The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
J.R.R. Tolkien
Farewell, Canada. You made me stronger.
Thursday 30 July 2009
Wednesday 29 July 2009
Heat
The English weren't made to live in hot climates. Each day this week has been around the 37 degree mark and I think I might actually be dying.
But I'm a survivor. I believe my record's pretty clear on that. And I have been finding new and ingenious ways of getting as much wind to my sweaty nether regions as poss. My favourite is walking down the road with legs a metre and a half apart and bent at the knee. Sure, you look like a pervy frog man, but betty swallocks are not a laughing matter, so I'm happy to take one for the team.
Last night I enjoyed a brilliant pool party at this huge house. Lots of acres, a trampoline, hot tub, couple of dogs, lots of burgers. A classic summer evening.
Today I went into Vancouver and met up with a friend from England who is over here on a holiday too. We were classically English in our crossing of the roads throughout the city, believing that vehicles stop for us, not the other way round.
I've got a couple of days left before heading back to England on Friday. Paul's birthday tomorrow...yippee...
But I'm a survivor. I believe my record's pretty clear on that. And I have been finding new and ingenious ways of getting as much wind to my sweaty nether regions as poss. My favourite is walking down the road with legs a metre and a half apart and bent at the knee. Sure, you look like a pervy frog man, but betty swallocks are not a laughing matter, so I'm happy to take one for the team.
Last night I enjoyed a brilliant pool party at this huge house. Lots of acres, a trampoline, hot tub, couple of dogs, lots of burgers. A classic summer evening.
Today I went into Vancouver and met up with a friend from England who is over here on a holiday too. We were classically English in our crossing of the roads throughout the city, believing that vehicles stop for us, not the other way round.
I've got a couple of days left before heading back to England on Friday. Paul's birthday tomorrow...yippee...
Thursday 23 July 2009
Oh, and another thing...
Something amazing happened to me a couple days back. Via an official Facebook group, I asked a question to one of my heroes, creator of 'The West Wing' - Aaron Sorkin. Within a couple of hours, I got a response! Here's the question and answer:
ME:
Do you ever think twice about writing a piece of dialogue for a character that you've created because of what audiences might feel about you personally? i.e. worry that people might think that Aaron Sorkin might think that, and not separate you from the character you're writing for? Has that ever happened at all in your career, and does it still happen?"
AARON:
Tom,
Truthfully, it happens more than I'd like. I like writing arguments--I like the way they sound--and to do that the characters have to have a strong opinion about something. My thoughts are entirely on the scriptwriting and never--hardly ever--on trying to use one of the characters as a mouthpiece for my own semi-formed opinions.
Thanks for the question.
Aaron
How amazing is that! I honestly believe Sorkin is up there with some of the greatest writers of the last two centuries and he takes the time to answer my question!
ME:
Do you ever think twice about writing a piece of dialogue for a character that you've created because of what audiences might feel about you personally? i.e. worry that people might think that Aaron Sorkin might think that, and not separate you from the character you're writing for? Has that ever happened at all in your career, and does it still happen?"
AARON:
Tom,
Truthfully, it happens more than I'd like. I like writing arguments--I like the way they sound--and to do that the characters have to have a strong opinion about something. My thoughts are entirely on the scriptwriting and never--hardly ever--on trying to use one of the characters as a mouthpiece for my own semi-formed opinions.
Thanks for the question.
Aaron
How amazing is that! I honestly believe Sorkin is up there with some of the greatest writers of the last two centuries and he takes the time to answer my question!
Sneaky Peaky
Not that it's very interesting, but I thought I'd upload a tiny bit of dialogue from my script as it's the main thing I've been doing over the past 3 days. Here it be:
RILEY
It's pretty strange that it would
move all over the place.
OLD MAN
Strange? When you get to my age strange
and normal are the same damn thing.
You go to the washroom when you need to
take a leak. Me? Well, they give me a medal
if I manage to get through the day without
urinating all over myself! Soon enough, a little
bit of yellow on the crotch becomes an
everyday thing.
RILEY
It's pretty strange that it would
move all over the place.
OLD MAN
Strange? When you get to my age strange
and normal are the same damn thing.
