Day 21

So, here we are, the last day of the holiday, time has flown in to quote an oft used cliché! My case was full to bursting too this morning and there were still presents for Maria and Monica to come from my Aunt Margaret. Being over the limit was a stonewall certainty, because just lifting the case up to get an idea of its weight was akin to lifting a baby hippo (pictured below)! Fe was working today so we'd said our goodbyes early doors and she joked—at least it must be a joke—that she'd see me next year at my wedding! I think she's being a bit optimistic, Don Juan I am not! To coin an old term, women usually like a bit of 'courting' before they decide on a life partner—in fact men do too! Maybe I'll surprise her and call her from Vegas if Britney ever hits rock bottom again—the ideal time to strike!


Aunt Margaret and Sarah came up with Kevin in tow. Sarah actually asked me beforehand if he could come up when they did, which she needn't have done because, like I said, he seems a nice enough fella, though I was worried when she said he had something for me. A nice guy for sure, but stick to my cousin thank you kindly! Turns out the gift he had for me was a biography of John Lennon written by his half-sister Julia, and as I'm reconnecting with The Beatles, it was a really nice present to get. My Uncle Eddie also got me a book—an autobiography of Dave Hanson, one of the 'Hanson Brothers' (pictured below) who starred in the iconic Ice-Hockey film, Slapshot. Definitely wasn't short of reading material. Aunt Margaret, Sarah and Kevin stayed for about an hour—with the former two managing to squeeze in a couple of fag breaks on the balcony—before heading off. It was great to see Aunt Margaret and Sarah and to go clubbing with the latter!


With Aunt Margaret's gifts having added to a Vanessa Feltz sized case, myself and Uncle Eddie set off for Bramalea to watch the Celtic vs Hearts game, which beforehand, was supposed to entail a spot of fish and chips at a place called Heritage Fish and Chips. I say 'was' because we drove around trying in vain to find the place. We seemed to be on the right road but the lack of numbers on any of the buildings proved to be a colossal hindrance. We eventually gave up and opted for a McDonald's instead. On entering, we were met by the son of Scottish boxing legend Benny Lynch (pictured below), who, if I had met him at the start and not the end of the holiday, I'd love to have spent time talking to. I picked up a Bramalea CSC polo shirt for my Da before I settled down with my Uncle Eddie and my Uncle Brian—who was working nearby—to watch the game. It turned out to be a bit of a horror show—Celtic lost 2-0 rather meekly to Hearts, with a soft red card and penalty decision going against us. Worse still though, or perhaps a slight cold comfort, over at Ibrox Rangers were being gubbed 3-0 by Hibs. I realised too that in terms of watching Celtic on TV, Uncle Eddie and myself are quite vocal and, on occasion, I admit, foul-mouthed! My Uncle Brian is much more reserved and today he seemed strangely subdued, football aside. Really not like him to be like that, hope I've not pissed him off in some way. You never know, sometimes any given family member's sensitivities can be a minefield. to negotiate. I gave him a big hug, which I hope cheered him up a bit.


After the match, Uncle Eddie bowed to the awesome power of the GPS and found the chippy eventually. It was quite surreal actually, sitting in the place with our Celtic scarves on, tucking into a plate of fish and chips—which due to the fact that the fish in question is halibut is better than anything you get back home—while two Rangers fans were doing the same at another table! That wouldn't happen post-match in Glasgow! The queue at the airport for the Air Transat desk was a total farce. It was longer than Ron Jeremy's dick and just as tired looking (pictured below). In their infinite wisdom, Air Transat had decided to dump passengers on flights going to Manchester, London and Glasgow into the same queue, only to then, when whatever flight was leaving first, call people on that particular flight to the front of the queue. We were in line for about 1 hour 10 mins and despite the check-in desk apparently closing at 7.35pm, I only got checked in at 7.15pm. That, allied to the fact that I had to pay an extra $60 due to my overweight case, left me in a bit of a mood. However that was lifted when I said goodbye to my Uncle Eddie and he said that he was 'missing me already.' My Da's side of the family is not that emotional a bunch at the best of times and Uncle Eddie is considered by many, as a man of few words, so that made it even more special. It felt good to be loved at that very moment.


