one of the lovely drawings from Missed Connection s, a blog created by Sophie Blackall that takes those enigmatic but often boring missed connection ads and turns them into something poignant and lasting.

2010-05-08T16:58:00.006+02:00

L'Image Du Jour

I've been pondering adding this feature to 'But I Digress...' for sometime now. I spend most of my interwebs time surfing through images these days; design oriented blogs, typeface and font enthusiasts, architecture,vintage posters and collections and simply stunning or awe inducing imagery. Beats wasting time on Farmville (for me at least, no offense to any avid Farmville/Assbook fans out there) and rather than start a whole new blog, I thought adding this feature would, at the very least, get me posting on a daily basis here.
Somedays I will just post an image, somedays if I'm waxing philosophical I might make a comment or two. Je commence...

(via loveallthis)

2010-05-08T16:46:00.008+02:00

French Lesson

(via swissmiss)
Un jour, je parlerai le français.

Update: I was going to try to do a literal translation of this but got hopelessly lost in the idioms, so for clarity, here is the Daft Punk song the above video is based on. For me, I think the French one is superior! The music is by La Pompe Moderne.

2010-04-25T12:06:00.001+02:00

Reminiscing...1969

2010-04-22T10:29:00.009+02:00

This Blog Is Brought To You By Grappa Nardini

So I've been pretty busy lately. Every weekday morning I get up at 5:30 am to take The Max to Lausanne Gare so he can catch the train to Berne to attend his German class, something I've been doing since February, but this week, instead of crawling back into bed and catching a few more hours of the precious precious sleep, I've come back home, made myself presentable for public inspection then driven back into Lausanne to attend French class.Yes, after 2 years (less 6 months exile) in Swiss Romand, it is apparent that I am not magically going to be able to speak French through some invisible osmotic process, despite the fact that I can read it quite well and if I pay attention can follow a TV program. But I really can't speak it...a combination of my confusion around the extremely complicated French grammar, my execrable accent and the fear that my usually erudite self will appear completely moronic has prevented me from uttering little more than the standard politesse phrases and forced the Big G to handle any conversation 'en francais' more complicated than ' Bon jour monsieur'. And I'm really enjoying the classes, being in a group of other people who are in the same boat has taken the edge off my self consciousness and after only a week, I'm already being able to 'think' of ways to say the things I want.But today I couldn't go to class due to a swollen lip, facial abrasions and sore knees resulting from an encounter with Grappa Nardini.

Last night we all (The Big G, his son Matthew and gf Monica, The Max and myself) went for dinner and had fondue chinoise,

a tasty Swissy kind of meal that involves thinly sliced pieces of meat that are cooked in a broth at the table then eaten with a variety of flavored mayonnaise sauces, as well as yummy pommes frites and a large salade melee.We ate until we were uncomfortably stuffed (a common side effect of fondue chinoise) and consumed an extra bottle of wine in the process. I think that's where it all started to go wrong for me. We came home and had our nightly ritual of Nespresso deca and a schluck of grappa and I went out on the terrasse to have a smoke and wrangle the kittehs back into the house. Stryder,

(this guy ⬇)

was arsing about and I leaned off my chair to grab him and fell flat on my face on the patio that is paved with STONE. Actually I didn't fall quite flat, as my rather Gallic-shaped nose hit the ground first and deflected my head so that instead of breaking my nose I scraped the hell out of my lips and the nostrils on one side. Yes, there was blood...and I think the only reason I wasn't howling in agony was because of the influence of my good friend Grappa Nardini. I stumbled into the house and after rinsing off the blood, hastily applying ice and repeatedly asking the Big G, "Is it straight? Is my nose straight??" my abraded knees and I went to bed.When I limped my way into the bathroom this morning and caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror I knew no amount of coverup was going to stop people from assuming I'd been involved in some domestic dispute. Rather than attempt the challenge of explaining (in FRENCH!) what had happened, I've opted to skip class today. And no, I do not have a drinking problem.

2010-04-07T14:04:00.005+02:00

Honestly...

The delightful Dani Dragonfly has bestowed yet another award and honestly, I am again flattered and grateful (grateful because I was wondering what the hell I was going to blog about) and so thank you ma petit lilubelle! Although I am going to play loose and whacky with the rules, because I'm like that.

So, seven tidbits about me that:

a) I am willing to reveal

b)Won't bore you all to tears

c)Will not incriminate me in any court of law

d)Will not embarrass, shock or awe my family and friends

Hmmmm...not as easy as it seemed at first. Did you know that quickly repeating the phrase 'Honest Scrap' sounds like 'Honest Crap'? So here's some honest crap:

1. I have big ears. They don't stick out (thank heavens!) but they are large and flat and have not been seen in public for some decades now, thanks to having long hair that covers their pancake-like placement on my skull.Despite the fact that they are not beautiful little shell shaped pink orbs, the lobes are pierced and I wear the same pair of earrings for years on end, because why bother with all that frippery if no one ever sees them?

2. I smoke. And I'm mostly unrepentant about it.I willingly tolerate being a modern day leper and go stand out in the weather to get my fix and don't smoke in my home either. Nor do I smoke a lot...I have been smoking cigarettes for 35 years now, never more than half a pack a day and in the last few years I've made an effort to 'smoke healthy' which means only smoking the first half of a cigarette and being picky about the kind of tobacco and additives that I consume. That said, I would rip The Max's arms off and beat him with the bloody stumps if I ever caught him with a cigarette in his mouth.Would I like all the health benefits that could be mine if I quit? Yeah sure. Am I going to quit? No, not likely. I did quit for a year once, but in all honesty, I like my nicotine...a lot.
(As for smoking any other...uh...substances, I refer you to disclaimer c) above)

3. I'm related to famous dead people. Although I was born in Canada, my parents didn't become Canadian citizens until I was 8 or so and I grew up listening to my grandmother regal me with our 'illustrious' ancestry. Not only am I related to Martin Van Buren, the eighth POTUS but am also eligible to be a Colonial Dame of America because I can trace my ancestry back to the Mayflower. Woo hoo!

