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I was just wondering why there aren't any architecture TV networks? There seems to be a lot of people interested in the topic. Lots of sites devoted to architecture and forums, but no TV networks. There are TV networks that specialize in law, some in food, lots in sports/fitness, some in health, but none really in architecture. I know there are sites online that have architecture videos, and some sites that just specialize in videos. What I mean is an actual TV network similar to CNN, CNBC, ESPN, TLC,etc... Anyone know why? I'd love to see one. What are peoples thoughts?

http://content.usatoday.com/communities/driveon/post/2010/07/new-york-cabbies-love-old-ford-crown-victoria-not-hybrids/1?csp=34

Original title is "First the Habs, now this: Toronto, Montreal team up on tourism" (Courtesy of Thestar.com)

Voici un remix très inspirant je trouve de la chanson "Hometown Glory" de Adele par Malicious, un rappeur anglophone d'ici. J'aime particulièrement le vidéo car on voit notre beau centre-ville... Montréal est une belle ville! Il faut être fier... Elle n'est peut-être pas haute mais elle est unique! ----------------- Here's a very inspiring remix of the song "Hometown Glory" by Adele by Malicious. I really love this video because we get a great vue of the Montreal downtown! LINK:

Toxic Albera (Part 1) Got to love VBS.tv

Cellcom Israel $71 USD/month (270 shekels) Unlimited incoming calls from Anywhere Unlimited incoming SMS (not sure if that includes Canada) Unlimited Data (GPRS only) could be 3G True I had no idea if this includes call display or whatever Thing is I just have to pay local rates for calls within Israel. Honestly why can't any service provider do that in Canada. We have more people for the love of god! I have a feeling I'll be using a lot of MSN Messenger on my phone. Seeing I know no one will SMS me or even call lol

A ADN Any day now AFAIK As far as I know AFK Away from keyboard ARE Acronym-rich environment ASAP As soon as possible A/S/L? Age/sex/location? B B4N Bye for now BAK Back at the keyboard BBIAB Be back in a bit BBL Be back later BBN Bye bye now BBS Be back soon BEG Big evil grin BF Boy friend BFN Bye for now BG Big grin BIBO Beer in, beer out BIOYIOP Blow it out your I/O port BL Belly laughing BMGWL Busting my gut with laughter BOTEC Back-of-the-envelope calculation BRB Be right back BTA But then again... BTDT Been there, done that BTW By the way BWL Bursting with laughter BWTHDIK But what the heck do I know...? C CICO Coffee in, coffee out C&G Chuckle and grin CNP Continued in next post CRB Come right back CRBT Crying real big tears CU See you CUL See you later CUL8ER See you later CYA See ya CYA Cover your *** CYO See you online D DBA Doing business as DFLA Disenchanted four-letter acronym (that is, a TLA) DL Dead link DLTBBB Don't let the bed bugs bite DIKU Do I know you? 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DOM Dirty old man DOS Dozing off soon DQMOT Don't quote me on this DTRT Do the right thing DWB Don't write back E EG Evil grin EMFBI Excuse me for butting in EMSG E-mail message EOM End of message EOT End of thread (meaning: end of discussion) ETLA Extended three-letter acronym (that is, an FLA) F F2F Face to face FAQ Frequently-ask question(s) FC Fingers crossed FISH First in, still here FLA Four-letter acronym FMTYEWTK Far more than you ever wanted to know FOMCL Falling off my chair laughing FTBOMH From the bottom of my heart FUD Fear, Uncertainty, and Doubt FWIW For what it's worth FYI For your information G G Grin GA Go ahead GAL Get a life GIGO Garbage in, garbage out GD&R Grinning, ducking, and running GF Girlfriend GFN Gone for now GGP Gotta go pee GIWIST Gee, I wish I'd said that GL Good luck GMAB Give me a break GMTA Great minds think alike GOL Giggling out loud GTRM Going to read mail GTSY Glad to see you H H&K Hug and kiss HAGN Have a good night HAND Have a nice day HHIS Hanging head in shame HIG How's it going HT Hi there HTH Hope this helps HUB Head up butt I IAC In any case IAE In any event IANAL I am not a lawyer (but) IC I see IGP I gotta pee IHA I hate acronyms IHU I hear you IIRC If I recall/remember/recollect correctly ILU or ILY I love you IM Immediate message IMCO In my considered opinion IMHO In my humble opinion IMing Chatting with someone online usually while doing other things such as playing trivia or other interactive game IMNSHO In my not so humble opinion IMO In my opinion IMS I am sorry IOW In other words IPN I'm posting naked IRL In real life (that is, when not chatting) ITIGBS I think I'm going to be sick IWALU I will always love you IYSWIM If you see what I mean J J4G Just for grins JBOD Just a bunch of disks (like redundant array of independent disks, etc.) JIC Just in case JK Just kidding JMO Just my opinion JTLYK Just to let you know K KISS Keep it simple stupid KIT Keep in touch KOTC Kiss on the cheek KOTL Kiss on the lips KWIM? 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POAHF Put on a happy face POOF Goodbye (leaving the room) POTS Plain old telephone service PU That stinks! Q QT Cutie R RL Real life (that is, when not chatting) ROR Raffing out roud (Engrish for "laughing out loud") ROTFL Rolling on the floor laughing ROTFLMBO Rolling on the floor laughing my butt off RPG Role-playing games RSN Real soon now RT Real time RYO Roll your own (write your own program; derived from cigarettes rolled yourself with tobacco and paper) S S^ S'up - what's up S4L Spam for life (what you may get when you become someone's customer or client) SHCOON Shoot hot coffee out of nose SETE Smiling ear to ear SF Surfer-friendly (low-graphics Web site) SHID Slaps head in disgust SO Significant other SOL Smiling out loud or sh*t out of luck SOMY Sick of me yet? SOT Short on time SOTMG Short on time must go STW Search the Web SU Shut up SUAKM Shut up and kiss me SUP What's up SWAK Sealed with a kiss SWL Screaming with laughter SYS See you soon T TA Thanks again TAFN That's all for now TANSTAAFL There ain't no such thing as a free lunch TCOY Take care of yourself TFH Thread from hell (a discussion that just won't die and is often irrelevant to the purpose of the forum or group) TGIF Thank God it's Friday THX Thanks TIA Thanks in advance (used if you post a question and are expecting a helpful reply) TILII Tell it like it is TLA Three-letter acronym TLK2UL8R Talk to you later TMI Too much information TNT Till next time TOPCA Til our paths cross again (early Celtic chat term) TOY Thinking of you TPTB The powers that be TTFN Ta-Ta for now TTT Thought that, too (when someone types in what you were about to type) TTYL Talk to you later TU Thank you TY Thank you U UAPITA You're a pain in the *** UW You're welcome V VBG Very big grin W WAYD What are you doing WB Welcome back WBS Write back soon WDALYIC Who died and left you in charge? WEG Wicked evil grin WFM Works for me WIBNI Wouldn't it be nice if WT? What/who the ? WTG Way to go! WTGP? Want to go private? WU? What's up? WUF? Where are you from? WYSIWYG What you see is what you get Y YBS You'll be sorry YMMV Your mileage may vary. YW You're welcome