With no time to buy any duty free, it was straight onto the plane and I said goodbye to Canada for another year. I had fully intended to read and sleep on the plane but I ended up talking to a lovely lady from Hamilton, Ontario, who was travelling to visit relatives in Girvan. Who would have thought that it would take that long to travel from Hamilton to Girvan or indeed that anyone would want to! we got on so swimmingly that we exchanged e-mail addresses, which is a first for me with a fellow passenger, but like they say, there's a first time for everything. The exchange of e-mails addresses actually reminded me to try and keep in touch a bit better with family and friends. The Internet, mercifully, can make the Atlantic seem that little bit less expansive.

Day 20

Today started off with a lot of hanging on the telephone namely from a call from my Aunt Margaret, who, with Sarah, wanted to come and see me one last time before I headed home. I told her to phone me before three o'clock because that was the time I was heading downtown to meet Patti to go for a bite to eat prior to seeing Wicked. In the morning I headed downstairs, in my uncle's building, to Tim Horton’s to get some snackage (pictured below). This consisted of a blueberry bagel, a double chocolate donut and a tea double-double (milk and sugar). Add to that a Cadbury's Pep bar and a bag of Cheetos and I was all set for a day of lounging on the couch, waiting for the phone to ring while watching TV.


Watching TV itself can often be an arduous process because there are so many commercials that it breaks up everything you are watching. So you start channel-hopping during these ad breaks to see if there is anything else on but inevitably you just run into another set of commercials. I became a bit of an expert on the ads on North American TV if truth be told! My favourites are those in which two politicians are running against each other. Often they use each other’s campaign slogans and/or sporting analogies as a stick to beat each other with. They're a far cry from the boring party political broadcasts we get back home. Maybe it's time Alex Salmond opened a can of whoop-ass on that Tory Golden Girls lookalike Annabel Goldie or the Labour Leader guy who is so boring I can't even remember his name! Yes, bring some North American humour into politics, just not too much though, that's how George W Bush got elected I presume, a joke too far! A live English Premiership game actually turned out to be a Godsend, because unlike ice hockey, the play here in uninterrupted by ad breaks, which is great even if it is a shit game like Stoke City vs Blackburn Rovers.

As for the phonecall, it never came before three o'clock so I headed for the subway. Predictably enough, the call did come while I was sitting on the train with my Aunt Margaret letting me know that they were coming up to the flat tomorrow instead. Normally changing plans at such short notice would have annoyed me but that's the beauty of being on holiday, you take things in your stride a little more. Patti was dragging her heels a little too, so I was left at the mercy of the music stores and I succumbed to temptation once more, buying the Best of Led Zeppelin and Katy Perry's new CD (gratuitously pictured below)—a combination that seemed to amuse and bemuse the HMV cashier in equal measure. I was getting a bit worried as time was ticking on and it wasn't until around six o'clock that Patti surfaced, so with only a short time until the show started and given the fact that I'd become pretty well-acquainted with the place, we headed to Johnny Rocket's to grab a burger and a shake.


After wolfing food down, we headed to the Canon Theatre for the show. The place was packed too, not a spare seat in the house. In fact when I went to take up mine, there was already a girl sitting there. Her friend asked if I could sit a few seats in as her friend had a 'bladder problem.' So I said 'Ok sure.' I rued that act of kindness soon after when I realised that I was sitting behind a bearded bobblehead, who wouldn't sit still or shut the fuck up, was molesting his girlfriend constantly and whose phone kept going off. I dunted his seat a few times to register my annoyance, but it was to no avail. The interval actually saved him from a punch in the back of the head, but I had already decided to request to sit in my original seat under the auspices of being too cramped. I was, but I could live with that, a jackass in the box, I simply couldn't.


Anyway, the show itself was spectacular, like a pantomime for adults and it kept you fairly engrossed throughout. Great colour, sets, performances and songs brought Gregory Maguire's excellent re-imagining of the life of the Wicked Witch of the West to life and I thoroughly enjoyed it, even more so the second half. Exorcising the demons of a screwup ex-girlfriend, even two years on felt great too. Closure is good no matter when and where it happens.

