Europe Vs. North America

I'm back in Toronto, Canada for my yearly visit. Ever since I left here (in '96) I've managed a trip back at least once a year. Some visits have been amazing and left me wistfully (if briefly) flirting with the idea of coming back here to live...but if I'm truthful, it's easy to don rose-coloured specs when it comes to my home town, simply because I know I don't have to stay here.
I suppose the fact that I spend most of my time down on the Harbourfront lends itself to idealising this fair city. I'm not so sure the suburbs would hold such appeal (although a private swimming pool and lots of space seem like heaven to me), nor would a backwater town where the only local entertainment is 'karaoke night' in a tragic 'nightclub' cum bar. But down here at Harbourfront with the gorgeous expanse of sparkling blue waters, peacefully gliding sailboats and a becoming promenade, it's hard to think of anywhere else that is this delightful in summer. (Let's not even go into how this heavenly summer paradise turns into a desolate icy wasteland in winter...when it gets so cold sometimes that it hurts to breathe outside. The only thing for it is to get drunk in your basement 'rec room' as often as possible, watch a lot of television and sports, and stuff your face on the plentiful array of junk foods available everywhere.)

In London in the summer, if you can find yourself in a park with some mates and a few bottles of chilled 'Sancerre' then there is no reason not to be utterly blissed out and content. If however, you are commuting on the tube or bus and have to endure stifling journeys twice daily on an overcrowded transport system with your chin wedged right up someone sweaty armpit and inhaling various peoples stale breath - then it is hell. The pollution in summer seems to solidify and at times you feel like you're actually swallowing the car fumes and hot pungeant air. Tourists abound and it's a daily fight to even get near hotspots like Westminster Bridge and Southbank. Italiens, Polish, Japanese and eager Americans all walk six abreast in their sandals and 'crazy' t-shirts, snapping every old building they come across (and believe me there are a few) and paying no heed as to whether there is a huge queue behind them waiting to pass. When you're hot and irritable and need to be somewhere in a hurry it's tempting to fantasise about shoving the odd one onto the road where a crazy London motorcyclist may very well dispense with them. Evil thoughts I know - but living in close quarters with annoying neighbours and oblivious tourists in an overcrowded city often brings out the worst in poeple.

Conversely, it is so refreshing to walk into a store in Toronto and instead of being simply ignored, be greeted with an enthusiastic hello and an offer to help you locate something. Customer service is important here in Canada, but not so in London. There, if you can even get the attention of sales staff, they'll get pissed off if they're interrupted while conversing with a co-worker...that is if they don't just ignore you altogether while you stand there making uncomfortable grimaces and saying 'excuse me' over and over like a twat.

What i always find amusing, everytime i come here, is how locals always ask me where i'm from as they can't 'place' my accent. Basically, just because i don't speak with a Canadian twang they assume I have an accent when in reality i'm just speaking with a 'mid-atlantic' tone. But it must be said that whenever i spend more than a few weeks here, when I go back to London I inevitably speak a little strangely for the first few weeks - this is even more the case when i've been to the deep south of America. For whatever the reason I assimilate North American accents into my voice yet can't for the life of me pass off a realistic British accent. This means that every single time I take a cab in London i invariably get taken round 'the long way' and asked how long i'm visiting for. There are benefits though. If i ever get caught without a valid ticket on a journey in the UK I simply look up innocently, put on the 'twang' and claim to be a naive tourist. Works a treat.

EUROVISION HELL...LOSING IT

Okay, so how do you explain this? It's been ages since i've had the time to sit down and pound out (mentally and on my poor battered synth) a new tune - despite my constant desire and best of intentions. Stupid stuff like banking blunders, nasty ebay sellers, dire mobile phone customer service operators, etc. keep stealing my precious leisure time...not that there is even that much to begin with!
Telly series come and go (yes, alright, i confess - none too proudly - that i'm a pathetic telly addict), seasons do the same, and right when strawberries are back in season I'm reminded that life is just slipping away...and me with it. Which brings me to my point. You know how many inspired artists always say that their ideas just 'popped unbidden' into their heads? Well, it's a feeling I relate too as that has always been the case with me. 99% inspiration and 1% perspiration (which could explain the plethora of musical tracks lying resolutely on my hard drive and the lack of any record deals.....but i digress).

I awoke this morning with a start to realise that the 'gods' of artistic inspiration are angry with me. No, they're pissed actually. I know this because I awoke to a fully formed 'Eurovion-esque' Turkish/Maltese melody along with equally revolting accompanying lyrics in my head. The more I tried to block the cheese-tastic euro beats pounding away merciously in my brain, the more they took over and new and more grotesque lines wrote themselves line after line.So, I'm going to do what any other self-respecting telly head would do in my position. I'm going to go shove some m&m's down my throat, inhale a giant cappucino and flip on E4 to see the latest Big Brother shananigans until my head returns to normal. If it doesn't, then at least I'll enjoy my sugar comedown whilst watching unfortunates even stupider than myself. Adios.