(I also grew up never knowing my aunts,uncles, cousins and other relatives because they were in the States and we were...on the Prairie). I learned to sing the American National Anthem before Oh Canada, I still say zee instead of zed and am always mistaken for an American wherever I go...thanks Mom and Dad for that midwestern twang.

4. I am spatially challenged.I have no feel for linear measure, cannot comprehend what it means when someone says a room is 30 x 20 meters and am forever trying to fit large things into small spaces. This is a constant source of amusement for the Big G. Remember on those IQ tests they used to make you take in school there would be a whole section that was devoted to figuring out what shape a flat piece of paper with some lines on it would fold up and form? (actually, does anyone remember IQ tests? Anyone?) I would sit there with my 2B pencil clenched in my sweaty hand, feeling like the village idiot because I wasn't an afficionado of origami, eventually defaulting to randomly guessing at a, b, c or d. Fuck you Mensa, I never wanted to join your little club anyways.

5. I have a lisp...after some years of speech therapy as a teen it is slight, but I can fall into full-on Thylvethster thpeak after a few glasses of wine. Needless to say, Sylvester is my favorite WB character, despite his unrelenting quest to eat the Tweety Bird.

6. The Max was born at home. This is one of the things I am most proud of and most grateful for. I had been involved with midwifery and had attended a half dozen births or so before I got pregnant and there was never any doubt that I wanted to give birth at home attended by a midwife. Giving birth is a profound experience in any location, but it was wonderful to be in the comfort of my own home, with friends and a truly dedicated, professional and compassionate midwife, Noreen Walker, to support me during labour and celebrate with me after The Max was born. Even if you would never choose to have your baby at home, please support your local midwives, they are caregivers in the most literal sense of the word and can be an asset at any birth, at any location.

7. I love ironing. Shut Up! I love ironing so much I iron the sheets, the tea towels and even t-shirts ( I must add that the nature of clothes dryers here in Switzerland requires that you iron just about everything that falls out of them in a wrinkled, twisted mass).But I find ironing soothing, tranquil and meditative.There's little else when I'm in a crappy mood that can calm me as much as watching all those nasty wrinkles smooth into fresh, warm, flat cloth. Now if only I could achieve this with my skin.

Phew...that was more difficult than I thought it would be, I feel....naked! Now instead of handing this award out to 10 bloggers I'm simply going to list a few blogs and sites that I visit everyday because of their honesty and candour.

Deus Ex Malcontent
Amalah
Common Dreams
Rants from the Pants
Hobocamp
Rainbows! Puppies! Leukemia!

And to wrap it all up, here's Billy Joel:

2010-04-01T14:25:00.000+02:00

Gggaaaaaah

So I haven't been posting...not here, hardly commenting on all my favorite blogs because...I've been sick.Wah wah wah! And not sick with real life threatening, drug requiring diseases like the pneumonia a few of you had.Oh no, I was laid low by the common cold, a few days of sore throat, rattly cough and wet cotton batten filled sinuses (and a little fever too, boo hoo). I know, I'm pathetic. I don't get sick very often and this maybe only the second time Big G has ever experienced how truly sad and pitiful I become when I've been waylayed by some virus. I spent ALL of Monday in bed, coughing, sweating, dozing and only got up to pee and find more water.Tuesday and Wednesday I did get my sorry ass up and dressed, but I mostly wandered around in a snot drooling, sneeze fitting, red nosed state of exhaustion.Big G noted, "You don't DO sick very well, do you?"

Today, miraculously (and thank Christ because I don't think I could have put up with myself for another day) I'm virtually symptom free, except for a little residual cough. This is a good thing because it's the start of a 5 day long weekend and we're all going up to Gryon, kittehs included.Last chance to get in some skiing for The Max and myself, do a bit more snowshoeing with Big G and generally lay around and watch all the birds and squirrels and maybe a fox if we're lucky. I'm all excited for the kittehs...look cats!...MOUNTAINS...PINE TREES....BIRDS! But they will most likely be totally blasé about the whole thing and wonder why they had to suffer a CAR RIDE (mewl, meowr, meow, MEEEOOOOOWWWW) for an hour.

So I've got some packing up to do and I hope all of you have a great Easter Weekend, eat lots of chocolate and enjoy some downtime!

Photo courtesy of Black and WTF. This is such a great site, check it out.

2010-03-24T12:28:00.001+01:00

The Awwww Factor
I'm going up to Berne tomorrow to have a tasty curry lunch at the Markthalle with the Big G, check out the Antike Welt (ancient coin) exhibit at the Historisches Museum of Bern and hopefully catch a glimpse of the newest additions to the Berner Bärenpark, the Bärenbabys Berna and Urs.

All together now....awwwwwwwwwwwwww.

2010-03-15T18:01:00.003+01:00

Requiem for a Squidge

She came to us one year ago, stubbornly refusing to return to her original owner.

I will miss her 'stretchy legs'.

I will miss her 'sitting pretty'.

I will miss her licking my nose in bed.

I will miss how soft and totally 'squidgy' she was.

I am grateful for the year we had.

I am grateful for the vet, who tried to discover what had happened to her and treated her with gentle, intelligent care.

Mostly, I am sad. Bye Squidge, my squidgy little squidglette.

