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!

Day 14

Today was a massive improvement guitar-wise. I managed to run through the setlist—my songs and the covers—with few hitches and the hitches I did have, I covered up pretty well. I guess that's the beauty of playing somewhere where you aren't known; you can get away with the odd blip here and there. I had planned to meet April today and hang around for a bit downtown. I think I said so before but she lived with her Mum, Winnie, next door to my Gran and Papa and we've known each other for years. She hasn't changed a bit too and still likes doing all the stuff we usually do when we're downtown like checking out all the record and book stores, going for food and to the cinema and so on.

I met her at Royal York station, which is five minutes away from my Uncle Eddie's flat and the station that is nearest to her house and subsequently my Gran and Papa's old house. It's the station that reminds me most of my childhood so I didn't mind walking to it. I dragged April out to a station a little off the beaten track called 'Pape,' (pictured below) so I couldn't resist getting my photo taken next to the sign—Pape is a derogatory term used by some people towards those of the Catholic Faith, so I'm taking it back and empowering it! We hit Sonic Boom records first but my stomach was feeling a little dodgy so I sought out a bathroom along the street in a Starbucks to remedy the situation. I can't think of anywhere better to take a shit than in a soulless, monolithic coffee shop. Back at Sonic Boom I picked up a Blake Babies’ album and an old Juliana Hatfield one, so two purchases more or less in the same ballpark but they are harder to come by back home. Could have easily gotten more CDs but some were pretty expensive and I reckon for some bands/artists I can get their stuff cheaper back home. We stooped for a shawarma on our way down Yonge St—the guy in there probably knows my name by now given the business he's had from me. Outside there was a black guy dressed in Saudi attire carrying a replica Stanley Cup he had made from cardboard and tin foil. So he was our nutter for today, albeit a harmless one.


A trip to HMV proved fruitless, but in Sunrise Records, I got my Uncle Eddie and Fe two excellent foreign DVDs: The Lives Of Others and Black Book—both starring the fantastic actor Sebastian Koch (pictured below). It's always hit or miss with DVDs because my Uncle Eddie sees so many films, but I gambled on those two. I picked up some Disney-themed toys for my niece Monica and a Nintendo DS game fr my other niece Maria, so it's obvious which one is older. Again, a Nintendo DS game is a gamble, as Maria seems to have quite a few. As for myself I was trying to get a Boston Celtics tracksuit top, which was $90, but the Adidas store never had them in my size. I was cursing my luck until I happened upon the same top in Sportchek, which was cheaper by $20 and despite going over the stitching with a fine tooth comb and realising some of it wasn't the best, I decided to get myself one.


We hit a place called Johnny Rockets (pictured below) for food after we were shopped out. It's identical in all but name to the Irish chain known as Eddie Rockets. It's an old-school style diner with 1950s music, burgers, hot dogs, shakes and all that jazz. I plumped for a chili dog and a strawberry milkshake—a combination that seemed to make April gag a little but it was good. Headed back home after that. I suggested catching a movie but April was working at 4am so it was a no-go. Promised to meet her again before I flew home.


Back at Uncle Eddie's, my Aunt Margaret phoned. She wanted to take me to some place called 'Enzo's' in Mississauga when I go there at the weekend. As I'd still to see Margaret Rose—my Dad's cousin—I thought I could double that up but those two don't get along anymore so my Aunt Margaret ruled it out. I love visiting family, but sometimes trying to please everyone can be more than a little draining!

Day 13

Day 13, unlucky for some, not really for me though. The sun was splitting the sky this morning and I had my guitar for company—proper order! As Fe was away to work, I had the house to myself so I could belt out the songs at the top of my voice, which always helps as you can get a real feel for how it would sound live. Moreover, I really hope it was some sort of payback for the killer driller next-door, shoe on the other foot so to speak! I was a little ropey but I knew I'd by fine by the time the gig came along. Setlist for the gig is as follows: Sister I'm A Prophet, I Just Need Your Love, Falling (Sister Seashore), I Love You But You're Blue, Oh My Darling Adeline followed by a few covers too, perhaps: Jesus Don't Want Me For A Sunbeam, The Outdoor Type and maybe Sally Cinnamon (pictured below).


Headed downtown for a bit just to get some fresh air and wander around prior to meeting my Uncle Eddie for the Toronto Maple Leafs game against the Ottawa Senators, which I was pretty excited about. I proved myself to be an absolute glutton again. Had a chicken shawarma for lunch and then promptly went a couple of doors down and had a mammoth pizza slice too! I realised that I'd lost my lottery ticket—the one that I won last week—so maybe the Day 13 bad luck was kicking in after all! I decided to buy another one but imagine the one I lost turned out to be a winner! I'd never know! Was planning on buying a Maple Leafs varsity jacket too but they didn't have it in my size dammit! I visited Sonic Boom records (pictured below) today also—located just near Bathurst subway station—which is my favourite record store in the entire world! I kid you not the selection is frightening, much better than the monolithic music stores everywhere else that have no character and a shite selection of music. April loves the place too. They always have hard to find music like The Blake Babies too so I usually pick up some of their CDs, saves having to go through the amazon rigmarole.


Met up with Uncle Eddie at the Real Sports Bar (pictured below), which is a giant edifice full of giant screens, hockey nuts and easy-on-the-eye barmaids—bit a positive discrimination there from the HR guy, and it's definitely a guy! The Champions League games were on too, which was great for two reasons: firstly it shows the growing popularity and availability of 'soccer' now in North America but also I could watch Rangers being slaughtered 3-0 by Valencia! To enhance the experience I had a pulled pork sandwich with fries, was pretty good too, no complaints from the ever-expanding me!


When we arrived in the Air Canada Centre I was pretty awestruck—it was a lot bigger than I had expected and although our seats were way up high, the view was still great. I was snap happy all night and mesmerised by the experience—I think some Canadians take ice hockey and the Maple Leafs (pictured below) for granted, possibly the same way we do with football and Celtic back home. I love all the razzmatazz associated with North American sports too, although it was a bit more sombre due to Remembrance Sunday coming up, so some veterans were paraded before the game. The only slightly annoying thing is that the game stops when a commercial break is coming up—capitalism in action! During one of these game breaks, we were introduced to two young ice hockey players, one of who said his favourite food was salad, the other said his favourite singer was Elton John! Surely to God they were lying, they were about nine for fuck sakes! Either that or Canadian kids are a bit weird. The game itself wasn't the greatest and the Senators ran out 3-2 winners, but I was just happy to say that I'd seen a Maple Leafs game in the home of ice hockey and seen them score a couple of goals too. At least the Canadian team won! I now understand what the guy from Detroit was prattling on about—even at the ice hockey, the fans were pretty quiet for the most part.

