We went to see Jaws the other day – it was showing near home on a big screen and with a cleaned up super saturated print. Goodness, what a treat!
Get out of the water!
If you like the movie and you get the chance, do go and see it on a big screen. It really stands the test of time (50 years? Eek, that’s properly scary…)
Super saturation
What a movie, and an excellent (if unnecessary) reminder that I prefer to be on and not in the water. As for needing a bigger boat, that’s fine when taking a ferry – we caught one just the other day – but I don’t mind those smaller craft if that’s all there is.
Any of the above works for me!
Yup, a small craft is great! With all this water, you never know what might be lurking in the deep… or in the shallows:
Hungry lurker
Hmm, I think I need to work more with the new camera, but at least the heron was so focused on lurking it didn’t realize I was lurking nearby and struggling with my own focus!
Focused – the heron, not the photographer!
Enough for now – I’m off to reflect on boats. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Last Sunday afternoon was cold and grey, so we opted to stay in and watch a movie, finally catching up with Spielberg’s loosely semi-autobiographical family drama The Fabelmans. What a treat it turned out to be!
If you like a Spielberg movie – and I definitely do – then you’d probably enjoy this movie. His trademarks are all there. Child actors with acting ability? Check! A sense of wonder? Check! Threats to everyday life, seen and unseen? Check! A carefully constructed sense of time and place? Check! Subtle and not so subtle emotional manipulation? Of course – this is Spielberg – check!
Drive in? Drivable?! Maybe…
Spielberg has created a quiet marvel, a nostalgic movie on movies combined with a coming of age story about a young boy confronting internal family dramas, external societal prejudices, and all the regular pressures of growing up in a fast changing world. The story isn’t over the top adventurous in the manner of the Indiana Jones films, or harrowing like Saving Private Ryan and Schindler’s List, or as scary/heart-stopping as Jaws or Jurassic Park, but it has moments of (small scale) peril, as well as many moments of warmth and humour – that distinctive and special Spielberg sensibility!
Special!
Yes, there are slightly cloying and schmaltzy moments, and one or two eye-catching/eccentric cameo turns, but it all adds up to a very satisfying experience. The best elements (for me) were the ones where the young boy is figuring out how to be a moviemaker, and the sheer delight he has in making his images work, figuring how to tell a story, and yes, discovering the power he has in moving an audience. Long and leisurely, I’d say watch The Fabelmans if you get the chance – highly recommended, and a feel good winner, rainy afternoon or not!
Widescreen!
On top of what I’ve written above, I particularly enjoyed the period detail cars used in The Fabelmans – they weren’t especially flashy, mostly station wagons and other regular vehicles, but I loved them seeing them. Goodness, do I love old cars! And that makes for a good excuse to dot a few old car photos throughout this piece! Rust buckets or shining restorations, I just can’t resist.
With just a little work…
Yes, we all know only too well how polluting cars have been, and yes, one day in the not too distant future they’ll likely all be electric and that’s very good – but will they be as thrillingly stylish as earlier eras? Fossil fuels bad, but (many, not all) old fossil fuelled cars had great design. I mean, c’mon, and with apologies, (and commiserations to current owners) but Teslas aren’t too much fun to look at, are they? Not even (or especially) when hawked from the White House lawn. Those cyber truck thingies? Yikes…
Yup, not boring
Anyway, I’ll drive off now, happy to have shared a movie recommendation, and happy to hear back from you if you’ve seen TheFabelmans and choose to share a comment – is it a winner? Do you have a favourite Spielberg movie? (Hard to pick, not that it really matters – I love ET, Jaws, Duel and Bridge of Spies, parts of Close Encounters are amazing… the Indiana Jones movies are, mostly, so very entertaining, and I really, really enjoyed The Fabelmans – yup, hard to pick!)
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Yeah, it’s not going anywhere anytime soon, but it’s definitely stylish!