2010-03-12T15:56:00.002+01:00

Track Back
Do not watch this video!
WARNING: This song will wake you in the middle of the night, run through your head like a bad loop tape for hours on end,force you to seek out even more egregoius pop hits like "Sugar, Sugar" . This song has been identified as a banned method of torture in 25 nations, has been known to cause the documented "Lalalalala Effect" and can be harmful to your health.
WARNING: This video is replete with everything that was wrong with the 1970's.Watch at your own risk.Emulating anorexic French girls, bad haircuts and a middle age disco dancing may cause you to be shunned. Disco mirror ball ghosting is a known side effect of watching this video and can be permanent.

You just had to watch it, didn't you? Bwaaaaaaaaahahahahahahaha.

2010-03-09T15:45:00.002+01:00

Adventures in Knobblyland Part 1
So I've been away for a bit...didja miss me? It seems more like a month than a mere 10 or 12 days of driving back and forth across France, ferrying our way to England, travelling from Bath to Blackheath, packing up the flat (my exile abode) and the constant cloud of doubt surrounding how the shengen troll was going to behave at shengen border entry/exit points.

On the final Friday of February (aaaaaaahlliteration) the Big G and I set off for the 8 hour drive across France to Calais where we would catch the ferry to Dover the next morning. My favorite part of this drive, aside from sitting next to Big G and reminiscing about sitting next to him in the Mighty Gland Bruiser way back when in the 1970's, was the trip through the Jura mountains.Once we reached the motorway it all got pretty flat and boring, kinda like driving across Saskatchewan except the speed limit is 130 km/h which means everyone drives at least 140. It was dark when we reached Calais, so we had a quick dinner, accompanied by a very tasty and wonderfully inexpensive Bordeaux, and retired early to watch a documentary about Johnny Halliday (the French Elvis) from the comfort of our hotel bed.

Leaving shengen was a non event and when scanning my brand new passport for entry to the UK, the woman didn't flinch or make a comment about my shengen status, so I was mildly reassured that I would be able to return just as easily. As we neared Dover, I caught a glimpse of something white and towering sticking out of the water and, being Canadian (and perhaps mildly retarded) I said, 'Look! Ice!' The Big G gave me a look that conveyed both his incredulity and wonderful acceptance of my shortcomings and I tried not to dither on about how any 'normal' Canadian always assumes that large blocks of white things must be composed of ice and snow.

We rolled off the ferry alongside the famous White Cliffs of Dover and drove onto Bath to meet up with Big G's oldest son, Adam. In Bath, we had a few pints, dined at the marvelous Tilley's Bistro , had a disappointing pie at the Raven Inn and set out for Blackheath on Monday.

It felt a bit strange to be back in the flat after being away for 2 months, and the prospect of packing up all the bits and pieces I had acquired during my exile was almost bittersweet. It seemed like a good idea, at the time, to use the newly available BT Openzone wifi from the flat, as I would be able to use both my laptop and my iTouch with it, rather than being restricted to my O2 dongle connection. After paying the ₤22 for 33 hours of access and logging in once, I was unable to reconnect.Ok...let's try the dongle then...nope. Arrrrrrrrrrrrgh no internet for me, no keeping up with my fellow bloggers, no wasted hours of pointless surfing!! All of which I could (and did) live with, but my fear was that my networking abilities would continue to be compromised once I returned to Switzerland, so an appointment was made to see a 'Genius' at the Apple Genius Bar on Thursday. In Kingston-on-Surrey.

On Tuesday evening we ventured into London to meet up with the Big G's boss for dinner at the Gay Hussar in Soho. We stopped briefly at a currency exchange right off Leicester Square to buy some Canadian dollars that I needed for my shengen visa applications (which we mailed from England due to the fact that I'm not allowed to apply while in Switzerland) and strolled through the heart of Soho to the restaurant where we had a most excellent evening with Andreas, good conversation, delicious food and the obligatory speculation about the manager, John Wroble whose Bela Lugosi accent and Old World manner makes one wonder if he's not a distant relative of Vlad the Impaler.

Wednesday morning it was sunny and haircuts for both of us were on the agenda. As we were leaving the flat, I looked in my purse to find my wallet was gone! The Horror!!! The Agony!! The Screaming Fit!!! I lost my wallet in Paris last spring and getting all my bank cards, credit cards and my ALBERTA driver's license back had been an enormous hassle. In fact, the only way to get a new DL is to present oneself at an Alberta Registry and it took me until November to get my license sent to me in England last time. I was, needless to say, most upset (this is a polite euphemism for a lot of swearing and moaning with the phrase 'F**k me!' being most prominent).I told my sad tale to Mark the stylist (whose part in this knobbly tale turned out to be pretty important), who was suitably sympathetic and then met up with the Big G to commiserate over a pint.

Thursday morning I did a quick email check on Big G's 'petit ordinateur' and in big bold letters in the subject line was:

GOOD NEWS! YOUR WALLET HAS BEEN FOUND!

The only thing in my wallet that gave any indication I was in England was the business card of my (now) friend forever stylist, Mark. When my wallet was found on the streets of Soho, after having all the cash in assorted currencies removed, the man who found it tracked me down via that card...goes to show, the old saying about your hair dresser being your best friend is true. The rest of the day was spent travelling around the suburbs of London, where it was determined there was nothing wrong with either my laptop or iTouch and meeting up with the Red Cap Warden of Oxford Street who returned the wallet, with the precious Alberta driver's license inside, to a very grateful and relieved me. My faith in human nature and the beneficence of the gods restored, Big G and I celebrated our last meal in Blackheath with a Thai feast at the incomparable and truly authentic Lai Cram. Our final walk home down Lee Park Road to the flat was blessed with a sighting of the Lee Park Road fox (who knows his name is 'Fox' and will stop dead in his tracks if you call him) and I took that encounter as a lucky sign for my ability to vanquish the shengen troll and have an easy return to shengen.

