Canada Day

We had quite a party to celebrate Canada Day. Coincidentally, there was a leaving party for the head of our Department. I didn't get much of a chance to meet him but I think I managed to insinuate myself into his memory with this inspired quip I wrote on his card:

I don't really know you;
our paths haven't crossed.
Now I've lost you like teeth
that have never been flossed.

I dark really vulva sun;
out putts hand cosset.
Ivan ire jolt sow live beet
list bun run has closet.

But the important thing is that it still rhymes.

The BBC also threw another party that day. This one was a departmental party, the stated purpose of which was to thank us for all of our hard work -- blah blah blah.

This party was the last of the night and was held in a pub called the Star and Garter alongside the River Thames. There was a great deal of free food and booze and, in honour of Canada Day, I danced with the grace and delicacy of a startled Moose. Vicki had come down for the weekend and I managed to smuggle her in to both events. Her dancing was shockingly unpatriotic (i.e. un-mooselike). We chatted pleasantly with some fellow Canadian ex-pats whom I work with. I can't remember exactly what we discussed but I do remember that toward the end of the night our toast became a shouted "Up the Beaver!" making it easy to spot the Canadians in the crowd of comparatively staid BBC types. Said toast was not proposed by myself, btw, but by a woman who lived in Calgary for a number of years. So, if you're embarrassed, blame the Calgarians.