Adventunes, the final, 24

It's been great, guys. Seriously, really great. I love having this kind of thing as an excuse to create new stuff, with Charlie. Have great, lovely, great holidays.

e

Christmas Light, a somewhat cheesy pop xmas ballad.

Adventunes the 23rd

You might think we're a little behind now, given that it's actually the 24th (and late in that day too...), but, no! This year our family is celebrating Christmas two days later, on the 27th, so that we can all be together, so, actually, this is an intentional lag. Of sorts.

Can't Wait for Christmas Morning

Adventunes...22... .

We're in Edmonton! Yes! So, we made guest star Ryan do pretty much all the work today. Ryan!

Snacks and Drinks and Catching Up

Adventunes !21!

Hey, don't forget:

Also Hanukkah

Adventunes 20 at last

We spend today in airports, mainly. Crazy, crazy, crazy airports. Oh goodness me:

Christmas Eve at Heathrow

Adventunes 19.

Man! Oh man. The two inches of snow here in panic-land has, for the third year in a row, made everyone panicrazy. I know, I know, they don't have the infrastructure. But, three years! Maybe they could get some grit!

Anyway. The flight we're meant to be on, taking us to Christmas, was cancelled today (when we weren't supposed to be on it), but seems to be okay so far for tomorrow (when we are). So. Oh my goodness, fingers crossed. And:

Song to keep the airports open

Adventunes 18, in fact.

I've always love the 3 Kings story. And, also, singing as low as I possibly can. So, both!

Wise Guys

Adventunes is already 17

This one was pretty good fun. The sad thing was all the guys from round the flat that we had to leave out. Still, 12 is cacophonous enough, no?

A Ukulele in a Pear Tree

Adventunes 16ish

Even though we call this the Scottish Carol it was written by a Canadian and an American, in England. Just so you're not disappointed.

Adventunes 14+1= 15

Today was a kinda stressful day of visa prep runaround. (With a rather big lunch in the middle, which helps these sorts of thing.) So, fittingly, we give you:

Travelin' (footsteps in the snow)

Adventunes is 14

A plucky instrumental. For you.

Plums!

Adventunes spooky 13

I really like Oulipo, and how their structured approach to artistic creation can, in fact, liberate. So, in light of that, we n+7'ed O Little Town Of Bethlehem. Special guest star (again) Ben M..

Xmas+7 (An Oulipo Christmas)

Adventunes gone 12

This one performed 100% by guest star Allan Hoyano! On guitar, vocals, and whale-call!

Christmas in Alberta

Adventunes, hey, 11

This one contains kudos to TWO of my all time favorite xmas albums. Can you guess?

Op. 11

Adventunes X

We watched a French movie today, so:

L'Abre en Plastique

Adventunes gone 9

Charlie has recently decided he does like Blues after all. Which is nice, with the Chicago thing. :

Christmas in Chicago

adventunes = 8

This one is SUPER-EXCITING! Recorded at Stephen, my PhD supervisor's house, with his family! His son is ten and wants to be a rapper. Hence, this tune. He wrote it himself! Amazing. His daughter is seven and played the rain-stick brilliantly. His wife is doctor (a real one, not like me) and sometimes has to be on call or in the ER on major holidays. Like Janice. So, in their honour, we wrote:

Workin' at Christmas

Adventunes 7 (seven)

Charlie and I wrote this one last night on the train to London, mostly, but couldn't internet it to you; but now we have! I think it's the most from-a-musical-sounding one yet. Hurrah? Hurrah!

Christmas in England

Adventunes-6!

Happy Birthday Chris!

And, also, here's a tune! With help from another guest collaborator: Ben M!

Grow Slow (33 Wishes)

Adventunes: The 5th.

Today we're more pensive = All real instruments this time.

Sometimes the snow melts

Adventunes, 4!

This is a very special edition...featuring Gia Anne-Marie! Today is her birthday. So we let her rap about it. The tragedy of December birthdays revealed:

Mizzleto'

Adventunes...3?

Student cellos, aged 4-6, bring glad tidings.

(Just because I have a cello doesn't mean I can play the cello.)

Adventunes 2!

Entitled:

What you doin' hatin' on Christmas?

With a good message. I feel.

Adventunes 1: Hush, winter time.

