In the six years I races motorcycles, about six corners are etched in my mind. These are the ones that caused eye-widening, sphincter-tightening, dry-mouth fear. The decreasing radius turn two at Tillsonberg, turn two at Welland with that diabolical dip and the entire, monstrous, stock-car track in Florida I raced on. Those are etched in my memory due to the fear that they inspired. It must be something about being nearly paralyzed with terror.

June 24th, 2007. Today marks the first anniversary of Jo and I in London. It is hard to believe that it is a year in more than one way. It's gone so fast. It's been so long.

Today, to celebrate our anniversary, we walked back to the neighbourhood where we stayed when we first landed. Walking along Belsize Park felt like we had stayed there about a week ago, not a year.
We walked along Haverstock Hill and it was entirely familiar as if I had walked down it every day. The Budgen's supermarket, Costa Coffee and Pizza Express were all exactly as I remembered. As we walked along up to the high street, Jo remarked she remembered going up the hill to the Tube station more than once to job interviews. It is all so clearly etched in our memory.

Taking stock, we have done pretty well I think. Jo is happier at her job than any other place that I've seen her working. Her boss called her in and informed her that they were happy to keep her full time beyond the end of her contract in August. I've had two jobs. One was good. The other, well, let's say not so good. But I can see the end of that one.

One of the reasons we made this move was to travel. To that end, I feel we have succeeded. (In fact I really, really must blog up about Italy). We have seen lots of places in both the UK and Western Europe. If you've kept up with the blog, you know what I mean. If you haven't, have a look back. More than a trip a month, which is not bad I think.

We carried on to Camden Town which is the place to go for, oh let's say - alternative culture. Motorhead t-shirt? Punk Rock clothing? Body Piercing? Tattoos? Camden Town has got it all.




















In the stores and boutiques of the Camden Road, Jo got a new bag. Nothing is better than adding a new bag to the collection. Oh, right. And some shoes. And a bracelet. Life is good here. Things have worked out well. Good jobs, reasonable (if tiny) flat, some new friends. We've done alright, I think.

So the point of my opening to this blog? I remember all of it. Beginning to end. I promise that I won't, but I could tell the story in real-time. In terms of scaring myself, this beats all that came before. But measured on how rewarding it has been, that's off the scale.

If I had read The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer, I would open this entry with a clever tie in. But I’ve never read any Chaucer. I have no segue to lead you into this piece. And, let’s be honest, I’m not really that clever. So I’ll start by telling you we went to Canterbury on the train the other weekend. This is a story of some stuff we saw.

Canterbury existed as a settlement before the time the Romans controlled Britain, so there have been people on this site for at least two millennia. It has been a centre of the Christian faith since 597AD when the Pope sent some Augustine monks to convert the Saxons. It was chosen as the seat of the first archbishop.

Upon exiting the rail station, you cross over a foot bridge and find yourself on the medieval wall that surrounds the city. The current wall is likely built on foundations laid by the Romans. It is quite a sensation to walk around the guard towers of these walls and look down onto a four-lane ring road, a Renault dealer and a night club.

As you walk to the centre of what was the centre of the city you find a pedestrian area. It features the usual selection of touristy tea room and souvenir shops, but in centuries old buildings. It is easy to imagine it as the centre of daily life. Instead of a chain shoe store, a cobbler and a butcher with carcasses hung in his window instead of the Cornwall Meat Pasty store. There are buildings wobblier that a traghetto ride which form narrow alleys and passageways

There is also a worrying number of shops dedicated to the slacker lifestyle. Their stock in trade is studded dog collars, Iron Maiden t-shirts and hookah pipes. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, just strikes me as an odd contrast to the usual businesses that you find in a town that features a UN World Heritage Site. There also appears to be plenty of slacker customers to be seen, well, mostly standing around. Although some manage to summon the energy to do a few ollies on the skateboard .

Looking at the outside of the cathedral it is easy to see the various pieces that have been built and modified over the years. The brick work differs showing areas built at different times and the style of the arches is not consistent around the entire building. The original stained glass windows were smashed during the Civil War of 1640. These windows have, of course been replaced and some as recently as 2000.

During the second world war, because Canterbury is close to the south east coast of England, it was heavily bombed. The cathedral’s library was destroyed by air raids. Teams of watchers patrolled the roof of the cathedral at night to deal with incendiary bombs dropped by the Luftwaffe.

For people who claim not to be religious, we do seem to go to quite a few churches. When you read the Italy entries that will soon follow, you will follow us into even more still. The link that they help provide to the past makes them worth exploring.

Football is more than the national sport here. It is a passion and an obsession. A recent study revealed that West Ham United fans thought about their team 87 times a day. Entire families can be seen on the Tube wearing their team’s colours and scarves. The players, managers and owners are celebrities. Even the wives and girlfriends are famous.

I reckon that football is the biggest business in England. I read in the paper that the English football club’s salary looks to be €1 billion over the spending of the teams in the rest of Europe next year. They just opened Wembley Stadium five stops up the Jubilee line from us. It is the biggest and most expensive stadium in Europe at a final bill of £753million. And it is only used for World Cup and Championship games.

But it’s not all sunshine and giggles. The fans are an utter mob. If you are caught standing up at Upton Park, home of the West Ham United, you can loose your season ticket. The opposing team’s supporters have to be kept separated or they will kill each other. English fans have been all but banned from Europe altogether. Sadly, all of the players on England’s World Cup team last year have churned forth autobiographies at an average age of 26, as have many of the orange-skinned accessory wives. And there is another, deeper, more troubling problem.

The game is deathly boring to watch. I’ve tried, I have. We purposefully watched Liverpool FC contest AC Milan in Athens to be the champions of all of Europe. You’d have though it was the 3 metre springboard event at the Olympics there was so much diving. If the field were less than a kilometre long, there might have been a greater combined total of about eight shots on goal. I woke up in time to see Liverpool lose.

So what can be done? What are sporting-starved hockey fan Canadians to do? Well there is hope. That hope, is Rugby. This now, is a game played by non-diving, hard-hitting, fast-running men. Not just men, but Men. The size of Coke machines. All played with no padding save a little tape to hold the ears on.

It has been said that the war was won on the Rugby fields of Eton. Snooty posturing, perhaps, but arguments could be made. To get to the grounds, a free bus was put on from the Tube station in Richmond and supporters of both sides file in together without the inevitable donnybrooks of football fans. Once inside, supporters of both sides, and new fans like us sat and enjoyed Guinness and the world’s worst hot dogs (although the wrapper says The World’s Best Hot Dog). It seems Rugby can even do irony well.

As this was the championship game, we expected a SuperBowl atmosphere. There was, instead, no marching bands, dancing children or military fly-over. The announcer welcomed the fans, introduced the teams as a group and the ref blew the whistle to start the game. The epitome of understatement.

On the field, the Leicester Tigers were looking to add to their championship totals over Gloucester. The game was contested in weather that ranged from weak sunshine to heavy rain. Alesana Tuilagi, the enormous Samoan thundered down the field three times to lead the Tigers to a 44 – 16 win and the championship. The game was great to see live, the crowd of 56,000 was boisterous and the beer was, well, lukewarm. All as it should be and all good reasons to become Rugby fans. Somebody mail us Rugby Canada shirts!