Stay tuned for Adventures in Knobblyland Part 2 where you will find the answers to these and many other questions:

Are there any good restaurants in Canterbury?

Who knew you needed Lessons in Curtain Terminology?

Will Brite get past the Shengen Troll?

What the fuck is 'shengen' anyways?

Is schizophrenia a requirement to become a bureaucrat?

2010-02-23T11:26:00.001+01:00

Break Free

So it seems despite the Olympics and all that festivity, the February fuckwithyourhead furies are still messing with many people out in the big old bloggosphere...so I think it's time for us to follow Freddy's suit and let loose with some silly. This is for all of you out there fighting off the blahs, the grumps,the wtf?, and especially for one delicate and beautiful little dragonfly...

Perfection!

2010-02-18T10:05:00.000+01:00

LOLCat of the Month

2010-02-16T16:15:00.003+01:00

Basel Bild

So I promised some pictures of last week in Basel...it's always cold when I go to Basel, I think I need to go there in the summertime,I'm sure it's lovely with the trees all green and no slush or ice on the streets and no bise blowing.Then again, it's a truly lovely city in any weather...

And apparently lovely any time as well. Oh wait...you wanted Basel Foto not just Basel Bild...heh heh.

Here's the Rathaus or town hall just as the morning market out front was closing:

And a close up of the clock, because the Swiss have a bit of a thing about clocks (and watches and automatons and cows and....)

But I think my favorite place in Basel is in the Bahnhof, one of those early 20th century architectural odes to the mighty railway:

and housed within it's high ceilings is the infinitely entertaining, always tasty and without a doubt, odd, Bahnhof Bar.

Here one can quietly sip on a glass of wine or have a tasty and refreshing beer and people watch,

marvel at some of the HUGE painting adorning its walls or just try to figure out what is happening in this picture? Artwork? Electrician's nightmare?

There are cats, eyeballs, blinking lights...EYEBALLS!!

Also to be had in the train station proper is the concoction known as the Asian poulet schnitzel sandwich, found only at the Migros stand and not to be missed!So after a lovely couple of days we said goodbye to wintry Basel and headed up to the flat in Gryon for the weekend where this was the view when I got up Saturday morning:

Yeah, I love this country!

2010-02-14T16:10:00.001+01:00

Canadian, eh?

So all my favorite bloggy friends have been posting about the Olympics and how good it feels to be Canadian, and I just had to jump on the bandwagon and put in my two cents. This is despite the fact that I missed the opening ceremonies and probably won't get to watch many events (cuz I'm really really bad at watching TV) I'm still pumped and hope we get a few medals and whup everybody's ass at hockey. I commented about how 'Oh Canada' can get me all teary and sentimental, but I have always thought that this song should be our national anthem:

'Tracing one warm line, through a land so wild and savage...'
This song is what Canada is about...there would be no Canada if some crazy guys 500 years ago hadn't wanted to find a shortcut to Asia (um and fur...there was some kind of demand for fur too, fuck you PETA).I think the spirit of those intrepid explorers, from Henry Hudson to David Thompson is embedded into each and every Canadian, it's in the air we breath and the landscape we cast our eyes upon.
So Go Canucks!!!

2010-02-09T13:55:00.000+01:00

Travelin'

Off to Basel with the Big G for a couple of nights...filet de perche, cordon bleu, tasty Asian scnitzel sammiches and the world's most interesting train station bar. I'll try to take some pictures too!

2010-02-08T10:18:00.023+01:00

Travelogue

Thanks to the Vintage Ad Browser I have whittled away most of the morning and will now take you on a wonderful journey through time and space (no no no, this is not the Twilight Zone..or the Outer Limits). You will see many amazing sights and sites, bask in the sunshine of foreign locales, soak up exotic culture and travel via the finest and most luxurious trains, ships and cars available.

* I've added a new feature so that each of the pictures will open up zoomed in a lightbox format if you want a closer look.

Planning Your Itinerary:

America!!! For only a dollar??!! Yes let's go!

Canada too...because there's The Rockies and...

giant natives and ....ALASKA! (who knew?)

How To Get There:

Fly or sail?

Not so sure about the Titanic...let's book a stateroom on the Olympic, k?
All Aboard Kiddies!

In America we will be visiting some of the most famous places....

....and meeting fascinating new people!

Could this be any more exciting? Stay tuned for future travelogues...

All photos courtesy of the Vintage Ad Browser

2010-02-02T16:08:00.000+01:00

Groundhog Day

I could blog about how teenagers never fail to amaze me in their ability to commit acts of extreme stupidity...

I could rant about how the state of parnoia currently infecting the citizens of certain nations has passed from interesting through funny to downright absurd, but I would need admin to help me devise new and wonderful expletives to use....

I could tell you a story that involves Facebook, an unnamed international school and the above elements that would have you shaking your head and wondering how the world has come to this....but again I would need admin's help and I'm ready to put the last week and all of its stupidity behind me.

So instead, I give you this:

*So that you won't have to go to all the trouble to sign in at youtube, I've posted the link from 24 heures ( a Swiss newspaper that isn't afraid of sex, sexuality or poking fun at such things) scroll down to the embedded video.

Enjoy!

2010-01-21T18:47:00.003+01:00

Wednesday Wedding in Wintery Winnipeg

Wonderful!

*I don't have any pics of the ceremony (it was short and sweet), all photos will be posted next summer after the 'big wedding'.

2010-01-20T07:21:00.000+01:00

Track Back

Well, not really in the morning...noon to be exact!

