Sunday, June 17, 2018

ROBBLOIG# 725- A Banana a Day


June is fleeting.

Where has this month gone?
I have been busy outside in my lovely Island garden.
That makes time fly.

The Mister and I have plants growing that we have never grown before.
Among them: New Zealand Flax, Cordyline, 4 (count 'em) FOUR banana plants- one about 10 feet tall, two...no wait...three windmill palms, and grasses that have grown to shoulder height in a few short months. Pieris, weeping sequoia, weeping Cyprus and a happy hosta or two.

I call him Nanu- The Easter Island God
Our gardens are looking great!
Plants are growing like bad weeds here in the Cowichan. The sun feels so hot here too.
It pricks the skin.
Today was 34c degrees yet there was no humidity like back in Ontario. We were able to complete our exercise walk around 6PM with hardly a bead of perspiration on our foreheads. Once the hot, western sun sinks below the tall pines along the back of our property the temperature drops about 5 degrees. The evening is wonderfully comfortable, however, having a heat pump cool down Palm Villa's interior helps a bunch.

We thought that having a smaller property here on Vancouver Island would mean less gardening but we are finding it still takes many dedicated hours each week. Watering is the worst, especially when we have to stick within guidelines posted by North Cowichan. Right now we are at level one which means watering between 7 and 9 morning and night on odd days. It is hard to watch plants wilt on odd house number days- especially expensive plants, so many folks get out and give gardens a little squirt whenever they can. This will be frowned upon if we reach the "dreaded" level three.

Fire danger in our area is "high" right now, according to the signs posted along the Island Highway.
This new stretch of dry, hot days has just started. We had this weather back in May- almost the entire month, however the first couple of weeks of June saw overcast skies, cooler temperatures and a bit of rain. Weather forecasters are predicting a hot Island summer through to the end of September!
I am preparing myself for those weeks when we have to stop using the automatic lawn sprinklers and resolve ourselves to watching our grass turn browner than a turkey's turd at fly-time.

A quick trip to the Dairy Queen usually makes me feel better when thinking of burnt grass.
Funny, eh?

A banana palm, they say, keeps the Doctor away
We've taken part in other activities besides gardening. We walked to the top of Stoney Hill- again, to gaze out over the Pacific to Salt Spring Island. We traversed the Island via Port Renfrew to see how the "other half" lives. The other half of the Island I mean.

We met some new friends at a "Primetimers" dinner evening.
I know.
Me.
A "Primetimer".
It was a Hell of a lot of fun!

We even took new friends to Dinters- our favourite garden centre, receiving 25% off our purchases which included a couple of rosebushes and a pretty, aqua blue bird bath. Funny, just when you think you have all the plants and garden accessories you require, along comes a 25% off sale.
Go figure.

We have a couple of theatre dates ahead, a celebration of life service for a neighbour who passed from nasty, old cancer, then a trip to Victoria for Victoria Pride Celebrations in early July.

Life on the Island.
It continues to evolve.

Thursday, June 7, 2018

ROBBLOG #724- Christ on a Cracker!


Once, a few years ago I was doing a stage show. I had a makeup lady do my makeup to help me achieve a particular "look" for a particular character. This is what "may" have happened...

I am sitting in a makeup chair waiting for the elusive Makeup Artist. There's no sign of her- a gal that I'll call her Bernice because that is NOT her real name. I flip through a couple of magazines all the while checking my watch. Finally, I smell a waft of cigarette smoke and in enters the makeup artist. I'll call me- "Actor" because you know my name already.
 
Bernice: Did you think I wasn’t coming or what-eh? ~puff~ Oh hey-I’m Bernice. She reaches out a hand.

Actor: Hi Bernice. I shake her outstretched palm. I was just sitting here trying to “find some calm”. You know. Before I "go on". I look at the lit end of her cigarette and the smoke pooling above our heads. Ummm. Could you extinguish that cigarette, please, Bernice?

Bernice: Oh Geeze, you're one of those types, eh? Yah, well sure. Be back in a sec.
She leaves the room and I hear a distant toilet flush. Just like all those other Actor types. So you're trying to keep calm eh? Pre-show jitters Dear? Have you moisturized? How old are ya hennaway? Anyone ever tell you ya look like Christopher Plummer. I once made him up ya know...so what is your name Hun?

Actor: Um...Let's see- yes, no, yes, 60, that's interesting and Rob.

