The One Where I Run Canada.

I flirted with the idea of adding 'kind of' to today's title, but I'm going to stand by my statement. Yes, I now (essentially) run Canada.

Stephen Harper "works" here.

It all started with a sojourn to Canada's Parliament with a group of students including Lisanne, who was celebrating her birthday in style be checking up on Stephen Harper. Stephen Harper, for those of you not up to date on your Canadian politics, is Canada's Prime Minister and, according to Kelsey, is an idiot. She's Canadian, we shall trust her judgment. Furthermore, on my first proper day in Ottawa, I did see a plane flying about over Parliament with a banner hanging from it saying 'Stephen Harper nous deteste ca.'

Politicians; unpopular everywhere.

Perhaps the key thing to stress about Canada's Parliament is that there doesn't seem to be any real sense of security there. You leave by the same entrance the MPs do, and there are no cops patrolling the grass in front of the Parliament building. Besides having your bag x-rayed and going through a metal detector, these Canadians are seriously chilled about letting people intermingle with their country's representatives.

Ottawa's Parliament is like a Hogwarts clone. It's gorgeous, save for some scaffolding, has a clock tower which looks suspiciously like the one our Big Ben lives in and might as well have been designed by Christopher Wren's great grandson. Our tour guide was Alex from New Brunswick, and one might describe him as 'skippy.' Read irritatingly enthusiastic. Although, he has given me inspiration to write some kind of epic based on a smalltown New Brunswick kid trying to become Canada's Prime Minister, but getting into some scrapes with a moose along the way...

Ottawa, or London? You decide. (It's Ottawa).

In all seriousness though, Ottawa's Parliament is beautiful. And the library - oh, the library - I would do anything to have a library like that! My grandparent's had a library in their house in Wallingford, but it wasn't nearly as exciting and grand as Parliament's. Think the Bodleian, but shiner. Although it's the oldest part of Parliament, and the only original part thanks to a quick-thinking late-working librarian who closed its iron doors before the fire ravaged it like the rest of the Parliament building; it's brightness and cleanness distinguishes it from the grandiose feeling of the Bod.

It was in the library that we met Parliament's only formidable security in the form of a cop who hissed, 'no pictures!' You can mix with our Government but you mess with our books and you're in trouble. The library is a circular room with a gleaming statue of Queen Victoria in the centre, a reminder that Britian is basically in charge of Canada still. Though, I'm not quite sure the Canadians see it like that.

Skippy Alex rushed us through the tour, probably still shaken from his traumatic moose encounter on his journey to Ontario, devoting barely five minutes each to a tea towel with the picture of the House of Commons on one and the Senate on the other. I can't imagine they sell especially well in the gift shop. (Which is there in Parliament, on the same floor as the House of Commons, if you're wondering.) They look exactly like their British equivilant. Other British delights in Parliament include a model of our current Queen, riding a horse, as all good monarchs do.

House of Commons tea towel.

Man, I love being British! I love the Queen! I love her so much, I bought a Diamond Jubilee edition 'Solar Reine' in Byward Market - a solar-powered model of the Queen! She's in the same shade of lilac she wore to grace good old Exeter with her presence, and her handbag features a solar panel which powers her regally waving hand. Tacky yes, but I am a loyal subject.

Tour over, and Skippy scurrying back to his plans for political domination, and Lisanne and I headed up to sit in on an actual session of Canada's Parliament. Their Speaker looks like just as much as a tit as that Bercow moron we've got and there were hardly any MPs there. Probably about five on either side. They were also speaking in French - which I still don't understand why they go for French first when the majority of their citizens don't speak it - so Lisanne and I had no idea what was going on. That was until we realised there was a telephone-esque thing attached to our seats which offered the English translation on it. The discussion was about a bill to do with child poverty, so why there were so few MPs there, I shall never know. Coming in so late to the discussion, I didn't really understand what they were on about (they're not the most engaging speakers, these Canadian MPs), but I did feel the need to keep interjecting. I figured that may have been a bit colonial though. The Canadians are quite sensitive to that.

Basically, because I toured Parliament and saw MPs in action, I practically run Canada now. I don't have many improvements to make, although I will pass a law stating that it's illegal to add the tax on at the checkout and not before. Because that's really starting to get on my tits now. I spend ages meticulously counting out the correct change in 5 cents and 10 cents, only to be told a bigger price once I get there, panicking that the Quebecois behind me in the queue will lynch me for taking so long, and throw my loonies and twonies at the cashier instead of getting rid of that annoying small change.

I'd also get a pet beaver if I was Prime Minister of Canada.

Also this week...



• A tutorial with Prof Mayne on The Second Scroll which descended into a theological discussion.
• The world's most boring library introduction session with a librarian who both looked and sounded like that slug thing from Monsters Inc.
• Prof Anderson bursting into a Beyonce song and also slapping her arse, proclaiming she was a bad girl. Uncomfortable.
• Buying a book full of pictures of Canada's Northern Lights because they are gorgeous and because I have a complete disregard for airline baggage weight limits.
• Going to RBC and having the loveliest bank person ever who gave me free post-dated cheques. And it had nothing to do with my assets because she was a woman with a husband. It was down to pure, mutual loveliness.
• Booking Toronto and dog-sledding trips. Thank you British tax payer who contributes indirectly to my student loan which I am spending on sight-seeing. You are great!
• Walking along Rideau Canal in all its beauty.
• Having to queue to get into the library. And also somehow racking up extortionate late fees - 28$ say whut? Yikes, I was only four hours late...

And then there's that awesome realisation that maybe, just maybe, you're beating depression and that your constant state is happy.

That's pretty awesome, eh?