Launch of a love affair Ratings for Lévesque’s TV program sometimes hit an amazing 100 per cent by Daniel Poliquin on Thursday, September 24, 2009 10:20am - 0 Comments macleans.ca By the mid-1950s, Quebecers, like most other Canadians, had fallen in love with television. So overwhelming was the coup de foudre that although in some regions near the U.S. border only American broadcasts would come in, unilingual French Quebecers lapped it up anyway. Kids could be seen in the streets of small towns re-enacting their favourite show, The Adventures of Kit Carson, speaking in a made-up mumbo-jumbo language they believed was English. That was how it sounded to them anyway. Four out of five households in the province had a television set. And when the French-speaking people of Canada were all able to view locally made, francophone productions, they became a tight-knit virtual family, discussing at length the ending of the last sitcom or drama millions of others had watched, adopting as their own actors and actresses they had grown fond of, or, conversely, expressing unanimous hate for TV villains like Séraphin, the miser in the seemingly endless Les Belles Histoires des Pays d’En-Haut, which everybody watched. For good reason, too: there was only one French-language TV station; Radio-Canada’s monopoly ensured that all, and I mean all, francophones growing up in Quebec in the 1950s and 1960s shared a single TV culture. Lévesque was a regular commentator on current events programs, but he was mainly heard on the radio—until someone at Radio-Canada had the good sense to give him his own television show in October 1957. Here begins the legend of René Lévesque. The show was called Point de mire (Focal Point) and it was a 30-minute live broadcast first airing on Sundays at 11:15 p.m., and later, due to the show’s growing popularity, on Tuesdays at 10:30 p.m. For many, it was another coup de foudre. Here was this little man with the funny voice, equipped with a blackboard, a pointer, and maps, explaining the outside world to French-speaking Canadians, talking very fast but using only intelligible words. Let me paraphrase him: “Good evening. Thank you for joining me. Tonight, we are off to the Suez. It’s in Egypt, the land of the pharaohs that became mummies, you know, the land of the pyramids and the Sphinx. Here on the map is a canal, called Suez, built by French and British engineers in the last century. You can see here that it links up the Mediterranean and the Red Sea. So a very important route for international trade, because, thanks to the canal, ships stopped having to go all around the African continent to take their goods to the Orient, or the other way around. See?” (He would circle Africa with his pointer.) “Without Suez, the cup of tea from India you just had would cost you more because it would have to travel much farther. You follow me? Now, the Egyptians no longer have pharaohs. Egypt is now a republic, led by a man they call the Raïs—which means ‘president’ in Arabic—a man by the name of Nasser. So . . .” And on he would go. For many Quebecers with little schooling, Point de mire became their first window on the world. Not everybody watched, but those who did were enthralled, especially news junkies and all those hungry for knowledge. And in Duplessis’ Quebec, there were a lot of them. Thanks to the Radio-Canada monopoly, Lévesque’s ratings sometimes reached 100 per cent: a dream for any broadcaster and now an impossible feat, even on a day such as Sept. 11, 2001. To take the helm of Point de mire, Lévesque had had to give up his comfortable job as a broadcaster, with the guaranteed income, pension, and other benefits. But he was now earning $20,000 a year—more than any cabinet minister, provincial or federal. The real payoff, however, was instant celebrity. René Lévesque was now the star journalist who could explain the school desegregation in Little Rock, Ark.; the violent decolonization of Algeria; or the partition of Berlin and Cyprus. He could not walk the streets of Quebec without being accosted by adoring fans who would stop him to shake his hand and thank him. And he was more than loved; he was respected. In the words of novelist and social commentator Jacques Godbout, Lévesque was Quebec’s “first lay teacher.” Of course, the viewers did not see the man who never read his fan mail and never returned phone calls. Undisciplined but hard-working, incessantly feasting on magazines and newspapers in his smoke-filled office or at McGill’s nearby library to prepare for his weekly rendezvous with live television. Stressed out, as we would say today, but always focused. The badly dressed and unsuspected Lothario with doubtful hygiene who ate, talked, and smoked all at once, leaving a mess behind him all the time, driving like a madman in the streets in Montreal. Famous for his all-night poker playing, his chain-smoking; fond of sleeping late and seldom on time for appointments. Never at home, never where he was supposed to be. It was as though he was living three lives at the same time. During those years that he met Pierre Trudeau. The meeting took place in the Radio-Canada cafeteria, where artists and journalists congregated between assignments to talk and reshape the world in keeping with the fantasies and ideals in vogue. Trudeau was then a law professor and sometime TV commentator known for his scathing wit and erudition. He was well travelled, one of the few men in Canada who had visited China and reported on it. His Cité Libre was one of the very rare publications that dared to criticize Duplessis and public policy. Its circulation was of confidential proportions, but it was influential within the small, thinking elite of the era. The person who introduced them was journalist Gérard Pelletier, who was a friend of both Trudeau and Lévesque. For once, as Pelletier said later, Lévesque was not running, slowed down by the overflowing cup of coffee in his one hand and the stack of newspapers under his other arm. Pelletier motioned to him to come and sit down with him and the slightly balding man with the piercing blue eyes. He had wanted the two to meet for a long time. For the occasion, Trudeau put on his best snotty-nosed behaviour, complete with the French mid-Atlantic accent he had acquired at Montreal’s Jesuit-run Brébeuf College. Lévesque played the nonchalant TV star. This is how Pelletier remembers their conversation. I’ve added what I imagine must have been their internal dialogue in square brackets. Trudeau: Ah, the famous René Lévesque! How do you do? [Your Point de mire celebrity does not impress me at all, you should know that.] You speak well, sir, very well, but tell me something: can you write, too? Lévesque: Yes, but you know, writing takes time . . . [Don’t even think for a minute I would waste a second reading your Cité Libre . . .] Trudeau: Yes, you are right. You need time, and you also need to have ideas of your own, things to say, you know . . . [Watch out, buddy, I bite too.] The two were chalk and cheese from the get-go. They would meet again. From Extraordinary Canadians: René Lévesque by Daniel Poliquin. Copyright © Daniel Poliquin, 2009. Reprinted with permission of Penguin Group (Canada).