You go to the washroom when you need to
take a leak. Me? Well, they give me a medal
if I manage to get through the day without
urinating all over myself! Soon enough, a little
bit of yellow on the crotch becomes an
everyday thing.
Tuesday 21 July 2009
My Spotters
I've wanted to write since I was 13 years old. I've wanted to express myself in any way I could since way before that, but writing, and more specifically movie scripts, probably 13 or 14.
It was at that age that I wrote my first script - a feature film called 'Young Offender'. Pathetic title, I know. It was about a kid who runs away from home in an attempt to find his real Dad and befriends a homeless man along the way. They become friends and it turns out the tramp lost a son and to cut a long story short they find what they were both looking for in each other. Touching.
It's been 4 years since I finished my degree in 'Writing'. Just after I graduated I started a new script and have been working on it ever since. And I am determined to make the most of my remaining time here in Langley to get it finally done.
That is why I have told Laura and Paul that if I don't reach my writing quota each day, they can kick me out onto the street. So I have been doing my morning writing in a place called 'Porters' - old school tea house place - and my afternoon writing in a place called 'Wired Monk' - bit more trendy and harder to get work done as they have a guitar that anyone can pick up and play.
It was at that age that I wrote my first script - a feature film called 'Young Offender'. Pathetic title, I know. It was about a kid who runs away from home in an attempt to find his real Dad and befriends a homeless man along the way. They become friends and it turns out the tramp lost a son and to cut a long story short they find what they were both looking for in each other. Touching.
It's been 4 years since I finished my degree in 'Writing'. Just after I graduated I started a new script and have been working on it ever since. And I am determined to make the most of my remaining time here in Langley to get it finally done.
That is why I have told Laura and Paul that if I don't reach my writing quota each day, they can kick me out onto the street. So I have been doing my morning writing in a place called 'Porters' - old school tea house place - and my afternoon writing in a place called 'Wired Monk' - bit more trendy and harder to get work done as they have a guitar that anyone can pick up and play.
Saturday 18 July 2009
Terra Casa Hair and Beauty
Just got back from having my hair cut.
I sat next to this guy who was, at his own admission, 'absolutely crazy!' He was having the top part of his hair dyed silver and the sides jet black.
Mine went really well...until the end. When, as if it was perfectly normal procedure, my hairdresser (I forget her name) grabbed her comb and rested it over my eyebrows. She got out her scissors and went straight for my eyes. I recoiled. She said, 'you want me to do your eyebrows, right?' I couldn't really find the politically correct way of saying 'if you touch my eyebrows with your scissors you'll be wearing them'...so I just said, 'ummm...I don't normally get them done back home'.
She then informed me that if I took a bit more time grooming, the ladies would take notice.
Which I noted, before running out of the place as fast as I could.
She also told me that she does Paul's eyebrows. Which is something I'll be chatting to him about later.
I sat next to this guy who was, at his own admission, 'absolutely crazy!' He was having the top part of his hair dyed silver and the sides jet black.
Mine went really well...until the end. When, as if it was perfectly normal procedure, my hairdresser (I forget her name) grabbed her comb and rested it over my eyebrows. She got out her scissors and went straight for my eyes. I recoiled. She said, 'you want me to do your eyebrows, right?' I couldn't really find the politically correct way of saying 'if you touch my eyebrows with your scissors you'll be wearing them'...so I just said, 'ummm...I don't normally get them done back home'.
She then informed me that if I took a bit more time grooming, the ladies would take notice.
Which I noted, before running out of the place as fast as I could.
She also told me that she does Paul's eyebrows. Which is something I'll be chatting to him about later.
Wednesday 15 July 2009
Tim Horton's...
...is a big deal out here.
Laura asked me if I would take Phoebe and Gracie there while she took care of some business at the driving test place. She said that Gracie was allowed one tinbit. I had no idea what a tinbit was until the lady informed that they are, in fact, mini donuts - and a box of ten was $1.70.
To cut a long story short, I thought Laura meant one box. Apparently she meant just...one.
So I'll be out of the house as the sugar hits in about 20 minutes...
Laura asked me if I would take Phoebe and Gracie there while she took care of some business at the driving test place. She said that Gracie was allowed one tinbit. I had no idea what a tinbit was until the lady informed that they are, in fact, mini donuts - and a box of ten was $1.70.
