Downhill

... skiing that is.

Despite the local name for the escarpment around Hamilton, there are not any mountains in the Toronto area. There are, however, a few places where enough of a gradient exists to set up an Alpine ski resort. My adviser suggested a trip to Horseshoe Valley and, optimistic that the week had not gone so badly for him to seek my demise, I piled into the car with a couple of his kids.

I had not downhill skied since I was an undergrad and I have to say .... it's terrifying.

No, wait, let me clarify; the skiing is fine. Ski lifts are terrifying.

The first one we went on was bad enough. The chair moved at a fair speed up the slope and reminded me inescapably of the "hello Kitty" ferris wheel in Tokyo. It rapidly transpired that is was also the most modern and gentle of the contraptions at the resort. The next one we went on took particular pride in creeping up on the waiting skiiers and then setting off with a violent jolt, sending them rocketing into the air. Swinging wildly, the chair would then ascend, leaving its passengers to claw their way back onto their seats and pull the flimsy safety barrier down. Due to its predisposition for skiier-destruction, the lift stopped multiple times on its heinous journey, leaving its passengers swinging with an amplitude a baboon would envy. 

Shocked by such robotic evil, I failed to jump fast enough when the lift reached the summit and would have been trapped on-board, had I not thrown myself clear, loosing a ski and leaving the lift to rattle off with a squeak that formed echoes of a disembodied laugh. The only aspect of the decent I recall was that it was far less blood curdling that trip to the summit. I refused to go on that lift again. It was evil and this was no time to preach repentance.

The actual skiing was mild after that. It transpired I was roughly the same standard as my advisor's son.... he's eight, but since he has two younger siblings, I consoled myself with the knowledge the comparison point could have been so much worse. As we descended, I let him carve the tracks. I just followed. Mature adult overseer; that's me.

As I handed my skis in and left the cabin, I had to stop to allow a man on crutches to make his way down the steps in front of me. He still had his ski boots on. I wondered if that would still be the case in April.

Does my bug look big in this?

Hot swap icebot 12 for icebot 5

I am currently sitting sprawled on my floor watching the semi-finals of the men's Olympic hockey. My TV is only able to get one channel on its internal aerial but, since this is Canada, there wasn't any doubt that I would be able to catch this game.

The women's hockey team have already won the gold; they beat the USA team last night. There was nothing odd about the game until the commentator mentioned the USA players were all wearing heart monitors so that their coach could see who had the freshest legs. The two thoughts this produced were both mildly concerning; either the coach totally didn't believe a word his players said regarding their fitness or he considered them all duracell bunnies (or maybe energizer bunnies -- did anyone else not realise there were two?).

The men's team, meanwhile, are taking the scenic route onto the podium since the only thing they were able to put into the goal when playing the USA last week was one of their own players. That particular game saw the public screens in Vancouver removed for fear of riots. In fact, it transpired that there was nothing to fear; Canada went into complete denial the game had even occurred, including the reporter on that night's news. (Although this picture made me laugh a lot.)

By the time Canada were playing Germany, a cautious allusion to the previous .... thing ... occurred on the radio where the DJs speculated the serious question of whether the whole Olympics would be a disaster if Canada didn't place in hockey. Meanwhile, our lunch table at work discussed the likelihood of anyone turning up to Friday's game if Canada were knocked out. Would Vancouver simply decide the hockey was over and the players would show up to an dark and empty rink with no TV crew? It was possible. And no, in case anyone was wondering, the acquired gold in figure skating didn't quite hit the spot.

Still, the worrying was for nothing. Canada has now won the semi-finals (you can all speculate whether I wrote this before or after the end of the 3rd period) and we will discover whether it's because these bunch of stars have started working as a team (I'm going to come out and say the women's team - WAY better at this) or if the USA team are just that hot.

Either way, it seems likely that Lacuna, Inc will not be needed for every Canadian.

Sinister lighting

Me: The houses near the University look beautiful in the snow. One had lights on their trees and made me think it was still Christmas!

A-g-nother Postdoc: Yes, I've seen the houses with holiday lights still up. It makes me think the occupant has probably died.

Me: .....

A-g-nother Postdoc: In December, January; ok. But by the end of February....

Me: .... so I think "pretty", you think "festering corpses half eaten by the pet dog"?

A-g-nother Postdoc: Well, you hear stories of bodies being found and the Christmas tree is still there and all the lights....

Me: .... so ..... research going well?

*****-pack

Sunday cross-country ski trips are held at various parks around Ontario. For the majority of these, the cabin where you can rent skis, warm up and buy a hot drink is situated at the hub of the majority of the ski trails. This makes it easier to leave a packed lunch there to be devoured after any one of the routes you do during the day.

There are however, exceptions to this arrangement. Last week was one example where the cabin was a fair distance from the end of almost all the trails (due some pathetic problem involving a hulking great lake in the way) or occasionally, much longer trails exist that take many hours to complete. For this reason, the ski club recommends their members carry (and I quote) "fanny packs".

I am estimating roughly half my audience flinched and the other half were unmoved.

Why? Well ... let's just say one doesn't use the term "fanny" in the UK in this context. Normally, such items are called "bum bags" or "hip packs". I also threw any I possessed out of my wardrobe when we hit 1990.

After a rather hungry ski trip last week which resulted in me inhaling my late lunch and having indigestion on the trip back, I realised I would need one of these .... carriers. I went into town and checked out the sports shops, thinking I'd feel marginally less stupid buying something I associated with a shell suits at such a location.

Shop Assistant: "Can I help you?"

Me: "Ah yes, I'm looking for a f... um... a uh... never mind."

No. Just.... no. It's bad enough asking for pants when I'm hunting for a new pair of trousers but this is just A Stage Too Far, people. Instead, I found a small rucksack that was waterproof lined and made by the sports company called 'Tracker'. It was clearly designed for the purpose I had in mind. I wondered whether the designers had been British too.

Now it all becomes clear...

Sour milk ...

... is not a tasty delicious snack for all the family. In fact, I'm going to come right out and say it's not good.

This website has the following helpful tips on the subject:

"Most people who drink spoiled milk will immediately identify the "off" taste and spit out the milk. But young children astrophysicists who may not know better but think is doesn't matter may drink the milk [......] do not ingest it as you normally would."

I would actually go as far to suggest that you should not ingest it AT ALL, even supposing you had a surprising way of doing so. For the record, the milk being strawberry and drinking it from a straw makes NO DIFFERENCE. None. Note this.

On a related topic, I'm sure this gives me a valid reason to buy an iPad. Before this morning's .... incident .... the real reason I desired one was so I could surf the internet during talks. This was a damn good idea BAD REASON. But seriously, if you have to spend that long in the restroom, you might as well stay up-to-date with your email. It'd be great for the next time I do this.