We’re enjoying (I think I mean that) a brief heatwave this week, one that is threatening thunder this afternoon (Thursday) and all through tomorrow. It’s been too hot – hot, like a furnace – to charge about doing anything interesting aside from walking with Scout and retreating from the woods due to the resurgent mosquitoes. I got multiple bites on my right shoulder after something got in under my long sleeved shirt. It chewed away for quite some time until I noticed. Itchy…
Bugs! You can’t see them, but they’re there…
The furnace outside has meant mostly staying inside, time well spent with reading, writing and watching a few movies. The best of the movie bunch for me was The Furnace, (yup, you’ve seen what I’ve done here) an Australian outback western set in the late 1800s.
Heat induced stupor
Spectacular locations, more bugs than even in our local woods, and a ripping yarn full of interesting characters doing bad and not so bad things due to greed over gold. An exciting and thought provoking piece, with lots to chew over regarding race, avarice, indigenous rights, immigrant experiences and camels. Yup, camels. If you don’t like camels, don’t watch the movie, you’ll only get the hump. (It’s warm, I’m tired, this is the best I’ve got…) If you’re interested, here’s a better review: The Furnace Guardian review – I think this review acknowledges the Treasure of the Sierra Madre vibe, and I’d agree. If it’s not up to that level, it’s still decent enough.
Gold? Sort of…
The book I enjoyed most this week was Snow Country by Sebastian Faulks. If you liked Human Traces (I did, even if it was long winded at times) or Birdsong or A Fool’s Alphabet then you’ll likely enjoy this one. What’s it about? Love, death, grief, recovery, political tension between the wars, identity and belonging, small kindnesses in the midst of tragedy, and, as I’ve found with most of his novels, it stays with you. Also, let’s be honest, snowy Austrian mountain scenes were just the thing to read in a heatwave and after watching the outback movie!
With the heat allegedly diminishing after the weekend, we’ll be back outside a bit more and looking to explore Quebec in early fall. It’s starting to get colourful out there.
Fall colours emerging
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
…for aliens? Monsters? No! We’ll be watching the skies this coming long weekend, hoping they’ll be clear and blue rather than wet and grey. The forecast is mixed, with a couple of dry days following a couple of damp days, so not too bad.
Looking up
The damp days might be good for beer and chocolate, and the dry ones for visiting beaches and hiking. Then the beer and chocolate.
Adorable? Edible
Watching the skies? Sounds like a nod to old B movies about visitors from outer space. If the aliens do decide to visit this weekend, they might be a tad disappointed, given we’re heading as a province into what appears to be a lockdown due to increasing COVID-19 cases. Sorry, ET, nothing to see or do here until later in the year! Be good. Stay home whether you’re from Mars or Manitoba, and wait for the welcome mat to be put out, a successful vaccination program permitting. Then when you do visit, erm… come in peace?
Weekend in colour
A brief post as we wrap up work and look forward to the weekend. If chocolate bunnies, eggs and all that stuff is your thing, then I hope you enjoy the celebration. If it isn’t, I hope you have time for a beer, some chocolate, and a local outing somewhere pleasant.
Local and pleasant
Almost done here. Getting back to B movies, I hear there’s a new Godzilla vs. King Kong release? Lizards and apes – maybe I can convince Mrs. PC she’ll enjoy this new nature documentary? Hmm. Beer, chocolate, and mindless screen entertainment on a rainy day? Alright!
Tethered, and definitely in one place, location wise, but not feeling too tied down. Is this making sense? No worries, pull on your gum boots, and let’s jump from puddle to puddle…
Splash! A mishmash this week, like the weather, where we’ve enjoyed days with sun, days with rain, and days with both.
Some sunny days
Splash! Thursday, the day I wrote this, was a day where light rain became heavy rain, with pulses and cloudbursts blowing through on strong gusts. Then the skies almost cleared, and the wind almost dropped. Almost.
