Titchy Jo

all about me, my boys and my adventures in Canada

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 hourall 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.

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Bizarrely he never found fame across the pond.


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