Day 12

Decided the lazy theme should continue for a couple of days so slept long and now that the killer-driller next door seemed to have gone, that was easily done! Had breakfast/lunch with Fe and I mean it in the loosest possible sense, it was just toast. Not really a big breakfast eater. Headed downtown after that to replace the capo that I inadvertently destroyed the other day and also to pick up some contact lens solution. Truly riveting stuff I'm sure you'll agree. Before I went out however, I left a message on facebook alluding to the fact that I was delighted to be going to see Wicked even if it was two years later than planned. I think I had to remind my ex that she was an asshole and the dig was fully intended. With that off my chest I made my way into town and got some contact lens solution at a Shoppers Drug Mart easy enough, but I couldn't be arsed traipsing up Yonge St to that tiny guitar store so I went west on Queen St and my bearings were still spot on as Steve's Music Store (pictured below) was there where I'd left it the last time I was here. It's amazing how, even if you've been away from a place for a good while, you can still find it. That's why I love to wander around places so that I can retain a picture of it in my mind, and sometimes, it even creeps into my dreams. The weather here has been great too, hardly any rain, just dry and sunny cold, the best kind of winter!


Went back to my Uncle Eddie's flat as we were going for a Chinese buffet at a place called the Imperial Palace or something like that. To call it a mere Chinese buffet is probably doing it a disservice as it had Korean, Japanese and Western grub too, hot and cold, and a myriad of desserts. I attacked everything in a manner in which my sister, who loves Canadian-style Chinese buffets, would have been immensely proud of! I've said it one and I'll say it again, if I lived here I would be a fat bastard due to the portion sizes and value for money.

Went home, waistline bulging, to get ready for The Dandy Warhols (pictured below) gig. This was the second time I've seen them play Toronto, believe it or not. The last time was in September 2008 at a place called Guvernment, which was pretty big and overpriced. I had my kilt on that time, which attracted criticism from a hobo who referred to me as 'Rowdy Roddy Piper,' and plaudits from a birthday party from Montreal/Toronto who kinda took me under their wing that night. This time I was on my lonesome and unkilted as I had to get the subway home and thought that it might attract the attention of too many transport weirdoes than normal. The gig venue, the Phoenix Theatre, was smaller but had a better sound as the crowd were packed in as opposed to dispersed, so that always helps with the atmosphere!


I met, what I think were a couple of gay guys, Jonathan and Eduardo from Detroit and Colombia respectively. They may actually have been a bonafide couple but my gaydar is shite. Jonathan was a proper muso and I got on great with him—not in that sense. He knew his UK music too, which is always refreshing and he was a huge Stone Roses fan like myself, good fella! He seemed unimpressed by the support act Blue Giant—a kinda bluegrass cum country Mumford and Sons type band—as he kept sticking his fingers in his ears. I took that as a sign! He was also less than complimentary about Courtney Taylor-Taylor either, as he had met him the night before at The Black Angels gig and said he was a bit of a surly dick.

Anyway, one of the main gripes I have with The Dandy Warhols is that they usually pick the wrong set, but tonight they got it spot on with a great selection of their best tracks: Not If You Were The Last Junkie On Earth, Everyday Should Be A Holiday, Bohemian Like You, Boys Better, The Last High, Godless. Every one a classic. The crowd though, were bizarrely subdued. Jonathan said that was common with a Canadian crowd. In Scotland, the folk in the middle of the crowd would have been drenched in sweat and beer and wouldn't have minded too much, the band wouldn't have either! The only bad thing about an otherwise excellent gig and this is a pet hate of mine, are the clowns who come in late and stand right in front of you. One guy, who looked like a cross between a grizzly bear/Neanderthal man and a serial killer, seemed to have the ability to sleep standing up! Unfortunately, he didn't just stand in front of me, he stood pretty much on me, so I had to dig him a few times to get him to move, which was a risky move given he was almost a foot taller than me—and I'm 6ft 3"—and he looked like a Bond villain (pictured below). Eventually he scuttled off to sleep standing up somewhere else, the crazy bastard. After an aggressive end to the gig from the band, I got my jacket, gave Jonathan one of my band's CDs and go the subway home—which was safe as houses by the way—to slumberland!

Day 11

No hangover! That's a surprise given I was out with Sarah! Don't think the same could be said of her though. She looked shattered and worse still she had to go to work, on a Sunday as well! Still I doubt she gave anyone a blue rinse by accident so that's the main thing! Aunt Margaret got up and had begun preparing things for dinner—Uncle Eddie and Fe were coming up—but we nipped out to the supermarket to get some more stuff. Aunt Margaret does the kind of shopping that I like—a few necessities for the meal topped up with goodies like crisps, chocolate, sweets and blueberry bagels (pictured below). That's my kinda haul! Uncle Eddie phoned when we got back to say that he and Fe wouldn't be up until 2.30pm. I think this was mainly because he was watching the American Football matches at home. Aunt Margaret and I just sat and chatted for a while until they arrived. I know that Sarah said about her Mum having a drink problem and maybe she does, but her main problem I think is a lack of company and conversation, something to keep her occupied along with a job, obviously. She does have her faults, but she also has a lot of good points too, she just has to let them shine through and breathe a little more and stay away from phones and computers when she's drunk. That is advice that is pretty much universal!


When Fe and Uncle Eddie arrived, he quickly retreated to the TV room, while Fe helped out in the kitchen. I know feminists would probably be reading this with a fair degree of horror, but I think Fe actually likes doing housework (like the lady in the advertisment below), cooking and so on. I tried to do my own washing the other day, but she was having none of it. She was quite protective of the washing machine and dryer! I also tried to be the modern man and tell her to take a break from helping out in the kitchen, but she wouldn't hear of that either. I think her and my Uncle Eddie go together well in the sense that he likes being looked after and she likes looking after him. A win-win situation.


The roast dinner was awesome, my compliments to the chef! And the white chocolate and raspberry cake for dessert—which Uncle Eddie seemed keen to get stuck into—was great too, so compliments to the bakers! It was a perfect lazy Sunday, exactly the way a Sunday should be!

Day 10

I have to start by saying that I wrote this particular entry while strongly under the influence. The day didn't start that way though. I was up at 6am for the Celtic vs St Johnstone SPL match at the Scarborough Celtic Supporters' Club (club crest below) just outside Toronto, which has been a happy hunting ground for me in holidays past! And so it proved again as Celtic ran out 3-0 winners (Izaguirre and McGinn (2)). A decent result made even more satisfying by the fact that Rangers could only draw 1-1 with Inverness Caledonian Thistle at Snake Mountain (Ibrox). It took the sting out of last weekend's loss a little. Was sat next to the same old fella I was the last time I was over in 2008. He loves rabbiting on about cars, ships airplanes and so on and in no way shape or form am I that kinda guy, but he was nice enough and good luck so I humoured him by pretending I had a fucking clue about the new Boeing 747 or something he was talking about. I've actually yet to see Celtic lose in this club!


