05.31 FISH & CHIPS & SEA

Whit Monday. Dan and I decide to spend the Spring Bank Holiday cycling from London to Brighton. After a hearty fry-up, Dan plots out the route, and I take little interest in the directions, despite my overdeveloped hypothalamus (ask Phil at work, he's seen the MRI) and presumably superior navigation skills, err, generally speaking.

(Landmarks! I need landmarks like the Uniroyal Tire in Detroit...).

We're a good 15 km in and, referencing to the map, Dan points to his curly cranium. (That's it?!). Thankfully, he's jotted some notes, but when I take a closer look at the details it is only then that I realise his idea of a map includes vague details about which towns to hit and a few key junctions. Mine would have included every junction, fork, pothole and turn - and I might have thrown in the Uniroyal Tire for good measure.

His sense of adventure is to Indiana Jones as mine is to Frodo Baggins.

Inevitably, we take a few wrong turns -- but then a few right ones -- to find ourselves at the foot of Ditchling Beacon (which Dan ambitiously included in the itinerary, *harumph*) - with 100 km already weighing our legs. I managed it, trollying my lethargic legs up 1.2 km at an average of 9 km/h. Slow as frozen molasses. But I did it. (So did Dan, but his effortless climb, caboosing my effort, is probably not worth further mention...).

A few km coasting downhill, the sun setting, cows grazing lazily, alpacas in the distance, and splendid endless views of the undulating countryside and we're in Brighton. 5:15 and 115 km. We head to the waterfront, grab some salty, vinegary, greasy grub from the local chippy and park it (that is, gently sit our tender aching bums) on the pebbled beach (ouch!) by the sea.

I resolved to have fish & chips by the sea over 3 years ago, on a touristy whim, and this is my first. But worth the wait. Now I've finally gone and done it, and earned it well, and haven't enjoyed it alone.

05.30 HAND HORN

Jenny is a performer. I realised this one karaoke night in Nottingham, when she stole the show with her rendition of 'These boots are made for walking'.

She can also rattle out a classical tune on her living room piano and spends her working day on air entertaining South Yorkshire with her banter.

Her song and dance portfolio is expanding, with her ensuing fame using her body as an instrument. Sounds racy, but it was an innocent discovery in her youth. At the young age of 10, prompted by a season of summer camp idling, she discovered a talent that is soon to find her recording with the South Yorkshire Symphony Orchestra.

The Hand Horn.

Cupping her hands strategically, to seal any air holes, a gust of breath angled precisely between the thumbs reveals a gentle sounds that falls somewhere between a flageolet and a loon.

Piece of cake? Not so. A few attempts leave me breathless and dizzy and, despite finally achieving a toot, I'm still happy to remain a part of the audience (fan club!).

05.29 DEX

Dan hung up the headphones, in his words, around the time we met. He used to DJ regularly at a few local joints, but wanted his Friday nights back. Retirement ensued.

Perfect timing, more time for me.

He still does the odd gig for friends and special events, and tonight is a big one - not just because its a well-established Bank Holiday event hosted by his music guru housemate with a guest DJ known nation-wide. But also because its my first time in the audience.

His set is wicked good, and gets the dance floor going by the end of the hour. Embarassingly, I couldn't name a single track, err...plenty room for learning. But I got up for a boggie and observed Dan in his element - crowd pleasing, music hugry, energetic vibe.

05.28 LINE-UP

It's my first weekend with Dan in five weeks, as we've both been away. Never in the same place at the same time on a Saturday or Sunday - and rarely a Friday.

The line-up for the night: Drinks, Comedy, Food.

Discouraged by the Line-Up at a riverfront pub, we head instead to nearby Vinopolis where we begin the evening with a cocktail - it's early enough for me to enjoy a dirty martini without the risk of spillage on my dress.

We moseyed on to a nearby venue for the next Line-Up for the evening - three comedians, the first an Afro-Londoner with a momma's boy appeal, the second a grungy local with a few too many punch lines, and the headliner a more classic story teller, who stole the show. A good few hours of entertainment.