To cut a long story short, I thought Laura meant one box. Apparently she meant just...one.
So I'll be out of the house as the sugar hits in about 20 minutes...
Monday 13 July 2009
5 days at Shuswap Lake...
Shuswap is 4 and a half hours north-east of Langley. If I drove that distance from Bristol, I'm pretty sure I could get to Scotland. But, amazingly we only passed 2 (that's....TWO!!!!) towns. And that was with absolutely no traffic whatsoever. In fact, the only traffic of any concern was a dead bear (that's...A BEAR!!!!) in the middle of the freeway. What killed it? Most likely the S.U.V. at the side of the road with the massive dent on the bonnet.
We got to Sarah and Jaben's place at about 8pm. It was beautiful. Basically...their garden backed on to the lake. This is a Canadian lake - translation: it was approximately the size of Kent.
The girls went to bed. The men made a bonfire and spoke as they do.
The next day we were joined by Sarah's sister Lauren who would be staying with us for the rest of the week. A great relaxing day was had by all; conversation, games, guitar.
The following day, I took the Quad Bike up the mountain until I reached the top. Here's what I learnt about how I live my life: travelling up the mountain is the best part. Reaching the top and seeing the view is great, but it isn't what you do it for. And the bottom isn't the worst part, either: travelling to the bottom is. It's the scariest and trickiest to understand...but you do it to enjoy the chance to go back up again.
That evening Lauren told me that she was a fellow fishing fanatic, so we decided to take the canoe out onto the lake and see if we could catch us some supper. It was a calm evening; the sun was setting below the mountains, we didn't think anything sinister was awry.
We paddled out into the middle and cast off. After enjoying lovely conversation and beautiful scenery for about half an hour, I suggested we admitted defeat and returned to shore having not received a single bite. It was then that Lauren yelped, 'Oooh, I got one!'. She reeled in a fair-sized trout and placed it into the boat for me to unhook. If we were in a movie, we would be at the part where a slight hint of menace would be introduced into the main melody.
For the life of me I couldn't unhook this thing. I'd give anything to go back and give it one more try, but I can't now...it's too late...
Lauren said, 'Here, let me hold the fish while you focus on the hook'...it was the beginning of the end...
I was primarily on the right side of the boat, so as she leaned over it was just a simple matter of physics. Slowly (but not slow enough for us to do anything about it), the boat started to turn 20 degrees...30 degrees...40...50...60...85...at which point, Lauren and I looked into each other's eyes and shared a feeling of 'ohhhhhhhh SOD!'
And we crashed into the water.
I lost my rod within a matter of seconds, my flip flops had gone AWOL, and my woolly hat (I had been wearing a woolly hat) was soaking wet. And, as I pathetically treaded water, desperately trying to keep my head above the surface, I uttered the most un-manly thing ever to leave my lips...'Please....please...make sure my flip flops don't sink!'
The canoe began to go down. I had a fishing rod in one hand (with a fish still hooked on the end) and tried my best to stop the canoe's demise with the other. Lauren did the same, with two oars and my flip flops in the other.
We yelled to the sure...'HELP!'...'HELLO!'... It was like that bloody Titanic. It felt like hours but was probably closer to 6 minutes before we saw a flash of light in the distance. A few seconds later, a fleet of cargo came to our rescue. Lauren was picked up by two men who were impressed with our catch. My rescuer came in the form of a 16 year-old girl on a jet ski. How humiliating. I unhooked the fish and we returned to shore.
I was up for stripping and sharing body heat, but opted for the very plush (and slightly gay) bubble bath up at the house.
The next day we were quite a hit with the locals. My own personal 16 year-old Hasslehoff came by and I thanked her for her assistance the previous night. I did so with a slightly exaggerated English accent as I was desperate for her to take me out on the jet ski again. She agreed, and for some inexplicable reason I said the following: 'I'm going to hold onto the back of this thing, 'kay? Feel free to go as fast as you like...'
Mistake.
About three seconds later I whispered '....I think I'll hang on to you instead...'
