It probably doesn’t quite capture the mood to simply say that England has World Cup fever. To be fair, if you are anywhere outside of Canada, it is safe to say you know what I’m talking about. And maybe that’s not fair either. Canada may not have qualified for South Africa but they do have a lot of fans. I remember spending a few nights in Little Italy down on College Street last time round and it would not be fair to say that there aren’t football (soccer) fans in Canada. I’ve seen Italy, Portugal, Greece and even England fans get rather rowdy in the streets of Toronto. But for some reason it feels very different over here.
The fever has been building for months and months with pubs proclaiming screening schedules, offices coordinating ways to manage World Cup-related absences (I work at Employee Benefits after all – it’s been big news here), and England flags popping up on every house, flat and storefront. I even purchased a Team England jersey so that I could fit in when heading out to watch the matches.
Don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t actually like footie. Sure, there are some fine-looking men involved in the sport but, no matter how long I live in England, I will never follow football the way I follow hockey. Despite this promise, there is still something about the spirit of the World Cup that makes you want to be a part of it – even if that means just being the token Canadian ex-pat in her England t-shirt, drinking beer and asking stupid questions during the matches.
At the office we just kicked off a World Cup lottery. Editorial and sales staff alike paid £2 to choose a country out of an envelope – or two once we discovered there were leftovers. Even though most of us will be cheering for England, we have our lottery teams to support as well, just for a little extra competitive spirit. Whoever comes out on top wins the envelope of money – a whole £64.
My first pick is Germany and my back-up is Paraguay. Could be worse (I could have picked Slovenia and Honduras like my friend Tynan) or better (I could have picked one of the perennial favourites like Brazil, Portugal or Italy). And while I enjoy supporting the underdogs, I rather doubt the Paraguayans have much of a chance.
Germany, on the other hand, was singled out as a favourite early on. Unfortunately, injuries to the captain, goalkeeper, defender and two midfields could really hurt their chances. Even Franz Beckenbauer, who led his country to World Cup glory as captain in 1974 and then as coach in 1990, does not have a lot of optimism for Germany’s success. Maybe this is for the best though as I hardly want to be caught cheering for Germany in an English pub (If the reason for this is not completely obvious just consider this: 2 World Wars and 1 World Cup).
England, despite its own unfortunate last-minute injuries, also has a good chance. At least according to English bookies. Earlier this week England captain Rio Ferdinand saw his World Cup dreams crushed when he suffered ligament damage to his left knee during the team’s first training session in South Africa. But despite this setback, manager Fabio Capello is being called the reason that England can win the World Cup. And all you have to do is believe it.
So enjoy the kick-off weekend, starting with the Opening Ceremonies earlier today and the first couple of matches – which we were slyly screening on an old tv in one of the meeting rooms at the office this afternoon – and culminating in England first match against USA tomorrow evening. And if you’re interested in a little light reading, check out the news alert I sent out this afternoon at the following link: http://www.employeebenefits.co.uk/item/10814/23/5/3.
Friday 11 June 2010
Tuesday 1 June 2010
Up North With The Yorkies
My first visit to the English county of Yorkshire did not disappoint, despite the questionable weather that greeted me. I spent the bank holiday weekend staying with my amazing family up north in Knaresborough and venturing around the region to see as much as possible.
I arrived via train to Leeds and then onto the old spa town of Harrogate on Friday night where I was greeted by my cousin Clair’s husband Murry. He nominated himself chief tour guide for the weekend, along with the children from time to time, and Clair when she was up for it. Oliver is 15, which provides him an excuse for spending too much time with us, but the girls Molly (12) and Jessie (9) did join in on most of our Yorkshire activities. It makes me so happy to get to know this extended part of my Holmes family and I can hardly wait to spend more time with them in Tiree in August.
On Saturday morning in the misty fog and sporadic rain I was introduced to Knaresborough, a town that dates back to 1100 when it began to grow as a market town around Knaresborough Castle. The town has been passed through the centuries from Hugh de Morville, who led the four knights who murdered Archbishop Thomas Beckett at Canterbury Cathedral, to John of Gaunt in 1369. The castle fell in 1646 during the Civil War when citizens looted the stone. As a result, much of the town centre buildings are built with the very same castle stone.
