Body Beautiful

A recent spell of alarmingly pleasant weather has lured Vancouver’s body beautiful out onto to our local beach.  In an effort to avoid embarrassing myself/children too much by pouring my wobbly bits and mum belly into anything approaching beachwear I have been giving Dr Michael Moseley’s much publicised Fast Diet a go.  I have never been one for following ‘faddy’ diets, Atkins seemed too stinky, Food Combining too complicated and Cabbage Soup downright grim.  I did once have a half hearted attempt at Weight Watchers though stopped short of actually attending a group.  I just joined forces with a gang of girls from work, we put a set of scales in the meeting room and diligently weighed ourselves and patted each other on the back whenever one of us lost a bit of weight.  That was until, after four long rice cake filled days, the the call of cheap wine at the BBC bar got too strong.

The Fast Diet though seems to be genuinely good for you and as well as being a healthy way to lose weight it also lowers blood pressure, cholesterol levels and insulin sensitivity (see thefastdiet.co.uk).  Also, because you only really have to think about it twice a week it’s also relatively easy to stick to and miraculously it seems to be working.  According to my new high-tech scales my body fat percentage is now in the “Athlete” category.  Therefore, I can only assume I have some kind of body dysmorphia as when I look in the mirror Jessica Ennis’ twin definitely isn’t staring back at me.  But come to think of it are Phil ‘The Power’ Taylor and golfer John Daly classed as athletes?  I do definitely feel healthier though and one step closer to braving a bikini and with ringing endorsements for the diet from top celebrity Adonises such as Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, Phillip Schofield and Dom Joly no less, it can’t be long before I’m strutting along the beach like Miranda Kerr at an undies shoot.

Pure Athletes

Casper has achieved a milestone this week, his first school photo.  He seems to have managed to continue a family tradition of looking like a total mess in the picture, though I personally (of course) think it adds to his cheeky schoolboy charm.  He is sitting grinning at the camera with tangled hair, mud up his arm and something unidentifiable on his face.  I’m proud of him.  When I was young every school photo day my Mum would send me in with a comb and strict instructions to use it.  As I queued up I always diligently did so but somehow mysteriously by the time I reached the front of the queue I always looked like 80′s telly favourite Marmalade Atkins.

Like Mother like Son

Like any good middle class guilt ridden Mum I am constantly trying to think of ways of entertaining and educating my boys which distract them from the allure of the IPad and TV programmes whilst simultaneously reassuring me that I am actually doing a half decent job.  In search of inspiration I borrowed ‘The Pre-Schooler’s Busy Book’ from the library which promised ’365 creative learning games and activities to keep you 3 to 6 year old busy’.  The book’s suggestion of ‘sorting laundry’ didn’t immediately strike me as either creative or in fact a game.  However, as I was doing it anyway I decided to give it a whirl and enlisted Casper’s help.  He approached his task of picking all his own clothes out of the laundry mountain with gusto, for about two and a half minutes.  It did though succeed in suddenly making previously discarded toys seem very very appealing to him so in a way it was a success.  I don’t think I will rush to try the other ‘creative’ suggestions such as, washing the dishes, sorting socks or cleaning coins.  Though considering a book has been published full of these revolutionary ideas I may well try writing one myself.  I’m sure suggestions of incredibly exciting games such as sweeping the floor, unloading the dishwasher and cleaning the bathroom would provide unlimited entertainment for children and parents everywhere.

It’s All Good

Canadian life is ticking along as usual.  We just spent a weekend in gorgeous Whistler squeezing in some last minute snow action before the season finishes.  Casper had his first experience of skiing, he had two runs down the little slope outside our accommodation, at walking pace and between our legs, and now thinks he’s Eddie the Eagle Edwards.  At least he’s one step closer to fulfilling Neil’s dream of having one of his children represent Ireland at the Winter Olympics, though I’m not sure their ski team is the most elite in the world, those two attempts have put him just outside the Irish top ten.

My neighbour has spent days wracking his brains for a word I apparently use all the time and is never used in Canada, at least according to him not in the context I use it.  Turns out it’s ‘brilliant’.  I hadn’t realised brilliant was such a quaintly English word (or that I spoke like a kids TV presenter).  Though this unexpected language difference does perhaps explain why he looked so baffled when I said our slight rent reduction because of ongoing building works was a ‘nice little Brucie Bonus”.