I'll be honest...I nearly crapped myself. But I survived, and enjoyed an amazing rest of the week filled with:
- a man-made steam room
- a stonking-fast boat journey to a place where we did some cliff-jumping
- catching a fish, killing it (with rock), cutting it, gutting it, cooking it, eating it
- epically beautiful sunsets and moon-rises
- amazing company
- copious amounts of swimming and sun-bathing
- great food
- accidentally picking up scorching hot rocks
- accidentally stepping on scorching hot rocks
And, of course, the holiday blues on the journey home.
Thank you so much to the Meraw family for allowing us to stay at your beautiful place. And especially to Lauren, the girl with the best fishing skills ever.
And the worst sense of balance...
We got to Sarah and Jaben's place at about 8pm. It was beautiful. Basically...their garden backed on to the lake. This is a Canadian lake - translation: it was approximately the size of Kent.
The girls went to bed. The men made a bonfire and spoke as they do.
The next day we were joined by Sarah's sister Lauren who would be staying with us for the rest of the week. A great relaxing day was had by all; conversation, games, guitar.
The following day, I took the Quad Bike up the mountain until I reached the top. Here's what I learnt about how I live my life: travelling up the mountain is the best part. Reaching the top and seeing the view is great, but it isn't what you do it for. And the bottom isn't the worst part, either: travelling to the bottom is. It's the scariest and trickiest to understand...but you do it to enjoy the chance to go back up again.
That evening Lauren told me that she was a fellow fishing fanatic, so we decided to take the canoe out onto the lake and see if we could catch us some supper. It was a calm evening; the sun was setting below the mountains, we didn't think anything sinister was awry.
We paddled out into the middle and cast off. After enjoying lovely conversation and beautiful scenery for about half an hour, I suggested we admitted defeat and returned to shore having not received a single bite. It was then that Lauren yelped, 'Oooh, I got one!'. She reeled in a fair-sized trout and placed it into the boat for me to unhook. If we were in a movie, we would be at the part where a slight hint of menace would be introduced into the main melody.
For the life of me I couldn't unhook this thing. I'd give anything to go back and give it one more try, but I can't now...it's too late...
Lauren said, 'Here, let me hold the fish while you focus on the hook'...it was the beginning of the end...
I was primarily on the right side of the boat, so as she leaned over it was just a simple matter of physics. Slowly (but not slow enough for us to do anything about it), the boat started to turn 20 degrees...30 degrees...40...50...60...85...at which point, Lauren and I looked into each other's eyes and shared a feeling of 'ohhhhhhhh SOD!'
And we crashed into the water.
I lost my rod within a matter of seconds, my flip flops had gone AWOL, and my woolly hat (I had been wearing a woolly hat) was soaking wet. And, as I pathetically treaded water, desperately trying to keep my head above the surface, I uttered the most un-manly thing ever to leave my lips...'Please....please...make sure my flip flops don't sink!'
The canoe began to go down. I had a fishing rod in one hand (with a fish still hooked on the end) and tried my best to stop the canoe's demise with the other. Lauren did the same, with two oars and my flip flops in the other.
We yelled to the sure...'HELP!'...'HELLO!'... It was like that bloody Titanic. It felt like hours but was probably closer to 6 minutes before we saw a flash of light in the distance. A few seconds later, a fleet of cargo came to our rescue. Lauren was picked up by two men who were impressed with our catch. My rescuer came in the form of a 16 year-old girl on a jet ski. How humiliating. I unhooked the fish and we returned to shore.
I was up for stripping and sharing body heat, but opted for the very plush (and slightly gay) bubble bath up at the house.
The next day we were quite a hit with the locals. My own personal 16 year-old Hasslehoff came by and I thanked her for her assistance the previous night. I did so with a slightly exaggerated English accent as I was desperate for her to take me out on the jet ski again. She agreed, and for some inexplicable reason I said the following: 'I'm going to hold onto the back of this thing, 'kay? Feel free to go as fast as you like...'
Mistake.
About three seconds later I whispered '....I think I'll hang on to you instead...'
I'll be honest...I nearly crapped myself. But I survived, and enjoyed an amazing rest of the week filled with:
- a man-made steam room
- a stonking-fast boat journey to a place where we did some cliff-jumping
- catching a fish, killing it (with rock), cutting it, gutting it, cooking it, eating it
- epically beautiful sunsets and moon-rises
- amazing company
- copious amounts of swimming and sun-bathing
- great food
- accidentally picking up scorching hot rocks
- accidentally stepping on scorching hot rocks
And, of course, the holiday blues on the journey home.