It's December! YEAH! So. Even people who don't understand about the four Sundays thing still have to admit that it's now, officially, advent.

Which means:

Advent treats! This year, Charlie and I, inspired by our summer Wikipedia Challenge at Arteles, have decided to push ourselves and write you a NEW CHRISTMAS CAROL EVERY DAY*! I know. I know! We'll write and record them pretty fast, cause it's a busy time of year, so they won't be polished gems of seasonal perfection. But we'll do each with love. Always with love.

So. Today, we humbly presented you the first of these carols. Given the newness of the season, we decided to open with a humble, somber(ish), advent carol. You know how those are always kind of sad? Yeah. I'll call it...

Hush, winter time

*There is a possibility that we might, on some days, write new versions of old carols too.

Count-down to the count-down

It's! Almost! December!

I'm pretty excited about this year's advent count-down blogging treats-surprise. Aren't you? I think this might just be the best year yet. Check back here on Wednesday for more.

...

.

Snail and tortoise and publishing

So. People ask me a lot about the novel.

I ask myself a lot about the novel.

And I ask my agent a-fair-amount-but-waaaaaaay-less than I want to about the novel.

It's been with my agent, a good agent, from a very good agency, for months. For too, too, long. And, sometimes, this makes me frustrated, or sad. But then I go online and find things like this (from former agent Nathan Bransford's blog)and feel a little bit better, if a little bit worse. :


"How Long Does It Take to Sell A Novel?

About that long.

In the last couple of weeks I've received several distressed e-mails from authors who have reputable agents and who have novels out on submission to editors, and really they want to trust their agents and they're trying to be good and non-high maintenance, but seriously could the submission process really take this long?

Yes, it can.

But what if, one of these authors asked, a publisher expressed interest several months ago and then nothing has happened at all. Could they really still be interested? And if they were interested a couple of months ago why in the heck haven't they made an offer already?

Happens all the time.

I always assure these authors to just keep in touch with their agent, be patient, take up knitting, and go easy on the bourbon. Settle in for the long haul. A book might sell in a week or it might sell in a year. You never know.

So why does it take so long for an editor to make a decision anyway? Well, there are many reasons. First of all, it takes a long time to read a book. 6 hours on average, if you are a speed reader (and you'd better be if you're in publishing), and editors receive multiple submissions a day. Do the math and there just aren't enough hours in the day, especially when you already have a full time job while you're not reading. The first major delay is the editor simply sitting down with the book in question for a six hour stretch.

But let's say the editor does read the book, loves it, and wants to make an offer. What then?

Well, unless they are a serious publishing mucky muck, editors have to get approval to make an offer, a process similar to unlocking a nuclear bomb. They have to get it past editorial board, they have to get more reads, these reads have to be good, they have to unlock the failsafe and contact the president to press a button on the nuclear football, the sales team gets a look, some higher up has to sign off on it..... and all of these people have to read the book too. Multiply those six hours by ten, and then maybe the editor gets approval to make an offer of a certain amount.

Now, what's funny about all this is that when there's a hot project all of this goes out the window and people quickly lose their minds and the whole above process can be condensed to a couple of hours. Frankly it's a good thing publishing companies don't actually control our nuclear stockpile -- one whiff of a rock star memoir and bye bye Uzbekistan.

So I know it's terribly frustrating to go months and months looking for an agent and then FINALLY the book gets submitted....... and then wait months and months while you're waiting for editors to read it.

Welcome to publishing. You have no choice but to stay a while."



Oh. Okay. Fine.

"How intra-textual musical association in novels develops and defines literary character"

And, just like that, I'm

A DOCTOR!

A real, live, PhD-haver. I am.

(From the University of East Anglia. Here is their awesome crest:)



And, the best thing about it is that I really learned tonnes and tonnes of stuff. I am so grateful to Stephen, my supervisor, for being an incredibly picky (in the kindest way) stickler for academic preciseness, clarity, knowledge and evidence. I know I would never have been able to hold my own confidently in this incredibly competitive, terrifying, and stringent world of 'real high academia' without his guidance.

So, if anyone's curious about Derridian implications of literary polyphony, just let me know. In the meantime, I'm gonna go change my title on my Grocery store club-points card...