Clair, Molly and I wandered along the waterside and had coffee and teacakes in a café that used to be a houseboat. Then we explored the Castle grounds, now just a scattering of ruins and a small museum, and carried on to the market square where England’s oldest chemist shop stands alongside modern shops and local pubs. We also visited Saint Robert’s Cave, a medieval hermit’s site along the River Nidd, which attracted thousands of pilgrims in the late 12th and early 13th centuries.
In the afternoon the whole family (minus Ollie) piled into the car to drive around the Yorkshire Dales and North York Moors, landscapes which would normally be stunningly colourful and stretching for miles. Due to weather restrictions we mostly peered out the windows at heavy mist and wet fields, but this did add to the tragically romantic atmosphere that I expected anyways, thanks to my youth spent reading the novels of the Bronte sisters. The Blubberhouse Moors, which inspired ‘Wuthering Heights’ (wuthering is a Yorkshire word that means turbulent weather), are up here. Because of the mist and fog, I could almost see tragic Heathcliff pining for his true love Catherine.
We continued on to Brimham Rocks, balancing formations on the moor of the same name, which have been around for hundreds of years, formed by erosion, glaciation and wind into the shapes of various animals like the Sphinx, the Watchdog, the Camel, the Turtle and the Dancing Bear. After walking around in the rain for a while we rewarded ourselves with local Risplith ice cream. I tried the gin and tonic flavour (with real gin), which started me on a downhill drinking spiral that carried into the early hours of Sunday morning.
Next we stopped for a pint of a Yorkshire-brewed lager, the Copper Dragon, and I spent the rest of the evening trying to sample as many more as I could, like Timothy Taylor’s and Black Sheep. After Clair cooked us a delicious dinner of fish pie Murry took me out on a pub crawl of Knaresborough where we sampled locally-brewed half pints along the way. We even stopped by a music hall where the 70s rock group Wishbone Ash were performing then carried on to Blind Jack’s where I was allowed behind the bar to pull a pint. Very fun.
The next day Murry, Molly and Jess took me into York for the day. If you’re not going to spend your hangover lying in bed, this is the town to recover in, with walks along the River Ouse, wanders through the shambles and along the old city walls, and a brisk climb up 275 steps to the top of the York Minster (though the actual count is in dispute thanks to Jess’s accurate tally the whole way up and down). We saw straight across Yorkshire from the very top and looked down to see exactly what else we wanted to visit in the town.
York is a walled city with a rich history and the site of major political events in its two millennia of existence. Founded by the Romans in 71 AD and called Eboracum after the British tribes who inhabited the area, it was the capital of Britannia Inferior until the end of Roman rule in 415 AD after serving as court for the Emperors Hadrian, Severus and Constantius I. Over its history it served as the capital of the Anglian Kingdom of Northumbria, the capital of the Viking settlement once it was captured in 866 AD, and following the Norman Conquest was named York. Situated halfway between the capitals of London and Edinburgh, the city has had a long past, and is certainly an interesting visit for anyone who enjoys both classic and modern history.
On bank holiday Monday, my last day up North, we drove to the east coast, since the Evans’ were going to be spending the rest of their half-term holiday at a friend’s place near the beach. Besides the slow pace we took in getting there – with traffic that brought me back to commutes out of Toronto on camping and cottaging weekends – it was definitely worth a windy afternoon on the beach before heading back to London. Jess, Molly and I ran into the freezing cold sea up to our ankles then we wandered along Filey Beach where I was introduced to the traditions of a typical British seaside holiday.
I am so lucky to get the chance to visit different areas of this country with family as my tour guides. I had such a fun, historic and relaxing weekend in Yorkshire, and am now counting the days down to more family time in the Scottish Hebrides come August.
I arrived via train to Leeds and then onto the old spa town of Harrogate on Friday night where I was greeted by my cousin Clair’s husband Murry. He nominated himself chief tour guide for the weekend, along with the children from time to time, and Clair when she was up for it. Oliver is 15, which provides him an excuse for spending too much time with us, but the girls Molly (12) and Jessie (9) did join in on most of our Yorkshire activities. It makes me so happy to get to know this extended part of my Holmes family and I can hardly wait to spend more time with them in Tiree in August.