2010-01-13T13:13:00.001+01:00

Dreamy and Scattered

I'm a little overwhelmed these past few days. After so many months of regulated solitude, I'm finding life awfully busy these days.There's the 'getting the house' back in order to contend with and I manage to get a room a day done.This is not to say that Big G and The Max were utter slobs, in fact they did a very admirable job keeping house while maintaining an insane schedule of work, school, and travel.But there's stuff that needs to be done and done kinda the way I like it...because I'm picky that way.

Settling back into Swiss lifestyle hasn't been too difficult (I gained another kilo..grrrr) but there are adjustments that I have to think about; my mangled, strangled not even close to adequate French, driving (I didn't drive the whole time I was in exile), quiet Sundays where everything is closed, so you have to plan ahead for Sunday.

Then there's The Max...and school...and I alternate between hope and despair, as does Max on semi daily basis. Last spring he set the bar very very high for himself and insisted on taking the IB Diploma program, against the advice of most of the faculty at his school. At the time, I had thought it would turn out ok, because he's very bright, but lacks 'student skills' and it was my intent to work with him on those skills (how to write a proper paper, how to organize workload, etc). And then I was in exile...and Max had to contend with an insane commute as well as the demanding IB program. And he's not doing well, not academically, not emotionally and he's stressed.

The ongoing visa application, new passport, wtf is up with schengen issue...yep, still hammering away at the bureaucratic brick wall and I'm not only crap at that kind of thing (because I have no patience) but it makes me both fearful and weary at the same time.

Oh...and Big G and I are flying to Manitoba on Saturday to get married! So I'm excited and worried (because there's bureaucrats involved and what if they don't let me back into Switz and OMG) and feeling all blissed out and frantic at the same time. The kittehs will be on their own for 4 days, The Max will go stay with a friend up in Bern (so he doesn't have to get up at 4 am to get on a number of trains to get to school) and I'm leaving the house again and I just got back and I don't want to go but I really really really want to get married and....

So you see how it is.

The wonderful Spot gave me an award the other day (yesterday??) and I'm not sure if I properly thanked her (um...Thank you Spot!) and I haven't had the available brain cells to do the 'award post'... yet.I haven't commented much lately, but I am reading all my favorite bloggy bloggers.So, it's me folks, not you and I promise I will return to better form shortly...just have to catch my breath a bit.

Must go pack now...

2010-01-08T15:26:00.002+01:00

You Like Me...You Really, Really Like Me! (or at least some of you do)

So one of my favorite bloggers has bequeathed a couple of honours on me, because apparently reading my ramblings actually makes her smile sometimes.The fact that I can bring a smile to anyone's face at any given time makes me happyinthepants kind of happy and to get some pinky hued bling to throw up on here is just icing on the cake.Apparently there are some rules/regulations/conventions to follow once you have received such honours and if you know anything about me, you know that rules and me are a bit of a bad mix.But I will attempt to be a good bloggy scout and play along.

This is the Happy Torch Award.To keep it lit one should:

a) List 10 things that make you happy

b)Tag 10 bloggers that brighten your day

c)The 10 bloggers who receive this award are supposed to link back to this blog and create their own version of this.*(I just know this part is not going to work for me, but whatever)

This is the Lemonade Stand Award.To keep it lit one should:

a) Put the logo on or within your blog

b)Nominate at least 10 blogs with great attitude or gratitude.

c)Let the nominees know they have received this award by commenting on their blog. *(There was a whole bunch more to this but I'm starting to get cold sweats and a headache from all these rules)

Yaaay! Now for the fun part. Ten Things That Make Me Happy!

1.First place goes to da boys, Big G and The Max, whose presence in my life is not only a blessing beyond measure, but they do actually make me smile and laugh a lot.

2.My painted Swiss cow. I'm not one for being attached to 'things', but this 'objet' brings me such pleasure.One day I will blog about it (and other of its kind) at length.

3. Fresh cut flowers.It's an indulgent extravagance, but I love having fresh flowers in the house.

4. Kittehs. My kittehs in particular, and this lovely guy, Dante is most special to me, but really in a pinch, any kitteh will make me smile.

5.Grappa. I don't know if it's wise or politically correct to admit that liquor makes me happy, but feck it...Grappa makes me smile.

6. The interwebs! Oh yes, you lovely, distracting, enriching, timewasting web of people, blogs, images ,funneh stuff and information, you make me verra verra happy every day!

7.Expensive, freshly laundered and ironed sheets on my bed.

8.My wonderful warm and cosy coyote trimmed slippers from Churchill, Manitoba.

9.Candlelight. We have candles lit on and around the table every evening meal.

10. The Beatles. Can't help but feel giddy and happy when I hear the 4 moptops, and this song is a great example.

Now a list of 10 blogs that I do truly admire:

Bluepaintred - another Canuckian mommy blog who's life is as funny as any mom of three boys could be and writes about it.

Loveallthis - a design blog of sorts. This woman posts pictures of the most beautiful things.

idleprimate - a fellow Pajiiban commentor and a very eloquent and thoughtful fellow in his own right.

teabelly - another find through the Cannonball Read II, but with a Brit twist.

alternate1985- can't remember where or how I stumbled on this site, but 'shortround' is one of those caustic New Yorkers that always has an open eye.

blackheathbugle - I found so much to love and use with this blog while I was in Blackheath, and now it's like checking in on an old friend.

blaster- this is the great doc spender's blog, and I wish he'd write more often.

lovelylisting.com - For shits and giggles...the best of the worst of real estate listings.

learnsomethingeveryday - Because the web shouldn't be an utter waste of time.