I have recently signed the boys up for a class called “On My Own” ostensibly to give Theo a bit of independence and get him used to spending a bit of time away from me in preparation for preschool or daycare.  Really though I think the name of the course actually refers to me.  It means I get an hour a week, a whole hour, all to myself.  During my precious hour I have achieved the Herculean tasks of, going to the loo without either an audience or the constant fear that someone will open the cubicle door before I’m finished, rediscovered my centre of gravity by walking down the street during the day without the aid of a pushchair, used a pen and paper without someone shouting ‘colour, colour’ and obliterating all my notes with scribble and drunk a cup of tea without a lid. I’ve also seen the same guy three times now in my local Starbucks, always sitting alone in the same seat reading a travel guide on ‘Cruising and Cruise Ships’.  I can’t work out whether he’s thoroughly researching an upcoming holiday or it’s a very ineffectual gay pick-up technique.

Not for the first time I have weakly followed celebrity culture and been swayed into trying something new just because a Hollywood star has suggested it.  This time it’s the svelte and shiny Gwyneth Paltrow who is currently doing the rounds asserting that ‘It’s All Good’ according to her new cookbook.  Taking her word for it (well why wouldn’t I?)  I tried one of the things she eulogises about, Coconut Water.  Turns out it’s not, ‘All Good’, in fact, it’s rancid.  I was hoping it was going to be a super healthy non-alcoholic Malibu, in reality though as Neil described it it tasted ‘like a slightly dirty puddle’. Undeterred I also tried another of her favourites, Quinoa.  A friend made some for a recent bbq (no burnt on the outside raw in the middle sausages here, it’s Quinoa salad and healthy kebabs all round – we are in Vancouver after all).  It was delicious, my faith in the Paltrow has been restored.  I’d dabbled a bit in Quinoa in my early 20′s at the height of the McKeith era but it had long been mixed up in my memory with thoughts of an emaciated goblin searching through poo, hardly appetising.  Theo tried it too and loved it, it’s definitely going to be on the menu at the Ramsay household from now on.  So, I do yoga at least three times a week, drink off menu non-fat teas and my kids love Quinoa, with all these significant boxes ticked I just cannot fathom why I am not, and don’t even look like, a bona fide Hollywood megastar.  Maybe I’ll start drinking Kale Smoothies and injecting my lips with Bee Venom, that should do it.

Bizarrely he never found fame across the pond.

 

A Day In The Life…

Having just watched a trailer for an upcoming Hollywood blockbuster starring one of my University classmates, I got to thinking that now I am (at least for the time being) a “full time mum”, what do I actually do with my time? 2013 is slipping by and I am wondering why, at the end of every day, I have not managed to write an original and thought provoking screenplay, come up with a groundbreaking new business idea, find the cure for Cancer, or really even feel as though I’ve achieved very much at all. So I thought I’d write down what I was doing every hour on the hour, on a non-eventful, rainy day in the school holidays.

0600 – I’m being kicked repeatedly in the ribs by the 3yr old who at 0330 decided that he wanted to sleep in our bed because he had a bit of a sniffle. The 2 year old heard this and decided he wanted to come too. I was too tired to offer much resistance so relented and snuggled them in the middle of our bed only to realize that there was then no room for me. I then proceeded to spend the next two hours with one hip resting on the bedside table before managing to deposit a sleeping Theo back into his own room.

0700 I’m being questioned by a 3 year old as to whether or not I have washed and dried his favourite t-shirt overnight so that he can wear it today. Clearly, like any good housemaid, I have.

0800 Due to an unfortunate arrangement of the mirrored doors on my wardrobe and their proximity to my (ground floor) bedroom window I have just accidentally flashed the builders who arrived at the house whilst I was getting out of the shower.

0900 I am trying to break up a fight over who is best at liking the colour blue.

1000 As there is no pre-school nor any other regular classes this week due to spring break and there are only so many dinosaurs I can draw, marble runs I can build and play-doh monsters I can create I have sought refuge in a nearby cafe run by a real-life Frenchman (not even a Canadian imitation). He has a box of toys in the corner, good tea, Tottenham Hotspur on the TV and a non-stop flow of mildly racist comments about my Englishness….ahhh and relax.

