Merry Christmas, eh?

Ah, Christmas on planet John. 'tis a joy indeed. HRH Cheryl Tweedy (yes I know, she's now Cheryl Cole but in my heart she'll always be the lippy, cheaply highlighted, toilet attendant-abusing, deliciously common Ms Tweedy to me) sits graciously atop the tree this year, resplendant in her pink sequined boob-tube and gaudy white faux-leather jacket, whilst Mr Brittonfeld himself languishes on the sofa, snuggled in to the other Mr Brittonfeld (who, it emerges, has THE weirdest collection of Christmas music ever; Loreena McKinnet, anyone?) and chugging happily on a pint of Bailey's. You can take the girl out of Leyland...

Had a very nice early Christmas present as well - the man from Immigration... he say YES!

Well in theory, anyway. I've finally, after nine months of waiting, received my first stage approval from the Canadian Government! Hip hip friggin' hooray! What it basically means is, providing my drug-using, kiddie-fiddling, serial-killing past doesn't show up in my police checks, I'm guaranteed to be accepted as an official permanant resident. It also means I am now approved to work. Michael practically held a gun to my head whilst I filled out my work permit application and frog-marched me to the post box. I think someone is eager for me to start earning some coin...

So, by the end of January at the latest I'll be once again clocking in with the work slaves.

Oh shit.

Merry Christmas one and all!

Oh the weather outside is frightful...

As you can see, Vancouver has been getting some pretty freakish weather of late. It snows on the North Shore mountains from November until March, but downtown very rarely gets a snowfall and even when it does it's a flurry that has normally completely vanished within a few hours.

You can only imagine the effect, then, of 25cms of snow within 48 hours - if England goes into panic mode when the temperature drops below freezing, Vancouver in a snowstorm goes totally postal. Noone can get to work because the buses aren't running and the roads aren't gritted people are falling over left right and centre because the sidewalks are the same. It's minor chaos.

Except, of course, for people like me who aren't affected by such annoyances as work and get to enjoy the snow on a whole other level. I've spent the last two days bundled up and trekking all over Stanley Park - lapping up the beauty, building retarded snowmen and exchanging smug pleasantries with all the other lucky sods for whom the snow is a pleasure rather than a chore (i.e. retirees, non-working parents and tourists). I have spent a big part of the last few months whinging about not working but the last couple of days has reminded me to enjoy it whilst I still can...

The photo with the mountain is the view from our balcony; the ariel shot is of Lost Lagoon from the roof of our building. If all it ever did in Vancouver was snow in the winter and sunshine in the summer this truly would be the ultimate paradise. Unfortunately there's the rain, which makes the UK seem like the Gobi desert... Still, I wouldn't trade it for anything. Not even a bungee-jumping date with Madonna :-)

Announcements: Births

Mr and Mrs Brittonfeld are delighted to announce the latest addition to the family.

Name: Gertie Golf. AKA: Gertrude (on Sundays or when she's been naughty) and GiGi (pet name)

Breed: 1997 VW Golf K2 edition (check out those heated seats and oh-so-handy roof-rack/ski holders)

Weight: A healthy 3000 lbs

Mother and daughter doing fine (although Mother a bit stressed as she's never driven a left hand drive manual transmission before...)

Aaron Spelling, eat yer heart out!

LAGUNA VISTA - A 24-STOREY HOTBED OF PASSION AND INTRIGUE!

Well, me and the old man are on the move. Again. As of 1st November, our new address will be:

806 Laguna Vista
2020 Haro Street
Vancouver BC
V6G 1J3

And although I look forward to packing and moving the same way I look forward to major dental surgery, I am actually pretty excited. In other words, I hate living in Gastown with a passion usually reserved for new Celine Dion material; I can't friggin' WAIT to move out. It's a pretty part of town, for sure; the streets are tree-lined and there's hanging baskets on every lamp-post, the buildings are funky and squeeky clean, the spectacular cruise ship terminal is just up the road, and Water Street is FULL of shops - unfortunately, all they sell is maple syrup fudge, cigars and 'Vancouver' snow-shakers. If you want a pint of milk or any other kind of grocery item, you have to hike 20 blocks across town. Aforementioned cruise ship terminal spews out a constant stream of huge-arsed, clueless Americans onto Water Street, and as for the Steam Clock.... sweet baby Jesus, the Steam Clock. The fucking STEAM CLOCK! The tourists LOVE it. They line the street patiently all day long to watch this quaint old clock fart out its merry tune. Then they leave. The lucky, LUCKY bastards. Us residents are subjected to this retarded, out of tune tooting every friggin' fifteen minutes of every single friggin' DAY. Imagine the insanity brought on by Chinese water torture. Multiply it by 100. Cube this figure. And you are not even CLOSE...

Anyway... it's back to the glorious West End for the Brittonfelds. This means countless shops and funky cafes, fabulous bars and restaurants, the ocean and park on the doorstep and a glittering new 2 bedroom apartment with balcony and unobstructed views across Lost Lagoon and the mountains. And those of you with even a passing sense of irony will note that the name of our new building sounds like a cheap and trashy American Soap opera...

It's got glitz. It's got glamour. It's got lipstick. it's got foot-long shoulder pads. It's got incest. It's got intrigue. It's got more lipstick.

Welcome... to LAGUNA VISTA!

Sundays 9pm (7 Central)

The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence

Last weekend was Vancouver Pride. If you want to read a little more about it, in a writing style that's infinitely superior to my own, check out my darling friend Jennifer's own blog, link on the right - The Divine Ms. Creant). In the meantime, I think this photo pretty much sums it up.

"So, how was your weekend?"

"Oh, pretty quiet. Met friends for brunch, drank a tanker full of beer, got sexually harrassed by a gang of hairy nuns. You know, the usual..."

xxx