Entertained, but hungry, we foraged nearby for a bite to eat. The only option was a good one - a tapas bar in Borough. The final Line-Up for the night: rock-salt garlic prawns in a chili aolio, honey glazed hot cheese, pork belly with quince, ham and cheese croquettes (French done Spanish style - interesting), and anchovies with olive tapenade over greens. The conversation-stopping food brought the evening to a perfect close; we trollied home contented, a weekend night out together, at last...

05.27 KARAOKE

Our department hosted a Karaoke night. As part of the organizing department, I made it my responsibility to ensure everyone was having a good time, and therefore I was unable to, err, sing. Or attempt to, I should say.

I did get up and do the macarena at one point. But apparantly, this doesn't count as karaoke, unless you know the words (seriously, who actually sings along to that one??).

After a few rounds of bubbly and some beer, the lads got up and had a go at 'Daydream Believer'. Not a bad rendition at all. The crowd was wild - howling.

05.26 WELCOME DRINKS

The Bank Holiday weekend kicks off early, very early, with Wednesday night drinks and a catch-up with the girls. Lauren moved to the city recently, from Bristol, where she had taken a job after our journo course.

Now resident in Clapham, we met at a local pub for a few glasses of wine and some belated gossip, and to welcome Lauren to the big smoke.

05.25 FUNKY?

Tuesday. My weekly art installation. This time, a deviation from the usual fruit and veg, for a very challenging still life of a pair of vintage shoes and a ladies hat.

It's my mother's birthday, and I painted this with her in mind. She worked at a shoe shop in London whens he was in her 20s and has a thing for footwear.

I took longer than usual to sketch this out, as my viewpoint had me positioned with a foreshortening of the shoe. As a result, my painting was rushed. Blending colours on the canvas, I experimented with layer over layer until I landed the shades and shadows I was after.

The result, according to Stephen, was 'Funky'.

He asked whether I was American (no...), and said, nevertheless, that I painted in the fasion of some famous West Coast American artists, known to push paint along the canvas for a very fluid, in-motion effect.

Funky. It could work. I just need to find a way to make a lemon funky, but not in the smelly sort of way, and I'll have mastered my own style.

05.24 PORTRAIT PAINTER

Nope, it isn't Tuesday. After all, I'm not the only artist in the house. Salma has filled the living room mantle with her signature swirly acrylics, and is now 'dabbling' (can you call someone this talented a 'dabbler'?) in portraits, with a work based on a photo of our housemate, Maddy.

I say 'dabbling' because the work she'd displayed so far has been abstract, or (to say the least) imaginative - a flying-spaghetti-moster-like deity hangs over a My Little Pony beneath a ranbow that leads to a squawking chicken with feathers a-flapping, in one of her classic works.

It is interesting to see her style converted to realism. And she's planning to sell her recent works, which might have a larger market if she sticks to more typical (less disturbing) decorative subjects. In any case, a natural with the brush, she's destined to cash in on her talent....

05.23 GREEN VAN

Most of the time spent participating in the Green Belt Relay, involves being shuttled to, from and in between stages in a team van. Three colour-coded vehicles - Green, Blue and Red - are coordinated on a leap-frog-like schedule driving runners to their scheduled starting points, marshall points and designated finish areas to pick up racers as they finish. There's usually baking, always wine gums, the occassional post-run box of donuts, case of beer -- all amidst a faint smell of sweaty socks.

The van-time fun helps distract you on days like today, where luck of the GBR draw has me descend Box Hill (Stage 19 Map), only to climb the height across dorking and along the North Downs Way. A stunning course over 10.5 miles, but made arduous by Saturday's 10.65 already weighing on my legs, not to mention the sweltering mid-arvo start time and the fact I haven't run uphill in months. The panoramas were worth the effort, and the hills gave a good enough excuse to slow the pace...err, nearly 10 mins slower than yesterday's longer distance.

Still, it suits my perverse definition of fun, and, given the giddy folk in the picture, not mine alone.

05.22 LETTY GREEN

It's the Green Belt Relay, a two-day 220 mile relay challenge around the skirts of London that follows the M25 highway, encircling the city. Each member of the 11-strong team runs a stage on both Saturday and Sunday, ranging anywhere from 6-13 odd miles on terrain as flat as towpath, to hills so steep they cause you to walk, in crouching agony, up them.

When you aren't running, you're being shuttled, stage to stage, to marshall, hand out water, cheer or just relax by the start or finish of a stage. The logistics of the even is a feat in itself.