1100 Mud…everywhere.

1200 We are on the way home for lunch. The clock has struck 12 just as I am dangling Casper in a seated position in front of me whilst he has an ‘adventure wee’ by a tree. I am insisting in no uncertain terms that he must ONLY do said wee and not as he has just suggested do a ‘number two’ as well.

1300 Whilst having a dance off with a 2 year old to Gangnam Style I have realised just how painful it is to step on a Stegosaurus, much more so than say a Diplodocus or your common or garden Brontosaurus.

1400 Try to be a ‘good mum’ by attempting to engage the gruesome twosome in an array of jigsaw puzzles, board games and ‘fun filled exercises’ designed to enhance their fine motor and pre-writing skills. They give it a whirl but before long I can see Casper’s eyes drifting forlornly towards the IPad.

1500 It’s stopped raining so we are off to meet friends at the park, we should be there now but I’ve only just managed to wrestle a grumpy Theo into his coat. If anyone has an Octopus they need getting into a pair of tights I feel I am now qualified for the job.

1600 Standing at the park pushing a swing and freezing my bum off (I’m pleased to say real Vancouverites also say Bum, not Butt or, heaven forbid, Fanny, like their American neighbours)

1700 I have given in and Casper is watching ‘Caillou’ (Fench-Canadian Pre-School nonsense) on the computer whilst I am trying to clean unidentifiable sticky substances off the floor. Theo seems to be practicing “sneaking”.

1800 Meals have been cooked, nappies changed, noses wiped, groceries bought, floor swept, toilets cleaned, washing done and peace treaties struck, Neil is home and I am at Yoga…time for a bit of Zen.

1900 Still Yoga-ing it up but in 20 minutes I’ll be thrown back into the melee for kids bedtime.

2000 Ahh glass of wine and Friday night Sushi with friends.

Oh dear. It makes for pretty sorry reading, no glamorous premieres or world changing summits for me but I’m sure that in the future I’ll look back on this time and be thankful that I had the chance to spend all this ‘quality’ time with my boys when they were little…and there’s still plenty of time for me to change the world.

Vote Lee!

Hi all, hope you are well, I’m feeling very Zen at the moment having become a fully paid up member of Kitsilano’s yoga community.  I’ve been going about three times a week and can now tell my Vinyasa from my Shivasana and am no stranger to a Downward Facing Dog or a One Legged Pigeon.  This will no doubt be me in a few months….

What with this and the realisation the other day that I had just gone into Starbucks and confidently ordered a “non-fat chai tea latte” I was worried I might be actually becoming a real Vancouverite.  I quickly rectified this by going to the ethnic food aisle of my local supermarket and buying some Hob Nobs, Chocolate Digestives and Yorkshire Tea, aaah and balance is restored.

Having said that Casper is doing his best to be a good little Canadian and has taken to his ice skating lessons with gusto.  Little brother Theo doesn’t want to be outdone so I’ve invested in some baby skates for him as well,  we’ll have him skating before he’s two…eat your hearts out Torville and Dean!

(I may not have had a full night’s sleep in two years, am constantly covered in an unidentifiable toddler crust and am no longer have the ability to hold an adult conversation but you know what, I have to say they are pretty cute.)

Having a (nearly) two year old and a three year old I often feel like Dr Dolittle constantly trying to decipher the odd language and logic of my little creatures.  It’s only 9am and so far today I’ve realised that when he says “I want dinosaur cheese’ Theo means he wants to eat big chunks of cheese, I’ve had to convince Casper that the diggers at the top of the road aren’t going to eat him on the way to pre-school and also that maybe we could wait a few months before clearing out the fireplace so that Santa doesn’t get a dirty bottom, I’ve got a long day ahead.

