Chauds les glaçons

J'emprunte le titre de ce billet de la traduction initiale du titre du roman de Fleming Diamonds Are Forever. Le titre original est meilleur, mais j'aimais bien celui de la traduction et je voulais depuis un bout de temps l'utiliser comme titre d'un billet de blogue. Mon père m'a envoté une photo du solarium prise aujourd'hui. Je voulais avoir une dernière photo pour illustrer novembre et l'hiver qui est arrivé, du moins dans certaines parties du monde. Je vais bientôt publier un autre billet en anglais, avec une autre photo, mais c'est celle-ci que je voulais mettre pour résumer le mois. Je sais que je fais beaucoup dans la photo hivernale ces temps-ci, mais j'essaie de me convaincre que c'est l'hiver.

Saint Andrew's Day

The Google Doodle reminded me: today not only the last day of November, it is Saint Andrew's Day, among other things it is Scotland's national day. I have some Scottish blood from my mother's side and I always had a particular fondness with the Scottish people, so I wanted to mention it on Vraie Fiction. Happy Saint Andrew's Day everyone and to my Scottish readers especially, if there are any.

L'angoisse du magasinage des Fêtes

Bon, c'est le début de l'Avent demain et je dois faire un constat accablant: je n'ai pas encore trouvé un seul cadeau pour Noël. Comme je vais fêter en Angleterre cette année, je veux envoyer mes cadeaux par la poste, c'est en général rapide. Encore faut-il que j'en aie à envoyer. C'est toujours plus difficile lorsqu'on doit voyager ou qu'on doit envoyer les cadeaux: ils ne doivent pas être trop lourds, trop volumineux, ni fragiles... Comme tous les cadeaux, ils doivent plaire et être autant que possible originaux. Et je me demande si c'est encore possible de faire des cadeaux qui ont toutes ces vertus. Suis-je seul à angoisser?

The King in the North!

As I recently mentioned on this post, I became (to my surprise) quite addicted to Game of Thrones, which kind of calms my other addiction to D&Dr. Sadly, I cannot buy the third season yet.I will not surprised anyone that I root for the House Stark. Yes, they are the stereotypical good guys, but while I love to root for the villains sometimes and find them fascinating, I relate a lot more to the Starks. They are Northerners, they have a dire wolf as a sigil and their motto is "Winter is coming". So I relate to them a lot. And, well, talking of D&Dr, my character is a ranger, who has wolves as follower animals, so this is another reason I relate to them more. And there are scenes like this one I have decided to upload, that really get me. (Spoiler alert for those who haven't seen it, don't read any further). This is where Robb Stark, freshly new leader of his House after his father's execution, an execution that lead him to the path of war, is hailed by his men King in the North. However manipulative, it is a powerful scene.

Hiver saguenéen

Mon père m'a envoyé de nouvelles photos de l'hiver saguenéen depuis hier. Comme l'a dit mon petit frère sur Facebook, alors qu'il partageait cette photo que j'avais publiée: "Pendant ce temps, dans le vra nord". Le i manque à dessein: petit frère l'a écrit avec l'accent saguenéen. Parce que le Saguenay, c'est le vrai nord, en tout cas le vrai nord habité. Ici, il fait frais sans faire froid, il fait humide et j'attends désespérément la neige. En passant, si vous répondez à la question existentielle 2011, essayez de faire comme si je ne vous ai pas soufflé la réponse.

The burgers of GBK

Well, I survived Black Friday. Who would have thought? And as I do NOT want to talk of Black Friday or frantic consumerism, I will carry on my Friday or weekend tradition on this blog of plugging a restaurant or a pub's menu. This time, it is the menu of Gourmet Burger Kitchen, or what I know of it anyway. I LOVE hamburgers. Of course these particular burgers are from a chain, not from a little known pub or restaurant. They are standardized and somewhat manufactured. They are not the best burgers I ever ate, no burger ever is here in the UK, this honor goes to many of the American diners from Montreal, this one for instance. But they are quality ones nevertheless and they are still my favourite this side of the Atlantic. And they also have a decent choice of mayonnaise varieties to go with their chips and fries, which is also a plus in my book. I wouldn't be able to tell which one of their beef burgers I prefer. And I haven't tried them all. But I can tell you that so far, they are worth the meal.