Because we can all dream while we wait to become millionaires right? Post pictures and/if possible a link to your dream house/apartment At the moment I'm in love with this one: http://passerelle.centris.ca/Redirect2.aspx?CodeDest=C21&NoMls=MT1409486&Source=WWW.REALTOR.CA&Langue=E

http://xs432.xs.to/xs432/08421/canada_vs_world_currency_market498.jpg I know there is a few currencies I am missing I will try and post them later. edited: for the love of god, please resize that pic!!

original photo by Dmitri Chistoprudov, Чистопрудов Дмитрий, Live Journal Legend by sturman C click to open in another window

How did you end up with your girlfriend or wife?

'The city is mine' The home secretary Jacqui Smith says she feels unsafe walking London's streets after dark, and, undoubtedly, she's not alone. What a shame, says confirmed nightwalker Kate Pullinger - how could anyone not love a great city at night? Tuesday January 22, 2008 The Guardian I've always loved the city at night, even before I knew what it was like. I come from a rural suburb of a small town on the west coast of Canada and I spent my adolescence dreaming of cities in the dark. To go anywhere when I was a kid you had to drive; there was no public transport. And when you got there, wherever There was, there wasn't anything to do, except drink. I knew that when I finally made it to the city the night would sparkle and shine and pulse and that when I walked down the street, night music - Roxy Music, the Velvet Underground, Curtis Mayfield, Ultravox even - would accompany me. My first ever city was Montreal, where I spent a dissolute 18 months struggling with the concept of university. Montreal at night was always romantic but bipolar: a continuous street party during the summer - hot sweaty nights in cafes and bars that spilled on to the streets; phenomenally cold, encased in ice, in the winter. I would bundle up in multiple layers before heading out. In January and February I would wear both my coats. Montreal at night involved a lot of trudging, carrying your party shoes in a bag, stamping the snow off your boots. Falling snow at night in the city is irresistible; it squeaks and crunches beneath your boots on the pavement and comes to rest on your eyelashes and cheeks like glitter, only even more precious, more fleeting. Walking by myself through Montreal at night was to feel a kind of freedom that was completely new to me - the people are sleeping, the city is mine, all mine. Through the frozen air I could hear and see myself breathing - walking at night always makes me feel more aware of my own physicality somehow; it's the unexpected silence, the unsolicited peace - and my joy at escaping the suburbs was complete: I'm alive, I'm my own person, and I'm at home in the city. After Montreal I came to London, where a lot of women are afraid to walk alone at night. When Jacqui Smith, the home secretary, said at the weekend that she wouldn't walk at night in Hackney, or Kensington and Chelsea, she was just being honest, despite her aides' subsequent attempts at spin. In a world where we are afraid to let our children cross the street by themselves, this is hardly surprising. Our levels of fear bear little relation to the statistics - Smith was right that crime rates have fallen, too - but we are told to be afraid, so many of us are, both despite of and because of our experience. But not me. For me, growing up was all about becoming free, becoming who I wanted to be, not who other people expected me to be, and London was a part of that. It was the 1980s and London had an urgency to it, made all the more vivid by the fight to the death between that era's David and Goliath - Ken Livingstone and Margaret Thatcher. I was young and broke and needed to save my money for pints, books and movies: walking was the cheapest way to get around and most nights out ended with a long walk home. The city was huge, and foreign to me, and I needed to map it out in my mind by stalking the twisty streets with their ever changing names: Eversholt Street becomes Upper Woburn Place becomes Tavistock Square becomes Woburn Place becomes Southampton Row becomes Kingsway all inside 15 minutes. It was only through walking that this would ever make sense, and it was only when walking at night that I witnessed the secret lonely heart of the city; for a time it seemed as though every other doorway in the centre of town was temporary shelter to at least two homeless people. Alone at night I could repeat the street names and practise the English-as-in-England words that were new to me: "wanker", "loo", "pants", "tuppence", "sacked", "fanciable", "shag". I had a bicycle some of the time and there is nothing to match riding a bike by yourself through the streets of London late on a summer's night when the air is so soft it feels like velvet and your wheels spin and your hair gets messed up under your helmet but you don't care and you have to peel off the layers to stop yourself sweating. I was living in Vauxhall and working in Covent Garden at a catering job that required an early start before the tube was running, and crossing Lambeth Bridge on foot at 5am provoked in me a kind of epiphany, an ecstatic communion with the city and its only-just-buried layers of history. At night it's as though the city's history