HURRAH!

(And, as an after-thought. This probably marks the end of 26 years of nearly-consecutive schooling. wow.)

My friend TED

TED talks are great, hey?

More than a force for good, they're a force for thought which is more long-lasting and, therefor, maybe, important. It's like the old BodyShop slogan about teaching people to fish. Only, here, it's:

Be nice to someone and they'll improve for a day.

Teach someone to think about what being nice really means and the whole world gets better forever.

Or something like that.

They're not all ground-breaking or intriguing, but many, maybe even most, are. Here's one of my favorites in terms of thought-provokation (not a real word, yet):

Some more Finnish Things

So, I'm back in Finland, on a mini-tour, and have, for you:

Two more great Finnish things:

1) Running along an isolated road deep in the dense pine-and-birch forest, I am passed by a red car. Not long later, the car has turned around, driven back to me, and stopped. Inside: an older man (70s? 80s?) and a dog (beagle). The man rolls down the window and says something to me in Finnish. I say one of the very very few things I can say in Finnish: "I don't speak Finnish. Do you speak English?" he laughs and says he doesn't speak English and proceeds to get out of the car...

So. In a lot of places this would be the scary bit. For me, it was the hilarious bit. Even though he knows I don't speak Finnish, the man goes on to talk to me about...stuff in Finnish. Shakes my hand, gets excited and says "Arteles!" in a happy way. We establish, through gesticulation, that I am here as a musician and, through gesticulation and the fact that his suspenders have hunting scenes on them that he is here hunting. He laughs a lot, shakes my hand again, and drives away with his dog.

Finland is awesome. Imagine driving back to introduce yourself to every stranger you saw in LA.

2) The "recycling shop" which is a lot like our charity or second-hand shops except...everything is free! What? Yeah! House-hold items, clothes, toys, furniture, whatever. The government provides funding for the rent, heating, etc, and, in turn, people throw away a lot less stuff and waste a lot less money! I got two toques, ten buttons, and some really nice mittens. All for free!

All this is reminiscent to me of a book Charlie was reading once, called "The European Dream" . I think these countries may be on to something ( ahem ). And I think I like it.

Numbers

And then last week I turned 30, and it was no big deal at all. I went swimming in the river, ate candy from Charlie got flowers from Bryce. I like 30. I feel thirty. I am very very happy. I love my job(s), my people, my life.

That's all.

Stage non-presence.

Knowing how to hold yourself and what to do with things like your hands while performing on stage is a pretty important skill in my line of work. People call this stage presence.

But there's another, related, but also kind of opposite skill that's equally important, really. That's knowing what to do when you're onstage but not performing. Stage non-presence.

For a little while, in The Cedar, whenever Neil would do a solo thing, the rest of us would knit, onstage. That kind of worked, but probably wouldn't go over too well with some of my bigger freelance stuff.

A drummer friend told me once about a guy in his band who would crouch down into a ball with his hands over his ears when he wasn't playing. Then he got kicked out of the band.

It's a tough question, what to do when everyone is kind of but not really looking at you. Look at the performer, look straight ahead, look all over the place? Dance a bit? Stay very, very still?

Here's a video (probably off someone's phone. The audience singing is a nice perk) I found on youtube of my gig from this weekend of me mostly not-playing. These are the sorts of things I use as study guides. I think I wave my bow around way too much. But the subtle head-dancing is nice...

Kyrös...FM!

Dear everyone,

As you probably know, I was just in Finland, at the magnificent Arteles.

As you maybe also know, Charlie and I had a daily radio show there. (There is a studio attached to the kitchen. Like any quality residency should have.)

But perhaps you did not know that we set ourselves a challenge for this radio show. Every day (every day!*) we hit "random page" on wikipedia, and then wrote, recorded and produced a song based on whatever random page came up. We had 90 minutes to complete each one, and then we played them on that day's radio show.

Of course, musical genius/hilarity ensued.

And now, you can listen to all those songs! Even if you're not in Finland. We've put them all up on bandcamp for you.

So. Listen. And tell us your favorite! But don't tell us your least favorite, that would be too sad.



*Except a few days. Like when we were in Estonia. Or the day we went to go look at art around a lake.

Now that I'm a knight.

So, I'm a Finnish Knight now.