Patti had a great time too and afterwards, we went next door to the Hard Rock Cafe for a nightcap. There we met her friend Craig who impressed me with his knowledge of football/soccer and music. I think Patti was glad of having some adult time and I was glad to be in a position to help her do that by suggesting going to the show. It was a great call even if I do say so myself. I got the subway home and hit the sack, sad in the knowledge that tomorrow would be my last day with my family, in this great country, for a while.

Day 19

I managed to share the burden of my cousin's potential STI and a litany of sexual stories and insights I'd been privy to—which I wish I never was—with April today when we were hanging out. I had to drop off my rental guitar today at Long and McQuade's in Ossington. I was quite sad, I'd become attached to it and it brought home the fact that I'd be back home soon and back to the daily grind and doing the bulwark of the work at the newspaper, ho hum! Decided that today I was gonna get all my shopping done, so after picking stuff up for Stacey, Mark and Fish—my mate not the Marillion singer—I bought myself some stuff to treat myself. No better way to do that either than getting some music so I picked up CDs by: Sinead O'Connor, George Harrison, The Runaways, The Black Angels (pictured below) and John Lennon. A good mix to go with the Julian Hatfield and Blake Babies CDs I'd bought earlier on in the trip. I absolutely love music. I'm not kidding when I say that it can have a very positive effect on people and pull them out of some very dark places. For me, when writing lyrics and music, it often serves as a good way to exorcise demons. April picked up some CDs too from the 'industrial' or death metal sections, which I generally avoid like the plagues they often sing about.


After that bout of retail therapy, we headed to one of my old haunts, the Scotiabank Cinema (pictured below) to catch a film. I usually go there to see films as part of the Toronto Film Festival in September. I only missed that this year because Pope Benedict XVI paid a visit to Scotland. Pretty inconsiderate of him! Anyway, we went to see a movie called Due Date, a comedy with Robert Downey Jr and Zach Galifianakis. As usual at the cinema, I stocked up on snacks. A medium coke—which would mean an in-film toilet break— a small popcorn—equivalent to our medium sized popcorn—and some Maynards Cherry Bombs! The film was very funny and April was pissing herself laughing when, at one point, Downey Jr punched an annoying kid right in the gut! She was a little more horrified though when the same actor spat in the face of Galifianakis' dog!


Later on, we went to Jack Astors overlooking Dundas Square (pictured below), but not before a walk by the lake and a pleasant run in, and photo with, some Mounties who were on their way to the Hockey Hall of Fame induction. April found this hilarious. I was a source of amusement to her as much as Downey Jr it seemed! Forced some chicken fingers and mash down my gub at Jack Astors, which was nice, but what was even nicer was that view over the square, which I took a picture of, for my sister, because I know she'll love it. It will no doubt make her look forward to her trip with Mark and the kids in 2011.


We headed home on the subway but had to get off at Keale because of a 'security alert!' Mercifully April's sister Trish picked us up, because the shuttle bus promised, didn't look like arriving any time soon. A bizarre end to a great day with an old friend. Dunno when I'll next see her again but one thing is for sure, I doubt April will have changed much and I'm thankful for that!

Day 18

Awoke to a pretty nasty surprise today—Chlamydia. Nope, nothing to do with me, but after I'd polished off an authentic Scottish fry-up that my Aunt Margaret had made and my cousin Sarah had headed out to work, I made a worrying discovery as to what might have been at the root of her illness. When I went down to the basement to use the computer I looked at the screen only to be greeted by a webpage detailing the symptoms of Chlamydia. It was only her and Kevin who'd been down here, so either Sarah is worried that she has it—hence the illness and decision perhaps, to dump Artur—or Kevin has it, which means it would be inadvisable for Sarah to contemplate getting back together with the guy. I don't know which explanation is more plausible; he does seem pretty besotted with her so maybe the former. That said it could just be coincidence—a form of sexual health hypochondria if you like. Either way, I got an insight into a relative's sex life that I could have done without in all honesty.

Aunt Margaret took me to Square One shopping mall and I saw a Toronto Maple Leafs tracksuit top that I kinda liked, but when she started intimating that she was going to buy it for me I made out that I was swaying over it. She doesn't have a full-time job so I didn't want her to spend money needlessly. Today was the day I was meeting up with Margaret Rose too, which went without a hitch and there was no awkward meeting between her and my Aunt Margaret, because the latter disappeared quick smart when I was meeting the former—almost like you see in films or cartoons where the person vanishes into the mist or some hissing smoke! So a family feud avoided and I made everybody happy as I always endeavour to do!