My Uncle Eddie and Fe went downtown to watch a movie when we came back, leaving me as the master of the remote control. I watched the rest of the English Premiership games in a lazyboy chair while doing a bit of facebooking and paddpowering! I could see the attraction in my Uncle Eddie and my Da—with horses thrown in for good measure—spending their days like this. It's a very alpha male way to spend a day, but they're both married so you can't really. Plus I'd lose interest soon enough anyway and wanna do something else. I also tried to play the guitar and sing a little, which I could do so fairly loudly, so that was good apart from the fact that I inadvertently destroyed my capo! Was karma repaying me though because I was dishing out a facebook slagging at the time!

My Aunt Margaret phoned, which was quite brilliantly displayed as called ID on the bottom of the TV screen, a lazy man's dream because it lets you make the decision as to whether or not to reach for the phone—an agonising task for a settled man. Of course my Aunt Margaret is my Godmother so I was definitely gonna answer it! I was staying at her place over the weekend so I could go out clubbing—dancing, not animal cruelty—with my cousin Sarah. Chucked all my stuff in a small suitcase, kilt obviously, and waited for her arrival. Was really pleased to see her too, like I was with my Uncle Eddie and my Uncle Brian. There's a myriad of intercine family disputes but I try to stand back from them and maintain good relations with all my family members. In my opinion, it takes too much energy to carry the baggage of hatred, bitterness and anger around with you. Everyone has their faults—I know I do—but with family, you have to, more or less, just accept them.

We travelled out to Square One (pictured below), a gigantic shopping mall in Mississauga, where my cousin Sarah works as a hair stylist. Caught a brief glimpse of her with her plastic gloves on—obviously colouring some broad's hair. I keep forgetting how small she is, a veritable shortarse! She said that she'd be done by six, so we had to wander around the place like a couple of high-brow mallrats—great film as it happens! Sarah took over at the wheel to drive us somewhere for dinner and the bickering between her and her Mum started. It's kinda funny actually, they both have similar traits, although I doubt that they'd admit it, they argue like sisters almost. All this is done while in full control of their fags, like Patti and Selma from The Simpsons a little! We went to a place called Moxies for some food. Appetizers were crab cakes (good), calamari (freezing cold), fries (decent) and chicken tenders (good). Washed down with a pitcher of Coors for me and the wee yin and two glasses of wine for Aunt Margaret. Oh and also a spectacular dessert—which Canadians do very well as a rule—a white chocolate brownie with ice cream, which was simply sublime! Halloween is a serious business over here, even in this restaurant the waitresses were in costume. Sarah's work was the same, there was one girl dressed as Alice in Wonderland and by God, Alice looked like she'd developed somewhat!


Got ready to head out almost as soon as we got back, after a short detour to pick up a quarter bottle of vodka for me and Sarah and an industrial sized bottle of wine for my Aunt Margaret. Sarah later confided in me that she thinks her mum has a drink problem and even suggested that she's drinking the money she gives her to help her with the mortgage, which is worrying if true. To be honest they both had financial and other complaints about one another, dunno who's version of events is the correct one, but I am a little worried for my Aunt Margaret if she is becoming alcohol-dependent. I do know that sometimes if you're out of work and don't have a regular routine, you can end up turning to vice.

Sarah's boyfriend came to pick us up. He was a Portuguese-Canadian fella called Artur and he seemed every inch the MTV stereotype of a young, white, North American male: Diamond earring, baseball cap, shite music blaring out from a car that stank strongly of weed and from the bizarre way he was driving I was kinda reconsidering getting in the car with him. His patter was pretty awful too, but my cousin seemed to like him so I tried to give him a chance. During this car drive from hell, I was trying to eject a booger and when I did so I had nowhere to put it. I decided, in part because of this car ride with the audio monoxide it was entailing, to rid myself of it on the car's upholstery. At another of Sarah's friend's condominium, we were introduced to Batman and Robin and for the one and only time, I preferred the latter to the former—the latter being a fairly buxom blonde (similar attire pictured below). I was also introduced to a rather over-friendly boxer dog, who had a worrying attraction to my crotch area. I was pretty happy when it was put in its cage—the dog that is.


The club in Mississauga was called My Apartment (pictured below) and was pretty busy—there was a queue outside full of folk in costume. I usually hate queues but this one was at least colourful and entertaining. Super Mario was a little pissed off when we jumped the queue! Inside, it was decent, packed full of people dressed up as superheroes, the wee creepy guy from Saw, Homer Simpson, Borat and a whole host of others, including two idiots with massively inferior kilts dressed as, I guess, Fat Bastard from Austin Powers or perhaps just Scotsmen! The drinks were a lot cheaper than I expected too so we all had a heady mix of bourbon, jaegerbombs and beer too. I got a bit bored with Batman pawing Robin and worse still Artur feeling up my cousin so I did a bit of circling. I was actually surprised at the amount of couples that were in the club, back home it's much more of a meet-market. There was also no real dancefloor, which I wasn't too keen on. I like defined areas in a nightclub, not because I'm a fantastic buster of moves or anything but just because I'd like to know where to get on down if there is one. We left relatively early for a night out, 2am or so, though in fairness, Sarah was falling asleep. I wasn't overly happy about having to get into a car driven by a guy who was clearly over the alcohol limit and perhaps topped up with recreational drugs, but I was in the middle of nowhere, didn't have my Aunt Margaret's address and wouldn't have gotten much sense outta Sarah, so I just had to grin and bear it. Mercifully I got back home unscathed. For some bizarre reason too I had acquired a Devil's fork. Fucked if I know where I got that from!

Day 9

Why do people, the world over, insist on drilling in the early hours of the morning? I'd probably have done time for the clown next door had Canadian prisons not been located in the arsehole of nowhere that I was bumping my gums about on the drive to and from Ottawa! At least getting up early meant that I could chat to people back home for a bit before I headed downtown to try and get tickets for Wicked. Online the cheapest tickets were $119 so I hoped that the box office would have some more than weren't quite so steep. While I was on the computer, I happened upon a book entitled How To Be A Better Lover, which I thought would be a relatively tame book in the Dear Deirdre field but it was pretty graphic, with a host of illustrations and 'handy' tips like: "When handling your lover's testicles treat them as you would small eggs." Now I truly hope them meant in terms of fragility and not cooking. Wouldn't fancy, fried, boiled or scrambled gonads! Despite it belonging to family members, I wasn't overly freaked out though, my Uncle Eddie and Fe are both adults. Still I'd probably have kept it in a drawer in their own room if I was them.

Once I'd sorted myself—both mentally and physically—I headed downtown and was serenaded by a busker at Islington subway station playing Leaving On A Jet Plane by John Denver—he did as well. Seems to be a popular station for buskers! Headed straight for the Canon Theatre where Wicked was having its run and managed to get two tickets for $65 a pop! Up in the Gods or nosebleeds as they call them over here. A row separates us but hopefully by playing the cousin-on-holiday card we can get a couple of seats together. Quite happy that was sorted so the next thing to sort out was my hunger, easily done with a fantastic chicken schawarma in one of my favourite eateries on Yonge St. Probably shouldn't then have gotten a large popcorn, with melted butter when I went to the cinema at Yonge/Dundas to see the high school take on the Scarlet Letter, which was entitled Easy A (pictured below). We're lucky at home having the Cineworld Unlimited card but even abroad I had to have my cinema fix, even if it was on my lonesome, despite what some folk think, that scenario has never bothered me and never will.