Saturday was my first ever gig with my new solo act "Waitress for the Bees," performing tracks from my upcoming dinosaur-based "Albertosaurus" album. And, despite my being terrified, it went remarkably well. See:

1) I made at least four grown men cry with my artistic rendering of mass extinction.

2) I impressed enough people to secure enough gigs to book a little Finnish tour, probably in October.

and, most importantly, surely,

3) It impressed a Grand Master enough to get me knighted. In a cellar-cavern, by a benevolent horn-head, no less.

Yeah! Yep. For real. Charlie too. Four men in tuxedos, various medallions and real-live viking hats invited us to their headquarters on Sunday. Where they processed, played a drum, read from a scroll tied up in red ribbon, and then led us, one at a time, to the knighting cavern.

In the Cavern, you could not speak. You knelt on a scarlet cushion bearing the knightly insignia and they put a quite heavy sword on your shoulders and said nice things about you in Finnish. The gave you a crest-thing, and a scroll/knightly diploma bearing your name and a bunch more nice things about you, in Finnish, and then you got to drink some "Spiritual Drink" out of a giant horn. Now, and forever, a Finnish knight of the order of the benevolent horn-heads.

Then you went back to the main house-HQ and had cake and coffee.

I can't wait for my second gig.

Sauna-Drunk

Oh boy, I am so melty right now.

Thanks, Sauna.

Sure, we had saunas back home, in Canada, and there are saunas in England too, and in somewhat out-spacey hotel basements all over the world; however, the Finnish Home-Sauna, is an entity and experience all of its own.

It consists of three chambers and outside.

-In the first chamber you take off your shoes and sometimes undress. Some people like to undress in the second chamber instead. That's okay too. Things like chopped wood and matches and kindling and clean little body place-mats for sitting on hot hot wood are stored in the first chamber.

-In the second chamber there are small basins and a big basin and a hose. You use the hose to fill the basins. You light a fire under the big basin. You do not light fires under the small basins, they are plastic. Instead, you use hot water made hot in the big basin to mix with the cold hose water in the small basin to make for the perfect luke warm water. This is mostly done with ladles. We'll get back to this luke-warm water in a minute.

-In the third chamber is heat! And some wooden benches. There is another fire, which you have lit (along with the second chamber's big-basin fire) about an hour ago. It's now rollicking along, cracking and cooking. And above this fire are the coals. These two things, the fire and the coals, make for a 75-100 degree Celcius throat burning, body dripping experience. Plus, you get another ladle in here! To ladle water onto the coals to make it Even Hotter. Have fun kids, but be careful. When you get too hot to breath, head back to the second chamber and use one of its ladles to scoop luke-warm water (or freezing cold water, if you prefer) all over yourself. This is how you bathe! Isn't it great. Then,

-Outside. Outside is outside. There are chairs here to sit naked in the fresh air while your body tries to figure out what is going on. Once it has, or once the mosquitoes have noticed you, go back in the sauna and start again. (Sometimes outside means jumping in a lake, if one is handy. Or drinking beer and/or eating something grilled.)

And again and again. And tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. To be done with family and friends. Which I think is just lovely. Sitting naked and quiet in the hot-wood heat.

PS. I didn't have energy (because I'm sauna-melted right now) to mention the vasta (or vihta ). It's great too.

Making, eating.

(my swimming lake)

I have been at Arteles, Finland, for almost a week now, and, sheesh, the Arteles folk sure know how to make a place you don't want to leave. I'm already semi-panicking about the fact that in a mere three weeks there will be no more sauna, no more lake swims, no more creative energy pulling me up and through the day on a kind of stress-free adrenaline that's next to impossible to recreate. The kind of place where you get up in the morning because the excitement of another day that is just yours (by which I mean mine) to create in is too much to sleep through.
(our room/my studio)

This is all great.

But the real thing I wanted to mention, today, is that creative people love making things. There are all sorts of creative people here, visual artists, writers, musicians, researchers, builders, all kinds. And what do creative people do for breaks from their projects? They create other, non-project things! Namely...food! There has been fresh baked bread almost every single day here. And cookies. And, of course, where you have international people, you get...international food! Installation artist Maya made us Shakshooka! And just this morning we woke up to the better-than-bacon smell of Teemus' mom's amazing Pulla!

