Diary of a week. Lows and record highs.
Sunday. The closing ceremonies at the Olympics are a chaotic, musical joy. Lots of rock and roll, the Spice Girls, a super performance of John Lennon's Imagine and for the finale The Who singing My Generation, even if only Keith Moon died before he got old.
My favourite moment is the Kaiser Chiefs singing Pinball Wizard. Lead singer Ricky Wilson enters on the back of a scooter, channelling the mods of the 1960s. As a proud owner of a 160cc Lambretta in that period, I came over all nostalgic.
Wilson, later, admits he was petrified about performing in front of a billion people. Well, you would, wouldn't you. A shame George Michael didn't get stage fright. He is dreadful.
Monday. London Mayor Boris Johnson is wallowing in the rosy glow of the Olympics and is being tipped as a future British prime minister.
Johnson, with his shock of blond hair and upper-class-twit impersonation, looks as though he'd be more suited to a Monty Python episode than Downing Street, but he's lots of fun, whip-smart and in a time of gloom and doom a positive and popular politician.
I met him years ago when I was visiting a British newspaper for whom he then wrote editorials and columns. He was charming, interested, interesting and an astute observer of world issues - including Canadian politics.
He pretends to be a buffoon. But he's a progressive leader and a populist. British PM? Why not? He'd wake us all up.
Tuesday. What to name your baby? If it's a boy, Liam or Ethan are top choices in North America. Emma, Sophie and Olivia are über-popular for girls.
Names go out of fashion quickly. Not too many young Ethels or Mabels out there. Biblical names endure: Jacob, Paul and John are still huge.
In Britain, Harry is now the most popular boys' name. Thank Harry Potter and Prince Harry for that. We learn, however, that the prince is mending his ways. Almost teetotal and answering to his real name Henry rather than the more familiar Harry.
Canadian kayaker Michael Tayler asked him where the best place in London to party is. "I don't go out any more," Harry is said to have replied. "I'm too old, I'm too old."
Wednesday. The best story of the week is the heartwarming piece about Rebekah Simpson, 5, who was hailed a hero after calling 911 after her mother suffered an epileptic seizure.
Good for her. Better for her grandpa, who taught her how to dial 911 in an emergency. And huge kudos to dispatcher Chelsea Chang, who kept Rebekah calm and focused on the phone. The audio recording of the 911 call send shivers down your spine.
Rebekah was honoured. Chelsea deserves a medal too.
Thursday. I get a preview of the prize home and the new Star Trek exhibit at the Pacific National Exhibition.
I love the fair. But I'm no Trekkie. The exhibit is fine for fans of the show, I guess, and will be a huge hit, but I've never understood Trek fans.
I covered a Trekkie convention once and the crowds treated William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy like they were gods. They're just actors, I felt like screaming, as the mobs surrounded them. Shatner got it right on Saturday Night Live. Get a life, he told the fanatics. It's just a show.
Friday. Tour operators around B.C. are having a difficult season. Hotels and lodges from Vancouver to Vancouver Island to Whistler are having a tough time.
I speak to a tourism operator in Vancouver who tells me the problem is fewer Americans coming north and too many Canadians heading south.
U.S. states are spending a fortune on marketing to Canada. That high dollar isn't helping.
I feel guilty about my road trip to the Oregon coast a few weeks ago. I had stopped off at the Seattle factory outlets on the way home. Nine out of 10 cars in the huge lot were from B.C.
I will buy only Canadian for the next 50 years.
Saturday. Will this heat wave ever end? Will I ever get a full night's sleep? I am escaping to Quadra Island to kayak with my family for the weekend. Two weeks to Labour Day. Get out there and enjoy it.