Last weekend I went to the “Theatre Sports” Comedy Night on nearby Granville Island, I’ve been past this a few times and being a big fan of comedy have been keen to go.  The great Canadian comedians Seth Rogen, Stewart Francis and Martin Short…definitely weren’t there.  However, they allowed alcohol in the auditorium so after a couple of glasses of wine I was laughing away having a great night.  To be fair it was quite funny, though just not exactly what I’d come to expect from live Saturday night stand-up.  My friend commented that it was just very very polite.  The one swear word of the evening drew an audible gasp from the audience (perhaps my fellow audience members ought to avoid any stand up comedy if they should ever make a trip to the UK for fear of suffering a heart attack).

Talking of comedy though, if you are in the UK please tune in to the final of Let’s Dance for Comic Relief on BBC1 on Saturday at 7pm to see my pal Lee Nelson performing his frankly astonishing ballet/hip hop mash-up…then vote for him to win…go on you know you want to!

Here’s a link to his, many say transcendental, performance from last Saturday…
http://www.bbc.co.uk/i/b01r6g9y/?t=29m42s

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I saw this on the route to Casper’s pre-school, we live in a very reputable area,  I can only imagine that Deborah Meadon and Karren Brady take sailors there for business pitches….

And we’re back…

Happy 2013 everyone, sorry I have taken a while to get out my typing fingers.  We’ve just about settled back into Canadian life after a wonderful trip home which included, in no particular order, lovely friends and family, Waitrose, a panto, a trip on a steam strain, M&S, a meeting with Santa, matching onesies, wine, vast quantities of cheese, glow in the dark oats for Rudolph, over excited children, amazing presents, a few lie ins (yay), an Olympic legend (Mo Farrah – double yey), a million calories and a partridge in a pear tree (well, perhaps not that last one).  We had a really magical Christmas and just wish we could have spent more time catching up with everybody.  The only disappointment of the whole trip was the underwhelming Downton Abbey Christmas special, we broke with years of tradition to watch it and therefore missed out on two hours of valuable charade playing/cheese eating/dodgy Christmas booze drinking time, shame on you Mr Fellowes.

Since I’ve been back I’ve managed to sneak in a bit of skiing and whilst it was difficult to wrench myself away from home again I had a real “wow I actually live here” moment when I was whizzing (kind of) down the beautiful Cypress Mountain.  This was perhaps only slightly tarnished by then returning home to a blocked sink and a load of washing, not quite the hot tub and Vin Chaud Apres Ski of a trip to the alps.

 

The other day I had a rare twenty minutes to myself.  With Casper at pre-school and Theo snoozing in the pushchair I whiled away the time perusing the perfume department of the local pharmacy.  Feeling I ought to try something a bit Canadian I plumped for a liberal spritz of Eau de Celine Dion, surely a big seller in these parts.  What a mistake, it was musty, old fashioned and gave me an instant headache (I suppose I should have predicted that).  I tried to rectify the situation with a big squirt of ‘Intimately Beckham’ (well who wouldn’t?) but unfortunately they didn’t exactly compliment one another and I left smelling as though I’d had a fight in Katie Price’s boudoir, and I tell you what, that Celine Dion is a right lingerer.

Whilst not quite managing to smell like an all Canadian mum I managed to look like one for the briefest of moments when I took the boys ice skating.  My friend Miles gallantly helped Casper shuffle round the ice like Bambi with a child-sized Zimmer frame whilst I strapped on my skates and pushed Theo, still sitting in his pushchair, round a few laps of the rink.  Casper improved on last year’s jelly-legged attempt and was urging poor Miles to go faster, I was gliding round feeling like Jayne Torvill and all was going well.  Unfortunately though the illusion of the Vancouver-mum who gets their children skiing, skating and generally doing all things healthy and cold as soon as they are able to walk was shattered when Casper declared in an accent that would make a Radio 4 announcer proud that the ice was ‘just too slippy’ and decided he preferred the rubber matting near the vending machine. Oh well better luck next time.

Year One: Done

So we’ve done it, I can’t believe we’ve been here a year.

We’ve had so many wonderful experiences and met some great people throughout our time here so far. It’s definitely starting to show that it’s been a while since I left Manchester. I’m getting used to our daily view of snow capped mountains and sandy beaches and I can confidently give ‘tourists’ directions and advice on the best places to go in and around Vancouver. Also, perhaps more tellingly there’s a sign outside the local shop saying they sell pepper spray and I now assume, like any good Canadian, that it’s to ward off bears rather than the more undesirable members of society.