I guess I had better pull my weight and make something traditionally Canadian. Um...poutine?

New home old home

In brief, for now,

over the next month, I will be in Finland. Here:


Just arrive, but noted thus-far:

Finland looks an awful, awful lot like Alberta.

sadtimes.

Two sad things:

One: Ben Goode, Cedar bassist, trumpeter, running-partner, and voice-of-calm-and-reason, has had to step down, out of the band due to various understandable tug-of-war factors. Ben was kinda like the 'dad' in our band-family, an important balancing feature both musically and personality-ly and we will all really really miss him.

Two: A crazy time for music. Not long after Ben's Cedar-retirement came the announcement of Danny's Babel-retirement. And with it, the retirement of all things Babel. Babel! Easily one of the very best bands in terms of music, stage presence, and funtimes I've ever played with. My first real rock-and-roll tour was with Babel! If you don't already have it (probably because I gave it to you), I'd recommend running out and grabbing their album Crooked Timber, before it's too late... .

We are !wichtig!

This weekend was Glastonbury festival. I didn't go. For the first time in years, I did not lug instruments around and across that sprawling mud. Nope. This year, instead, I went continental, I went to play Berlin’s sun-and-fun-filled

Fusion Festival.

Fusion is held on what was once a soviet air training base, in the former DDR (Soviet bit of Germany. The Eastern bit). The stages were old aircraft hangars and we were issued foot and drink stamps. (A lot of them. Maybe, even, too many. On our last morning, I had to have a fajita and a banana smoothie and a fresh-squeezed orange juice and a waffle and a chai latte for breakfast to try to use them up. I still didn’t. I feel this is, perhaps, not an exact parallel to the situation in the actual Soviet state.)


Our accomodation was one giant tent with ten canvas stretchers all in a row. Very much like a world-war-one hospital tent. Quite possibly an actual was a world-war-one hospital tent.

Along with the loads of food and kitsch/nostalgia hospitality, highlights of Fusion include:

-The fact that the festival was totally sold out (55,000 tickets, I think), despite the fact that none of the acts are announced until after all tickets are sold. Meaning these audiences aren't out to just-see-the-big-names, they come, and cheer and dance and make you feel really great, and see everything. A music festival, not a celebrity-spotting-event.

-There's a free bus that leaves every 30 minutes to take you to a lake for swimming.

And, finally:

-Getting a big sticker that says "!WICHTIG!" to put on our van. We're keeping that.

co-op coup

So. It's the world cup. Right now. And, as a proud Canadian, I don't really care much. I mean, it's not the OLYMPICS or anything. But, whoa, this country, this UKland, certainly does care. And uses that care to sell things, like yogurt and small sausages.

Consider, if you will, this gallery of products I found lurking at my local Co-op:


Pizza. An appropriate football-watching snack-food. Also, it's round. Like a ball. In 2-D.


Cheese-in-wax. Festive! Also, somewhat round.



I'm not sure what a 'Frube' is, but I think it involves yogurt. Which could help if you were, say, playing football but also felt bloated.


Coke, of course.


And, of course, Pepsi.


And where would professional sporting be solid blocks of calorie?


And, finally, soccer-ball-shaped-buns. Because you are what you eat. Or, rather, you are good at playing games that involve things that look like what you eat. Go England!

weektime.

Ever wondered what a Week-In-The-Life-of-a-Freelance-Violist is like? Come on, we all have. Well, no need to wonder any longer! Here, ladies and gentlemen and everyone else, is a breakdown of one of the most this-is-almost-a-real-job-like weeks I've had yet.



Sunday (30/5/10):
The Cedar (my band. You know that) are in Germany! Again! This is our third day of a little three day tour. We play two gigs. One of them is in the German Garden of Eden (see photo, above). Ben H. and Neil think this is awesome.





And the other is at some kind of German festival. This was my other favorite band there:




Monday (31/5/10):
The band drives home. We pass through Germany, Holland, Belgium, France, some water, and England. I edit some writing in the van and we make Band Plans For The Future. We make Ben G. wear this so we don't forget who he is:






Tuesday (1/6/10):
Morning: Sleep and run off the tour.
Afternoon: Teach some violin and viola and general love and appreciation for music.
Evening: Meet uni students for one-on-one chats about their final portfolios. They give me funny awesome presents.