On the sunnier days, Tuesday and Wednesday, I was able to work with students outside, catching up on grade 8 science. Grade 8 science and catching up? That was me as well as the students. Fair play to any student willing to give up a spring break afternoon or two to stay on top of their learning. And goodness, we are the people to talk to if you want to know about mitochondria, endoplasmic reticulum, and if vesicles rhymes with testicles. Did I mention grade 8?
A spring break learning distraction
Wednesday was great, St. Patrick’s and a good excuse to wear green. “The colour matches your eyes!” said Mrs PC. She never saw the colour of my eyes the morning after a cultural tour of historic Dublin pubs I attended with my brother. I think we appreciated the architecture. We looked a bit green the next day, and not in a twinkling eyes way.
Splash! (Didn’t you miss it, the last two paragraphs?) Man about town bit next. The beer store lady was surprised to see me mid-week, but helpfully pointed me to where the last of the Guinness was hiding. At the grocery store, the cashier did all but buy me a drink from the Ukee Brewery – it is located in view and less than a minute from her till – insisting a lunchtime Guinness was ok on a work day, if it is St. Patrick’s. I didn’t like to tell her about the one and only time I taught with a hangover after a St. Patrick’s celebration went long. And wrong. My friend: Sure, Adam, we’re working tomorrow so we’ll have just the one – c’mon, it is St. Patrick’s. My willpower: OK! Never again.
Just the one
Splash! A music bit now. Tethered? Not really. I have been listening to Chvrches quite a lot the past week or two. My fondness for 80s style electronica and misery in music has been very satisfied. It isn’t all downbeat, but check out “Tether” for a downbeat tune almost getting upbeat at the end. I probably haven’t sold that very well, but you might like it if you like Depeche Mode or Erasure.
Splash! A movie bit follows. I’ve been having an email back and forth with my brothers about great and not so great but at least entertaining movies. Tango and Cash? No. Point Break? Yes. Waterworld? Big no! Is it an overlooked masterpiece? Nope. It’s sh#t, even though, at a bare minimum, it should have been passably entertaining. It has pirates on skidoos, Dennis Hopper chewing (wobbly) scenery, explosions, a man with gills, and Kevin Costner’s definitely not balding, no sir, not me, look over there hair do. Hair don’t. I fast forwarded through the movie, pausing for the best bits. Not too many pauses. But it did get me thinking about his other movies – some are pretty good, some are terrible, and one had Whitney Houston. And Whitney was the route I took to Chvrches. Chvrches covered “It’s Not Right But It’s Okay” and there you go, that has been my music and movies week. I didn’t rewatch The Bodyguard. I remember it as not okay.
Definitely okay
Splash! No, really, Splash, the movie. Probably not so good, or it’s okay and about right. Might be time to stop writing.
Like I said at the top, a mishmash, and it’s been pretty good. Unlike Waterworld. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Easy rider? Roustabout? Moby what exactly? What’s going on here? I’ll start slow, then steadily pick up speed. It’ll be fine, just like riding a bike. Or falling off. It won’t be much clearer, even if you read to the end.
It has been pleasantly “steady as she goes“ the past week or so. Another big windstorm at the start of the week didn’t knock out the power – some disappointed students there – and we’ve enjoyed a cold and sometimes sunny settled stretch of weather.
Almost sometimes sunny
With the drier days, I’ve been zooming about town on my bike, speeding up and down hills with ease. Yes, the sun on my face, wind in my hair- …
Hold on a moment, Speedy – “up hills with ease” PlaidCamper? Yes, of course. My fitness is paramount to me, my body being a temple, and you’ll agree regular strenuous exercise has always been a feature. Oh, alright. It’s an electric bike. So, yes, uphill with ease.