I have also expanded my vocabulary, I know that Arugula, Cilantro, Poutine and Perogies are all things that you eat, BC Bud is what fragrances the air and chills out the locals and Loonies and Toonies are currency. I say Hockey without putting ‘Ice’ in front and don’t cringe before saying Soccer, Stroller and Elevator. I haven’t quite managed to say Diaper out loud yet, trousers are very much still trousers and definitely not pants and I still have to try and not giggle whenever I say hi to my next door neighbour, Randy. But all in all I think I can just about be understood in this strange and foreign land.

In a couple of days we head back to the UK for Christmas. I’m looking forward to a few weeks at home seeing lovely friends and family, buying wine in the same shop I buy food, eating cheese that doesn’t cost more than the GDP of a small European country, watching great classy well made tv and taking whole journeys on public transport without learning the entire life story of any of my fellow passengers.

We’ll be back for more Canadian fun in 2013 and have a long list of new places we’d like to explore but in the meantime thank you for reading my daft ramblings and have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

xxx

Sweet Halloween

We are just about overcoming the searing sugar hangovers of Halloween, the festival of Haribo and synthetic fibres. The boys loved their first experience of a proper all out North American Halloween, most people had decorated their houses, there were pumpkins galore and so many parties to go to that the costumes had to be rinsed out mid-week to last the distance.  Casper unfortunately discovered sweets or ‘candy’ as I should perhaps say.  In the past he’s never really eaten them, not the toxic coloured jelly-type ones (chocolate and cakes don’t count), he had them once and wasn’t a fan so I seized the opportunity and steered him clear of them ever since, safe in the knowledge that I wasn’t lying to him when I suggested he’d really prefer a nice piece of fruit.  That was until last week’s community Halloween ‘Spook Fest’ when he (and all the other local children) must have eaten his body weight in sugar and E numbers.  He spent the rest of the day talking unnaturally loudly and grinning manically until he crashed out on the sofa a few hours later – I’ve a feeling we might have a re-run of this kind of behaviour in about 14 years time when he has his first White Lightning/Mad Dog 20/20/Jagermeister experience.

Be afraid, be very afraid.

Due to the return of the delightful Vancouver rain (in Theo’s A to Z of Canada the V for Vancouver is illustrated by people huddled under umbrellas) we have been looking for ways to entertain the boys indoors.  Yesterday we treated them to their first trip to the cinema, they were awed by the magnificence of the enormous TV screen they were presented with, that and a massive bag of popcorn was a perfect wet afternoon for them.  Of course it did mean that Neil and I had to sit through 90 mins of admittedly clever and well made but still really for kids, Disney animation.  I was jealous when Neil snuck in a cheeky doze, which Casper couldn’t understand, to him this was the most hilarious, most entertaining experience of his life to date.  I understand how he felt, for a long time I was absolutely baffled and hugely offended when my Granny had a snooze during a trip to see the epic ‘Care Bears: The Movie’.

Whilst we were there we bumped in to our old friend Noah Wyle again (I mentioned our first encounter with him in one of my early posts – Hollywood North).  He was leaving the cinema with his kids too.  Clearly therefore the only natural conclusion we can come to is that he is stalking us, obviously, poor chap.

Also, I’d just like to say a massive congratulations to all my lovely friends and family who are pregnant, have just had babies or may well be having babies right now as we speak.  There must be something in the water.  If it is your first go at the old having a baby thing, brace yourself for the most exciting time of your life.  When my two little ones popped (or squelched) out I was shocked by how much love I could have for one tiny, sticky, red, slightly alien looking human being.  It was like meeting Johnny Depp, Matt Damon and Colin Farrell all rolled into one (well not exactly, but you get my gist).  Though before the new lovely warm fuzzy new smelling velvety skinned creature arrives there are some things to really appreciate in life because you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone:

- Go to the cinema as much as you can, sit in the dark and watch long films full of violence, sex and bad language ideally in the middle of the day and very very late at night.

- Read the Sunday papers, all of them, even long articles you aren’t that bothered about.

- Nip out of the house taking nothing but the holy trinity of phone, cash and keys.