Bernie: Doesn’t feel like it. That you've moisturized I mean. Feels dry. Did you colour this hair recently, Hun.

Actor: Well, A couple of weeks back. Just a little wash. A bit of blonde maybe.

Bernice: A couple of weeks back. Some colour eh?

Actor: Well... yes. A bit- I guess. My hair was starting to look tired.

Bernice: A bit. Honey this hair was more than a bit tired? Christ on a Cracker- where’d you get the stuff. Dollarama? Geeze, it looks real cheap. Well, it fits, I guess.


Actor: That isn’t very nice.

Bernice: Oh settle it Hun, I mean your stage persona. (aside) Short fuse or what. So, you claim you     moisturized some too?

Actor: Yes I did- before I left home. I said already…

Bernice: Well that’s something anyway. Good God your hair feels like frickin’ prairie wheat. Now, let's get a bit of foundation on that mug of yours and maybe all those freekin’ age spots will disappear. What the Hell is that all about?
 
Actor: Um...well...
 
Bernice: So, what are ya like 63 or somethin’?

Actor: 60. And a half....

Bernice: Listen Hun. I got to tell you. Up front and personal. You know “Mano a Mano”. You don’t hide your age well.
 
Actor: What? I don't. I think....
 
Bernice:  But don’t you worry. Bernice is here to help. I am. I mean that. Now if we makeup artistes weren’t here for you, you can well imagine what you’d look like going out on that stage. ~Hah. Hah. Hah.~ She slaps my left shoulder with a stiff palm and red-lacquered fingernails.

Actor: I can’t imagine.

Bernice: You’d look like Hell. Pain and simple fact! Sorry for the profanity but I speak the truth. Now, I know you actor people work hard to bring those characters to life but you know we are here to help move you along and just in time for your sake. ~Hah. Hah~ She slaps me again. Now just relax. She rubs the back of her hand along my right cheekbone. Did you say you moisturized Hun?

Actor: Yes, I did. We’ve been through that.

Bernice: Oooh. Touchy. So, listen I have a galfriend. Now look, I don’t mean I’m one of those dollies  from the Isle of Lesbos or nothing. Oh God Honey, I have had my share of  menfolk in my day. Don’t get me wrong now. I am not one of them loosy-goosys like you read about on your Facebook and Instaham...
 
Actor: Instagram.
 
Bernice: ~pauses~ Whatever Hun. No, I pretty much keep to myself these days. Well, you have to- dontcha? What with all them SID's and stuff.

Actor: STD's

Bernice: Yes, well whatever Hun. Now Hun, sit up straight here or your manboobs will be on your stomach before your next birthday. So this galfriend of mine-who just so happens to be an artiste of makeup like myself, tells me last week that that actor fella who does those movies- you know who I mean? Oh Christ on a Cracker- y'uh know...

Actor: No, not really.

Bernice: He’s that funny guy with the big-
 
Actor: Voice?
 
Bernice: No. No. Head. Big Head...
 
Actor: I have no idea..
 
Bernice: So he sits across from my galfriend at the restaurant he’s got a bit of the white powder under his nose. Ya Know Hun? 

Actor: Powder? White? Whipped cream?

Bernice: You are sweet Dear but you live in another world. I mean drugs. You know. Powder under the nose? Coaltrain?

Actor: Oh. Cocaine.

Bernie: Exactly. Terrible waste. But good gosh apparently Hun, he has the temper. Not very nice at all. So what’s that gonna get him? Nothin! Did I ask you if you had moisturized.

Actor:  Ummm. I. Have. (I spoke through clenched teeth.)

Bernice: Never mind. Too late now Hun. So can you imagine? This actor-fella makes all that dough   and he can’t get up in the morning without snortin’ his life away. Good God that’s sad. Really sad. ~pause~ Good Lord in a bateau!
 
Actor What??
 
Bernice: You have some nasty-looking split ends here. Get yourself a good conditioner Hun.

Actor: I’ll look into that. Glancing at my watch.  I'm kinda in a hurry now. I need a bit on my eyebrows.

Bernice: Conditioner?

Actor: No. eyeliner!

Bernice: Now leave your face to the professional Hun. That’s what I am her for. So, eyeliner on the brows. Good Gosh. You need more than a bit. The audience wants to see those brows jump and twist and turn and twitch now- don’t they? Don’t you worry Hun. I’ll have you looking spiffy before you know it.