After that, I had a look around some of the stores and saw a couple of things I might pick up: a Maple Leafs varsity jacket and a Boston Celtics tracksuit top. Will definitely get something for my nieces though, even if it was gonna bump me over the luggage allowance. Had a scout around some record stores before getting the subway home, one of which had an old Donkey Kong arcade game, which only cost a quarter to play. I was struggling to get onto the third level in any of the shots I had but it did bring back memories of playing with the only games console I've ever had, a Nintendo Entertainment System or NES (pictured below) for short! Most folk probably haven't even heard of that console, but it was the original and best and I still remember being delighted at completing Mario Bros 1, 2 and 3! It's probably considered kitsch and retro now, I wish I had kept a hold of it.


Back at my Uncle Eddie's place, he asked if I wanted to go and see an old school friend of his named Roger playing an acoustic set for a hour at a nearby coffee shop, to which I acquiesced. The first performer was a portly chap to say the least, in fact I think he might actually have been sitting on two seats and his guitar was so small against his huge frame that it resembled a ukulele. He wasn't a bad singer though to be fair. Roger and his accomplice Steve were somewhat different in styles. The former was a good guitarist but spoke too softly and gruffly during most of his songs, while the latter was a good guitarist but a bit wishy-washy on the lyrical front. Still, just goes to show that not all coffee shop guitarists fit the hellish stereotype of Phoebe from Friends.

Day 8

No such hangover today. I think they go away after a couple of days of consecutive drinking! It's a good excuse for doing so if nothing else. So I said goodbye to Ottawa with mixed feelings. I felt it was bit less lively than Toronto—strippers aside—but it did have a bit of a European feel to it, mostly in terms of old-style architecture. Overall I prefer Toronto but it was nice to be able to see a new city! The journey back was as tedious as it was coming. Four hours of fields and trees again, was pretty mind-numbing. One thing that did make me chuckle on the way back though was a place called Loyalist Village. Would actually be a good place to dump some of Ireland's least desirables! The music on route though was great: The Beatles, The Platters and The Bee Gees. It was great just rediscovering all those bands, especially The Beatles and especially George Harrison's songs, he (pictured below) was vastly underrated! Made a couple of stops at service stations, where I got my first Tim Horton's donut of the holiday, a vanilla frosted, strawberry jam number. Ace! Also managed to sneak in another Cadbury's Pep bar too.


By the time we arrived 'home,' I was pretty shattered but I had to make some phone calls, first to the folks: my Da and I digested the Celtic vs Rangers game but my Ma seemed a bit subdued and ill, I hope she's ok. I also had to phone my Da's cousin Margaret Rose too, to try and get a suitable time to go for dinner at her place out in Mississauga, as well as trying to hook up with my childhood friend April and my cousin Patti, who said she would go and see the musical Wicked with me during its short run in Toronto. I had originally meant to go and see this show with an ex-girlfriend of mine before we split up, so I'm happy that I finally get the chance to see it, it will erase a pretty horrible memory for me. After making these calls, I fannied around on the guitar for a bit with some of the songs I had chosen for the upcoming gig. The definitely needed honed to ensure that everything would be alright on the night!

My Uncle Eddie took me out to a bookmaker's bar called Adam's Rib where we bet on the harness racing at Woodbine, a nearby racetrack that I've been to loads of times. Never had one winner all night though, seconditis as my Da calls it! It was funny though, watching all the histrionics and amateur dramatics of some of the punters. It reminded me of some of the dossers that gamble the day away back home, spending their entire lives in the bookies. I, on the other hand was only betting $2 a race, so $20 in total, no big deal. The best thing about the place was the steak sandwich I had—absolutely fantastic!—and also the fact that the place had been the victim of an armed robbery in past, so it now boasted a security guard on the door who looked a bit like the character Navid (pictured below) from the Scottish comedy Still Game. He'd have been hard pushed to knock the skin off a rice pudding! Ah gambling and gangsters, echoes of home!

Day 7

Ouch! I paid for that drinking session yesterday. I had to get up multiple times to go to the toilet, I was pissing like a racehorse. Fe had gone to stay with one of her friends locally though so at least I had a proper bed to sleep in, instead of the fold-out couch. That allowed me to get a bit more shuteye. I was still like a half-shut knife at breakfast though and could only manage a couple of slices of toast. Agreed with Uncle Eddie before he left, to meet up at the bar that the Ottawa CSC use in the afternoon to catch the Celtic match against St Johnstone in the CIS Cup. Headed off to the hotel's business suite for a bit just to check e-mails, facebook and the like.

Looked a pretty cracking day outside and given the fact that I had a slight drink still in me—which always helps—I decided to don the kilt and have a saunter downtown. Like I said previously though, Ottawa's not that lively a city, mainly full of government officials, and there's not much happening during the day and at night for that matter, outwith the Byward Market area. Nevertheless I happened upon a bar called The Glue Pot where I played pool for a bit and had a couple of Guinnesses for breakfast. It's shit though playing pool on your own and drinking on your own too. In a way I was kinda looking forward to going back to Toronto as it's a good bit more vibrant, there's more to see and do and I've lots of friends and family members there and I can navigate the city with ease.

Next door was a strip bar called Barbarella's. Now I have to say I was bitten a little by the bug yesterday—no need to panic though I'm not Charlie Sheen or anything—so I decided I'd maybe kill a few hours there before the game. It was only $4 for a beer, but while the beer was cheap, the girls and the place in general looked the same too. So I went back to the place I was in yesterday, which was called Barefax (pictured below). I got chatting with the barmaid again, who it turned out was a personal trainer named Wendy. She recognised me from yesterday, which is either good or bad depending on which way you look at it. Anyway she was pretty impressed with the kilt, so much so that she wanted a photograph of me in it and a copy of it by e-mail when I got back. Very few photos are taken inside a strip club so I was honoured!