27bslash6 - David Thorne is an Australian misanthrope that is either a writer of great brilliance and imagination or the most irritating asshole you might ever cross paths with.

*Most of the above blogs do not 'follow' me, nor do I suspect they even know of my existence, so I exempt myself from passing on the torches to all but Spender and idleprimate...suck it up guys!

2009-12-31T18:48:00.002+01:00

Santa Swiss Style

Santa Claus is a relatively new import into Switzerland, and like all things that are the result of culture creep, sometimes the final product goes a bit awry. For centuries, the Swiss version of the Christmas saint was, of course, St. Nicholas, and he looked something like this:

A kindly looking gentleman in the tradition of Father Christmas, yes?

But then along came 'Santa', and I'm not sure if the steeply sloped roofs of the Vaudois houses prevents the reindeer from landing atop the tiles, or if the chimneys are too crooked, but Santa has a whole different modus operandi in modern Switzerland. I present to you, B & E Santa!

As you can see, Santa has no reindeer, no sleigh, but has developed a system of ropes, pulleys and ladders that are somehow in tune with the Alpinist dear to the Swiss' heart. Although there are no reindeer or elves, Santa mysteriously has cloned himself for the Swiss portion of his global gift giving journey and has been seen working in teams.

Swiss Santa is so brazen that even shops open for business are no deterrent to his B&E antics:

Most troubling of all is Swiss Santa's seeming propensity for taking advantage of his new method of entry...the Peeping Santa:

Puts a whole new twist on 'He sees you when you're sleeping' doesn't it?

But all occupations have hazards and unfortunately, even Santa is not immune to the known dangers Alpine climbing:

When the snows have melted, and spring is blooming in the alps (meadows) the Swiss will rescue the corpses of last Christmas Eve and pray that Santa will be more careful next year.

Happy New Year's Eve everyone....I'll try and post tomorrow with some hangover cures and perhaps a resolution or two.

2009-12-27T11:14:00.001+01:00

Track Back

Well this seems appropriate...and when you don't know what to listen to, there's always Steely Dan.

2009-12-24T23:22:00.000+01:00

HOME AT LAST!

I made it everyone! Merry Christmas and may your Christmas be as happy and as filled with joy as my heart is right now! Later taters!

2009-12-22T20:12:00.004+01:00

When you wish upon a star...

(or the very BEST Christmas present ever!)

Way back in September, when I first encountered the Schengen troll and realized I would have to spend some time here in the UK, I thought I'd be home for Christmas, no problem. As the weeks dragged into months, I'd given up even wishing for such a thing, thinking it would only make me miserable to dwell on something that just wasn't going to happen.So I made plans to have Christmas vicariously with the Big G, the Max, Matthew, Adam and the kittehs with the help of a webcam and video stuff and was pretty pleased with my state of mind. I wasn't coming apart at the seams, I didn't snivel everytime I heard a sappy Christmas carol or looked at all the Christmas decorations around Blackheath.

Last Friday, the Big G flew over for the weekend (as he has diligently been doing every single weekend since I got here) and we had our usual lovely, perfect time together. As he was leaving Sunday night, I was a little more anxious than usual, because it would be 10 whole days until I saw him next, so he could spend Christmas at home.But there was something in the air...and on the ground and the runways,a snowstorm had closed the Geneva airport! I was thrilled, it meant a couple more days with my man and a few less days of being without him.On Monday, we strolled around Mayfair in London, window shopping all the posh jewelry shops, high end galleries and tippling a few pints in a cozy pub watching the weather alternate from snow to sleet to rain.It was romantic and magical and I was so damned happy just have him for an extra day or two.

When he left the flat this morning, I vowed to suck it up and not be sad or whinge about anything, because I'd had those couple of extra days and I wasn't going to get all ungrateful on my own ass.I settled into some serious (or frivolous) web surfing and when the phone rang a few hours later I knew it was the Big G letting me know he got home okay.But...(it gets better...sooooooooo much better) what he really had to tell me was a letter had arrived from the canton ( the local authority in Switzerland) stating that since we are going to be married in January, I can go stay with him (er...go home, but shhhhh) while awaiting my visa application to be processed.What does this all mean? It means I'm getting on a plane on Christmas Eve and going home! It is possible that the Schengen troll may have some issue with this, but as I now have a piece of paper from the government saying I can go to Switzerland, I think I can whack him over the head with it until he crawls back under his bridge. And what kind of heartless meanie would turn me back at the Geneva airport on Christmas Eve, with my fiance waiting in arrivals for me? Hopefully no kind at all. Somehow, someway, back in the early crisp autumn nights walking down Lee Park Road, I wished on the right star...I guess miracles need some time to be created.

.... I'll be posting from Switzerland next time!

2009-12-19T12:57:00.000+01:00

Obligatory Seasonal Post

To make up for yesterday's heartwrenching, tear inducing post, I give you this and it will make you smile, I promise!

Experience Mobile Mobile from James Théophane Jnr on Vimeo.

Beautiful, eh?

2009-12-18T16:51:00.000+01:00

Last Minutes with ODEN
There was a guy I used to work with who had the most amazing dog, Buddy, and it wasn't just that he only had three legs, it was Buddy's insatiable zest for life and laughter that always pierced through whatever cloud of ennui that I was surrounded by. When Buddy finally had to go, I know it broke Cory's heart and it was a few months before we were in touch and he told me. I hope this video doesn't make you unbearably sad, but I hope it makes you cry, because then you'll know you're human. For Cory and Buddy.
Last Minutes with ODEN from phos pictures on Vimeo.

