I shall try to define myself in a sentence with a pithy comment at the end:
I'm just an English bloke who lives in Canada after marrying a Canadian lady he met while living in Japan. Yeah, that old cliché.
There’s that thing where you made a mix tape years ago and one of the songs crosses over between Sides A and B and you listened to that tape so much that now, over a decade later when you listen to the song again on CD there’s that point where the click-pause-click interruption is ingrained on your memory of the song and it jolts you when it doesn’t happen. Then you think the click-pause-click scenario is just as applicable to people in your life. And you wonder if you’re anyone’s click-pause-click, if your absence ever jolted them out of their own familiar routine.
Sometimes I’ll be touch-typing without realising one of my hands is on the wrong home keys and when I look at what I’m typing it feels like I’m speaking in tongues.
Sibetunes U;kk ve tiycg-ttoubg wutgiyt reakusubg ibe if nt gabds us ib tge wribg gine jets abd wgeb U kiij at wgat U;n tyoubg ut feeks kuje U;n soeajubg ub tibgyes,
My boss recently asked one of the tax experts in our parent company a complicated question regarding sales taxes and received a long-winded reply. He forwarded the reply to me and asked me to translate it for him, which made me inordinately happy. It made me even more happy that after reading the email and the accompanying documentation, I was able to explain why the expert had given incorrect advice.
This week I wrote our annual Christmas letter. It includes references to the cartographers of the Age of Discovery, an angry condor, walking to work without any trousers on, and bum scratching.