As usual the girls approached you, asking if they can join you and so on, but bizarrely despite the attire, some of them still asked where I was from, not the sharpest tools in the drawer and that level of stupidity isn't attractive in any shape or form so I didn't fancy going for a private dance with any of them. I did go for a few more dances though and there was a difference in their craft. Tamara was in again and I felt pretty bad about having spoken to her for so long and not having had a dance from her yesterday. In fact I think, outwith Wendy and her rock-star boyfriend, I spoke to her the most. She was a pretty good dancer, knew how to shake her stuff. The next girl though, whose name escapes me was hellish. She was about 6ft tall, but was from Montreal—bonafide French-Canadian—so her English wasn't good. I tried my best to chat with her in French but I was rusty at best. The dim lighting in the place saved her a bit to be honest because up close she wasn't the prettiest. The dance I had with her was out of sympathy more than anything else and even then it wasn't worth it. She was a terrible dancer, about as sexy as a lump of wood with the same motion too and the short time it lasted felt like an eternity with her dry-humping my leg for most of it. Not good. Went back to the bar to talk to Wendy, who asked why I was talking to her and not watching the girls dancing onstage and I said that the internet has so much freakiness and nudity on it that a girl dancing naked onstage is pretty tame in comparison and the fact that someone is disrobed—and this is true of both sexes—doesn't mean they become instantly attractive to the opposite sex. There was one dancer onstage though who did attract a bit of an audience and was—unlike most of them—a pretty good dancer too. Turns out she was a Ukranian girl called Dinara. She came over and sat down next to me shortly afterwards and her English wasn't that great either. I'm sure my knowledge of Orthodox weddings—my mate Kevin married a Russian girl in July—and the fact that I knew where Donestsk was due to their football team—Shakhtar Donestk—having played Celtic in the Champions League impressed her. Maybe not. She had emigrated to Canada from Kiev at the age of six and seemed pretty keen to dance for someone who was 'young and hot' instead of 'horrible old men.' I don't know if she meant it or not but in any case I decided she'd be my last dance that day and ever to be honest. I don't think I'd ever have the notion to go to a strip club again. Wanted to experience it, but now I had. She was pick of the bunch too, a very sexy dancer who had the most piercing blue eyes I'd ever seen—not a euphemism by the way, she did have nice peepers! I bade Barefax adieu and jumped in a taxi to meet my Uncle Eddie for the game.

I arrived a little late for the game, in fact Celtic were already up 3-0 at this stage through Anthony Stokes (2) and Niall McGinn. Strangely though, despite Ottawa being Canada's capital and one of its bigger cities, there was only myself, my Uncle Eddie and TWO other members. I know it was an afternoon game but I still found that a little disappointing. I guess fairweather fans are universal though, as the fellas who was the secretary said a lot wouldn't come after the result against Rangers. Also disappointing was the mini-collapse my arrival heralded. St Johnstone—no thanks to the current sieve of Majstorovic and Loovens—brought it back to 3-2 and the rest of the game was pretty nervy. We did, however, have the obligatory goal chopped off, wrongly for offside, which didn't help.

After the match, we headed to the Aulde Dubliner bar to meet Fe and her friend. Her friend though just said 'hi' and 'bye, which I dunno whether or not take as a slight on our company! Never mind! We went to a burger joint—in the same vein as Ireland's Eddie Rocket's—called Zak's Diner (pictured below) for a bite to eat. It had great malt milkshakes and a host of burgers and sandwiches. I plumped for a grilled cheese burger with mash and a vanilla milkshake and I have to say it was top-drawer. At the end of the meal too, instead of breath mints they gave you bubblegum, which was pretty cool and added to the authenticity of the place. We headed back to the hotel to bed down for the night before our drive back to Toronto the following day.

Day 6

Well the hotel's breakfast was certainly better than the hockey puck burger they served up at the BBQ. Scrambled eggs, sausage and toast set me up for a day of walking and sightseeing. My Uncle Eddie's work colleague sat beside us again and promptly emptied the saltcellar at our table to put in the water at her hotel room. Strange behaviour.

Anyway, the first stop was the Canadian War Museum, which I found after taking a few wrong turns, one of which saw me having to use a portaloo. It didn't seem to go anywhere; it was just a slop hole. Wouldn't want your phone or anything to fall in there, you wouldn't take the risk of trying to get it back! Eventually made it to the museum and it was pretty good! It was split into different sections: Early wars; WW1 and WW2; Cold War; Korean War; and UN work. It had loads of collections and interactive stuff for kids.....and adults like me with mild OCD who had to complete all the aircraft jigsaws! The best thing there though was Hitler's car, an old 1930s Mercedes Benz (pictured below). Was a bit reticent about getting my photo taken with it but it is pretty iconic and unique so an auld fella named Walter took a picture of me beside it. Turns out, like many living in Canada, that Walter had Scottish ancestry, in fact his Dad was from Lockerbie. We talked for a little while and I told him that I had Irish ancestry, at which point he reverted to Leprechaun mode saying 'top of the morning to ya,' 'begorrah' and 'to be sure.' To date—and I know a lot of Irish people, an awful lot—no Irish person has ever uttered those phrases in my company, even in jest! God Bless him for trying though!


Walked across the river into Gatineau, which officially means that you're in Quebec. Never ventured too far into it though in case I completely lost my bearings and anyways I just wanted to say that I had been in the province. I went for a walk by the river, which was calming and pleasant—that is until some kamikaze cyclist with a real live bird on his helmet shot by while making bird noises himself! Seems that the madmen are not restricted to Toronto or the Province of Ontario either. On the way back into Ottawa City, I stopped off at the Notre Dame Cathedral (pictured below)—a beautifully ornate French-style church—and lit a candle for my folks. Couldn't get very good pictures of it from the inside, because you weren't meant to take any, but it is visually stunning. Outside of it was that giant spider that they used to have next to the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao. My mate Martin is terrified of spiders, so naturally I took a picture of it to scare the bejesus out of him at a later date!


I had three hours to kill before I met my Uncle Eddie so with curiosity having long since killed the cat, I thought 'fuck it' and decided to head to a strip bar. I had only ever been to a table-dancing place in Hamburg years ago, so it was a bit of a new experience for me. I expected a seedy, overpriced, badly-lit room full of old leches and Eastern European women with poor English. Well it was pretty bizzrely lit, but the rest of the clichéd stereotypes were inaccurate. A beer was about $6.50, only a little higher than the standard for most pubs in Canada, there was a mixture of younger and older fellas there—even a family at one table—and the strippers themselves were by and large, Canadians. I found that out because they came over to talk to you pretty sharpish. They were chatty and friendly, obviously because they were trying to get a $20 private dance from you! The first couple who approached me I rally had no interest in whatsoever so I found that if you moved the discussion into an area where they couldn't hold their own, like the political arena, you could get rid of them pretty quickly. One of them though, Tamara, was pretty hot, half-Irish, half-Chinese, but to be honest I was a bit reticent about getting a private dance. I managed to resist the urge, when she asked if I wanted a private dance to reply: "Maybe Tamara!" I doubt she'd have gotten the play on words though. Eventually after a good few drinks I relented and went for a private dance with a girl named Jordan. She was nice and could fairly hold her drink too. Necked a grey goose prior to the dance, which was a lot more tactile than the dances you'd get back home I'd imagine. The weird thing though, was that the best-looking girl in the entire place was the fully clothed barmaid. I got chatting to her and her fella at the bar, who was in a band. He looked like a cross between a roadie and a tattoo artist. We exchanged contact details and said we'd facebook each other.