Actor: I’m not sure if “spiffy” is what I’m looking for…

Bernice: Well I’ll be the judge of that Hun. As for what’s happening below the neck, I couldn’t give a fat fanny. Me. I am just from the neck up. She makes a cut-off motion with a cut below my neck.

Actor: Well at least we know where we’re at. You’re here I motion across my throat and up and the neck down pointing down is another department. I understand that.

Bernice: Well, I am not surprised. You seem intelligent but you'd be surprised at those that don't have any sense of direction. Not one iota! Oh Hey, she slaps I remember one time I had a director say to me- Bernice, what do you think of that pink sweater vest for Veronicia in Act Two, Scene 1? Mr. Babcock I says to him. That was his name- Mr. Babcock- funny eh? She slaps me three or four times as she's lost in several  loud guffahs. So, Mr. Babcock I say, you had better ask Gladys in Costumes because I am just concerned with here up. She motions.

Actor: What did he say?

Bernice: What could he say? Hah! I said it all. Geeze. What a loser. I mean that Hun! She applies a few final, deliberate brush strokes and wallops my cheeks with some powder  piled on a white duster. Ok that’s it for you. Now have a nice day Hun- will ya?

Actor: I’ll try.

Bernice: And remember to put on some moisturizer next time for Christ's sake!

Actor: I give up.!

Bernice: aside Geeze, nice fellah but skin’s dry as toast.

Friday, June 1, 2018

ROBBLOG #723- It's In The Genes


First a warning.

It's something most people back east in Ontario are aware of. After watching Rob Ford and his idiot brother perform in the Ford Circus a few short years ago, how is it possible that the PC's could take 65 seats in the coming election and the Liberals might barely be able to hold onto party status. Voters have short memories. I am not fan of Andrea at all but rather the NDP than any- repeat- ANY Conservative anywhere at any time.
He sold drugs for Gawd's Sake. He covered up for his substance abused brother. He's broken the law.
His Mother has no taste when it comes to decorating a home.
I mean reason enough!!

I also think that Kathleen has been treated unfairly and I still believe she is the best, fairest and most forward thinking of any of the candidates. How can Ontarians vote against someone who has raised minimum wage and therefore the standard of living for many Ontarians. I mean c'mon.
That alone.

If Ford wins, I hope he provides Ontario with the biggest Fuck Up in the history of politics. Look out if you are a minority- I am talking to you white folks here too as well as women and LGBTQ2.
Minority.
I mean that word can pretty much describe every one of us these days depending on the situation. The Hubbie and I have been in a Subway car several times in Toronto in recent years and been the only two White Boys.
It's interesting to be in that position. Humbling I suppose.
So, if you fall into any of these main groups how can you even think of voting Conservative?
You are a thorn in their side and always will be.

Federally, it's not any better and now with Justin buying the pipeline out this way, he is doomed. The Federal Liberals are living on borrowed time.
I agree with the purchase.
We need oil.
Our world runs on it and no amount of protesting will change my mind or the facts. We run on oil. First Nations can beat the drum all they want. Hippies, professional protesters and people who need to focus on other skills can demonstrate and show up at barricades day after day. They'll make the National News on a  slow day but it won't make oil and the pipeline go away.

It's in the Ford Genes...
I have promised myself here in BC I will not be political. I am done with speaking out, reading about the various parties and most redneck of all- voting.
You see, I now believe- and I didn't used to, that it makes no difference.
No difference at all.
Good Lawrd...
I am turning into our friend from back in Orillia, Ontario. I will protect her by not naming her but Gee golly gosh and Holy Cow. I didn't see that one coming.

My main defense to refrain from political sniping will see the light of day if Ontarians vote for that Ford Fellah. In my country of Canada I can't believe there is even the possibility of that happening let alone the curse of that Sheer guy from Alberta one day leading our country.

I do have to come clean.
To be both clean- and truthful though, I did write a "Helmet Law Sucks" tweet this past week, supporting the removal of the mandatory bicycle helmet law here in BC. I agreed with a gentlemen who also denounced the forced use of helmets. In fact, here on Vancouver Island in British Columbia my bike hangs on a rack in our garage 90% of the time.
I miss riding but I hate wearing that fucking helmet more!
"Old Home" friends will be agasp!

