Say it isn't so...

Guinness.

The very word, to many people the world over, conjures up so many images. For me, there are three things that come to mind immediately.

Years and years ago in the UK, there was this one Guinness television commercial that I still remember. A grizzled barman pulls a slow, deliberate pint of the black velvet into a glass. After the brew settles, the drinker then takes a pen and crudely writes his initials in the thick, luxurious head of the Irish nectar. Slowly, the glass is raised and even more slowly the beer is consumed. At the end, the camera moves in to show the foam in the bottom of the glass, the initials still intact and quite visible.

A few short years after that, while on a camping trip with the Boy Scouts (yes, I know…) we visited the Guinness brewery in Dublin. To say that our Scoutmaster was a lenient sort would be an understatement. Fact: the following summer in Kandersteg, Switzerland, there was an unfortunate “incident” involving local wine, a railway embankment, a fast-moving river and the local police. Suffice to say I consequently developed an “allergy” to wine – something that stayed with me for the longest time. Anyway, we were somehow “able” to sample small amounts of this local brew. I have to admit, back then, in my early teens, my palate was not what it is today and I really did not like it much. I did, however, consume enough to the point of walking into an electrical box on the Dublin streets shortly thereafter. Twice. Resulting in some interesting facial bruising and the assistance of friends to concoct a believable tale for any and all authority figures over the next few days – my parents back in Glasgow included.

My third memory fast forwards a few years. I was working with the largest private publishing firm in the UK. “Headquartered” in Dundee, Scotland. During my time there, I wrote many different pieces; from articles for some of their local, daily newspapers to horoscopes for popular women’s magazines; from World War Two scripts for adventure comic books to “Dear Abby” type advice columns. Practically every Friday lunchtime, shortly after being paid (in cash!) a number of us would wander over to our favourite Indian restaurant and eat the hottest dishes we could manage, washing them down with a few pints of Guinness. Needless to say, the combination was deadly. People would go out of their way Friday afternoons to avoid the newsroom. Copy boys would rather be berated by fierce, draconian editors then venture into the haze of that soiled, wrongly-warm environment…

In today’s Toronto Star (thanks to the LA Times) there is a story – “Irish stew over fate of beloved Guinness”. Long story short, it seems that the consumption of Guinness in Ireland is declining thanks to the influence of imported beers. These beers are persuading a younger generation in their drinking habits. One brand was mentioned by name. Budweiser. To me, that’s not beer. I consumed some wonderful beers growing up in Scotland. Since moving to Canada over 30 years ago, I have yet to develop a taste for North American beers. Too cold. Too fizzy. Not enough taste.

Now, Guinness sells more beer in Nigeria than it does in Ireland. An amazing statistic considering Ireland is the world’s second biggest beer-drinking market after the Czech Republic.

I find all of this hard to swallow.

Enough already!

Yesterday afternoon, it being a lazy Sunday and all, me and TLATO decided to take in a movie. Together. It took about twenty minutes of polite conversation before we decided upon the latest instalment in the Indiana Jones saga.

I think the last time we saw a movie together was when the Daniel Craig /James Bond flick hit the big screen. So, it's been a while.

Got to our local megaplex and found that to purchase a ticket for the movie, we had to go to the long single file line at the concession stand.

Strike one.

While standing on line, I contemplated getting a drink, a club soda, but when I saw the size of the containers they were offering with what looked suspiciously like handles, I decided to forgo this cool treat. The exorbitant "I-really-had-not-planned-on-refinancing-the-house" price tag was the final straw.

Strike two.

The movie itself was OK, perhaps 6 out of 10. The very first episode, all those years ago, still ranks. In fact, to my mind, the number of sequels that have managed to surpass the original amounts to ... one. Godfather 2. Perhaps two, including Kill Bill 2.

I digress.

After sitting through the advertisements, the trailers and then the movie itself, some time had passed. I have borderline hypertension and take meds for same - including a diuretic. Sitting for that length of time is bound to have an effect on a body - especially with all the raging water in the third act of the movie...

I continue to digress.

At the end of the show, nature called. No surprise. We agreed to meet after taking care of things. Standing there, in the tiled sterile environment of the men's loo relieving myself, there was almost an unfortunate accident (for me - can't speak for the other fellow...). Booming through heretofore 'hidden' speakers in the washroom ceiling came a commercial. A frickin' advertisement for a well-known pizza conglomerate who happened to be in their 40th year of business! I'm sorry, but this completely unexpected invasive interruption was the final straw. I'm using the facilities. I'm taking care of business. In a washroom. Granted, it was a public washroom, but still, can we not expect some respect, a little decorum if you will without my being jolted into some marketer's idea of reality while widdling on the leg of the unsuspecting fellow to my left?

Strike three.

It's a bird... it's a plane...

... it's Super Mum!

Just a quick post (more details to follow) of Mum enjoying her birthday present this afternoon.

Last August I was talking to Mum about her birthday in early September. What would you like? Any thoughts? Ideas?

After much hemming and hawing, we (Mum and me) decided that a hang gliding flight would be just the thing. Perfect gift for a 76-year old feisty and fiercely independent mother of six!

The majority of the 'Hood and my brother thought this was insanity. But Mum insisted. As it turned out, this was one of the items on her personal bucket list. So we all chipped in and a gift certificate was purchased and presented on her birthday.

Flash forward; a couple of weeks ago, Mum made the arrangements for her flight; Sunday, July 6 at 2.30pm.

And so it happened. Me, TLATO, sister Lindsey, brother-in-law Colin and their kids, Max and Sammy showed up with Mum in a farmer's field in the hamlet of Brougham, 30 minutes north east of Toronto where High Perspective Inc. offered the thrill of a lifetime.

As you can see from the photograph, Mum had a blast - click on the image and see the larger size picture and you can see her huge grin! Moments after landing, she booked another flight for later this month.

Thanks to Dave (her pilot), Mike and everyone at High Perspective. Our Mum had her best birthday ever!