My stage (stage 8 map) today began at Letty Green, in Hertford and followed a stretch of canalside towpath to cover 10.65 miles ending at Dobbs Weir in Hoddeson. It was a flat fast course, and an opportunity to gauge my fitness, so I tried to stay focused, warm up and stretch, whilst my vanload, most of whom had already competed for the day, enjoyed a pint at the quant countryside pub that marked my starting point. It was worth the discipline, as I just dipped under 1 h 12 min for the course, finishing 3rd and within 1 min of two women ranked top 25 in the nation, which showed some improvement in my speed since I ran a half marathon in Feb. The cost of a quick course, however, meant enduring endless stretches of gravel towpath, lined with beer-sipping sunsoaking folk who only served, with their puzzled looks, to make me think twice about how I was spending my Saturday afternoon...not to mention harassing young boys who you'd think never saw a woman in spandex, dogs off leishes who made moving hurdles of themselves, and a riverboat called 'Slow Pace' that cruised past as I was huffing it in the last 5 k.

Tedious, but I enjoyed the flats while they lasted. Tomorrow I'm in for a more undulating change of pace...

05.21 HOME GIRL

On from yesterdays blog to my own very domesticated housemates. Salma, in particular, has a knack for making a house a home. From bread baking, to colouring the walls with portraits and paintings, stitching a cloth spice rack, to a flourishing garden of herbs and veg - she towers above Nigella on the pyramid of home-bound deities.

This evening, she was whipping up a risotto for a friend and gave me some instruction. Take home point: stir, stir, stir until your wrist feels like it's gonna fall off.

I watched in amusement as she plucked peas from a stalk on the terrace, harvesting a good handful of home-grown greens for the recipe. Each potted plant nurtured to perfection, while my shabby dried-out sunflower in a can - a birthday gift from Kat that was supposed to be fool-proof - limps in pathetic contrast in a shady corner.

I think I got the risotto down, but I'll leave the gardening to the green-thumbed domestic goddesses.

05.20 HOME BOYS

Dan prepped dinner for me this evening, just before his housemate Alex arrived with the ingredients for a Northern recipe he educated us both on. - sausage, onion, potato and bacon baked in a casserole. For the life of me, I can't remember what it's called. Let's call it filling, because that's how it looked.

Dan was wearing a pink t-shirt that matched my shoes. Hot pink. Suits him. He did the laundry around me, while I read the headlines online (Venter creates synthetic life form!). I got a lashing earlier for freezing his laptop (my magic touch...), then another for reading the news when I should have been paying him more attention (my own philosophy back to bite me in the bum).

Dan and Alex, along with Matt, are a domesticated trio, coordinating a weekly dinner rota, tending to their garden with some green-thumbed pride, fussing about patio furniture and admiring their lighting fixtures from time to time.

It is endearing, and worthwhile visiting just to be a female fly on the wall every now and again. A lesson in male domestic tendencies, humour and lingo.

05.19 UNICYCLE KID

Cycling into work today, this kid in school uniform riding a unicycle comes whizzing past on the pavement. His jacket tail flails behind him as he pedals with some determination - eager to get to class on time? or focused on keeping upright?

I tried to ride a uni once, in a hallway with the walls on either side as support. Just mounting the seat is a task, not to mention the dismount - tip forward. Figured, it just wasn't for me. Best stick to two wheels. (Pehaps even three after realizing just how poor my sense of balance was).

I missed the moment when the uni was transformed from a busker bike or a circus cycle to a trendy mode of transport and even a competitive sport. Or perhaps that transformation never occurred, as a bit of research reveals unicycle sport is nothing new. Downhill mountain uni has been around for decades and even team sports - uni hockey for one - are well established. The 2010 biennial UNICON is currently taking place in New Zealand - a circus of single-track superheros competing in artistic, track, off-road and team events.

Almost makes this unicyclist appear astray, heading along a solo swerve, a hazard on the pavement.

05.18 CABBAGE

"Nice cabbage!"

...said my oil painting instructor this evening, when he had a peek at my work in progress.

Today's session had us doing transcription - replicating another painting to train in the artist's use of brushstroke and colour. Intimidated by the possiblity of dabbling in a master's technique, I leant for a safe bet, selecting a picture with, well, more fruit and veg - comfort zone.