Wednesday (2/6/10):
Morning: gig testing microphones at Peter Gabriel's studio. Fun! Just a regular quartet practice, really, but all recorded on a million microphones. And free lunch too!
Afternoon/Evening: Gig in London with Benjamin Brunel's Band. So. Lots more driving. Then gigging at a great place that had black sesame ice cream. Then driving again. Hometime = 3am.



Thursday (3/6/10):
Morning: gig recording string parts for a hilarious top-40 pop album by a guy who used to do the music for Riverdance. Worst thing: they filmed some of the session to use in a music video. And none of us had had any showers, or sleep. Best thing: the AWESOME SKINNY CAT they had at that studio! Look! (Remember, I've had no shower or sleep. Focus on the cat, please.)









Afternoon: Teaching the violin/viola/etc. Also a tiny 10-minute powernap in the supply closet.
Evening: gig at Gascoyne place, with the lovely and talented C. Williams, playing Amelie and Tango stuff mostly. Free food is good.



Friday (4/6/10):
Morning: gig recording for Dr. Meaker, an awesome drum and bass guy in Bristol. He has some gold-fish in a big tupperware.
Afternoon/Evening: gig in Birmingham with Ben Brunel band again. More driving. Great venue! The Glee Club. Check it out. Our opening act is some kind of experimental group who mostly eat marshmallows.



Saturday (5/6/10) (today!):
DAY OFF! Yes! Run 16km. Swim in the river. Go to the circus. Life is great! Life is great.

all the news.

Little bits today.

So. First things first. Chris got married. To the awesome Janice, whose friends and family, it turns out, are also awesome. So, that's great.

And, much activity and progress in worm-and-stick-insect land. Charlie has written ever so eloquently about it. Here.

Okay, biking friends and family, I need help.

How do I beat the sixteen-year-olds?

See, these kids, these little boys have joined my Saturday morning road biking club. Up until now it's been a bunch of 30-60 something men and me and that's been just fine. But now, these kids, and their terribly, terribly fresh legs, are shaking it up.

In short: They're faster than me.

I know I've got them beat on endurance, which is great, but they've got me whipped every time we hit a hill. And it's the English countryside, so it's only hills. Big, terribly hills. So, quick! What can I do to make my legs as strong as a boy who's not quite graduated high school?

There is a double-pride issue at stake here. Not just age, but, also, as the only woman in the club, I feel it is my responsibility to strongly represent my gender and not be the last one up riding (or walking...) up these hills... .

Funky Bunch

So, on Wednesday, I played a gig, recording a track for an upcoming film. A film starring Mark Mark and Christian Bale . Which, at first, I thought was hilarious, but then I remembered 'I Heart Huckabees' and 'Swing Kids' and it was a little bit more cool and less hilarious.

Funky Bunch aside,

I've done soundtrack work before, both in terms of score and songs, but this was the first time I've done a song that's been specially commissioned by and for the film. I'm not going to get into this-case specifics too much; however, this is an interesting musical/cinematic phenomenon. Essentially, in this situation, the film-music-bosses contact a band and say, "write us exactly this kind of song." Whether or not that's the kind of song the band would normally write/sing/like. And they generally do, maybe losing a tiny bit of artistic integrity but gaining a tiny bit more fame/fortune. (And then they hire us to play awesome hard rock string riffs. And then play them again. And then again. And then again but up the octave. And then again. Until three little players sound like the London Phil... only much cheaper. And easier to fit in the studio.)

Another week, another quite fun/funny thing to do with one's viola.

Home-made-making

Soon, a post about adventuresinPortugaland.

But first:

Reason #74 why Charlie is brilliant to live with:

Today, while I just played the same few bars of Beethoven again and again, he:

-pickled beets

-candied ginger

-candied lemon and orange peel

-used our expired milk to make cheese.

(Grandma Old (and Gloria, for that matter) would be proud.)

Hypersonic.

I know, I know, real, proper string players change their strings, like, every year. Or every morning. Or something.

But it's expensive, and scary. What if the new strings sound horrible and ruin everything and I can't afford newer-new ones and my career is ruined? Etc.