- Stay up late knowing you can have a lie in in the morning.

- Revel in the fact that these things currently mean nothing to you: Justin Fletcher, Gina Ford, baby-led weaning, Dr Sears, Furberizing, Controlled Crying, Nipple Cream, Maternity Pads, Meconium.

- Go to the loo without an audience.

- Tidy your house knowing that only you will mess it up again.

- Leave tea cups on low surfaces, light a few candles, put some nice glass vases on the floor and perhaps an open bottle of bleach on a low ledge safe in the knowledge that nothing dire will happen as a consequence.

- Run your finger over all the lovely non-sticky surfaces in your home.

- Check out your nice clean, puke/snot free shoulders.

- Wear a necklace knowing that no-one will try and either a) garotte you or b) pull it to pieces and choke on the bits.

California Dreaming

Since I last wrote Casper has celebrated turning three, and boy did he milk it.  It was the first time that he has really cottoned on to the whole birthday concept and he was hugely excited.  He thought it was sheer magic how he wanted something, such as Tidmouth Sheds (for the uninitiated that’s Thomas the Tank Engine’s house) and a Thomas cake, and then they miraculously appeared – if only things were always that simple.  Of course, now he’s the big three he is full of worldly wisdom and is not slow to impart it upon us, including such gems as, babies sleep inside conkers until they are ready to be born and if you poke bath bubbles they don’t pop they just shoot up inside your finger, fact.

We have also just returned from a holiday in San Francisco.  We took in all the touristy sights, the Golden Gate Bridge (although it was so foggy it took four visits before we actually saw it, we were beginning to think it was an urban myth, like Nessie and streak free fake tan) and that famously child-friendly attraction – Alcatraz.  In fact the boys really enjoyed the boat trip out to “The Rock” and Casper liked playing with the headphones and buttons on the audio tour.  I actually thought the audio tour was superb, clear, atmospheric, perfectly pitched and wonderfully told by a selection of wardens and inmates.  At least it was right up until Casper loudly insisted that he needed a poo – the mood was somewhat shattered after that.  When we got back home the checkout guy at our local supermarket asked about our trip and seemed overly shocked that we took the boys to Alcatraz, I mean I know it’s not Disney World but still.  He later admitted he’d got confused and thought we’d taken the children on holiday to Guantanemo Bay.

Family Fun

 

Dazzling.

 

As we were lucky enough to be travelling with “Gran and Pops” Neil and I were able to make use of their babysitting expertise and enjoy a rare night out together.  We chose to go to the achingly cool Alembic Bar, voted one of GQ’s top ten bars in North America.  It’s an amazing bar, relaxed yet special.  They are famous for their cocktails so Neil and I tried our best to blend in with the crowd looking as nonchalant as we could whilst inside fizzing with the excitement of being out past 7pm and sampled a few of their specialities.  They were delicious yet potent, especially for a small statured girl who’s just spent nearly a year in a country where you practically need to remortgage your home to afford alcohol.  I had three of the delicious little drinks and can now tell you with absolute authority that the loo in our holiday house was made by American Standard, though you had to be looking at it pretty closely to notice.  I think it was the ‘Jack Rose’ that did me in – note to self, next time don’t go for anything that is described as a ‘home wrecker of a cocktail’.

We also made the obligatory stop at Lombard Street, the ‘twistiest’ street in the world, and also one of the steepest, it seemed unnatural to have paving slabs on such a ridiculously steep hill.  Fortunately for me though it was good training for the ‘Grouse Grind’ which I completed the morning after we returned.  There’s nothing quite like a nice Sunday morning mountain climb to remind me that we’ve returned from the edgy cocktail bars of San Francisco to good old outdoor obsessed Vancouver.  I did the hike as part of a team raising money for the Alzheimer Society, teams of seven people were trooping up Grouse Mountain whilst another team in Africa simultaneously scaled Mount Kilimanjaro – Grouse Mountain is 1/7 the height of Kilimanjaro.  Halfway up my dumpy little legs were struggling with the steep rock steps but the lure of massages and burgers at the top kept me going.  The Grouse Grind is famous here and people do it regularly trying to beat their personal best time, there’s a leader board at the top.  Buzzing on adrenaline after we finished I was quite keen to have another attempt in a few weeks time and try and speed up a little, though the reminder that Jean-Luc wouldn’t be waiting at the top to give me a rub down then swiftly made me see sense.