The selected work was by Cotan, Still life with Quinice, Cabbage, Melon and Cucumber (c. 1600). Cotan, a pioneer in realism, is best known for developing a still life style called 'bodegon', characterized by dead game, uncooked veg, dim lighthing and dark backgrounds, lending a surrealist feel to the work. Curiously, he has a thing for 'hanging' things - in this case, the cabbage and quince are strung and hanging in the left frame.

Bizarre, but I gave it a go, on Stephen's recommendation. Nailed the quince in no time (small, round, orange-tinted fruit are my new expertise...), but the leafy cabbage, with its blue-greens, yellow-greens and deep green shadows proved a challenge, and took up most of my time. It was a relaxing exericise, however, and good training in blending colour. Tip of the day: vermillion + crimson red = a deep purply nearly black background. Never use black.

05.17 WRITING ON THE WALL

Passing this worn and weathered building on my way back from the grocery shop, I took a moment to stop and read the writing on the plastered brick exterior. Writing stencilled upon writing.

Horses and carraiges jobbed for any period. Cars for Hire. Travellers....Stations....Etc...Supplied.

Give it some thought, and still can't make much sense of it besides it was once a shop, and that it has a history of dealing in transport ventures. Sack of potatoes, eggs and milk are getting weighty, so I shrug my shoulders and continue along.

05.16 GADGETS

Motivated. Motivated? My eyes opened from a night's deep sleep to clear skies. Sticking with my resolution to cycle weekly, I dragged my body out of bed, out of flannel and into spandex, rehydrated and set off for a loop around Richmond Park.

I didn't quite clip into the pedals before realising something was amis. It all began a few days ago when I thought I had to replace a flat. Took the wheel of, only to realise there was no puncture - the tire just needed some air. So Dan helped me realign the wheel perfectly before securing it. Piece of cake.

But I had barely left the front door today when I realised the odometer wasn't clocking my motion. It happens time-to-time when the sensor is not aligned perfectly. Drives me bananas. I leant over the handrail to fiddle with the gadget, only to find we had replaced the wheel with the sensor on the opposite side.

Sigh. Removed the wheel, fliped it round, aligned it perfectly and secured it. Off I went - at 0.0 km/h according to the measure. Sod it. I don't need all the data. I whiled the miles instead focusing on my cadence, taking in the scene and trying to forget that my fingers were freezing.

The last straw came as a cloud, rolling in tow of a gust of wind and a spatter of rain. It was at this point the odometer, in its last breath, wheezed a reading of 99.99 km/h, before going blank again. I enjoyed the momentary time-motion warp, imagining I could actually move that fast (wondering why the odometer - my odometer - even climbed to such a high speed), before trollying home, hungry, wet and in for a day of motionlessness DVD viewing.

05.15 SUPERHERO

If I were a superhero, I could eat all this food in one sitting.

Kat and Paul joined me at Whitechapel Gallery this afternoon, a long overdue date, as we've been saying we'd like to go for months. We doubled our achievements by following the gallery with dinner at Tayyabs - another on our 'to-visit' list. Pakistani feast - aromatic blends, tender meat, greasy naan and a bit of a kick. Bonus: BYO.

Fed and fuelled on superfood, we took a stroll to visit Ben, who lives not far from Whitechapel on the 5th floor of a block building in Stepney Green. A cozy pad with a lovely panorama of the city. Perhaps it was the view, although I can't quite remember, but we got on the topic of superpowers. He claimed flight before any of us could nab it, so Kat settled for invisibility and Paul, well, he decided he'd be 'P-man', and, well, induce incontinence (hands-free) on hapless villains (i.e., politicians). Since air and land were pretty much covered, I thought it'd be worthwhile if I covered the marine world and so decided on go-go-gadget gills as my superpower.

Beer ran out before the conversation, as always, and we were in kahoots until the sun went down and it was time to descend, by elevator (sigh), and beam ourselves back to our beds (conventionally, however, via public transport...).

05.14 SUN ROAST SANNY

We took a staff lunch today. After a morning deliberating where to go, I managed to negotiate the group out of Wagamama's yet again (I'm really not into their service style and don't appreciate the whole 'fusion' thing, which simply allows them to use common, generic ingredients and call it cool), and aim for a picnic in the park with some pork sandwiches from Grazing - Jess' fine suggestion.