Egads... I believe either the move west, the Island vibes or my impending, doddering old age has or is in the process of changing me.

Sunday, May 27, 2018

ROBBLOG #722- Space the FINAL Frontier


Space. The Final Frontier.

Here on Vancouver Island in the Cowichan Valley, six Islanders stood outside on a Sunday Evening waiting for the International Space Station to zoom overhead.
At approximately 2215 Pacific it did.

A bright, fast travelling, white light came into view over the tall trees in the western sky. In a flash it was above our heads heading East towards Calgary and the horizon. Some 27,000 kilometres per hour. That's almost as fast as our neighbour Tina (I did not change her name to protect her)- and good friend, drives down Cowichan Lake Road and Government Street to work!
She's a rip and get's there in time and in one piece.

It was an amazing moment watching that station go by and yet it does 24 hours a day. Its path changes but it's up there with a half dozen astronauts on board, whizzing around our world.
What a view. Venus, Saturn, the Moon and the Sun.
All the while, ne'er any sight of "Heaven" or spaceships or the Aliens aboard them who apparently live in the outer rim of outer space.
Thor- The God of Thunder is also out there somewhere with his big hammer and equally big biceps!

Imagine what it costs to fill up the space ship tank just to get to Earth. I hope they're collecting their PC Points towards a free turkey come the Holiday Season.

Captain Kirk was a luck bastard- wasn't he?
He travelled from planet to planet with the ease of a six-stop route on a city bus.
All with the help of his crew and his immortal paraphrased words- "Give me all ya got Scottie!"
Thank goodness for Scottie and Lieutenant- and later Commander, Uhura.
Hey, remember when Will Shatner lip-smacked that Uhura.
Kirk sucking face with another crew member and a female of colour too.
Yikes!
How the Final Frontier has progressed.

After the station slipped effortlessly past us in the sky- lit by a brilliant, full moon, I googled how to contact the astronauts on board. It seems that last Christmas you could and all season's greetings were passed along but now in the merry month of May the best I can hope for is an answer from NASA on my Twitter account.

I think it would perk up the day or night of the onboard crew knowing we were down here on earth like a half dozen puny little ants waving and cheering them onwards. Of course we are used to seeing planes criss-cross the blue Pacific Skies over our Island every day. Those skies can be quite busy at times with assorted aircraft travelling in a myriad of directions heading for Nanaimo, Victoria or Vancouver. Flights to Hawaii, Australia, Britain, France, India and The Netherlands flying right over our heads.

It is amazing when you stop and think about how busy the skies really are on a day to day basis.
Up high we have a collection of satellites, aircraft from dozens of countries, the Space Station and of course, one day, those folks drifting skyway during "the rapture".

In our lower altitudes the sky is crowded with balloons- both of the weather kind and the birthday party kind. There's kites that rip free of their owner's strings, missiles from war-torn countries and smoke from forest fires or volcanoes. It's a wonder the sky stays blue!

A small chill went up my spine as I watched the Space Station zip across the sky.
How wonderful- I thought but I could never do it.
Pooping and peeing in a bag I mean!
I have enough to concentrate on keeping regular down here on earth without worrying about getting the pee and poopy into a bag so as not to have it flying about the Space Station cabin smacking fellow crew members in the face.
Can you imagine the embarrassment of having to catch one's wayward poop with a butterfly net?
Egads!

So, hats off to the crew and I'll report to you if my Tweet get's twatted- or whatever one does with a tweet once it's read.

In the meantime, scientific humans continue to push for new worlds they hope to discover and to go to where we have never gone before...

Saturday, May 26, 2018

ROBBLOG #721- People are Funny


Mother Mary, people are funny.

Not funny as in- "I have a joke to tell you", because that is never funny.
Ever.
We have all stood while the joke-teller is regaling us with a joke that he/she warns us in advance may be dirty, racist, slanderous, petty and definitely unfunny. We never get the warning that the joke about to be told is not funny. We smile and nod and slap our thighs so as not to hurt the unfunny joke-teller's feelings.

No, funny people in this case of which I speak are people- one person in this case, who is definitely NOT funny. In fact, I'd say there's not a funny bone in their body. They are the lonesome dove, the outcast. The person that thrives on being unfunny, unfriendly and under your skin.