 

 

Tat’s Life

We have recently been treated to a lovely visit from Mum/Granny.  During her stay we took a day trip to the stunning Bowen Island. A speedy launch (with English Bay Launches) made the short journey over there great fun.  Or at least it was fun for most of us, whenever it went any faster than a snail’s pace Theo flung himself onto the floor face down screaming and gripping on for dear life.  I think it’s safe to say we don’t have a budding Ben Ainslie in our midst.  Perhaps it’s hereditary, I recently took him on a toddler’s fairground ride and had to close my eyes for the duration to stop myself vomiting on the child in front.

When we arrived at the island we did what all good tourists do and headed straight for the tourist information centre, a pretty wooden cottage not far from the delightfully named ‘Snug Cove’ where we had arrived. The woman who seemingly ran the centre came rushing out to meet us on the steps fastening her shirt and looking rather flustered.  Whatever she’d been doing in there it certainly wasn’t reading up on the attractions of the island on which she was vague at best.  We asked for a map and let her get back to whatever she was doing.  The rest of the island did not disappoint, from beautiful lagoons, to a stunning lake and forests in between it was a real taste of Canada (and the extremely Canadian pitcher of Sangria drunk in the sunshine overlooking Snug Cove didn’t go down too badly either).

Unfortunately during Mum’s stay there was a bit of a break in the uninterrupted sunshine we have become used to so we made a beeline for the ever popular and mainly undercover Vancouver Aquarium.  Whilst we have visited many times before this was the first time we managed to catch the Beluga show.  Perhaps in hindsight is was a mistake to put Theo in his pushchair right at the front of the “Splash Zone”.

It appears Theo got so soaked he was washed right back to the 1950′s

I also introduced Mum to two Vancouver essentials, pedicures and sushi. Despite her having to eat the sushi with a knife and fork both were a real hit.

What do you think of my Kitsilano nails? Too subtle?

I’ve recently been getting really into the Kitsilano ‘vibe’ and have taken up Yoga.  All I need to do now is develop a serious coffee habit and I could practically pass as a local.  There is one local trend though that I didn’t suggest Mum tried – that of sporting absolutely huge tattoos.  Everyone seems to have them, apparently it’s ‘very West Coast’.  I was warned that once everyone strips off their rain-soaked winter gear (which they don’t hang about doing) the beaches are awash with a riot of brightly coloured body art, but I don’t think I was prepared for quite how much there was concealed beneath all those heavy duty North Face jackets.  I’m no stranger to tattoos myself.  I was once rebellious enough to get one, though my rebelliousness was fairly half-hearted and I made sure that it was small (thankfully, as I passed out twice during the experience) and in a place that would neither show when I was fully clothed nor (and most importantly) sag when I am older.  These though are in a different league, whole arms, legs and backs totally covered in ink, so many that those without are in the minority.  Some I expect will be regretted in years to come, such as the girl Neil saw with a picture of R2D2 etched on to her entire left calf.  This one though I’m sure will always be adored by its owner…

I’ve a feeling this leg isn’t attached to a Canadian.

In other news my little boy has started pre-school.  Despite protesting on the way that he wanted to stay home with Mummy he could barely conceal his glee when he arrived and saw two of his favourite things, other children and a train set.  All the other children were clinging to their beloved parents whilst Casper said “see you later Mummy” and got stuck in.  I was proud though a little put out that I wasn’t more sorely missed, particularly as number two son was crying because he also wanted to stay.