Question existentielle (211)

Une question existentielle qui est également une citation de Villon. Elle n'est donc pas de moi, mais elle mérite d'être homologuée comme question existentielle:

-"Mais où sont les neiges d'antan?"

Thor fights the giant Hrungnir

I know that for my American friends, we are Thanksgiving. But for me it is merely Thursday. Which means the day of Thor. I am referring to the Viking god of course. So I decided to commemorate this Thursday with an image from this book. It represents the story of Thor fighting the giant Hrungnir. You can read tellings of of the story here and here. But I much, much prefer the version of Gods & Heroes from Viking Mythology. It was simply more dramatic, made you feel like you were there, watching the fight. The impressive drawings of Giovanni Caselli did help the narrative. It is one of my favourite stories from Norse mythology. I was so impressed by it that in high school, I made an oral presentation on it that bored stiff the class and my teacher. We were supposed to do an oral on an adventure story, the teacher was strongly recommending to take one of those real life stories from the Reader's (In)Digest. I thought what is more of an  adventure than a duel to the death with a giant. After the oral presentation, my teacher had said, with a condescending smile: "Well, it's complicated, your story." Idiot. I had a good mark, but I thought it was a way for him to make sure I'd stay off his back. Moral of the story (mine, not the Viking one): school often sucks big time and does not care one bit about education.

Le bon vieux vin nouveau

Je sais, je sais, ce que j'ai choisi comme titre, c'est de l'humour atroce. J'avais fait un calembour du genre l'année dernière. Tout ça pour dire que j'ai acheté cette semaine ma première (ma seule?) bouteille de Beaujolais nouveau cuvée 2013. Je me suis laissé dire par un ami qu'on n'est pas connaisseur si on aime le vin nouveau. Je ne sais pas si ça fait de moi un philistin, mais qu'importe, je suis philistin dans bien des domaines. Comme mon magasin de vins et d'alcools avait décidé de ne pas en faire venir cette année, sous prétexte qu'il s'était vendu mal l'année dernière, j'ai dû me rabattre sur celui qu'offrait Waitrose. Je préfèrerais encourager les commerces locaux mais tant pis. Je me rattraperai durant les Fêtes en me tinquant chez eux. Et là, je sirote mon premier verre avant de souper.

Santa Claus is a bank robber

The title is freely inspired from the title of this French movie, which ironically enough I haven't seen. Anyway, it is Christmas in less than a month, so I decided to blog on a little anecdote about Montreal's crime history I read recently in Montreal's Irish Mafia. I mentioned the book here, but only started reading it this month. And it reads like a crime fiction. A fascinating, epic, sinister crime novel. But it is history. There are a few chapters on bank robberies, as Montreal was considered once the bank robbery capital of North America, no less. You probably have seen this scene in many movies and TV series, where a man disguised as Santa Claus, or a bunch of them, armed with machine guns and other heavy firearms and rob a bank. Well, between 1961 and 1962, there was a real bank robber using this very modus operandi. His name was Georges Marcotte and he used to walk in banks wearing his Santa Claus disguise, being all cheerful like a real Santa impersonator would be, using this apparently harmless persona to surprise both clients and personnel and do his evil deed. His bank robberies sadly ended up in blood, as he murdered two police officers. I found very little baout him on Google, except this article. I thought about him as Christmas is coming and because the evil Santa is now almost a cliché in action, horror or comedy movies set during Christmastime. Well, my city had a real one once.

Poudrerie

Mon père m'a envoyé cette photo, parmi d'autres que je vais essayer de bloguer bientôt, de la neige tombée en poudrerie sur Chicoutimi.
J'aime bien ce québécisme: poudrerie. Ca sonne mieux que blizzard, dans le sens de plus amical, presque chaleureux, et c'est plus descriptif. Là bas, dans mon Québec natal et dans la ville de mon enfance, l'hiver semble bien installé. Ailleurs, on ne fait pas l'hiver comme au Saguenay.