comes alive, bubbling up from where it lies dormant beneath the tarmac: when the crowds are gone, modernity slips away, and the city feels ancient and unruly. How could anyone not love London late at night, or early in the morning? How could the wide black Thames with the city reflected upon it not remind you of everything that is most desirable and glamorous in life? But sinister, too, of course, and this is part of what makes the city at night such a grown-up, adult, provocative space. There are parts of town that always have been, and always will be, creepy. In London: the backend of Whitechapel. Stockwell on a rainy night. Acton when you're a bit lost. And Hampstead, because everyone there seems to go to bed very early. In attempting to recant her comment about not walking alone at night in Hackney, Smith named the parts of the city where she does feel comfortable (for her, Peckham), and this is something that most women would recognise: we make our routes, we do what we feel comfortable doing, and it's not possible to ask anything else of us, home secretaries included. I've lived in Shepherd's Bush, west London, for 11 years now and I always feel safe on the Uxbridge Road. It's one of those wide, long streets that is full of life, full of commerce and connection, full of people I sometimes know and often recognise. The walk home from the tube feels safer than the shorter walk home from White City, with its looming football ground and empty pavements, cars zipping past too quickly. Just before Christmas I walked home by myself from a party; several people asked if I would be OK before I left. When I got outside the night was foggy and the street lamps glowed through the freezing mist; a black taxi passed with its yellow light blazing, the low purring sound of its diesel engine reassuring. I wandered along, a bit drunk, bundled up, and the residential streets were completely empty. When I got into bed I put my cold hands on my husband's warm back and woke him up, happy. I wear sensible flats and carry my party shoes in a bag still, not because of the snow, obviously, and not because I want to be able to run away if I can, but because I like to do my walking in comfort. I don't walk at night as much as I used to, but that's because of children and work and the fact that the days and nights aren't as long as they used to be. It is true that I would not take out my mobile phone on a dark street for fear that someone might think it worth snatching. It's also true that I do not listen to music through headphones when I walk by myself, but that's because I've never liked listening to music through headphones: it has always made me worry that someone is about to sneak up behind me, even when - or especially when - I'm lying on the couch in an empty house. Plenty of people don't love London, I realise that, and plenty of people probably love it even less at night; I'm well aware that it might take only one incident for me to change my mind about walking alone at night. I have been mugged in London, but that was in broad daylight in Finsbury Park on the way to the tube station; I lost volume one of a two-volume Complete Plays by Shakespeare that my mother had given me. The young man who pushed me against a brick wall to wrestle my bag away from my shoulder had a look of desperate determination; the police later found the bag and the wallet, but not the Shakespeare. I've walked these streets for 25 years now. I'm not a young woman any more - aren't the young more likely to be victimised? - and I'm fairly tall - aren't little women more preyed upon? - and on dark winter nights I walk quickly with a hat jammed down over my head. But when I look up from the pavement and see the sparkling lights, I hear the night music; could it be that I am who I always wanted to be, and the city at night belongs to me? By the light of the moon ... Nightwalking across Britain's cities Birmingham As a proud Brummie and shamelessly debauched hedonist, I, and the city I truly love, properly come alive at night. Birmingham has more canals than Venice and those moon-washed nightwalks along the most famous ones at Brindley Place and Gas Street Basin are just as magical as the Italian city's finest. By day, Birmingham's Victoria Square and Centenary Square are thick with office workers, tourists, shoppers, teens and trolls. But after dark you can peacefully appreciate the floodlit beauty of the historical council house, the Floozy in Jacuzzi fountain (well, that's what we locals call her, anyway) and Iron Man sculpture, the Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery and the Victorian listed buildings on Colmore Row - before popping into the late-night bars One Ten or the once-famous cigar lounge at the Hotel du Vin. St Paul's Cathedral and Square are intoxicating before dawn - not simply because of the drinking opportunities, but because of the path they lead towards the charm bracelet streets of the Jewellery Quarter. I've often done a wee-small-hours West Midland's Audrey Hepburn impersonation by peering into the hundreds of jewellery shops there. There are plenty of midnight munching opportunities - get a night owl down to Ladypool Road, the heart of the city's Balti Belt and where neon restaurant signs blaze above hordes of my fellow, friendly