Arrived back at the hotel to meet my Uncle Eddie, before we went out to check the place where the Ottawa Celtic Supporters' Club meets, a fairly popular sports bar. The food was so-so, average nachos and decent chowder but it could have done with more chow! We headed to an Irish bar and another bar near the hotel. We had three pitchers, which, lumped on top of the beers I'd had earlier and the hotel supplied popcorn, meant that I fell asleep as soon as I hit the pillow!

Day 5

First thing I realised when I woke up was that we had lost yesterday, a truly horrible feeling! Kinda like when you've split up with a girl and you're reminded of it when you wake up every morning. That said, at least Celtic can still get back into the title race, you can't on the other hand, always get a relationship back. Though looking back on it, there are some that you wouldn't want back, lucky escapes if you will and Celtic is way more important than them in hindsight. After feeding my face with the scrambled eggs toast and bacon that Heather had made, I took Jordan to the shop and got him a Kinder Egg and, almost as importantly got myself a Grape Crush and some Junior Mints (pictured below), for the drive to Ottawa.


The drive itself was long and uneventful; the scenery was pretty mundane on route. Canada is a country of extremes, the weather is either searingly hot or biting cold and the scenery is either stunningly beautiful or frighteningly boring. The drive to Ottawa saw us take in the latter. We did, however, pass by a building shaped like a giant apple, which, rather predictably sold apple pie. That's the sort of place I'd have been instantly drawn to if I was driving just to break the monotony. We stopped at a gas station (as you can see I adopted the country's lingo), with Fe happily singing along in the back seat to the songs I'd saved on her phone the night before. I nipped out to buy some more snackage, a Canada Dry and some Ranch Flavoured Doritos.

On arrival in Ottawa I was impressed, in spite of the dismal weather. It seemed to be an eclectic mix of old and new, the best example of the former would be the Parliament buildings (pictured below), which don't look too dissimilar to the House of Commons in London. Had a walk around them with my Uncle Eddie and Fe—making a mental note to check out some more historic buildings and places the following day—and ate my first beavertail! Don't worry I wasn't down by the river killing animals to sate my appetite; it's actually a flat donut, on top of which I had cinnamon and sugar! I also tried poutine for the first time, the Canadian national dish of chips, cheese curds and gravy. Or in Scotland, chips, cheese and gravy! This was in the Byward Market area, which looked pretty cool and cosmopolitan. Looked well worth exploring during my stay here. As we passed by there, two wee old guys were having a chat with each other during which one accused the other of being 'gay' for wearing red and green at the same time—certainly would explain Mayomen. He also gave another reason for his attack on his friend’s sexuality, namely that he 'smiles all the time.' This was obviously city where only grumpy fashionistas could declare thrive in their heterosexuality! Better make sure you have your best scowl and colour-coded clobber on, if you ever visit here!


Came back to our hotel, the Marriott, to take advantage of the hotel's BBQ, which in effect was really just burgers and not the good kind either. It tasted like the burger I got once outside Celtic Park that made me violently ill during the Bayern Munich game in the Champions League a few years ago. Fairly painted the toilet that night! Prayed that a repeat performance wouldn't take place. Also met one of Uncle Eddie's work colleagues tonight too. She took us on a tour of the hotel, taking in the pool, jacuzzi and so on. Made me wish I'd brought swimming shorts. Could have worn the boxer shorts I mistakenly bought from H&M, which had two see-through panels and looked like something from Right Said Fred's wardrobe. At least that would have resulted in me getting the jacuzzi to myself! She also showed us her room, which was exactly the same as our own: two double beds, living room, kitchen, bathroom etc. Thing is though, she was in there all by herself it seemed, which made me think that she was maybe one of those 'live-to-work' types—I'm the opposite—who seem to spend much of their time alone. Once you're eventually done working, what do you do in a hotel room all by yourself? It's no wonder people turn to vice. She looked happy on the outside, always smiling, but was she the same on the inside? Canadians should have better, longer holidays I think to prevent loneliness, alcoholism and god knows what else!

Day 4

I can see clearly now the (eye) pain has gone! Not clearly enough though to almost decapitate myself, Final Destination style, on the fan above my head in the room I was sleeping in. So it's either a very low roof or a very tall me. Had to get up at 5.30am to go and see the Celtic game at the nearby Celtic Supporters' Club in nearby Durham (club crest below). Had to get in pretty early as it filled up quickly, hence the morning wake-up call. The roll and sausage was a great way to start the day, washed down with an Irn Bru obviously, which cheekily still bore the 39p price tag on the can! Clearly contraband from across the Atlantic but I decided against reporting them! The club is nice, well-decorated and had enough swearing ex-pats to make me feel at homes. When Gary Hooper scored for us right before half time, I gave my Uncle Eddie the biggest hug I'd ever given him in my life and vice versa. Sadly, the second half was hellish as the roof fell in and we lost 3-1. We were rotten but the penalty Rangers got for their third goal was a disgrace and that reptile Lee McCulloch should have walked for at least two fouls after his initial booking. Scottish football referees can still infuriate you even 3000 miles away. So a poor start to a rebooted Thanksgiving!


As an aside I've picked upon some of Fe's traits, even at an early stage. I think she should have been a weather presenter, she's obsessed with temperature checking—something she has in common with my Da actually. She complains about the cold a lot, which I find hard to get my head around. It's Canada, it's winter, ergo it's gonna be cold! Their scorching summers more than make up for that! Also she provides a running commentary on everything she does, which I can't help but find amusing. I used to do this myself out in my back garden but in fairness I was playing football and I was of primary school age! I might start doing it in everyday life when I go home: 'Gerard is going for a pish having just updated his facebook!' In fact some people provide commentaries on their lives via facebook now, maybe it's the online equivalent of people who talk to themselves in the street or tell you their life stories!

Mercifully there were no Rangers fans here so I could enjoy getting sozzled for the rest of the day and sozzled I did get, given the fact that my Uncle Brian has his own private bar (pictured below) at the side of his house with a well-stocked drinks cabinet. I think over the course of the day I had beer, cider, whiskey and even rum for good measure! Alcohol always helps to take away the bitter taste of defeat, at least for a while. Heather made a fantastic meal too, was almost like Christmas had come early! Turkey, mash, carrots, onions, turnip, stuffing.....was brilliant and perfect for soaking up the alcohol. Wouldn't particularly have wanted to have stood downwind of me after that but there you go!


My cousin Patti and her son Jordan came up too. The wee fella has tourettes and ADHD, so I felt quite sorry for him. He seemed to take a real shine to me though, which was a pretty mice feeling, because I often feel dead awkward around kids and indeed some adults! He enjoyed a bit of horseplay in the hot tub and it was kinda obvious that he craved a constant strong male role model in his life—not that I'm claiming to even be a temporary one—but that's difficult for Patti as she has an emotional and physically demanding job to contend with, working as a nurse in a critical illness ward at a nearby hospital. He was reluctant to leave to so to calm him down a bit we cut a deal that he'd come back tomorrow for breakfast before he went to school.