Went back to Uncle Eddie's, while Fe and Aunt Margaret went to see a filming of Battle of the Blades (pictured below), which is kinda like Dancing on Ice with former NHL stars and figure skaters. When they came back we had a feast of Thai food, before Fe retreated into a corner to play with her Nintendo DS, audibly annoyed when she answered a question incorrectly on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? Uncle Eddie and myself watched the NFL games, which I'm getting into more than ever. If the games were on at a decent hour back home and I had satellite TV, I'd watch them all the time.

Day 17

I've said it before and I'll say it again, that Scarborough Celtic Supporters Club is good luck for watching matches in. 9-0 we humped Aberdeen today, that's right 9-0! Two red cards too for either, so you can say what you want about Lennon's Celtic, but they are anything but dull! The only thing that was slightly dull was the old fella from last week, talking about planes, trains and automobiles again. At one point he actually asked me what kind of plane the airline Emirates used for their UK flights! I get the feeling that my answer of 'a big one' was probably not what he was looking for. He's a nice enough fella but chatting about machines doesn't excite me, I'm not a petrolhead. Uncle Eddie was in fine fettle too, which I guess was made easier by the fact that we were winning by a sizeable margin, but the banter was great. He does this thing too that whenever he cracks a joke he gets louder and louder, which is quite funny! Was chuffed for my niece Maria back home because she was at the game in my absence. She'd have enjoyed seeing goal after goal, go in. I just hope she doesn't think it's like that every week though!

After the game Uncle Eddie and myself enjoyed the delicious burgers served up by a place called the South Burger Company (pictured below). Well Uncle Eddie was enjoying his until Fe texted to tell him that she wanted to go to Sherway Gardens to get the Nintendo DS she wanted. She'd been going on about it all week like a kid! I thought that I'd missed the games console generation too, but apparently not! I spent the afternoon at Uncle Eddie's setting up both a DVD player and a VHS to DVD converter and then dismantling both, the former because it wasn't a multi-region player—despite the sales guy's claims—and the latter because it took the length of time that the original VHS lasts to convert it, so that was a bit of a waste for Uncle Eddie. Best just buying a multi-region DVD player online and getting someone else to convert your old VHS tapes.


Aunt Margaret picked me up at 5.30pm—fag in hand! Went out to her place and had my Da's favourite Saturday night dinner of pie, chips and beans. Sarah's a fan too so she must have inherited a Scottish palette. She also said that she was going out, despite being unwell too, so she's also inherited the Scots love of drinking no matter what! We were going out tonight in Oakville, the next big town west of Mississauga, and Sarah was stressing out about not having her passport to gain access into the club. Turned out Artur—who is now apparently her ex-boyfriend—has it. I say ex-boyfriend because she had all his stuff dumped in a binbag in her room, so I took that as a fairly obvious sign. Sarah gathered up every single bit of ID that she had before we left: birth certificate, driver's licence—the lot. I don't think it would have been a problem in any case, bouncers (pictured below) always let good-looking girls in anyway and some not so good-looking ones too in the hope of getting their end away with at least one of them. More often than not it works too because, let's face it, most girls who go clubbing are idiots.


When we arrived at the club, two of the more intelligent specimens in the queue were quite taken by the kilt and when Sarah found out that they went to a Catholic school in Mississauga, I jokingly said 'that's the best religion,' to which they replied 'we're Muslim!' Sarah had also pointed out how well-stacked they were, leading to a gag about getting a Muslim motorboat! (Motorboating example pictured below) Sounds a bit like a cocktail actually! After Sarah had showed the bouncer her life in paper form, we were in, for nothing too as her friend was on the door. Bonus too, because the taxi seemed a bit steep at $35! I swear that the meter had been tampered with beforehand too because it was accumulating quarters so fast!