I race up here (photo taken in a different season) – good view of the brewery tower from here
After many, many years of research, and countless conversations with Mrs. PlaidCamper, (yes, countless fascinating conversations – Mrs. PC) I admitted that recent ankle sprains and the approach of very early middle age meant the time had finally come to purchase an e-bike. (Peace at last – Mrs. PC)
Interestingly, as Mrs PC knows, because I mentioned it a million times, having a pedal assist bike is still exercise because the rider is pedalling and putting in a bit of effort. Mostly true, but probably less true if your e-bike has a twist throttle allowing no pedalling whatsoever. Care to guess what I’ve got?! I do pedal if there’s anyone around. It’s a small town and I’ve my fitness reputation to maintain. I haven’t ridden to the beer store yet. Yet…
It has pedals – useful foot rests…
Yes, years of research into battery duration, weight to power ratios (should that be power to weight ratios? I was too busy looking at the pictures), build quality, range and other important technical stuff. It had to be an informed decision. So I ended up getting a bike because it looked a bit like a mobylette, and I liked the seat. Yup, I’m shallow, easily persuaded, and must have been a Gallic teenager in a previous life.
Une mobylette! Tres chic, oui? (Photo from Motoconseils.com)Yup, comfy seat
Having had it a few months, I’m happy to report it is reliable, fun to ride, very comfortable now I’ve decided it’s an e-moped and I let the battery do all the work, and I think I look cool. If looking like something from Wallace and Gromit is cool. Which it is. In my head. Please stop laughing. I’m going to get a biker jacket and a flick knife and a tattoo and get told off by the principal.
Adult soda
As this appears to be descending into a weird late 50s or early 60s retro type of thing, it’s probably best I leave it here. Anyway, I’ve got to go hang out at the soda fountain, run a comb through my hair, get admiring looks. That’s right, daddy-o.
Thanks (Roustabout link) for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Oh look – the American Johnny Halliday! Merci! Thank you for reading. Thank you very much! (Stock image from Alamy.com)
Things of a medical nature have been all over the news cycle the past few months, and particularly the last week or two. A helicopter for an ambulance? A healthy glow?! Immunity! Don’t worry, this won’t be a PlaidCamper rant about miracle cures and inequalities in health care as personified by mango-hued tax dodging toddlers. Although it might have been, had the last sentence run on any longer.
No. No ranting. This is a post full of true and nearly true stories. Almost cinematic, full of visual poetry, and likely requiring a Terence Malick, Jane Campion, or Peter Weir to capture the moving intensity and subtle dreamy drama. A tale of a man at a crossroads in life. Cue voiceover: In a world…
Dreamy – one of the recent Planet of the Apes was filmed near here
Cut! Too much? Ok. Cut. Take two. This will be a post full of the brave exploits of a young-to-early middle-aged PlaidCamper, a potential boon to the medical world if only he would consider yet another mid-to-very-early life crisis, and switch careers. Montage! A white coat? Nice. A stethoscope? Yes please. Rugged calmness in the face of death and disease? Oh, yes doctor. Cut! Stop! Enough of this.
Sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I almost swooned, understandably enough, at the thought of me in a white coat. Imagine a cross between George Clooney and Dr. Fauci, only many decades younger, and you’d be close. No? Assisted by soft lighting, and no close ups? And a wig? Not even? Where were we? Poor scriptwriting on this one. This is like Apocalypse Now, but medical. Let’s start with basic training.
Ongoing basic training, almost essential
Did I mention I participated in a Wilderness First Aid course? A week of skills and scenarios, designed to replicate real life situations, complete with all too convincing fake broken bones, buckets of blood, and stick on wounds and injuries too disgusting for The Walking Dead. All in a rainforest setting, and directed by a first aid trainer who looked nothing like Francis Ford Coppola. I think a young Martin Sheen, slightly too old for the part, yet fortunate enough to bear a certain resemblance to an OldPlaidCamper, will play me in the following scenes.
Cut, cut, cut! Sorry, Martin, we won’t be needing you. Haven’t you heard, PlaidCamper? Cinema is another victim of the virus. And Martin at any age looks nothing like you.