On Saturday morning in the misty fog and sporadic rain I was introduced to Knaresborough, a town that dates back to 1100 when it began to grow as a market town around Knaresborough Castle. The town has been passed through the centuries from Hugh de Morville, who led the four knights who murdered Archbishop Thomas Beckett at Canterbury Cathedral, to John of Gaunt in 1369. The castle fell in 1646 during the Civil War when citizens looted the stone. As a result, much of the town centre buildings are built with the very same castle stone.
Clair, Molly and I wandered along the waterside and had coffee and teacakes in a café that used to be a houseboat. Then we explored the Castle grounds, now just a scattering of ruins and a small museum, and carried on to the market square where England’s oldest chemist shop stands alongside modern shops and local pubs. We also visited Saint Robert’s Cave, a medieval hermit’s site along the River Nidd, which attracted thousands of pilgrims in the late 12th and early 13th centuries.
In the afternoon the whole family (minus Ollie) piled into the car to drive around the Yorkshire Dales and North York Moors, landscapes which would normally be stunningly colourful and stretching for miles. Due to weather restrictions we mostly peered out the windows at heavy mist and wet fields, but this did add to the tragically romantic atmosphere that I expected anyways, thanks to my youth spent reading the novels of the Bronte sisters. The Blubberhouse Moors, which inspired ‘Wuthering Heights’ (wuthering is a Yorkshire word that means turbulent weather), are up here. Because of the mist and fog, I could almost see tragic Heathcliff pining for his true love Catherine.
We continued on to Brimham Rocks, balancing formations on the moor of the same name, which have been around for hundreds of years, formed by erosion, glaciation and wind into the shapes of various animals like the Sphinx, the Watchdog, the Camel, the Turtle and the Dancing Bear. After walking around in the rain for a while we rewarded ourselves with local Risplith ice cream. I tried the gin and tonic flavour (with real gin), which started me on a downhill drinking spiral that carried into the early hours of Sunday morning.
Next we stopped for a pint of a Yorkshire-brewed lager, the Copper Dragon, and I spent the rest of the evening trying to sample as many more as I could, like Timothy Taylor’s and Black Sheep. After Clair cooked us a delicious dinner of fish pie Murry took me out on a pub crawl of Knaresborough where we sampled locally-brewed half pints along the way. We even stopped by a music hall where the 70s rock group Wishbone Ash were performing then carried on to Blind Jack’s where I was allowed behind the bar to pull a pint. Very fun.
The next day Murry, Molly and Jess took me into York for the day. If you’re not going to spend your hangover lying in bed, this is the town to recover in, with walks along the River Ouse, wanders through the shambles and along the old city walls, and a brisk climb up 275 steps to the top of the York Minster (though the actual count is in dispute thanks to Jess’s accurate tally the whole way up and down). We saw straight across Yorkshire from the very top and looked down to see exactly what else we wanted to visit in the town.
York is a walled city with a rich history and the site of major political events in its two millennia of existence. Founded by the Romans in 71 AD and called Eboracum after the British tribes who inhabited the area, it was the capital of Britannia Inferior until the end of Roman rule in 415 AD after serving as court for the Emperors Hadrian, Severus and Constantius I. Over its history it served as the capital of the Anglian Kingdom of Northumbria, the capital of the Viking settlement once it was captured in 866 AD, and following the Norman Conquest was named York. Situated halfway between the capitals of London and Edinburgh, the city has had a long past, and is certainly an interesting visit for anyone who enjoys both classic and modern history.
On bank holiday Monday, my last day up North, we drove to the east coast, since the Evans’ were going to be spending the rest of their half-term holiday at a friend’s place near the beach. Besides the slow pace we took in getting there – with traffic that brought me back to commutes out of Toronto on camping and cottaging weekends – it was definitely worth a windy afternoon on the beach before heading back to London. Jess, Molly and I ran into the freezing cold sea up to our ankles then we wandered along Filey Beach where I was introduced to the traditions of a typical British seaside holiday.
I am so lucky to get the chance to visit different areas of this country with family as my tour guides. I had such a fun, historic and relaxing weekend in Yorkshire, and am now counting the days down to more family time in the Scottish Hebrides come August.
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