The club itself was similar to the one the week previously albeit a bit bigger. Again there was no real defined dancefloor, with the biggest area also having a bar plonked right in the middle of it. Some of Sarah's friends were in too, three females and a little weedy fella who was like a cross between Screech (pictured below) from Saved By The Bell and the guy from Weird Al Yankovic's White 'N' Nerdy video. He was a try-hard, I'll give him that, grinding his bony arse up against any girl in the vicinity. I did a bit of exploring again and somehow ended up in the VIP section, where some arsehole of a bird took it upon herself to try and escort me out while making some snidey comments. I tried to get Sarah to find her later and maybe give her a dig in the ribs, but to no avail. In spite of an animated dance with the Muslim queue girls, I just wasn't really feeling this place much and wasn't too bothered when Sarah's ex-boyfriend Kevin, who she might now be back with—girl's love life is like a soap opera—arrived to pick us up. Got some post-club food from McDonalds on the way home, and for some reason a root beer, which almost made me vomit. Truly horrible stuff. Aunt Margaret was up when we arrived home, so she's either an insomniac or she has the same affliction my Ma has, where sleep is foregone for nosiness sakes! I had nothing but drunken ramblings to share with her. Sarah might have had a bit more, with an old boyfriend back on the scene!

Day 16

If last night was great, then this morning was a massive comedown. We travelled out to a nursing home in Burlington, western Ontario to see my (Great) Aunt Betty. She's a bit of a legend in our family in all honesty. She's my Gran's youngest sister and she is generous to a fault—a really smashing woman. Leaving aside the fact that she gave us a few dollars every time we were in Canada or a few pounds when we were back in Scotland, one time she asked my Da what cake he liked in a dessert shop in a mall called Sherway Gardens and when he said he'd take a slice of a certain cake, she bought him the whole thing! She was always making large quantities of food for family members too, one time I was over; she made me a whole tray of lasagne and bought me about 6lbs of Polish sausages. She was always on the go too, running people here there and everywhere and looking after her grandkids. Not to mention the fact that she was a hopeless romantic and was married three times! She lived her life a bit like a Mills and Boon novel!

In early 2010 though, she had a stroke, which left her with little feeling in her left side, hence the fact that she's now in a home. It's different to the one that my Papa was in for a while too. His was cleaner and he had a private room. Aunt Betty was in a place, where the smell of urine was so pungent it made me wretch. She was sharing a room, separated by curtains, with two other women. She was in a wheelchair, which she had to move using her feet and looked a shadow of her former self. It was very difficult to comprehend, not to mention heartbreakingly sad. I'll say this much for her though, she's resilient and still had that same wide smile on her face that she's always had. She never let the pain, of what must be a terrible situation for her, show.

She was delighted that I'd come to see her and I'm glad I did. She's always been a little bit superstitious too, so I quite happily let her read my cards, even though I don't really believe in them myself. We looked through some old family photos too and she still seemed sharp as a tack with regard to when and where each one was taken. I gave her one of my band's CDs and a wee religious prayer card with Our Lady on it and it seemed to make her well up, which made me feel even more sad. I hope she's getting regular visitors in that place, because it felt like a waiting room for death.

Afterwards, myself and my Uncle Eddie went to an old Fish and Chip place called the Viking Restaurant (pictured below), near my Gran and Papa's old house, which is a constant favourite and has been for years—it does Irn Bru too, which was a huge bonus years ago! A lovely piece of halibut and chips and a can of Grape Crush was just the tonic before home to chill out for a bit.


Aunt Margaret picked me up at 5.30pm to take me fore a meal at an Italian eatery called Enzo's not far from her place in Mississauga. It was split in half with a small bar on one side and a busy restaurant on the other. We were seated on the bar side and my Aunt Margaret seemed to know the majority of the locals. It was a bit like the Canadian version of Cheers (pictured below) with drunker clientele. One guy looked a bit like a gin-soaked version of the Cowardly Lion from the Wizard of Oz. I was introduced to all of them, but I could barely remember all of their names. I don't think that this would have bothered them unduly anyway, their mind was on the alcohol, not a Scottish visitor. I had a nice wee Italian Wedding soup to start—with crackers, which is common here—and then sole stuffed with crabs and scallops and pasta in a vodka cream sauce.