nocturnal buddies. Wersha Bharadwa Manchester Go to eat in Chinatown, and leave around midnight. Stroll back under the gloriously garish Imperial Arch. The unmistakeable smell of oil on hot wok will linger but slowly the grid of streets will wind down and sleep. Emerge into St Peter's Square and hear the hoot of the last tram passing in front of the Pantheon-like circular central library (which has been known to offer small-hours tours of its basement stacks). Move on into Albert Square and wait for the midnight bongs from the clock of the floodlit town hall, Manchester's glorious statement of civic one-upmanship. Then on to Cross Street (where the former home of the Manchester Guardian was long ago replaced by Boots) and turn left into King Street, where the fashion shops doze and dream of bigger profits. Cut through towards St Ann's church and the square after which it is named. If the circular Royal Exchange theatre had a curtain, it would have come down long ago, but memories of entrances and exits long ago live on. Then, past brash Harvey Nicks and Selfridges, to the silent route between the cathedral and the old corn exchange to Cathedral Gardens. Take a seat and gaze at Urbis, the glass ski slope that has become an icon. Behind you, at Chetham's school of music, a sleepless student may entertain you with a Bach partita. David Ward Leeds The best thing to be in late-night Leeds is a bird. Floodlighting is pretty inspired in the city centre generally, but specially good at rooftop level. Get the lift or stairs up any high building - the uni campus has a good selection - and drink it all in. At ground level, the ginnels off Briggate and Vicar Lane are a wonderful maze by moonlight; unchanged since Atkinson Grimshaw did those great Victorian paintings, except nowadays there are lots more bars and places to eat. Try the riverside, too, spooky if it gets too late but lively enough till at least midnight. Cross the canal from Water Lane and thread back through the Dark Arches where the river Aire crashes about beneath the train station. Best for quiet strolling is Kirkstall, with its subtly lit Cistercian abbey, just off the always-busy A65. You can swim at Kirkstall baths till 10pm, get a tapas at Amigos, a Leeds end-terrace that is forever Spain, and then potter across the road and spend as much of the dark as you want to in the 12th century. Headingley is great for strolling, with more shortcuts and alleys through the student-colonised redbricks round St Michael's and the Skyrack and Original Oak pubs. Martin Wainwright Bristol By day, Bristol's harbour area can feel like a place of local authority and corporate regeneration. Fair enough, that's what it is. But by night the magic of the docks returns with the youngsters and bohemians who arrive to party. Walk along the cobbles on Welsh Back alongside the Floating Harbour. Turn into Queen Square with its the wonderful Georgian architecture - much more subtly lit than their counterparts in touristy Bath, and more glorious for it. Look out for the bohos-made-good and London refugees dining in the hip dockside eateries. Cross Pero's Bridge to the Watershed media centre. The laptop brigade who make use of the wi-fi access will have gone, replaced by the art crowd with their red wine and movie talk. The Falafel King van on the Centre is a great, much cheaper alternative to the riverside restaurants. Or get away from the city centre and head to Montpelier. Again, it's a people-watching place - this is eco-trendy territory. Supper at the One Stop Thali cafe, where the locals take their own tiffins to be filled with steaming curry. Walk up to the Cadbury House pub, multiple award winner. And don't forget Clifton. Sorry to be obvious. By day, the Avon gorge can be a little grubby, especially in the winter. After dark, the suspension bridge gleams and the chasm below yawns. Steven Morris Edinburgh Edinburgh's more intimate scale makes it a great city to explore on foot, as long as you don't mind the odd uphill jaunt, and there's no denying the city's beauty at night. There are obvious highlights: a walk along Princes Street gives a great view towards Edinburgh Castle, which is illuminated at night, as are most of the noteworthy monuments, while the Mound has the National Gallery of Scotland and the Royal Scottish Academy Building at its foot - with their regal columns, these buildings look pretty spectacular when floodlit - and the impressive headquarters of HBOS, which includes the Museum on the Mound, at its top. Once you're up there, there are guided walks through the Old Town - the night-time ghost tour routes focus around the Royal Mile - while there are less obvious highlights if you head north into the New Town, which is mainly residential and has some of the finest classical Georgian architecture in the country. There are beautiful terraces to explore, such as Royal Circus or Moray Place, and you can admire the architecture while catching glimpses inside where people haven't closed over their tall Georgian shutters - a bit nosy, but who can resist? Wrap it up with a warming drink in Kay's Bar, a cosy pub in an early 19th-century building on Jamaica Street West, tucked in the New Town's heart. Fiona Reid http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,,2244671,00.html