In truth, my never entirely realistic dream of becoming a doctor soon evaporated in the heat of simulated medical battle. I’m not a particularly good first aider, certainly not compared with how well our young participants coped in testing situations. They’d be elbow deep, or at least, gloved hands on, treating the injuries while I was still reciting lessons and trying to remember how to tie a sling. Fluffing my lines. Let’s just say I won’t be in any reboot of ER…
…unless it is in the patient role. I excelled! Lie down and grumble about aches and pains? Check! Fake a heart attack? I’ll do it! Food poisoning due to mushroom picking stupidity? I can fake that! Make up a medical history to confuse trainees? No problem! Wander off, pretend to pee in the woods, be startled by a bear and shoot myself with bear spray? I did that! Pretending, not for real. I was meant to do this! I’m a natural.
No bears in this scene
I really have had a near miss with bear spray, and know what it feels like. Method actor, that’s me. I search for the truth in stories and inhabit the characters I portray. I have to get under the skin of a role. Or under the skin of anyone nearby.
You’d like to hear my bear spray true story? One of Nature, red in tooth and claw? A terrifying tale of one man alone in the wilderness? Nope, it was none of that. I was in a supermarket parking lot, and walked round to the passenger side of the car to get my wallet out of a backpack. The pack was in the passenger footwell. I pulled on it to pick it up, when a strap got caught under the seat. Instead of slowing down and releasing the pack gently, I simply pulled harder, somehow breaking the trigger guard on the bear spray attached to the pack, delivering a dose all over the car radio and hand brake. Customers in the parking lot were treated to my first performance of man almost shoots himself with bear spray and scrambles backwards on all fours. If you’ve seen The Exorcist spider scene, you know how it went. Like that, but faster and with more swearing. It made my head spin, and some of the onlookers too.
I love the smell of bear spray in the morning
It took weeks to clean and remove the remnants. I’d be driving along, sipping a cup of coffee and changing the radio station, and a few moments later get a bad burning sensation around my mouth. It wasn’t how I made the coffee. A few particles of weeks-old bear spray really pack a punch…
Fascinating insight into the craft, don’t you think?
Yes, I brought all my experience to the patient role. I certainly tested the patience of fellow first aid participants. I drew the line at letting them volunteer me for staging a drowning recovery after falling off a dock incident, although it was kind of them to think of me. It’s an honour just to be nominated.
Under the dock
I got an email from Francis, our first aid trainer, just the other day. Imagine my surprise that it contained confirmation I passed the course! It was like winning an Oscar. If I had them, I’d like to thank my manager, my agent, the producers, my personal trainer, personal chef, accountant, my personal trainer’s personal trainer, the wig maker, George Clooney, Dr. Fauci, and the bald one in ER. Also, commiserations to Martin, but come on, only I could play me in this movie…
Oh, the monstrous ego. Cut! That’s a wrap. I’ve got to wait by the phone, be ready to take the calls from Hollywood. Fade to black.
Monstrous ego indeed. Enough of that guy. I’ll finish by acknowledging how well our young participants did in the WFA course, and how safe we’ll all be out on the land in the future. They learned so much in a relatively short time, and showed real leadership and an ability to act and think clearly in stressful situations. Nothing fazed them!