The sandwich bar specialises in roast and deli meats, and is famous in our neck of the business woods for their pork roll, so I went for the signature item - with the works. Slices of pork on a granary bun with two roast potatoes mashed on top, stuffing, apple sauce, sofened carrots and cabbage.

It was over the top - or at least falling out the sides - Sunday roast smashed between bread! I'd give it raving reviews, but it was unfortunately rather dry (not the meat, but more likely the combo of potato and bread. Perhaps more apple sauce would remedy?) and I landed the fatty end of the pork, just before the chef pulled out a new batch of roast meat. Mouthfuls of gelatinous pork fat. Gross.

Still, I enjoyed it, and it's always nice to spend some social time with the coworkers. Must say (and can probably speak for the company), little work was done during the second half of the day - all the blood rushing to my digestive system left little to the brain for concentrating. We washed it all down with an early afternoon and a drink at the pub.

05.13 AUDIENCE

We are in for a blockbuster tonight. Robin Hood - yet another remake of the legendary tale - this time a more swashbuckling version than the Costner flick, and with a less jovial undertone than Men in Tights.

We seat ourselves for a hurried bite before the show. Already in 'audience' mode, we are side-by-side, bumping elbows and people watching from a cozy corner (but for the nearby door swinging open and shut, letting in a chilling breeze form outside) as we wait for our food to arrive. We're pushing it for time and Dan is more interested with the traffic through the kitchen door, waiters bustling in and out with drinks and dinner plates for other guests. He is hungry. I'm fussed about feeling rushed.

We sip slowly on our drinks and at least enjoy the moment before we find ourselves scarfing down dinner with little time between bites for natter. We up and hurry ourselves to Theatre 1, which is somehow dark and still - are we in the right one? Why hasn't the film started, or at least the previews already? We're late!

We resume our adjacent arrangement, this time eyes to the screen, waiting yet again. Playing audience again. The previews begin, just as we're doubting ourselves a second time - but the show is late and we're just in time.

05.12 MAPLE MASTERPIECE

Voila! A caramelised banana maple and pecan upsidedown cake, topped with warm creme anglaise. Maddy is taking a course at Leiths, and arrives home weekly with samples of her latest culinary creation. We've been on a steady stream of maple syrup this week, slowly eating through the box of imported Christie maple creme biscuits I've left on the dining table. But there is always room for a smidgen (a tapped-tree's -worth) more, and Maddy had no problems this evening finding gluttonous guinea pigs to taste test her work. Masterpiece.

05.11 COLOUR DUMB

In spite of the fact it exists in the family, I'm certainly not colour blind, probably thanks to my inherited Y chromosome. But I'm beginning to realise how colour-dumb I am after just a few sessions in Oil Painting. The subject today was the usual array of fruit and veg plus container of sorts - however, the container was a deep green but transluscent bottle that reflected the red and blue backdrop. Not to mention the oranges were reflecting a purple hue, where I was about to dab grey onto the canvas.

I was about to mar the fruit with grey highlights, when the instructor intercepted brush and canvas just in time to point out the shadows were actually a cool blue/purple hue. While he was at it, he added green to the aubergene pointed out its reflection in the bottle, and then drilled me on primary, tertiary, intrinsic and focal colours.

I couldn't believe my eyes.

I'm thinking now of Berkeley's theory of subjective idealism, wherein an individual can only realise sensations and objects directly, and not in abstract terms. To be is to be perceived.

On the flip side, this doesn't mean that what is not perceived (at least by my amateur eye) cannot be. Apparantly the colours exist, but are only perceived when pointed out to me. Alas, my head spins, my eyes ache and my clothes are covered in splotches of green and blue and burnt sienna that never existed until I put them there.

05.10 FUNNY FACES

The best thing about this photo is that Dan is in it.

The second best thing about this photo is how excited Dan is to be in it (although I think it is dinner, rather than photo-blog fame that he's really excited about).

The next best thing about this photo is that I caught the funny face in the picture on our wall in the background - a look that somewhat mirrors (but with less excitement and a hint of confusion and surprise) the funny face in the foreground.