I am right now trying to find the story that goes with this. I love how he is one of the first people to start bashing Canada in his speeches of sorts.

Life in Montreal - Telegraph Mentor Patricia Smith says Canadians are genuinely nice people; friendly and welcoming, fond of the British and very proud of their homeland. Last Updated: 12:01am GMT 28/11/2007 Patricia Smith is willing to answer your questions about Montreal. Our mentors are volunteers and any information they provide is for information only and is not intended to be a substitute for professional advice. Click here to access the message boards terms and conditions. My family moved to Montreal in early 2000 when my husband was offered a job with a Biotech company here. I also worked in the Biotech sector in Montreal for two years but left to start my own relocation company, Home Thoughts. My company is a Destination Services company that specialises in helping Brits who are moving to Montreal to find housing and schools, showing them where to shop, helping them to get drivers licenses, finding them cleaners, doctors, dentists, child-minders etc. Basically, all the things I wish someone had helped me with when I moved here! In addition to my experience of international relocation, having worked here as well, I understand the work ethos, which is very different from that in the UK and in the US. If anyone has any questions about visiting or moving to Montreal I am more than happy to answer them. Ask questions and read the answers on the Mentor Noticeboard. Geography: Montreal is located on an island gently nestled within the St. Lawrence Seaway in Eastern Canada in the Province of Quebec. The city is dominated by a large hill in the centre, grandly called 'The Mountain' by the locals, and only slightly less grandly officially 'Mont Royal'. This beautiful parkland, with the Mansions of Westmount and Outrement cut part way up it, has a chateau at the top and a lookout from which you can see right across to the States. Looking down you can see the business center of Montreal, the McGill University campus buildings and the bridges that cross the St. Lawrence. To the north of Montreal only 45 minutes away are the Laurentian mountains with their superb ski resorts, golf courses, lakes and cottages for summer and winter. To the East an hour away, are the Eastern Townships, again with superb skiing, golf, lakes and holiday cottages. The US is 40 minutes away to the south with Boston and New York six hours drive away and one hour by air. There are several daily flights to London only 7 hours away, and to the rest of Europe. Cuisine: The French influence means that the food is great; the croissants and pastries are second only to France. It appears that everyone who has ever emigrated here also loves food because there are restaurants of every nationality serving good food to suit every budget. Eating out here is so cheap compared to the UK, the portions are large, the service is great and children are welcome everywhere. There is a lot more smoking here than in the UK so ask for a non-smoking table if that is your preference. Wine and spirits are very expensive as they are sold by a Quebec government agency, the SAQ. The wine sold in the supermarkets is more like Ribena. Beer is more reasonably priced and can be bought in supermarkets or corner shops called depanneurs. People: Canadians are genuinely nice people; friendly and welcoming, fond of the British and very proud of their homeland. It has been said that Canada is a bit boring, but this is really not the case in Quebec. The European influence, particularly that of the French, really livens things up. After Paris, Montreal is the second largest French-speaking city in the world. 69% of its three million people speak French as their mother tongue, 12% speak English and 19% don't speak either. The reality of the situation, however, is that in this tolerant, vibrant, and youthful city most of its inhabitants are functionally bilingual, often trilingual, and so coming here only speaking English is not a problem. Even if you speak perfect French you will be spotted as a visitor as the Quebecois accent is very different. I have lived here for four years and people still start speaking in English to me the minute I say 'Bonjour'. Montrealers love Brits and the shop assistants always want to chat, telling you who in their family is British, and how much they love your accent. There are also large numbers of immigrants from non-English or French cultures and there is no obvious racial tension. I suspect this is because they are not perceived scroungers or benefit seekers but just as new additions to a long line of immigrants, who are here to work hard, learn French and get on with life. Weather: Montreal has four distinct seasons. Winter is long lasting from November until the end of March. It has usually