Earl Grey anecdote

I have mentioned here how important my morning dose of tea is for me to get through a working day. Last week at work, there was no more of Twining's Earl Grey in stock. Instead I had to take PG Tips. I hate PG Tips. I only take it when I need a quick tea fix. So when one of my German colleagues asked me how I was this morning, I answered: "Terrible, there is no more Earl Grey." She replied: "You are thinking like an Englishman." Shock horror. She was true of course. And this deserves to be a great unknown line. I said: "Now my day is taking a turn for the worse". This does deserve to be another great unknown line. The tragic irony is that my day did get worse. Nevertheless, it was a funny moment, if unsettling.

Légendes du Québec racontées par Félix Leclerc

Je le dis parfois, je le répète ce soir: Ah! Les trésors que l'on peut trouver sur YouTube! Ou, dans ce cas précis, retrouver. J'ai vu ça il y a des siècles, enfin des décennies, je devais avoir une dizaine d'années. Je connaissais déjà Félix Leclerc, je connaissais déjà bien des contes québécois, mais c'était là une révélation. Un film d'animation avec les légendes du Québec, notamment celle du Bonhomme Sept-heures, celle de la Chasse-Gallerie, du fantôme de l'avare, j'en passe et des meilleures, avec l'omniprésence du Diable, Satan qui effrayait et fascinait à la fois, racontées par la voix grave et tellement évocatrice de Félix, qui les rend vivantes. Et avec juste ce qu'il faut de nostalgie. Légendes du Québec est un trésor caché et peu connu. Je ne sais pas si on peut l'acheter quelque part de nos jours, alors je le télécharge sur Vraie Fiction sans remords.

Winter trains

This picture was taken a while ago in my local DIY store, which is incidentally one of my favourite shops here, because of the model train they have. I barely bought anything there, but I love it all the same because of the model trains and station and station hotel. The miniature anyway. You can find the other two pictures here and here. I am blogging about it for two reasons: I kind of miss the electric train my family has and my train journeys going to and back from work have been longer these days. Or rather, the waiting time for the trains to arrive is always longer. The train seems to be always late these days, only of a few minutes, nothing to notice, but still. It seems that there are always some people working on the railway, as if the sudden drop of temperature and beginning of winter (an English winter, which means it can be cold, but mostly devoid of snow) had made the tracks tricky and the trains less reliable.

I love train journeys, big and small. I can get impatient when I am tired, want them to end soon, but I rarely ever got bored by them. It is maybe the best mean of transport to enjoy the scenery. And as it is looking more and more like winter, it makes the scenery even more beautiful. Even English winters have charm. They lack snow. they can nevertheless get frosty. The delays themselves are not entirely devoid of charm, as they are short enough. I bond with the cold temperature, remember that I come from a country and a culture that knows far worse colds than here and when the train finally arrives, I enjoy its warmth even more.

C'est la Sainte-Catherine

Pour ceux qui ne le savent pas, c'est la Sainte-Catherine aujourd'hui. Et puis c'est ça qui est ça. Je le souligne cette année, je le souligne parfois sur ce blogue, mais je ne la célèbre pas. Enfant je le célébrais, un peu, des fois. On mangeait de la tire et on lisait sur Marguerite Bourgeoys, qui avait inventé la tire, il semblerait, elle l'avait en tout cas popularisée au Québec. Marguerite Bourgeoys était plus populaire que la sainte qui avait donné le nom à la journée de novembre. J'aimais bien manger de la tire, ça me faisait oublier qu'on était novembre. Mais la Sainte-Catherine, c'est surtout pour moi ce conte, que je lirai ce soir encore une fois et que je vous encourage à lire. Petit bijou d'angoisse québécoise.

Sunday miseries (and some solace)

Today was, is a Sunday like I hate them: firstly, it is grey and dark. It felt very much like doom and gloom. And then it happened: the washing/drying machine broke down, just when there was a gigantic pile of laundry to be done. So the Sunday afternoon was spent going to the launderette. I thought I could read there, but try to read in a launderette. It is uncomfortable, noisy, and such an ugly place. I feel sorry for the person who has to work there on Sunday. Anyway, what a rubbish way to end the weekend! Now I am having an afternoon cup of tea, so I can forget my ordeal. One needs a bit of solace after such ordeal.