05.09 NO PLACE LIKE HOME

Home, away from home, away from home.

Just arriving, suitcase in tow. Relief? Or disbelief that only hours ago I was on the other side of the Atlantic. (I'm generally stupified when I land safely on the tarmac, often anticipating the worst when travelling by air).

Time to resettle. I unpack, tidy up and even fit in a short run to shake out the jet legs. Somehow I still feel unsettled, and away from home. But neither do I really feel in my element in Canada any longer. I've never really been attached to location - but rather to people. Although I certainly miss runs along the escarpment, picnics by the Pelee shores, dining in Toronto and driving the Ontario highways strips. I would likewise long for a Friday falafel from the Borough Market, lounging on the common in the summer, Wednesday workouts in Battersea Park, mild summers, mild winters and the weekday bustle across London Bridge.

So here I am now, and my travels have left me forever clicking my ruby heels, murmuring the mantra, "There's no place like home", and without a place in mind.

05.08 GUMMY WORMS

Passing time at the airport, streaming intake of sugar in the form of sour gummy worms, while Judy sends out warnings of the impending ill effects of Reno's over-indulgence. 'Too much sugar. Spoil your dinner. Look at that belly. Diabetes!' In one ear and out the other. Being silly (gummy worms have that effect) as the week of family fun comes to a close.

A middle-aged man walks by, interjecting our photo shoot and clearly off a flight from Florida as he's sporting a crisp 'Orlando' souvenir t-shirt and is followed by a train of families with sun-kissed kids wearing MickeyMouse ear-shaped hats.

'Pardon me', he says. 'I didn't realise that y'all were taking a sexy photo'.

Sexy photo? We loosely interpret his use of the word 'Sexy'. The man ducks, barely tipping at the cervical spine, in a futile attempt to avert the lens. More a courtesy than a determined motion to avoid my mother taking a photo of his torso. Americans.

We contain our laughter long enough for him to move out of an audible range before breaking down and capturing the worm feast.

The last laughs made it especially hard to part and say goodbye.

05.07 HSLP

Casey is running toward the mall in full stride. Not because she's entering a revival in her running career, certainly not because she's eager to join the hooded teens, hovering suspiciously around the entrance to the movie theatre -but because its pouring rain and she's dedicated the early part of our evening to consulting me on Canadian music.

The new album by Broken Social Scene is a must buy, since I'll be seeing them live (on her advice) next month. And after scouring the aisles, I settle on the Stars, who Casey will be seeing in concert tomorrow night. She knows the Arts & Crafts label inside out it seems, and while she and I have different appetites for music, she knows what I like.

On our way back to the car, Casey and I agree that we have spent far too much of our adult Friday nights at Devonshire Mall. We leave the parking lot and head for my parents dining table, where we spend the rest of the evening catching up on the months past since my Christmas visit, cup of tea in each of our hands. I go wild and go caffeinated. I guess we're the sort of "hslp" who can be anyplace having a good time.

05.06 TOURING NIAGARA

We're nearing the end of our family getaway to Niagara, heading toward the falls for lunch and a romp through the Fallsview Casino, before beelining to Toronto for a home-cooked roast. We stopped to take a peek at the power generator on the Buffalo border, a bit of an eyesore, but a curious piece of work. My father, as usual, seems to know everything about it.

I've seen this structure dozens of times, but in full-fledged tourist mode, I took a spontaneous picture, and Reno, in full-spirited holiday mode, struck a spontaneous pose. His silly spirit reveals more of what is to come when we hit the slots in Niagara Falls, timbits in hand and dizzied by the colourful carpets and flashing lights. Giddy.

05.05 KISS AND SQUEEZE

I don't remember the last time we took a family holiday, if you discount trips to Gozo, which is more like going home together than away.

We set off from Toronto this afternoon, touring Niagara Falls - a marvel that leaves me in awe no matter how many times I visit - and stopping for lunch before reaching our final destination Niagara-on-the-Lake. The quaint town, situated in Canada's winery region, and home to the long-running Shaw Festival (although we didn't catch a show), offered the perfect respite from the usual Windsor routine and the bustle of Toronto. We made a pit stop at Inniskillin before heading into town for a bit of exploring and a lesson in Canadian geography (10 min debating whether it really was Toronto's skyline we could see in the distance across lake Ontario - as usual, Reno was correct, the answer was yes. I must have inherited my huge hippocampus from him).