snowed by the middle of December and carries on intermittently until March. January and February are the coldest months with temperatures averaging -10ºC but on the odd day it does fall to -40ºC with the wind chill factor. -10ºC sounds cold but it isn't really provided you have the right clothes. It is a dry cold and so it doesn't penetrate through to your bones as it does in the UK. The children love the snow, which is dry and brushes off easily, and you can always appreciate the beautifully clear blue skies. Spring is very short lasting from April to the end of May, but everything grows extremely quickly and it is delightful to see the grass and flowers pushing through past the residual snow. Summer runs luxuriously through June to September and is hot and often humid. The temperature can reach the mid 30's in July and August and it is truly fantastic. Fall (Autumn) runs from October until mid-November and is beautiful with red, brown and gold colours abounding. It is a great time to travel to Vermont and the Laurentians or anywhere woody and rural. Standard of Living: Everything in Montreal is roughly half the price of that in the UK, from food and clothes to restaurants and housing, and people are not embarrassed to question prices or complain about bad service. Salaries are lower than in the UK but despite this you will still have a much better standard of living in Montreal. Healthcare: The medical system, Medicare, is very similar to the NHS with the same sorts of advantages and disadvantages. Treatment is free on demand and the doctors and nurses are generally very good but the waiting lists are often long. GP's are in short supply and you have to wait for hours in the Emergency Room (casualty). Once you arrive on a work permit or land as an immigrant you need to obtain a Medicare card to get treatment. The private health system in Quebec is very limited. You cannot pay to see a consultant or have tests performed in a public hospital more quickly but you can go to a private clinic for certain tests, particularly if you are an adult. Many health insurance schemes will pay for this. The cost of prescription medicines is borne by the patient or by the private insurance that you will have through your employer. Dental care is high quality but very expensive and not covered at all by Medicare for adults and even for children the provision is limited. Employee insurance schemes cover dental treatment but cover varies from scheme to scheme. As in the UK, adults in Quebec pay for eye check ups and children and those on welfare benefits do not. Medicare does not cover the cost of glasses or contact lenses, however, most insurance schemes cover the costs in part or completely. Glasses and contact lenses are considerably cheaper in Quebec than in the UK. Driving: If you hold a valid British Driving License you can obtain a Quebec license without taking a test. You can drive for a few months on your international license but it is best to get a Quebec license as soon as possible. You can obtain this from the SAAQ (Société de l'Assurance Automobile du Quebec). You are legally required to carry your license with you when driving as well as the insurance and registration documents for the car. The rules regarding drink-driving, the wearing of seat belts, and use of child car seats are similar to those in the UK, i.e do not drink and drive, wear seats belts at all times and make sure your child has the correct car seat for their size and age. It is relatively easy to adjust to driving on the right hand side of the road in Quebec, because the speed limits are lower than in the UK and they are, by and large, obeyed. The general consensus among expats is that drivers in Quebec are not very good. It is not that they are deliberately obstructive or aggressive; they just seem unaware of other cars, not letting you into a lane or out of a side street, pulling out suddenly and rarely indicating. There is 'no fault' insurance in Quebec. That is, if you have an accident your insurance company pays for your damage and the other parties company pays for their damage regardless of who was responsible. Any injury to your person is insured by the SAAQ. Banking: If you are just visiting banking is fine, you can use your UK cashpoint cards in the ATM's which are everywhere, not just in the banks but in cinemas, depanneurs and supermarkets. Of course, UK credit cards are accepted everywhere. The banks are open 10am until 4pm on weekdays only and have very long queues so use the ATM whenever possible. If you are planning to move here for a few years banking is more difficult. Your credit reference in the UK is no good here at all and you basically start from scratch proving your financial worthiness to be given a credit card and overdraft facility. Getting as many store cards as possible is one way to improve your credit rating.