Enjoyed the rest of the evening in the company of my Uncle Brian, my Uncle Eddie and Heather in the bar, watching NFL games and learning from my Uncle Eddie which players were unsavoury characters, he's not a fan of Brett Favre or Randy Moss! Turned in happy, drunk and with the Celtic vs Rangers match pushed firmly to the furthest recesses of my mind for now.

Day 3

Started the morning with two fully-functioning eyes, good! Operation guitar hire begun today, so I got myself ready—Celtic tracksuit top obviously in preparation for the game—and headed out to Ossington station to the guitar store, Long & McQuade, who claimed to rent out guitars to Joe Public. On the way there, said Celtic tracksuit top (pictured below) was recognised by one of the natives who exclaimed 'Celtic!' before adding 'kill them all!' Not a shout I hear very often at Celtic Park but I might see if it catches on when I get home.


There was a black guy on the train today, not only singing to himself, but having a bit of a jive too. Now don't get me wrong I've suffered the indignity of being caught by a former flatmate when I was singing Big Yellow Taxi by Joni Mitchell, a fellow primary school classmate when I was singing Girls, Girls, Girls by Elvis and even on one occasion in the Scottish rain I made like I was the Wicked Witch of the West in the scene where she melted (pictured below) but the point here was that I wasn't seeking the attention, this guy on the other hand was throwing shapes all over the train! Toronto's multiculturalism obviously covers transport nutters as well, great stuff!

Found the guitar store that my cousin Patti recommended to me, fairly easily and decided to go for an acoustic instead of an electric guitar. Well actually it was an electro-acoustic like the one I have at home. I set about paying for it but seeing as how I'm not a resident of Canada, I had to put down a deposit on the guitar itself as well as the rental charge, which required a credit card. Mine surprisingly kept being declined, which it shouldn't have because it was far from maxed out. The store assistant's stereotypical Canadian politeness shone through as she let me use their phone to contact my credit card company to activate the card for use abroad. It had been blocked because I presume that they thought I was being defrauded. They phoned home too because my Ma phoned me, unaware that it sucks my mobile credit dry here! Anyway, to cut a long story short, the card was activated, guitar was rented and I was on my way. I just had to e-mail the promoter at Sneaky Dee's now to confirm the date of the gig I'd previously arranged.

On the way home, I couldn't help nipping into the food court and grabbing a bite to eat at Hero Burger (pictured below) because a) I was hungry and b) I'm a hero! Chucked in some onion rings and a Canada Dry too. Ace! Little did I know though that Fe had made toast and eggs with the potato scones—I had stashed in my case—thrown in for good measure. So in effect I had two lunches—fully prepared to come home a fat bastard!


With an array of cases that could make Paris Hilton look a little under-prepared, the three of us set off for my Uncle Brian's and his wife Heather's place in Oshawa, a town about 40 mins outside Toronto that boasts some houses that wouldn't look out of place in the film 8 Mile. That said my Uncle Brian's house is really nice and despite the fact that by now my eyes had started to annoy me to the point that I wanted to scratch them out of my head, I managed to sink a few Magners on arrival, shoot the shit and spend some time relaxing in their hot tub, bliss! My Uncle Brian had lent me a pair of his swimming shorts, which I got changed into while their golden retriever Charlie looked on. I can honestly say that this is the only dog I've ever stripped in front of! Rounded the evening off with some whiskey, which sat delicately on top of the panzerotto I had earlier. For those who don't know what that is, it's basically a calzone by any other name. I couldn't think of anything else today bar the Celtic vs Rangers match the following day, so I tried to get some shuteye, hopefully minus last night's eye boogers!

Day 2

Started the day the best way by winning a whole tenner off of my next Thomas Cook flight, fancy that! My left contact lens was giving me gip in the morning, as it was before I left Scotland. If it keeps up, my opticians will wish I hadn't gone to Specsavers because there'll be a shard-strewn floor! I had a shower though, that seemed to have sorted things out a bit. Couldn't help noticing how many mirrors there are in this flat. The large one behind the toilet is either going to make you feel full of manly pride or seriously humbled! Just as well it wasn't facing the other way cos I don't imagine many people would wanna see their own facial contortions when they're having a shit. And don't get me started on pulling a 'Hendrix on the high notes' face when you're at it. Nobody would wanna see themselves in that situation either!

I got the subway to Royal York to see my mate April who works at the nearby Costco supermarket, just along from where my Gran used to stay. Her Mum, Winnie, who was my Grandparents' neighbour still stays in the same house, so I'm on familiar turf here. Everything in Costco is huge, the shop itself, the TVs, the portions of food and some of the people themselves. Despite asking around, she had apparently finished her shift so she was at home asleep by now. I decided to wander around the local Queensway Park (pictured below), right across from my Grandparents' house and even had a go on the swings too. Was tempted to belt out This Used To Be My Playground by Madonna, but decided against it. Was a bit misty-eyed though thinking of all the fun me and my sister used to have here. Went along to see Winnie, who hadn't changed at all. Chatted with her for a while and by default smoked two, very strong, fags. I bade her adieu and promised to give April a call later on.


On route back to the subway, I stopped off for a Cadbury's Pep and a Grape Crush, awesome stuff. I love the smell of the shop I bought it in, not to mention the smell of the Grape Crush itself—the Irn Bru of North America. Sandwiched in between two people talking/singing to themselves—thought that was an almost exclusively Scottish trait—one on the bus and one on the train, was a busker playing one of my favourite Beatles' songs Here Comes The Sun. Think it might have been tongue-in-cheek given that we're heading into winter. Going back to the two local lunatics, they are nothing compared to a couple of the maniacs I'd encountered on previous visits to Toronto. There was one woman whose makeup was so bad it make her look like Captain Spalding (pictured below) from House of 1000 Corpses and she then proceeded to smile at me with her blood-covered teeth. A senior citizen serial killer in the making! Then there was another guy who was carrying an array of albino rats on his shoulders. Yeeshk!


Finally arrived at Bloor/Yonge in Downtown Toronto but I was a bit disorientated for once as they seemed to have knocked down a good few familiar buildings such as the iconic Sam the Record Man's store (pictured below). Still I managed to get find my bearings and got to the Eaton Centre where I successfully managed to obtain a SIM card from a fella whose overuse of the terms 'sick' and 'awesome' was slightly annoying. Since when did the term 'sick' become an ameliorative term? There's nothing 'sick' about sick when you're being sick. Had a potter around the usual shops, Roots and all the sports stores, including the adidas store—where I couldn't resist a spot of keepy uppy with the display balls—and Sunrise Records where I got my ticket for the Dandy Warhols concert in a fortnight's time. I was actually at their last concert in Toronto in September 2008. Everybody could still understand me perfectly too so I was passing the accent test with flying colours after only two days, unlike my brother-in-law who once nearly made a drive-in intercom explode! One guy in the adidas store even thought I worked there, must have the native look about me. After getting a pepperoni pizza slice from Mamma Mia's I headed home.


