The Canadian Chronicles
It's early January and we're back in London, after a couple of weeks galavanting in Canada for the holidays. As I had to stick around for some for some euromeetings, Kathy and Gemma flew back to Montreal a few days before me. An exited Harris family met Gemma at the airport, flailing away to see who could hold her first, and remembering to bring the mother home as well. Alison apparently grabbed first dibs.
Gemma and Kathy then spent a leisurely first few days while I ceasely toiled away. But on Thursday I slipped out of London and the sensible people at BA moved my seat so I had the pleasure of turning left when I boarded the plane.
Things got off to a less than blazing start. Allergies kicked it, drivers licences were found to be expired, Gemma got her first cold, with the snorfling that goes with it. But everything came up rosy on Saturday when Gemma had a blessing with scads of Canadian family and friends around. John and Cathy had all of 15 minutes to meet Gemma before stepping into their roles of guardians. Gemma was smiles throughout, making up for all those months without knowing the Canadian wing of her extended circle.
A few days later was Gemma's first Christmas. Glad to see everyone follow the smaller-amount-of-gift way of thinking, so we only had to borrow one hockey duffle bag to bring Gemma's loot home. Gracious cuz's Hudson, Spencer and Parker helped open the packages. Gemma didn't mind being passed around although didn't quite get into the nonstop Shrekfest that was going on in the TV room.
We made our annual trek to the Shack. Luckily we made in there just in time for cocktail hour, where the marriage of cachaca and a cocktail shaker derived quite a good Caipirinha martini. Despite a constant stream of booze we woke up hangover-free, ish, and took Gemma for her first stroll in the cool countryside. She, um, slept throughout while Gabrielle and Sofia were towed around in tobaggans.
It's early January and we're back in London, after a couple of weeks galavanting in Canada for the holidays. As I had to stick around for some for some euromeetings, Kathy and Gemma flew back to Montreal a few days before me. An exited Harris family met Gemma at the airport, flailing away to see who could hold her first, and remembering to bring the mother home as well. Alison apparently grabbed first dibs.
Gemma and Kathy then spent a leisurely first few days while I ceasely toiled away. But on Thursday I slipped out of London and the sensible people at BA moved my seat so I had the pleasure of turning left when I boarded the plane.
Things got off to a less than blazing start. Allergies kicked it, drivers licences were found to be expired, Gemma got her first cold, with the snorfling that goes with it. But everything came up rosy on Saturday when Gemma had a blessing with scads of Canadian family and friends around. John and Cathy had all of 15 minutes to meet Gemma before stepping into their roles of guardians. Gemma was smiles throughout, making up for all those months without knowing the Canadian wing of her extended circle.
A few days later was Gemma's first Christmas. Glad to see everyone follow the smaller-amount-of-gift way of thinking, so we only had to borrow one hockey duffle bag to bring Gemma's loot home. Gracious cuz's Hudson, Spencer and Parker helped open the packages. Gemma didn't mind being passed around although didn't quite get into the nonstop Shrekfest that was going on in the TV room.
We made our annual trek to the Shack. Luckily we made in there just in time for cocktail hour, where the marriage of cachaca and a cocktail shaker derived quite a good Caipirinha martini. Despite a constant stream of booze we woke up hangover-free, ish, and took Gemma for her first stroll in the cool countryside. She, um, slept throughout while Gabrielle and Sofia were towed around in tobaggans.
posted by greg at Wednesday, January 09, 2002
