Post-Whistler Blues - an almost timely update

The significance of the date on Monday almost passed me by. Odd really, seeing as I’d held it in my head as a pseudo-jokey watershed point when I should stop moping and move on like a real grown-up.

On November 24th my Canadian visa expired, and with it the legal technicality that I could return to that country and earn a living without facing the wrath of the authorities. It may not sound like a big deal but I can’t help feeling a pang of regret, to add to the hearty dose of nostalgia I’ve been carrying around ever since I landed at Heathrow back in June.

But as it turned out I’d found myself so busy with work, travelling up and down the country at weekends to see my girlfriend and preparing myself for the prospect of moving out of home that it crept up and then stole past without my notice. Bugger. And to think of all the date-specific wallowing I’d missed out on.

On a serious note, the comedown from returning from Whistler has hit me pretty hard. Strangely, it seems to have combined itself rather cruelly with a delayed reaction from leaving university and moving back home.

By the time I’d finished my exams and left Sheffield for good I felt I was ready and eager to move on, as well as to live at home again at least in the short run. The intervening period between then and moving to Canada for the winter was filled with a pretty decent summer, the chance to earn a few quid and the anticipation of a life-changing experience to come.

In effect, I hadn’t had a chance to stop and think about how much I missed university. Now I do, I find myself pining for both student life and the existence of a ski bum. But my visa has expired and that, I’m afraid to say, is that.

To sum up: more Whistler = a serious cash injection + some time spent reacquainting myself with the real world + another visa.

So with that, on the poignant occasion of my 100th blog post I must withdraw my gaze from my naval and stop trying to re-live the past. As if I didn’t know that already.

A tiny little bit of solace...

Tonight I finally saw the new Bond film and, after having read numerous critics express their opinions that it wasn't really a Bond film or that it had removed what made the series so loved, I can say with some confidence that much of what has been written about this release so far is utter bollocks.

Quantum of Solace is absolutely what the franchise needed. After several lacklustre outings, the villains growing ever more cartoon-like and the threats to world peace ever more preposterous, change was overdue to correct a serious loss of direction and focus.

Casino Royale was unmistakably Bond, and yet it was so much more. It’s follow up expands on this and, although the impact of the novelty factor has worn off to some extent there is still so much to enjoy, new and old.

Picking up where, literally as well as narratively, the previous film had left off QoS sees Daniel Craig continues to flesh out the human character behind the licence to kill, James Bond as opposed to 007. The increasingly complex relationship between the two is the film's central conceit and this, balanced against superb action sequences so up-to-date they make what has gone before look almost prosaic, works brilliantly.

James Bond is, as Maurice Greene puts it, "damaged goods" (making the attempt at a more humanised character in Die Another Day seem fairly flimsy in comparison) and this makes him more riveting and engrossing than ever. This is new Bond, with plenty of familiar and welcome hallmarks - not least Dame Judy Dench's excellent M - ably playing their parts.

Craig's Bond and the world he inhabits continues to reinvigorate one of the greatest mythologies in cinema and has managed to tick all the desired boxes and simultaneously subvert a whole raft of thematic and aesthetic expectations at the same time. For my money, a remarkably canny and rather accomplished piece of work.

Spurs 4 - 2 Liverpool

The renaissance continues! And the best part? The players all seem to be taking it in their stride. Warm smiles all round indicate that they're rightfully enjoying their current run of form but their demeanour suggests they remain ever mindful of their position in the Premier League table and the importance of maintaining momentum.

Still, cracking result…

History in the making

Read the speech

Victory

So much has and will continue to be written about what the results of today's US presidential election will mean for the world. Column inches are already fit to burst with analysis on how an African-American came to be the most powerful man in the world. Pundits have talked themselves hoarse with predictions about the monumental challenges President Obama will face.

I awoke this morning, tense from the instant my eyes opened. I had just had a bad dream, the most vivd for as long as I can remember. I went downstairs and turned on the television to find that John McCain had triumphed in the election. But the television pictures were indistinct and I turned to the figure to my side. "What's happened?" I asked. "What do you think?" came the resigned, defeated reply.

When I actually woke up and went downstairs, I had already recovered my sense of certainty about what had occurred overnight. When I actually turned on the television I saw that the result had, in fact, been a landslide. And it was with a lump in my throat that I read of stories of ordinary Americans making their voices heard - those who had voted for the first time in their lives, or queued up since dawn to cast their ballot, or had changed their long-held political allegiances as they sensed that they too could play their part in this indelible moment in history.

I don't feel there's much I can add to what has been the most heavily-covered, not to mention most expensive election in history, save this one thought. From this day forward the world should be optimistic. And America should be extremely proud.