A screen presence! Planet of the Dog
Well, thankfully none of the plotless nonsense you’ve just read will ever get a theatrical release. Are you still here?! Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Time to saddle up! Be warned, it’s a rambling piece this week, detours and tangents aplenty as we take an armchair slow ride to nowhere in particular. That being said, with no topic or destination in mind, how will we know there’s been a detour? Anyway, I’m allowed to be off topic and tangential – squirrel – I’m not a president. Just saying…
High noon, Kneehill County
I got an email from a friend yesterday morning, describing how he’s coping with lockdown in London. Some brief background? Ok. My buddy is a young man, only a year older than me. We met over 30 years ago, when I started my first proper job, working for a government department in central London. I can’t say exactly where, or name the department, all very hush hush. Regular readers know I can be trusted with the truth. Hank (not his real name, but one he wishes was) still works for a government department, and he’s currently plotting, I mean working, from his small apartment in North London. He’s fine, the evidence being he’s taken to dressing up in C&W clothing, complete with Stetson, and is listening to “Honky Tonks and Cheap Motels” by Whitey Morgan and the 78s. (Good cover there of a great song – what do you think?) Cowboy duds and country music – that’s normal for North London these days, isn’t it? He’s doing this as preparation for a (now postponed) road trip we were due to take this summer. I might have dodged a bullet there…
High plains drifting
Sticking with the Western theme, Scout and I were moseying down the middle of 10th Street at high noon yesterday. As with all good, and not so good, Westerns, townsfolk scurried indoors as we passed, shooing their children ahead of them and peering out through the gap in the curtains. Showdown! Hairy and mean looking varmints (squirrels) moved from tree to tree, trying to get the high ground and a clear view of the sheriff (Scout) and her good looking and trustworthy young deputy (me, of course – how could you even ask?!) We faced them down, made it out of there.
The sheriff, tracking
‘Scuse me while I take a moment, spit my chewin’ baccy into the ol’ tin at my feet. Well sh*t, now I gone done made a mess on my boots. Shee-it. New old timey story? Ok. Okey dokey. You bet. I pardnered up with a law-abiding school master from Red Deer a few years back. He was principal of a Junior High School that had even more than the usual share of middle years miscreants, rebels, and wannabe outlaws. Education badlands, allegedly, but in truth, not at all bad, these were spirited and lively young people. Sheriff Duane was excellent at his job, corralling and educatin’ his young steers with great good humour. He was never overly fond of a meeting, preferring to be in the field teaching, rather than pushing darn papers. He’d always start a meeting with “Let’s get this dog and pony show on the road!” This young buck never quite understood what that meant, but I do think of Sheriff Duane every time I drink a Last Best Show Pony pale ale. Yup, all that just so I could use this photograph:
No dog, all pony. Cheers, Duane!
Well, I think that’ll ‘bout do it for now. I gotta get me a glass of something to sip slow and steady as I sit on my rocking chair, watch the sun set, dog at my feet, with Whitey Morgan and his boys crooning quietly in back. So long!
Goodness, what is going on? Where did all that come from? You’re doing something similar, yes? Or is it just me? Is this what happens when an old PlaidCamper is in a long term shut down. Or decline? Neural pathways rewiring themselves in new and not so interesting ways, and make believe takes over. It’s not all make believe. I am actually growing (or trying to grow) a fine “sad cowboy” moustache, for when Hank and I finally take that Western road trip. We’ll look (and sound, haha) completely authentic. You have been warned, small town bars of Alberta, Montana and Wyoming. That fast moving cloud of dust on the outskirts? Two thirsty show pony buckaroos riding into town…
Thanks for reading, I hope you’re well, safe, sane enough, and ready to enjoy your weekend!
PS I’ve just finished listening to “Honky Tonks and Cheap Motels” for the second time. It might (or might not) be a great way to plan a road trip, but it is definitely a fun old school country album. You’ll be growing your own sad cowboy moustache, or drawing one on. My thanks to Hank, the North London urban cowboy, for the recommendation.
I was out with Scout earlier this week, tramping the neighbourhood streets, enjoying the nonappearance of spring, and laughing at the squirrels laughing at us. We came across (another) patch of ice, frozen snowmelt, a perfect mini-hockey rink spread over the sidewalk, and another opportunity for me to reenact and explain to Scout how Iginla and Crosby combined to score the gold medal winning goal at the 2010 Olympics. Given the number of icy patches out there, various hockey moves happen quite a bit. To mix things up, I’ll sometimes charge the net, and Scout also appreciates my ability to score on the wraparound. I’ll admit that Scout’s stick handling is the best…
Wednesday, no spring
The picture of sporting excellence I’ve painted in your mind is, obviously, quite something to see, so now it’s going to hurt me (and you) to come clean, tell the truth. Ready?