A Weekend in Old Montréal November 12, 2007 Nothing could be more romantic than taking a new flame (or an old love) to a European city for a long winter weekend. With the euro pounding the dollar, however, it makes sense to see the cobblestone streets and candlelit cafés closer to home. French speaking and cosmopolitan, Montréal is the perfect proxy for Paris, and a real value with the Canadian "loonie" at one to one with the dollar. Splurge on a limo from the airport (about $50) and settle into a boutique hotel in historic Old Montréal. Your ticket to sure-fire romance is just outside your hotel door. Best spa experience For the ultimate couple's massage in the most curiously cozy of environs, book a hot stone treatment at Le Spa. Converted from a vintage bank vault, the small space oozes peaceful luxury. Candlelight bounces off the brick ceiling, rugged stone walls, and a heated onyx floor. Le Spa in the Hôtel Le St James, 355 rue St-Jacques Most panoramic sunrise With the massive arc of the Biosphere peeking over the distant tree line, the clock tower at the north end of Vieux-Port provides an exceptional backdrop for dramatic morning skies. Gentle currents of the St. Lawrence River flow below your feet as the rising sunlight glistens off the Jacques Cartier Bridge on the near horizon. C'est magnifique! Vieux-Port at Quai de l'Horloge. Best place to sip wine Tuck yourself away in an alcove at Hôtel Le St James' tiny lounge, with its high-backed love seats and dim lighting. Black-clad waiters provide excellent -- but unobtrusive -- service, sliding roasted almonds in front of you and disappearing without a word. An impressive wine list features world-class wines by the glass (for under $15). Most decadent treat Forget the crème brûlée. It's child's play on the splurge scale when compared to Bistro Boris' pommes frittes (French fries). Deep fried in duck fat and dipped in spicy mayo, these fries are pure indulgence. Flickering candles and intimate tables set the scene at this diminutive eatery. Best place to hold hands As dusk fades to night, park yourself on a bench in the Place d'Armes -- across from Basilique Notre-Dame. Royal blue lights suddenly appear in the cathedral's windows and arches, mimicking the color of the darkening sky. Water trickles from the park's central fountain, casting an emerald glow. The effect is stunning. Don't miss a visit to the church earlier in the day. It's intricate interior is wonderfully rococo without being overly ornate. Most romantic cliché Although frightfully unoriginal -- and a bit expensive at $45 for 30 minutes -- an evening carriage ride through Old Montréal is still terribly romantic. Glimmering lanterns along Rue St-Paul and the clip-clop of the horse's hooves on the cobbled streets set the stage for cozy snuggling under faux fur blankets. Carriages line up in front of the Basilique Notre-Dame, 110 Rue Notre-Dame Ouest. Best reason to wander from Old Montréal Catch a taxi (or hop on the Metro) to rue Sherbrooke Ouest and impress your love with an afternoon of old-world elegance. Take high tea at the Ritz-Carlton's posh courtyard garden. Make sure to ask for a table on the heated terrace overlooking the duck pond. After tea, stroll across the street to the Musée des Beaux-Arts. The collection here features work by local artists and select works from both European and modern masters. Where to Eat The fries at Boris Bistro are a must, and the duck and salmon dishes are well prepared. Three-course meals with wine run $45-$55. Restaurant Gibby's is a Montréal institution. Steak and oysters live up to the hype. Three-course meals with wine run $60-$80. Skip dessert at Chez L'Epicier at your own risk. The menu features a chocolate "club sandwich," with sliced strawberries replacing the tomato, basil for lettuce, and chocolate for roast beef. The pineapple "fries" are sheer crispy sweetness. A three-course meal with wine runs $75-$100. Where to Stay Expedia offers great deals at the delightful Hotel XIX Siecle. Ranging from $125-$165 per night (depending on your travel dates), the rate includes parking and a European-style continental breakfast buffet. The location can't be beat -- it's near Basilique Notre-Dame and Le Spa. Slightly more upscale, Hotel Le Saint Sulpice is also in the heart of Old Montréal. Weekend rates start at $165 for a simple loft suite; $305 for a superior loft suite with breakfast and a spa credit. ---Dawn Hagin

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What genres/bands do you listen to? I love blues/southern rock like ZZ Top http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pY1lCmjldGw I like progressive/psychedelic rock like Pink Floyd http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4hkjkTe5kZE Also hard rock like AC/DC http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KdcBosqI1pA Pretty much everything I listen to is 25-30 years old now...