This human of which  I speak- as well as not being even close to funny as I mentioned above, is also a control freak. The rest of us should do as they say. Do as "they" do or thou shalt be judged.
Oh yah.
This unfunny human is judgemental in a non-Atheist sort of way.
What is the opposite of non-Atheist you ask?
Figure it out.
I'll wait....

Got it? Well, whatever floats your boat. Turns your crank. Grounds your soul.
I have to be careful here. Some folks reading today's blog will immediately know of whom I speak. Other readers will ultimately ask me- "Who are you writing about in that blog of yours?"
I canny not say...


I would like to tell you the stories that make me shake my head. The stories of this person's unkindness and steel-rimmed personality. Do you know what I mean?
Take a group of people- none of who knew each other when they first met.
Ninety-five percent of these folks are lovely people. One can have a laugh. Pass a comment. Lend a hand as humans do for one another. Then, as if in an error in judgement from a higher authority or power, a bad apple is thrown into the works just for fun and it begins to grind on the original group of nice people.

I'll bet that some of the "nice" people are bothered by the bad apple. The 5%- but are afraid to mention it to the rest of the 95% in the off chance they will be chastised or shunned.
This is a conundrum.

When we first moved into our current neighbourhood there lived a couple who many of us referred to as the gatekeepers. They strolled through unfinished homes- uninvited. They spied on one when one came to the construction site and often tried to hide their presence from the backside of a distant tree or a pile of lumber. They complained and fussed and eventually they had had enough. They stuck up a sign and in a few months were gone.
Buh. Bye.

I believe that karma will eventually bite this "human of which I speak" in the ass of the "human of which I am speaking". Meanwhile, the unfunny, unfriendly human is judging and controlling or tries to be. All others must tow the line and do as "it" does and not as individuals do. One day, someone might explode and be truthful face to face.
I hope it's not me for sometimes my outside voice talks before I give it permission and that can create a magnitude of problems.

Hennaway, for now let's see how this fable plays out.
I have to laugh though.
Not a knee-slapping hearty kind of laugh but more of a for "fucks-sake" kind of chortle.

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

ROBBLOG #720 Is it Cricket?

 
Another weird tale for your consideration. I flipped back in my memory to January 2011 to present this piece of brilliance once again. Re-edited for your continued gratification and enjoyment.
Remember- "Not to understand fully is the way of Life". 
 
The day was a warm one.
 
Tiny beads of perspiration dotted the young man’s forehead as he entered the Great Room Library, cool and safe from the hot rays of a Global-Warming sun. He saw the Great One studying- as usual, at the far end of the lavishly appointed room.
 
“What is the meaning of life, O Great One?”- asked Allastar Appleton gently.
 
“I shall answer you in one word Cricket”- replied Wo Fat, not raising his eyes from the book laid out across his kimono-covered lap.
 
“It’s Allastar, O Holy One”. He wasn’t sure if he should even consider correcting a mystic man of such position as the Exalted, seated there in the Great Room library in such a grand chair.
He decided to continue. “But, one word only?” Allastar was taken aback- ever so slightly.
 
“Red Dragon” replied Wo Fat, his eyes till locked onto the pages of the book before him.
 
“Red Dragon? That’s the meaning of life? But Red Dragon is two words, O Exalted One!” How can that be? Allastar was generally perplexed.
 
“Depends how you spell Dragon, young snapper.” The old man scratched the side of his nose and took a deep breath. “You see, young bird, we know nothing compared to He who claims to know all?”
“You mean Justin Trudeau?”
Alastar was serious.
 
“No, little chipmunk, I speak of another society- not a left-leaning open society that is fair and just for one and all. That being said, this society is a secret none-the-less.
 
“Gosh!”- says Alastar Appelton as he thrust his hands into the deep recesses of his cloak. For Alastar wore a light cotton cloak on this day, spun from the golden fleece of the village sheep known for their unusual baaaa’s as well as golden fleece.
“But surly we know something- anything…”
 
“No child we do not. It’s secret and please do not expect me to answer too much”- Wo Fat, the great one sighed.
 
“Whatever do you mean, Sir?”
 
“Little rabbit, in this huge universe of nothingness, we both mean and know and say nothing. It is in the same way that this “secret society”- Red Dragon, remains unknown as a “secret sect”. The All Holy one had been generous in his response.
 
“Ahhh. I am beginning to see and understand. This is truly the meaning of life as we know and understand it!”
 