Ballade des dames du temps jadis (et cette question sur les neiges d'antan)

Je sais, je sais, j'ai blogué sur le sujet souvent et j'ai déjà téléchargé la chanson il y a six ans. Je sais aussi que la balade de Villon, mise en musique par le père Georges (qui d'autre), ne parle pas de neige tant que d'une époque révolue, mais c'est quand même la chanson qui me vient en tête à chaque fois que je vois la température dehors et qu'il ne neige pas encore. Mon père m'a dit qu'il neige au Québec et que l'hiver semble bien installé. Ici, les météorologues la promettent ou la craignent, mais la neige ne vient pas. Pas encore. Je n'ai pas encore de photo récente de l'hiver, mais j'ai trouvé celle-ci dans un courriel qui date de décembre 2006.Je crois qu'elle accompagnera bien la chanson.

A Christmas tree

I took this picture last Sunday, it is the town's official Christmas tree. It is now full of lights. I am uploading the picture now because I actually like the look of a bare pine tree, without decorations, and also because it shows how quietly the atmosphere of the Christmas season has been settling in here. Often and in many places, it is quick and aggressive, so come December I am already a bit blasé. Too many lights, too many decorations, too much music, etc. But here, this year especially, it is quiet. The Christmas tree was put up at some point this month, the lights last Thursday, the spirit of the season is settling in around and I am slowly getting into it myself. Now if only there was snow...

L'ancêtre (gentrifié) du pouding chômeur?

Ceci est une photo d'un toffee pudding, en fait plus précisément et plus proprement appelé sticky toffee pudding, que j'ai mangé comme dessert dans un pub britannique. On était en août, il commençait à faire frais et juste c'était le bon temps pour manger quelque chose de plus consistant. Et puis en le mangeant ça m'a comme frappé: le sticky toffee pudding, c'est une forme de pouding chômeur (sur lequel j'ai blogué récemment). La différence étant les dattes dans le toffee pudding, qui changent le goût de façon marquée, mais à part ça, bien c'est à peu près la même chose. Le pouding chômeur est tout de même plus simple, dans le sens de plus prolétaire. Quoique la version sur la photo venant d'un pub haut de gamme, elle est une version gentrifiée du sticky toffee pudding. Ce qui me fait me questionner sur l'origine de notre pouding chômeur: le doit-on aux Anglais? Ce ne serait pas la première fois qu'on ait adapté leur cuisine...

A Viking's funeral for Odin

Since the recent and tragic death of my beloved feline friend Odin, I have been organizing his funerals with his owners. I cannot really get over it yet and I discovered that grieving is a long and rather demanding process. The saga of Odin as I called it, which I started without knowing back in May, took a lot of my time and thoughts, and even though its hero is now gone, I cannot bring myself to finish it. I guess sagas end in tragedies and funerals, Norse ones do anyway, with warriors going to Valhalla. They are pleasant reads, but this one came to an end too early, while there was still so much to write about. I will blog more about my friend, although now it will be painful.

So anyway, we have decided that Odin (or Homer as his owners call him) will be cremated by himself. Because we didn't want him to be mixed with other cats, as he always wanted exclusive attention in his life. This is partially why he left his owners' home for this garden, because everybody around here was ready to give him plenty of attention, cuddles, food and well love. Odin didn't have to share. So he will be cremated, then his ashes will be scattered over the bush he loved so much. In a way, it is a funeral for a Viking. Somehow, preparing his funerals reminded me of the movie The Vikings, this particular scene (spoiler alert: don't watch or read further if you haven't seen the film), when Erik played by Tony Curtis tells the other Vikings to prepare a funeral for his half-brother Einar, played by Kirk Douglas. "Prepare a funeral for a Viking." Erik said, after Einar died holding his sword, crying "Odin!" as his last fierce cry. I find Einar to be the true hero of the movie, even though he is evil. And like my Odin, he had a wounded left eye, all white. But Odin was not evil. He was the sweetest, most loving feline. I will write a eulogy here. It may sound silly, but he deserved nothing less. And he also deserve a Viking's funeral.