The Big Sleep

The Big Sleep

Okay, maybe it's the overdose of Halloween candy, but something got me wondering about writers and suicide.

And for those of you who love lists...

The Electronic Canvas

The Electronic Canvas

Everyone who visited our last place admired our small collection of original paintings. So, until the art goes up in our new place (someone has to choose the wall colours first!) you can enjoy the work of my very talented Auntie, and her friend, Prue on their new blogs!

Home Sweet Home

Home Sweet Home

We returned home to discover:

1) The great idea to wash all the bath towels before leaving would have worked out better if I had remembered to dry them also.

2) Our neighbour, the one we hoped would never get around to chopping down his 12-ft hedge, got around to it. Now instead of lush green, my office looks out onto, well, blech.

3) You-Know-Who was profiled by the Vancouver Sun as one of 100 Influential Chinese- Canadians in BC.

Go ahead. Laugh.

Higher Learning

Higher Learning

We made it down to Cambridge for bookshopping, as well as elbow rubbing with the academic set. John and I both agreed that had our respective university campuses boasted castles and cathedrals and people in long black robes, we would have taken our educations more seriously. Forget computer labs, students need gargoyles and flying buttresses.

The remainder of our Peterborough time passed in a blur of delicious food, weekend magazines and time with my Auntie and Uncle. John was briefly terrorized by a tortoise.

I ended the trip with a bang -- taking a day with my Auntie to visit the Knitting and Stitchery Show at the Alexandra Palace in London. How awesome was the show? There was a knitted Ferrari on display. That's how awesome.

If It's Sunday, This Must Be Wales

If It's Sunday, This Must Be Wales

After welcoming us to Peterborough and filling us with good English grub (mmm...pork pie...), my Auntie and Uncle whisked us off to Hay-on-Wye, a fairytalish little village whose economy is built around, I kid you not, used bookstores.

There's a used bookstore for every genre, taste, proclivity -- especially good digging for those who enjoy the must and dust of old books. Two days in the town and we still didn't make it into every store.

Clifton House proved a charming home-base, offering a cozy fire every night, and a full-English every morning.

Brighton Rocks

Brighton Rocks

Next stop: home of the dirty weekend and Fat Boy Slim. A great visit with John's pals Alan and Nareesa.

Instant happiness to be back in the Old Blighty.

Paris Pants

Paris Pants

Ah, what can I say about the city of lights except that all things delicious begin with the letter C: champagne, croissant, chocolate chaud, canard.

My French editor, publicist and translator were an absolute dream. The festival, hosted in the affluent suburb of Vincennes proved elegant and stylish in a way only the French could manage.

John and I dashed about Paris, trying to see as much of the city as we could. Okay, by dashed, I mean lounged languidly in cafes.

Highlight of our stay: on the night of a swishy reception, John was refused entry into the American Embassy. A secret handshake and exchange of microfilm later, all was made well.