2009-12-09T21:24:00.003+01:00

Blue Monster

So I've been in a bit of blue funk of late. It might have something to do with the fact that it's pitch dark by 4 pm here in London (I'm beginning to think that London is actually further north than Edmonton latitudinally), that is, if the sun even makes an appearance from behind the clouds. Or it might be the impending season of jollity, joy, shopping and Santa that has me feeling like I should just stay in bed with the covers over my head. Not that I've been doing that. *ahem* The Cannonball Read II ? Oh, I've been reading up a storm, but since I don't have the gumption to fill out even a passport application these days, a review is, quite simply, beyond me.

In fact, I've been into 'that London' a few times in the last week or so.A friend of a friend came over for a week long visit and we met up, trudged around in the rain, went out to eat at the fabulously strange Hungarian restaurant in Soho and....went to see Cat Stevens/Yusuf Islam!! It was sublime, he played so many of his old tunes (and some new ones, of course) and the Royal Albert Hall is most likely the most perfect concert venue in the world.

I'm getting some of my Xmas shopping done, little by little, although I will have to start sending it back with the Big G on Sunday nights now so that the presents will be under the tree in Switzerland.Last weekend I finally got CS4 and now I can start rebranding the Big G (minds out of the gutter y'all), although it's been a couple of years since I've done any serious graphic/design work and I'm predictably rusty. So what with that and the ongoing effort to improve my French I should be able to hand that blue monster a can of whuppass and cheer the fuck up.

Or I could just go back to bed....

He didn't play this last night, so I thought I'd track it down.

2009-12-09T15:42:00.001+01:00

That is all.

2009-11-26T21:23:00.002+01:00

Assfuckery & an Apology

Just a quick heads up to most of the blogs and the wonderful bloggers I follow, some of you use Blogger style sheets..er..templates that have the comments embedded instead of a pop-up window. This is not a bad thing, your pages look nice and read smooth. But the assfuckery that is html and browser compliance and all kinds of geek talk you don't want me to ramble on about has me losing my mind some days.There is never a day when I can post a comment using Firefox (my favorite browser ever), some days (but not today) I can post comments using Safari and some days (like today) I can't post any comments on all your wonderfulness at all. Which makes me frustrated and angry and growly...grrrrrrrrrrr.

So, just so you know I'm reading you and thinking about you and desperately want to comment, you'll have to make do with these:

The Lunch Hour: Happy Anniversary you two! And you know, it's the little shit that counts. I love that he washed the sheets...there's so much lovin', lustin' and all round sweetness in that one act of goodness.

Xtremely Ragey: Tall you say? Like how tall? I'm the shortest one in my family at 5'10".You don't scare me ya ole busted up, cement head nerd. I know you're a teddy bear and do all kinds of sweet things for your loved ones.

Everyone is Entitled to my Opinion: Me and Deist had a pity party and you weren't invited! So there! Seriously, you are awesome and your awardees are equally full of awesome bloggy goodness!

Now so long as GP and Spender don't post some do-not-miss-blog-must-read today, perhaps the wicked goblins that reside in my browsers will go back to sleep so I can comment again tomorrow.

2009-11-25T01:42:00.004+01:00

A Fairy Tale

I don't usually post things that are personal in nature, you know, the stuff about my relationships, or my family. But now that there are a few people who might occasionally read this crap, I wonder if they are confused at some of my posts that refer to my exile, etc. So I thought I it might be time to tell you a little about my situation, as it were. And it's a pretty good story, romance,star crossed lovers, mean, faceless government officials, rude, over officious Germanic (was that redundant?) immigration employees, a little house built of sweetness and bread and history and full of kittehs...yep this a grand story. So here we go, snuggle down in your bedding and lays your little heads on the pillows...

Once upon a time, in the middle of the cold, snow blown Canadian Prairies, there lived a girl (Brite) who had a couple of brothers (their names don't matter, they are totally superfluous to this story...and they don't read this blog).One of Brite's brothers had the most fabulous friend; a tall, skinny and brilliant boy who also happened to secretly be a prince of purest heart (in fact it was so secret, I'm not sure he knows his true self even now).The heretofore unnamed brother (ok..his name is Jamie) and his prince of a friend, the future Big G, let Brite hang around and occasionally drove her to the Big City (Winnipeg) to watch Monty Python on Friday nights, where much laughter ensued.But lo...it was the 70's my children...the decade of me, me, ME and Brite was far too busy indulging in all that 'me-ness' to realize that the love of her life was right there.

And so, the 70's turned to the 80's; Big G moved far away and Brite languished in the deep, wet forests on the Wet Coast.And the 80's dwindled into the 90's and a whole new millenium began. Brite had wearied of the endless drip drip drip on the mosses of the forest floor and moved herself and her young cub (the Max) back to the tundra.One sunny day, less than a decade into this new era (you know, a couple of years ago) the Big G sent an email (because the interwebs had finally been invented) and showed up on Brite's doorstep forthwith.But the Big G lived in far off Switzerland, land of chocolate, mountains, cows and cheese and had to return to his kingdom.The interwebs (bless its little soul) allowed the geographically challenged lovers to pledge their troths (er...you know...send sappy love letters back and forth and chat aimlessly while supposedly at work) until Brite could stand it no more and packed up the Max, the kittehs and all her worldy belongings and moved to the Big G's domain, Switzerland, albeit not entirely with a visa or permission or all that bureaucratic crap.And it shouldn't have been a problem...but there was this witch...a fairy tale always has to have a witch.I will not dwell on this witch and all her evil ways, except to say that her prevaricating, procrastinating ways prevented (oooooh alliteration) Big G from being free to marry the fair (albeit middle aged at this point) Brite.And as long as they remained in the wonderful land of chocolate and cows this posed no problems.