Dinner was set at North America's oldest golf course, overlooking the lake as a proper thunderstorm rolled in, the lightning diffusing the frequent flash of our three cameras (Camera shy?! Galeas?! Never...), capturing the evening's antics. I celebrated 'Happy May' - mother's day and Judy's birthday at once - she loved the emerald green shades (success!) - in fact, we each gave them a whirl, and they even suited Reno. Versatile.

The local Kerner went down well, but I washed down dinner with a 'Kiss and Squeeze', a Canadian tradition of warm apple cobbler, topped with aged cheddar and maple cream on the side, while the family watched with curious interest, but without appetite. More for me.

The day culminated in a kiss and squeeze between us, before we turned in for a good night's rest.

05.04 GIGGLES

Giggles. Sometimes, my mother gets them. They come in spurts and uncontrollable fits. Sometimes they spray wine through nostrils. Other times, they cause choking laughter. Most of the time, I don't get it. Judy has a sense of humour that is crass, goofy and inconsistent with her usual manner. Generally, her giggles need excusing and explaining. But we don't usually bother. We just shake our heads as long as we can before the contagious laugh is spread around the table, like a yawn, only better.

05.03 HARDWARE

'Proudly Canadian'. The logo spans the front of Rona, where Reno and I scanned the aisles for, err, a strip of cherry oak wood. (Still the logo doesn't resound as patriotically as 'Canadian Tire'). Not really sure what exactly this was for besides the fact that my father will be installing it at my sister's place this week.

Going to the hardware store with my father is an age-old tradition. When I was a kid, we would frequent Canadian Tire then tour Home Hardware before scouring a few paint shops en route to a home that seemed always under refurbishment - and still does. I used to collect the colour strips in the paint aisle, spending the drive home carefully selecting my favourite - usually on the basis of the colour's name rather than its hue. Always favoured colours that had the word 'sea' in them, or that somehow reminded me of the beach.

Rona didn't stock cherry oak, or even a flat metal strip that might have served whatever purpose the latest 'Reno'vations called for. A good enough reason to spend the afternoon on another epic hardware-store-crawl...

(Some things never change.)

05.02 BACKYARD

Translation: back garden. And a title better reflecting the rear end of the house I grew up in. My parents have thumbs as green as a leprechaun's and a garden abounding in flowers and veg. A haven for earthworms, and predatory birds alike. Both thriving under the till and hoe my parents put to the dirt. I might have forgotten just what a knack Reno and Judy have for gardening had I only stuck to visits when the yard was snowed over.

I have just got in from a neighbourhood run, caught in the rain in the last few miles - a refreshing and welcome soaking on a muggy afternoon. Reno is tinkering in the garage, while a documentary on orangutans (he immediately points out their resemblance to mine) airs on an old 14-inch screen in the background. Judy is multitasking, as usual - managing to pause, pose and smile for the camera before returning to her primary task - nailing dinner. She is keeping an eye and nose on a dish of im-quarun - my favourite Maltese food - baking and crisping just in time for me to gobble up in the fashion of the cookie monster met with a dish of hot gooey biscuits.

Its a pretty relaxing scene, I took a snap, then took it all in over a good long stretch of the legs.

05.01 WELCOME PACKAGE

I was in London for breakfast and Windsor by lunchtime. Judy was anxiously awaiting at arrivals in Detroit Metro, while Reno kept the trusty old Sebring running and ready to shuttle me across the border, home.

In spite of telling mom not to bother bringing food for the road, she was equipped, as ever, with enough provisions to cover me through the journey to Windsor and back - which, I realised, given my father's Sunday driving on this Saturday was not a bad idea at all.

Politely, I turned down the healthy options to allow room to stuff myself with Timbits, collecting them in my cheeks in the fashion of my hamster John McPhee, and with the similar primal motive that tomorrow there might be none. I rifled through the pack of 10 until I found my first choice - an old fashioned glazed (a preference I am reluctant to disclose as I edge on 30 - my younger palate would have gone straight for the chocolate). Delicious.

A warm and stodgy welcome to warm and smoggy Windsor.