It's kind of like getting new shoes as a runner. You know you should do - or need to do - but you've formed such a bond with the old ones, and their run-down has been gradual, and therefor hardly noticeable and your knee problem is probably more to do with eating cakes or something than those Mizunos. Just leave the Mizunos alone, okay? Okay.

It's the same with strings. So, I do with strings what most runners do with shoes: I spent years (and years and years), more than ten years, in fact, using exactly the same brand; waiting until the absolute last minute and then replacing my dead Helicores with new Helicores, like a clever magician's swap, in hope that all will sound and feel the same.

But not this time. No. No. Not Helicores anymore.

There has been a slow creep of discontent with the Hs. They're maybe just a bit too mellow, the C's maybe just a bit to floppy, and, really, they're kind of studenty. I can afford better now. Maybe I deserve better. Like:

Evah Pirazzi

The 'Evah' stands for: Extra Value Added Hypersonic. Seriously.

So, obviously, I took the NEW-new-strings plunge with these.

Review thus far: like metallic butter. Which kind of sounds like a bad thing, but is actually such a good, good thing. I love them. They're clearer while at the same time softer, while at the same time hinting at this crisp metallic sheen.

So...change can be good? Weird. All I can say is: it's a good thing I like them, as I'm not planning on switching again for at least another decade or so. Phew.

Squirmorama

I guess it's time to tell you about our other 100 pets.

Well, here's the package that came in the post:



These guygirls are brilliant. I love them. We built them a wormery out of two rubbermaid bins and, at first, there was drama, there was initial shock and an obstinate refusal to accept said bins as "home," resulting in dried out streches of dead worm discovered across the kitchen floor each morning, as the deluded things tried to escape...perhaps trying to get to the window or maybe out the front door, down the three flights of stairs and out into the lush worm-paradise of Bennett Street.

But they didn't make it. They never did. They just stretched and stretched across the dry floor for a meter or so and then died.

Then they quit trying, which was best for everyone, really. Because much as I love cereal, scooping up dead worm corpses isn't so good for the breakfast appetite.

And now they're resigned to their fate, and, I'm assuming, very, very happy. They squirm, they eat our banana peels and tea bags, they squirm, the excrete miracle fertilizer, they eat our leek ends, they squirm. And everyone is happy.

I like to open up the bin and just look at them. It's bonding.

stick it.

So.

We got some

NEW PETS!

116 new pets to be exact.

I'll tell you about 101 of them later (not dalmations. I wish. Oh, I wish), but now I'm going to tell you about the first fifteen. Our fifteen

STICK BUGS!

(Or, 'stick insects' if you prefer.)

Every time I pass their enclosure it's like Where's Waldo, but with sticks (bugs). A more rewarding pet-type I could not imagine.

They are all female, all green, and all skinny. They eat ivy and bramble, the two most available forms of foliage in this country. They grow by hanging off leaves and dripping themselves out of their old, too small, bodies.

And, they look like sticks.

The motivational importance of lists

Sigh:

Winter in England, the true story

Snow days

Though it has melted now, earlier this month there was snow. Here in England, there was snow.

Also, last year, for two days, there was snow, here, in England, in Bath.

Before that, there had been no snow for (someone not at all completely reliable told me) twelve years.

So. There was snow. And last year and this year everything _everything_ shut down. Buses, libraries, schools, doctors, everything. There wasn't a lot of snow, maybe two inches at most on the ground but that two inches was enough to cancel everything.

As a fairly snow-hardy Canadian ex-pat, I've decided on two ways of looking at this:

1) Disgusted: Geez. People. It's two inches of snow. Maybe the urban infrastructures aren't prepared for such things, but, really. It's not so so scary. Not as scary as, say, all the doctors' offices being closed.

2) Celebratory: I'm not sure I believe people when they say they canceled/closed things being of the scariness of snow. I think, really, the British are just joyous little children at heart. They close the schools due to weather, so everyone should be huddled inside, right? But no, everyone is outside, building snow things, throwing snow, sliding on the snow, experiencing it. Not just children. All those doctors too. It'd be like if Edmonton declared a holiday whenever it got hotter than 25C, so we could all rush to the lakes and ice cream parlours. And, who cares if the Australians laugh. Yeah? Yeah.