Tuesday marked the 8 year anniversary of the day that I defended my PhD in Statistics. In case you were wondering, I did, in fact, celebrate the occasion with a wee dram of scotch.
And just like that my adventure to New York City with Steph and Gerarda has come to an end. After a weekend of eating all the things, and drinking all the drinks, I’m back home in Guelph going through some serious 15th friendiversary withdrawal.
I have officially been back in Guelph for 19 consecutive days. Despite the fact that my wanderlust has me feeling like I’ve been home much longer than this, the reality is that it’s not the longest span of time that I’ve spent in Guelph this year.
Early this morning, Nic and I said our goodbyes to Rick, Robbie, and Gemma – our hosts for the last two nights – as we began the second leg of our adventure that would take us from Ottawa to Iqaluit, Nunavut. While the trip through Ottawa was short, it gave us the opportunity to spend…
After spending the last several days sauntering around London (and the last three weeks sauntering around the UK), I’ve come to the sad realization that tomorrow I will be boarding the first of many shiny metal lawn darts that will define 2018 as I make my way back to Toronto. Boo. So much boo.
I spent the better part of yesterday wandering around London – because that’s what one does when they are on vacation with no set plans. Given that my normal day-to-day revolves around a very scheduled calendar and the bing of emails as they cascade relentlessly into my inbox, I’m thinking that my return to the real world…
Well, for all of its ups and downs, its highs and lows, that was 2017. It was a weird year that I’m honestly struggling to reconcile. Normally these end-of-year posts write themselves, but this year was extraordinary – and not always for good reasons.
Earlier today I watched as Corey disappeared behind the security barriers at Heathrow Airport on his way back home after spending two weeks with me, my brother Aidan, and his girlfriend Amanda as we toured across the United Kingdom. And only a few hours before he disappeared, we were both saying farewell to Aidan and…
For the last few days, we’ve been comfortably nestled in a small cottage in Gairloch, Scotland. We’ve slept late, we’ve lounged, we’ve gone for long walks along the rocky beach, we’ve napped, and we’ve watched countless hours of movies. There has also been scotch. All told, it’s been a rather fantastic Christmas getaway.
Before you get too excited, the Liverpool surprise had nothing to do with the Beatles. Nor did it have to do with us stumbling on a pool full of livers on our way to Scotland. It does, however, refer to how surprised I was by Liverpool.
We arrived in Swansea late in the afternoon on the 19th. It was mostly grey and rainy, and the line that delineated the air from the water had blurred such that the sea and sky were indistinguishable.
After spending several days exploring London, England, which included wandering the streets of Whitechapel retracing the path of carnage left by Jack the Ripper over a century ago, we packed our luggage into our rental car and began our trek to Swansea, Wales. Along the way we opted to stop at Stonehenge, and Bristol.
After a week in Quebec City taking part in the Arctic Change conference, I quickly sauntered back to Guelph to snuggle Elliott, do my laundry, repack my luggage, and return to Pearson International Airport with Corey. And after 7 hours strapped into a rather swanky shiny metal lawn dart, we safely arrived in London, England.
Never fear, this is not a post about the bloviating orange windbag that currently sits as leader of our neighbours to the south. It is, however, a post about something near and dear to me – travel.
For those of you who follow me on the Instagrams or on Facebook, you’ll know that for the last week I’ve been posting a black and white photo on the daily. For those of you who don’t follow me, you may have seen some of your friends taking part in a similar challenge on any…