We came across (another) patch of ice, and I muttered to Scout “Oh no, elephants!” She did what she always does when she has no idea what I’m going on about, wagged her tail and looked expectantly at my coat pocket that has the extra kibble. She’s a well fed dog.
Scout, lots of spring!
“Oh, no, elephants!” What are you going on about, PlaidCamper?
Good question. Let’s take a time travel trip, back to the distant, distant past, to an era when young PlaidCampers roamed the earth, wearing NHS spectacles and terrorizing the neighbourhood when playing out on bikes for hours at a time.
We would build ramps so we could perform death defying leaps across canyons filled with (toy) trucks, pedalling furiously to gather up enough speed so when we hit the ramp it would fall apart before any chance of lift off. Looking back, it’s strange none of that group of friends and family ever became engineers or involved in construction projects.
Anyway, back to the elephants. I think we came to the conclusion that jumping over toys wasn’t sufficiently dangerous, that we somehow lacked motivation, the necessary element of danger. The solution? We didn’t need to leap over toys, what was needed was for the smallest of us to lie down in the canyon. It was at this point someone said “element of danger” and it became, because we were young and silly, the elephant of danger, a kind of shorthand for when we were doing things we shouldn’t. Not that that ever happened. Riding down Langley Hill, a steep, busy and pot holed road, a speeding stream of (poorly) self maintained bikes, wobbling madly in an attempt to keep up with the fastest kid, the guy with a speedometer, shouting out “32mph!” No elephant of danger there. How about climbing up onto the garage roof, leaping from garage to garage, knowing the construction was little more than balsa wood and tar paper? Yup, one of us fell through the roof, stuck at the waist and shouting for help to get free. It’s hard to help when you’re practically peeing yourself laughing, and looking around hoping there were no adults ready to give us what for.
Tall can, tall tales (The truth? This one is excellent – you can believe that…)
Yes, the elephant of danger. There are other stories, but if I told them, I’m quite certain there’d be a knock on the door, and the long arm of the law would finally catch up. There are untold reasons behind why I keep moving on…
Back to the present day. I’d forgotten all about the elephants of danger until confronted by the ice sheet earlier this week. Did I really reenact the Iginla to Crosby Olympic golden goal? The truth? The long forgotten elephants phrase popped into my head as I flailed wildly, skating and slipping to reach the other side and the safety of drier pavement, as if being chased by the Hanson brothers. Less Olympian, and more Slap Shot. It’s probably the glasses…
Yesterday, signs of spring?
Yes, that’s why the squirrels were laughing. As for spring and safer sidewalks, rumour and the Weather Network has it that we are due a warm, sunny and dry spell the next few days, which is great news, as I’m not as young as I was, and certainly far more cautious around elephants.
Thanks for reading, stay safe, and have a wonderful weekend! Must go, I can hear a knock at the door…
Or, in my case, being something of an introvert, anti-social distancing. Silver linings…
Silver linings
Clearly there is plenty to be concerned about presently, what with Covid-19 and the toilet roll fights in supermarkets. They cut those scenes from “Mad Max” didn’t they? I imagine John Woo or Sam Peckinpah could have had a slow motion field day with scraps and shreds of toilet paper floating through fight scenes of suburban scrappers going toe to toe over the last packet of spaghetti. Pasta pugilists…
Back to the social distancing. I don’t mind if that’s the way it has to be. Avoid large crowds and social gatherings? Oh, alright. Drive thru virus testing, then a quick stop at the drive thru growler refill station. Doesn’t sound too bad.
Another growler? No!
Oh gosh, I just sneezed. I’ll keep this brief, as I suddenly feel the need to google the early onset symptoms. All photographs this week are from Florencia once again, and if you’ve got to be socially distant, this seems as good a place as any!
Anti-social distancing? If I must.
Flippancy aside, please be well, look after yourselves, family, friends and neighbours, and remember pasta shouldn’t be overcooked and is best enjoyed with a glass of red wine. Or two.
OldPlaidCamper 