So the Big G and Brite bought a little house, a former bakery with its very own grange in the backyard, roses, a cave (wine cellar) to stock and roaming room for the kittehs.It was such a perfect home that one day, a beautiful and most forward kitteh decided she would live there.The Max attended school and Big G and Brite were ever so happy.But it was the summer of 2009 and the call of their homeland could not be ignored.There were festivals to attend, people to see and lakes to be dunked in.But returning to Canada was perilous, not only because we were flying in an Airbus, but most importantly because the Swiss had changed the rules in the past year.Suddenly Brite was no longer allowed to return to her happy home( a little more alliteration), because of an evil troll called Schengen .Schengen said that Brite was persona non grata, not welcome, fuck off and cancelled her visa application that had been grinding its way through the Swiss bureaucracy for 2 !!! freakin years (oh I'm sorry...shouldn't swear around the kiddies).Luckily, the troll Schengen did not notice the Max and he returned to the land of cows and cheese and continued his education.

Brite stood on the Dover shore, watching the ferry sail off to schengenland, bitter tears coursing down her progressively wrinkling face. Exiled,with nowhere else to go, she turned north and found a flat in twee ole Blackheath. The Big G makes the journey every weekend to soothe and reassure Brite of his love and faithfulness and over tasty meals in fashionable eateries they have 'the visa discussion' until they are weary.But there are good things to come...a wedding (at last) in January and perhaps the troll schengen will be appeased with a document that says Brite and Big G are legally bound to one another.I am convinced there will be a happy ending to this tale...but it may take some time yet. G'night chilluns...sleep tight.

2009-11-23T22:27:00.000+01:00

Track Back

So the Big G has gone home to Switz...and I'm here, looking out from my lonely room.(until he's back again on Friday ...yaaay!)

2009-11-11T21:08:00.002+01:00

Look what they've done to my art, Ma...

The horror...the HORROR! The National Gallery in London has ripped out my heart, macerated it ruthlessly and spit the shreds out onto the wet pavement of Trafalgar Square. But worse than that, they have destroyed, utterly, irreparably destroyed countless works of art.Why, why would the national conservators of such treasures perpetrate these heinous crimes on the beautiful Botticelli's, Raphael's and countless other masterpieces? All in the name of 'restoration'. But these paintings have not been restored, they have been bleached, blanched and cleansed of countless, painstakingly applied( by the original artists), layers of varnish that just so happened to have collected a lot of dirt of the years. So let's just throw out the baby with the freakin' bath water in the name of cleanliness and a 'modern day asthetic'.These 'restored' paintings are but a white shade of the glory of the originals acheived by the great masters of art.

Oh, oh! I am so aggrieved! As a teen, I spent weeks roaming these galleries,studying, absorbing and imprinting these images on the core of my visual memory. I loved,with all my soul, some of these masterworks of the Early and mid Renaissance.Today,as I started to stroll through the galleries, my initial shock and disbelief soon turned to nausea.After merely an hour (when once I spent entire days at the NG) I fled to stand in Trafalgar Square, smoking a cigarette and choking back tears of anger and despair.

Restoration/conservation has always been a controversial topic in the art world; for the National Gallery, the debate goes back to the 1840's when it's most virulent critic J. Morris Moore wrote scathing letters to The Times under the pseudonym, Verax.More recently Harper magazine published a withering review of modern restorations in the August 2005 issue entitled 'Inglorious Restorations'.

(photo from Harpers August 2005)

I have also had mixed feelings about restoration in principal and in experience. I followed the 10 year (1984-1994) saga of the restoration of the Sistine Chapel closely, and although I reserve judgment until I see the final product with my own eyes and compare it to my earlier viewing in the late 1970's, overall I feel the team managed to 'clean' the frescoes and yet still retain some of the original varnishes.As I wandered through the Louvre in Paris last spring, I had the same feeling of disquiet as I did today in London; paintings I had studied all my life and had nearly prostrated myself in front of in the 1980's, were now eerily bright, white and almost cartoon like in their lack of depth and shadow.But the French restorers were more subtle and light handed than their English counterparts, preferring to peer through countless layers of dirt to capture a master's brushstroke.The Italians fall somewhere between the two, depending on the restorer and conservator in chief.But the Brits have done something vile...in fact it is criminal.In fifty years art historians (backed by the anguished cries of today's critics) will posthumously call for the evisceration and flaying of the fools responsible for the destruction of the finest paintings ever produced by the human species.

And it cannot be undone.We no longer know how to create those delicately flavoured lacquers (ask any luthier or violin expert about this), much less how to apply them as Raphael and Michelangelo did. In the pursuit of 'the original masterpiece', struggling with the knowledge that much of the wonderous detail of the works was obscured by centuries of dirt, the conservators of the National Gallery collection had the temerity and the misplaced confidence in 'science' to CLEAN masterpieces, remove the dirt even if it meant removing the artists' original brushstrokes.

I am sick at heart over this, I cannot return the those galleries I loved and knew so well.I will spend my time at the NG in the Impressionist galleries...for the conservators haven't fucked with them....yet.

2009-11-05T20:13:00.000+01:00

Track Back

Yesterday over at Pajiba, they had a comment diversion that revolved around what movies took you back to your childhood.So I got to thinking about what songs take me back to that place of small chairs, big people and not being able to see what was on the back of the counter. I'm talking early childhood here, like before you were 8.

When I was but a slip of a girl, I absolutely adored this song. I swear I had visions of being freed of family trappings, happily living in some 8x12 four bit room (although I probably didn't know what 4 bit meant) and thought that 2 hours of 'pushin' broom' didn't seem like such a bad deal if that meant you were King of the Road. I swear, all my wandering ways are the fault of Roger Miller.

So fess up...what song takes you waaaaaaaaaay back?