I’ve lost my touch. In the art of quintessentially British moaning, I no longer hold a brush. Yes I suppose I could complain about the increasing desolation of my exam and deadline ridden life but frankly, with everybody else doing that already, the prospect of a perspectiveless student rant has lost it’s allure.
I came to this epiphany last weekend in a thrift shop in Montreal. Given a warm glass of spiced cider and an invitation to some free popcorn as I perused the unintimidatingly trendy haven of hodgepodge, I couldn’t help but think that Montreal, with its perfect balance of quirk and class, had got it right. At last, my urge to measure up Canada with a rose tinted perception of life at home was put to bed. I simply had nothing to moan about.
Amidst the usual scattering of menial student obligations, rehearsals have begun for the university…
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