Thank you so much to the Meraw family for allowing us to stay at your beautiful place. And especially to Lauren, the girl with the best fishing skills ever.
And the worst sense of balance...
Monday 6 July 2009
None of us be leaving alive...
I'm just about to go away for 5 days with Laura, Paul, the two girls and a couple called Jaban and Sarah. They have a house on a lake somewhere and it's properly in the woods so I'm hoping I'll see a bear, a cougar or anything dangerous.
I hope they have a gun there. I want to man-up.
I am a little uneasy, however, as I have seen horror movies that start exactly like this. Two couples plus the weird single guy (moi) go away to a deserted log cabin... bugger.
I've also decided to extend my trip for an extra 5 weeks...so I won't be back in England until 17th August.
I hope they have a gun there. I want to man-up.
I am a little uneasy, however, as I have seen horror movies that start exactly like this. Two couples plus the weird single guy (moi) go away to a deserted log cabin... bugger.
I've also decided to extend my trip for an extra 5 weeks...so I won't be back in England until 17th August.
Saturday 4 July 2009
Warm for your form...
You.
Just got back from a day at a water park. It. Was. Quality. It has been the hottest day I can remember in many a year, but you could still see snow on the surrounding mountains.
What was the thing I really liked about it, ya say? I'll tell thee: it was a two fingers up at those pig-awful journalists who say that so-and-so is too fat or so-and-so is too thin and pass judgment on everything. There were hundreds of people - all shapes and sizes not giving two barry-ollocks about what they looked like.
And apparently tattoos are cool. What is this, 1985? Don't get me wrong, I am considering getting a small dose of 'ink' (the cool way to say it) on my forearm at some point (probably after my metabolism has changed when I hit the 30 mark - don't want to have a faded and stretched ink...) - but they were everywhere. Did I miss something?
There was one lady who must have been knocking 60 with a tattoo on her breast! Another had a question mark on her lower back. Me thinks it was meant as a sexual and alluring unspecific question to the passing gentlemen. If it was, that's weird. But, if it was a masterly executed use of irony as she just didn't know what she wanted on arrival at the artist's parlor, then the woman's a genius.
Out.
Just got back from a day at a water park. It. Was. Quality. It has been the hottest day I can remember in many a year, but you could still see snow on the surrounding mountains.
What was the thing I really liked about it, ya say? I'll tell thee: it was a two fingers up at those pig-awful journalists who say that so-and-so is too fat or so-and-so is too thin and pass judgment on everything. There were hundreds of people - all shapes and sizes not giving two barry-ollocks about what they looked like.
And apparently tattoos are cool. What is this, 1985? Don't get me wrong, I am considering getting a small dose of 'ink' (the cool way to say it) on my forearm at some point (probably after my metabolism has changed when I hit the 30 mark - don't want to have a faded and stretched ink...) - but they were everywhere. Did I miss something?
There was one lady who must have been knocking 60 with a tattoo on her breast! Another had a question mark on her lower back. Me thinks it was meant as a sexual and alluring unspecific question to the passing gentlemen. If it was, that's weird. But, if it was a masterly executed use of irony as she just didn't know what she wanted on arrival at the artist's parlor, then the woman's a genius.
Out.
Friday 3 July 2009
Feet
Sorry for the lack of posts...now you know how it felt for the Israelites. 400 years break between the Old and the New Testament!!! Simmer!
I've been spending the majority of my time working on my feet.
I bought one of them cheese-grater-crud-remover things from the local superstore and after just under a week of daily sanding...I look amazing. I'm talcking them up daily and feel like a million Canadian dollars - that's about 600 thousand pound sterling. I would write that out normally, but this keyboard doesn't recognize the pound sign.
More posts poste haste...
I've been spending the majority of my time working on my feet.
I bought one of them cheese-grater-crud-remover things from the local superstore and after just under a week of daily sanding...I look amazing. I'm talcking them up daily and feel like a million Canadian dollars - that's about 600 thousand pound sterling. I would write that out normally, but this keyboard doesn't recognize the pound sign.
More posts poste haste...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)