Broken Social Scene saved my weekend

Allow this to be my paean to the shambolic Canadian 'collective' band. I love eleven people on stage at one time. I love two drummers duelling it out. I love real trumpets and violins and trombones and wacky noisemaking gadgets. I love giant crescendos when the whole group crashes in to finish a song (the only thing I ever really liked about high school band). Arcade Fire and Godspeed You Black Emperor are both on my list of favorite shows ever. But the BSS show last Monday night was pretty good too. Mind you, I think my appreciation was increased by the fact it's been so long since I've been to a show, that I've been missing Canadian accents and humour, that the club reminded me of Lee's Palace, and that all band members had unwashed hippie hair. (Also, the singer referred to the movie 'Oxford Blues', a painful Rob Lowe vehicle from the 80s, and even though I don't think anyone in the audience had heard of it, he kept interjecting with 'Rob Lowe!' throughout the whole next song.)

Today I slept until 11 and then we wasted three hours watching Laguna Beach. I know that there's really no excuse for this behaviour. (Other than maybe Veronica Mars withdrawal and rubbish weather.) Jeff couldn't relate to the teenage girl culture in the show. But I LIVED that stuff, in Kingston township back in the heady 90s. Cruising in my BMW, getting pedicures with the girls, hanging out in hottubs and infinity pools, red carpets and Gucci gowns for prom.

Squandering a Saturday afternoon reminds me of something else I've been putting off. I just bought two pairs of frivolous footwear, but what I really need is new running shoes. Given the family history of knee injuries, I've been comparatively lucky. But I can't run for the bus without pain shooting up my shins, and warmup laps at soccer are agonizing even though they're on grass. When I run on the treadmill at the gym it's a given that I'll get ankle pain (my sprain never healed properly), dull grinding knee pain, shin pains or an aching lower back. I'm puzzled about why it's so bad. I am, and have always been, a big person, but I'm not terribly overweight anymore, not terribly old yet, and have always been active. I know shoes are never magic bullets, but the ones I use are several years old and I think it's time to revisit orthotics. This all means a specialty running store, of which there is only one in the area. About 40 minutes away by bus. Store hours 9:30-5:30 Monday to Saturday. I really can't cope without evening shopping. And I can't bear to waste a whole Saturday afternoon on a single errand. Not when there's such quality programming on TV.

Oh, and because Jeff thinks I should post more photos, here are a few of our abortive adventure last weekend.

Making our way through Somerset, excited about having acclimatized to driving on the 'wrong' side of the road.

Look! Glastonbury Tor!

Wandering around the impressive ruins of Glastonbury Abbey in blissful ignorance of the flat tire awaiting us back at the car.