My Aunt Margaret is a good person to tap for stories about what it was like to leave for Canada in the 1960s and what it was like when you got there—my Da, a year older than her, eventually moved home for good in 1971. She also gives you an insight into some of my Da's cousins, which is interesting because I don't know all of them that well and you always like to know more about your background. I like to tap all of them for information on the family as they all have their own unique take on it, apart from my Great Aunt Harriet, with whom they find common ground in their dislike for. Their description of her seems a bit like my own Aunt Anne back home, a snobby social climber who wouldn't give you the steam off her piss!

Day 15

So D-Day for the gig had arrived and I spent most of the day holed up in my Uncle Eddie's flat trying to rehearse a little more, in between facebooking people back home. Every time I hit a bum note, I got pretty frustrated with myself. I wanted to give a good account of myself, the band and some of the songs I'd written for my family and friends who were coming along. Fe was off work today and spent most of it online with me in the front room. That said though, she was also making that classic Scottish dish of mince 'n' tatties (pictured below)! On one hand it smelt really good and I could tell that she had lobbed some carrots and onions into the mix. On the other hand I was worried about smelling like vegetables tonight—I used to work in a kitchen and came home smelling like that most nights—so I made a mental note to at least have a Glasgow shower before I headed to the venue. I phoned my Da as well and we chatted for a while about the football and the fact that they were having the upstairs rooms painted. My Ma was out, but I caught her on facebook later on for her own unique take on family problems! I managed to shift the conversation into something else, had had enough of that nonsense yesterday.


I wanted to play a gig in Toronto for family and friends who can't see me play normally, but also since our singer, and my best mate Michael, emigrated to Australia, I took over the singing mantle and I wanted to put myself to the test a little, vocally, musically but also from a confidence perspective. It's a right of passage, if you will, and harder when you're on your own. The venue was pretty cool, lit up by a funky neon sign outside (pictured below). It seemed a pretty typical rock venue, situated above a very packed restaurant —with a great reputation for nachos—with posters and stickers all over the place, sticky floors and an assortment of stools all along the bar and walls. I met the headline act, The Gay Blades, who were in soundchecking as I arrived. They were all really nice fellas, from NYC and signed to a label—triple crown records—too so their tour was paid for! I soundchecked shortly after them, on a very wobbly chair, which only took about five minutes. I played a bit of Sister I'm A Prophet, then quickly set about finding a chair that was on an even keel.


My Uncle Eddie's friend Roger came in before they started taking cash at the door and promptly started to unload all of his CDs onto me, which seemed to have a plethora of songs with the suffix 'blues' in their titles. He was clearly a soul who had suffered a lot in his life. He was trying to explain to me the meaning behind some of them, but the other band were soundchecking by this point and were drowning out much of what he was saying. He's a nice fella but I was kinda glad of that and even more glad to see April and her sister Trish arrive, along with my Uncle Eddie, Fe, my Da's cousin Lorraine and her husband Jamie, his other cousin Sylvia and her daughter Katherine, so I had a bit of a posse, which was cool. Was onstage at 9.45pm and I don't mind saying, I was bricking it a bit. I was a little ropey on the first two tracks, but by the time Sister I'm A Prophet came around, I found my form and grew in confidence. One thing I was conscious of was the fact that a lot of the time, I sing with my eyes closed. Maybe that was just a subconscious protection device, or maybe it's just me getting lost in the song. Yeah that sounds better I'll go with that.

Was buzzing by the time I came offstage, but was a bit embarrassed at signing autographs as an unsigned act and posing for so many pics, though I know that this is not a regular occurrence for my family here, coming to see me play that is. Was happy to talk to them all though, I'd like to think I'm shy but sociable and was even more delighted to get a few beers down my neck! My Uncle Eddie wasted no time in sampling Sneaky Dee's famous nachos and ordered a gigantic plate of them stacked high. I was too full of adrenaline to eat but everyone else attacked them at vulture speed. I made sure that the other bands, promoters and bar staff had a copy of my band's CD—best letting as many people as possible hear it. I bought one of The Gay Blades' t-shirts that read 'Your Band Name Sucks!' (pictured below) and told them to get in touch the next time they were playing in the UK and headed home with everyone for a nightcap at Uncle Eddie's. It was a great night!