Olympic Fever

Like every other Brit I am currently totally obsessed with the Olympics.  Barely a minute goes by without my Facebook updating with a picture of yet another person I know enjoying the fun at Olympic Park making me feel extremely jealous and a long way from home.  We have been glued to the coverage, suddenly becoming experts in whatever sport we happen to be watching.  The boys have particularly enjoyed the Show Jumping and Diving with shouts of “woah he’s fallen in the water” every time someone takes a dive.  They were less impressed though with my celebratory ‘running man’ when Andy Murray won gold, I’ve clearly succumbed to the dreaded mum dancing.  I still haven’t quite recovered from the emotional rollarcoaster of the phenomenal opening ceremony, I was bawling my eyes out by about five minutes in.  I managed to keep the boys attention for most of it by offering various snacks and Casper enjoyed singing along to Emeli Sande’s beautiful version of Abide With Me with the lyrics of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.  One slight blip in the warm fuzzy feeling that has hung over me for the past week and a half though is that I did the BBC website’s “which athlete are you most like” quiz in which they tell you exactly that, based on your height and weight.   Neil was matched with gold medal winning and easy on the eye triathlete Alistair Brownlee, I on the other hand apparently most resemble a South Korean weight lifter, a male one.

With Canada currently only having won one gold medal Olympics fever is far from an epidemic here.  The local beauty salon is running a half hearted Olympics themed offer on facials (I’m not sure what the connection is) but other than that you could easily forget they were happening.  I imagine it was a slightly different story when Vancouver hosted the Winter Olympics two years ago, in fact I know that it was as a high percentage of the local population are still wearing “Vancouver 2010″ merchandise with pride.  I’m not sure how long they can continue to do this without looking a bit manky, that’s the problem with wearing clothes with the year you bought them emblazoned on the front.  I’m still clinging on to plenty of items of clothing that are far older than I would like to admit but luckily I don’t have to broadcast it to the world every time I wear them (which is a lot).

Despite being thousands of miles away from London our lives haven’t been totally devoid of live sports action.  We took a trip to see the imaginatively named ‘Vancouver Canadians’ baseball team.  Sitting in the stadium felt as though we had been transported into an American film and whilst the game wasn’t quite as heart stoppingly action packed as some of the Olympic events, in fact in this particular match no-one scored anything for 6 innings, it was a great family day out.  It seems as though it’s North America’s version of Cricket, beer, sunshine and the occasional concussion from a ball being hit into the crowd.  The groundsmen performed choreographed dance routines, music blared out – “another one bites the dust” or “you had a bad day” etc when a batsman was out, a mascot in a bear suit scared Theo and rather more unpredictably three people dressed as sushi raced each other around the edge of the pitch.

In fact we have also been treated to some world class competition of our own.  The annual “Celebration of Light” pits international fireworks teams against one another.  Thousands of people line the waterfront for three nights to watch the displays that are set to music and conducted from a barge moored in English Bay.  I went down to the beach to watch the Vietnamese entry and whilst it was a lovely setting and the pretty fireworks appealed to the Disney princess in me I think I may have been a bit spoiled by watching on TV the fabulous displays in London this year – particularly the New Year celebrations.  However, having said that it was quite a novelty going to a fireworks display without putting on all the clothes I own first, I think when I was a child freak weather conditions must have always made November 5th the coldest night of the year.

The Khatsalano Music and Arts Festival took place recently which saw the main street near us closing for a day and hosting ten stages and over 40 bands. Despite a worrying amount of angsty North American rock we listened to some great music and soaked up the cheery atmosphere.  We also saw a sight we had only previously seen in films – the eating contest.  I can see why this particular tradition hasn’t quite made it across the Atlantic, I’m still not sure what the appeal is of watching a woman shoveling spicy chicken wings into her mouth whilst sweat drips off the end of her nose, I don’t think we’ll be seeing it in Rio 2016.

Despite currently living in a little patriotic Olympic obsessed bubble every so often something happens to remind us that we are in Canada.  The other day our neighbour went fishing and came back with six freshly caught sockeye salmon, he filleted one and gave us some to cook for our dinner, another thing to add to my ‘wouldn’t happen in Manchester’ list.  It was delicious, the freshest, tastiest salmon I have ever eaten, all four of us devoured it.

In other news, Theo has achieved another milestone – his first haircut.  When Casper’s look tipped over from surfer dude to Boris Johnson I realised it was time to give in and take the boys to the hairdressers.  Despite having a good example set by his big brother, novice Theo was rather wriggly so in order to avoid him ending up a bit Van Gogh I sat him on my lap whilst the hairdresser reached around me in a style reminiscent of Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore in Ghost.  It was unorthodox but effective.