Canada Day in Edinburgh was smashing.
A group of ex-pats organize a pub quiz every year, and the pub becomes a sea of red and maple leaves and hockey jerseys. They served Moosehead and poutine made with yellow cheese. My (Scottish) friend Carla came with me, and we joined a quiz team with no Canadians.
We came in second, and won maple flavoured baked beans. (Questions I got wrong included the length of the Trans Canada highway, and being unable to identify a picture of Lester Pearson. I did however know that crosschecking is a minor penalty, and could identify a picture of Steve Yzerman. This surprises exactly no one.)
While standing at the bar getting a drink, I met a guy in a Team Canada jersey from Leader.
‘Holy crap!’ I said. ‘Do you know Elizabeth Huber?’
‘Does she have a sister named Beth?’
The group sitting next to us was the drunkest group there, and the drunkest guy in the group was from Alberta.
‘Where in Saskatchewan are you from?’ he asked.
‘That’s wierd…I was just in Berlin and…’
‘Holy crap, you know Andrea don’t you?!’
We texted her immediately to share the wierd news.
At the end of the quiz we got to two-step to The Hip, which made me all sorts of happy. That, though, after a rousing version of the anthem. (Warning: contains fantastically foul language)