FBIII: Cast a cold eye... last march revisited

Here’s another peep at the stuff Queenie was saying last year.

Here’s the headlines from one of her favourite posts for March 2005; the five reasons why she should go to Canada. With some exciting, new perspective.

Canadian society does not revolve around alcohol

Hahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

God, how naïve is Queenie. She’d totally forgotten about the joys of homegrown.

Seriously, but, alcohol is frowned upon more in Nova Scotia than in Ireland, as the Baptist influence is very strong here. But the Nova Scotia Liquor Corporation is doing pretty well all the same, thank you very much.

Canadian society revolves around ‘family’, watching family members playing hockey/soccer (which Queenie reckons is the Nova Scotian choice of hurling or rugby) at the weekend, watching telly (thirty hours a week per person), playing Grand Theft Auto, and eating.

And there’s the occasional pig roast.

All of which can be accompanied by beer. If you’re not a Baptist.

And the Queen Dad was right when he declared his opinion about Canadians from his hospital bed a year ago.

Queenie won’t print what he said, being in the middle of a visa renewal process and not wanting to be rude.

Well, he was right about most, but not all Canadians. There’s a small island off the coast of Western Nova and a social democrat party that have what Queenie would consider a more Celtic notion of fun than many Nova Scotians.

And most of Cape Breton of course. And probably one or two others in Halifax. Eleven thousand students for a start.

Funny how Queenie managed to find them all!!

But yeah, family… very complicated subject over here.

In Ireland, mostly, still nowadays, well where Queenie comes from anyway, you get stereotypical Irish mammy, pretty good chance of Irish daddy, fairly likely to have a brother or two, one of which will have a beer gut and the other of which’ll have hurler’s bum (unless they’re from Terenure in which case it’ll be rugby gut/ bum), and lots of sisters. Or vice versa.

Here, you could walk into anything. I keep being shocked by how shocked I am at the situations I find here.

Ya can take the Catholic boggirl out of the bog, but you can’t take the whipmarks off her back, no sirree bob no.

Queenie might get a date in Canada

Well, Queenie got Himself here, didn’t she? Although she might not have him for much longer if she doesn’t stop waking him up for company at one in the morning when she can’t sleep for worrying about stupid things, and tending towards being ‘not a morning person’ because she’s had no sleep.

Although he did rub her neck till she got sleepy last night after she woke him up, while managing to go back to sleep himself. So he’s ruined any chance of a full night’s sleep for Himself if she’s around now.

Queenie is a nicer person when she is not in Ireland

Not this week she ain’t. But that’s just because mercury’s retrograde and there’s two lunar eclipses and it’s just wrecking her little crab head.

That and the stress horse roundabout.

But overall, she’s a nicer person. In fact, she’s almost stopped being rude to waiters.

But she gets very homesick for Everyone Except Himself now and again. And that makes her miserable.

That and slave wage employers and lazy civil servants and people who don't clean up after themselves.

Queenie might be able to change career direction in Canada

Hahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

Enough said.

Bad enough that the Queen Dad has been proven right twice in one post. Not going to underline it.

Queenie is doing a course in the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design this term. She is. She is going to embrace her innate creativity.

No really. She sent for the brochure today.

Paper arts, possibly, she's always wanted to make beautiful notebooks.

Having a notebook thing.

And they do the course here.

Queenie’s emotional baggage regarding her last, failed relationship might get sent to Alaska by mistake. Which would be NO BAD THING.

Well it didn’t of course, but it sure looks different under the western Atlantic light.

Time to get the rug and the plate, Queenie reckons.

Anyone up for it?