“I hardly believe so, young wheatsheaf.”
He continued.
“I understand and see much- yet I don’t care.”
 
“You don’t, O most Wonderful of Wonders?” Alastar’s mind was swirling.
“Oh Swammy of the ‘most’ High, I care.”
 
“The Ordained One glanced up at Alastar Appleton and said-
“I understand that you care, such as the care a mother toad gives to her young but as the moving finger writes so does he who is a pleasure-seeker seeking to buy pleasure.”
 
“One most high, I understand what you say- in part.” Alastar was shaken put managed to form the words with his lips and a voice so soft it was not unlike the ramblings of a gentle Queen of the Drag-
“Play with fire. Expect to be burnt.”
 
Wo Fat- the all knowing, all seeing one, smiled a small, impish smile.
“You have tremendous vigour and youth for one so young Mr. Alastar Appelton. Now, leave me, for I must study hard to become more brilliant than the sun rising on the calm blue waters of the ocean.”
The Kingfisher dropped his gaze onto the pages of his book  and motioned to Alastar to be gone.
 
Before leaving the Great Man's presence Alastar mused aloud- “Being Oriental is not accidental yet occidental. Now, I know the beginnings of the meaning life.”
 
Alalstar was satisfied. He turned, leaving the Bright Light to his book of learning and walked out into the hot, afternoon sun. He paused, snatching a harmonica from his pocket. Placing it tight against his lips, he played “Jimmy Cracked Corn and I Don’t Care”- farting along in harmony.
 
It was great to be so alive and have a life so full of meaning!

Friday, May 18, 2018

ROBBLOG #719- An Empress of a Weekend!


I can't remember that last day it rained here on the Island.

We have had an abundance of sunshine lately.
Hot, dry heat. Air conditioner and heat pump weather yet no humidity.
Still, I was amused when the Weather Network reported Duncan B.C. weather online this morning.
It said "Partly cloudy today. Partly sunny overnight."
Wow!
Global warming is really real!
For real!

So, the first Victoria Day weekend on the Island for us and I do want to emphasise "Victoria Day Weekend".
What is with this "Long weekend" stuff?
Nada. No and wrong!
What are we? All Jehovah Witnesses all of a sudden?
I worked with a JW once at a radio station.
She refused to perform many aspects of her job because of her JW Religion. She wouldn't say Merry Christmas, Happy Victoria Day Weekend or even Happy Birthday. She even got out of recording Christmas Holiday Greetings all because of her religion and yet- she got paid like the rest of us who had to do the extra work she wouldn't.
Not fair. Not fair at all.
We should have held a sit in or something but since radio broadcasters were a dime a dozen, there were many youngsters willing to do one's job for half the 10 bucks the rest of us were paid.
Oh yes!
Radio paid little except for the morning shows in the big markets. Even there if you were anyone other than Erin Davis- and most of us were, pay was poor.

Her Majesty- Queen Victoria
Hennaway, back to Victoria Day, this is a holiday you all get- we all get, because of feisty Queen Victoria. Queen of Canada and Empress of India. So, give her due respect.
Hem. Hem. Hem.

I'd like to be an "Empress" of some small country. Some small warmish country. I would sit royally on my throne all the while being fanned by sturdy young men waving banana fronds above my head to keep me relatively cool and comfortable. I would insist they were rather scantily clad so as not to overheat whilst fanning their "Empress".
I would take care of my subjects!
I really would.
Royalty cares and sets an example.
For instance, I'd say to my pool boy-
"Coco- bring me a lemonade please with two twists of lemon and a shot of gin!".
As he bowed and turned to leave, I'd playfully slap his tush pretending to sting my hand on his rock solid butt.
My subjects would adore their "Royal"- like Dame Edna is adored around the world!

Dame Edna
Speaking of Royalty- the Royal Wedding.
Once again, I am not invited. As a proud member of the Commonwealth who flies the Union Jack every Victoria Day Holiday Weekend and has been to England and even knows "English People",
I fully believe an invite would be fair.
Cripes! I'd even walk her down the aisle looking quite British and all-
Fah, Fah, Fah.
I am rather Fah anyway- or is that Fey?

Either way, I could do it with much pomp and circumstance whether I was an Empress or the plain , simple, Island fellah that I am.

Enjoy your Victoria Day Weekend and wave and say hello to your fellow loyal subjects all weekend long.