We had a Chinese meal tonight. Love the multiculturalism of this city! Gonna try every nationality of food that I possibly can. Martin Dunlop, this is for you! After finally sorting the contact lens in my left eye, my right one started flaring up. It was all bloodshot and horrid looking. Still one good eye is all that was required to see the Peking Duck that my Uncle Eddie, Fe and I had opted to share for dinner. Nothing unusual about that apart from the fact that the head was still on it, cooked obviously, but that didn't make it any easier on the eye when he started sawing away at its roasted carcass. There was quite a bit of fat on it too, don't think this one had been slain all that long ago. That said it did go well in a pancake with the Hoi Sin sauce.

Texts started to come in thick and fast too, so my Canadian SIM card was good to go. Just had a quiet one tonight as my cousin Sarah wasn't up for going out because she had work the next morning—lightweight—so I just watched the Texas Rangers celebrate reaching their first ever World Series! Joy for Rangers today, hopefully it wouldn't be for their Glaswegian namesakes on Sunday!

Day 1

I left my mother with a text message that read: "I love you, always have, always will," which is true and the best way to bring to close the three day war of words we'd been having prior to that. I left my Dad with a joke about how Alex Ferguson might want Georgios Samaras to fill the void (no pun intended) by Wayne Rooney should he decide to leave. I left my sister struggling to cope with the difficult task of adult study and harder still being a Mum at the same time to my two nieces. I left one angry drummer irked at having to pay for a missed rehearsal. I left one girl in Glasgow with a smile on her face and one Mexican girl, whom I hadn't even seen on her recent trip to Scotland, nursing a broken heart. To be honest, I was just glad I'd left, I needed this holiday!

That's the thing though isn't it? The first day of your holiday is anything but that. I was currently sweating like James Corden being told he has to go on a diet of nought but rice cakes, worrying about whether or not my gargantuan, female-sized case was going to be over the limit. I was in the queue with a number of octogenarians all of whom seem to be having to dip into their decreasing pensions to cover their excess baggage. Imagine my relief when despite being one kilogram foul of the law, I was waved through.

Glasgow Airport is much colder than it used to be. All the shops and places that you used to be able to go and browse around and look at the ridiculously high mark-ups on everything have been blocked off to us ordinary Joes. It probably doesn't bother most people but as a kid my parents used to take me to Prestwick Airport and I loved it, in particular watching the planes come and go, but also just wandering around the place. It held many happy memories for me because it reminded me of times that I flew to Canada from there or else I'd be there waiting to greet my Gran and Papa and/or Aunts and Uncles coming to visit us in Scotland.

So here I was in Glasgow, going to Canada for the umpteenth time and I have to say it never gets boring, What was boring though was the wait once I'd cleared the awkward circus that now constitutes the check-in. I picked up some free newspapers and a travel-sized FHM to kill some time. It didn't work all that well as I'll admit I'll a technophile so Blackberry Messenger and Facebook won out. Damn you Mark Zuckerberg!

As soon as I sat myself down in the plane though I endeavoured to be more productive—and ok it was partly due to the fact I could no longer use Blackberry Messenger—and so it proved as I finished another set of lyrics I'd been working on. Three songs (Dead Man's Crown, She's A Hurricane and Thank You For Loving Me) in one week! In your face writer's block!

I was actually impressed by Thomas Cook's legroom and overall service. During the flight I managed to scoff: Chicken with potatoes, carrots and peas, a bread roll, some fruit, cheese and crackers and a small cheesecake. Later on I added to that a cheese and pickel sandwich, my first ever egg sandwich and a scone with clotted cream and jam. Not to mention the Doritos and two bottles of Irn Bru I'd brought with me. Both my Dad and my good mate Martin would have appreciated such a long list of food intake. My Dad because he's a bit of a stickler for details like this and Martin because he genuinely enjoys eating.....lots! My Dad wouldn't have appreciated Chicken though—not a fan—and Martin would have bemoaned the lack of tea—he's an addict—because there was a water fault on the plane, which was brought home to me when the tap in the toilet—which I always have to check out, a remnant of childhood OCD—literally spat the remains of water onto my hands. Thank God for wet wipes!

There were three films on too. Shrek Ever After was first up and believe it or not, my first Shrek film. I can see its appeal, especially with Mike Myers reprising his Fat Bastardesque Scottish accent. After that there was Alice in Wonderland, which despite featuring the always weird and wonderful Johnny Depp was a pile of CGI-driven shite. Lastly there was Date Night, a watchable comedy with Saturday Night Live stalwarts Tina Fey and Steve Carrell. When I say 'watchable,' I mean it was right there in front of me, I'd read everything I had with me and tapping out Reni's drum fill for Fools Gold with my pen and tray table could only amuse me for so long. As we landed quite forcefully on Canadian soil it turns out that the guy sitting next to me—whom I had previous nicknamed 'elbows' due to his armrest space theft—was from Oshawa where my Uncle Brian stays, small world right enough.

My Uncle Eddie picked me up at Toronto Airport and we immediately started shooting the shit about Celtic FC. I like how he is able to switch between his Canadian accent and his broad Scots accent, never fails to amuse me. His new gaff, in which he lives with his wife Fe is nice and welcoming and I was glad of unloading my case, it was immensely satisfying. Though less so for my Uncle Eddie whose Lees Snowballs had been turned into mush by some unforgiving baggage handlers. We sauntered around the local area, which wasn't too unfamiliar as it was close to the subway station, Royal York, that was near to my Gran and Papa's house in Etobicoke. I tried to get a SIM card along the way but the young sales assistant wasn't grasping the concept of 'pay-as-you-go' and was trying to sign me up for a year's contract, which I thought was just a bit much for a three-week stay! we grabbed a bite to eat at a little Italian place called Ottimo. I had gnocchi in gorgonzola sauce which was tip-top. Added a Guinness to that shortly afterwards at a nearby bar called Pepper's, which was relatively quiet, bar a few people watching the Toronto Maple Leafs ice hockey game and a friendly and attentive barmaid. I knew her game, she was after a tip and after debating on whether to use the old 'never eat yellow snow,' gag I decided just to give her the financial reward minus the poor attempt at comedy. Survived until about 11.30pm Canadian time and once I'd maneuvered the futon into place, it was time to catch some zeds!

So what's this all about, eh?

Ok this is quite simply a blog of my recent three-week visit to Canada to see my family. I've been going to Toronto, Canada since I was a kid to see my Gran and Papa (sadly now both deceased) and my aunts, uncles and cousins. The following blogs are my recollections of each day I was there to give an insight on what it was like to visit both Toronto and Ottawa and of course the family too!