Here's a strange thing, why does visiting Montreal feel so reminiscent of a trip to Paris? Yes, there's the language and the French streets signs of course but it's a lot more than that. The architecture is familiar as are the roads which wind their way into the city centre, they have a real 'peripherique' feel to them. There are parts of the city which resemble Paris so much that it would appear more than coincidence. It is also of course an important North American metropolis, Canada's second largest city, home not only to a French-speaking majority but also to native English speakers and immigrants from all over the world. Montreal was founded by French Catholic settlers in 1642 as Ville-Marie and dedicated to the Virgin Mary. (who would have thought they'd be drinking tomato juice back then?) The small colony survived years of harsh winter weather and bloody skirmishes with local Iroquois tribes only to be taken over, along with the rest of French Canada, by the British following the French and Indian War. Despite the British occupation, the present-day province of Quebec has staunchly maintained its French language and culture, leading to some 20th-century efforts to make the province its own sovereign nation.




Sadly, the only real time we've ever spent here was a few days back on the DS tour in '92 during the Spring. It was memorable as the outside temperature was in the region of -20 degrees celsius, with a wind chill in excess of -30! I recall Danny, Alan and myself going for a walk and not even managing one block before rushing back to the safety of our hotel. Stark contrast to today's beautiful Spring afternoon. The last time we were here was during their 26th annual jazz festival in 2005 which extended into the streets surrounding the Place Des Arts. Mark says I have an amazing memory for recalling places and events from previous tours, maybe it's all this diary writing but I do recall a farcical runner from that show in 2005 as we had special dispensation from the police to use cars in the area but we were only allowed to make our escape at walking pace. Quite funny as crowds mingled and walked alongside us, peering into the cars as if we were mad. Ironically, tonight's runner was mildly comical too as the drivers seemed to take an age to pull out of the venue car park into the flow of traffic. Immensely frustrating for three back-seat drivers all shouting at the driver to "go, go, go". The 3 car convoy eventually crawled into the traffic only to be halted by a red light literally five yards further on. As we moved slowly toward the airport at a snail's pace on the busy streets, I fumbled around for a drink only to discover the driver hadn't put any water in the car. It's not rocket science, we've just come off stage for a 30 minute drive to the airfield, it's not midsummer and we don't exactly sweat much (except Danny) but we were a bit parched. I signaled to Pete out of the window to his following SUV that we were dry and he pulled alongside at the next red light and handed some water through the window. We were then subjected to mild but annoying wah-wah throttle and braking but at least we weren't going to die of thirst. "Must get that wah-wah fixed" commented Mark sarcastically, "some f****** idiot broke it". (that by the way is code for "what a crap driver", we're far too polite to tell them)

I hate to make it sound like we complain about anything, cos we don't, but we put a great deal of effort and consideration into what we do and all we ask is that local drivers do their job properly, you know what I'm saying?. Know where you are going, drive smoothly and have some water in the car. Book one. Having said all that, the vast majority have been excellent on the tour so far.

What lurks behind the big curtain....



Richard tries out Mr. saggers' new 6120



It was curry on the plane for the 50 minute flight to Boston and back into US airspace, and I'd decided not to eat but as soon as Dianne dished up the splendid Chicken Tikka Masala and accompanying Sag Paneer, all self control disappeared. I held back on the rice though. We landed at Boston and remembering what happened last time we came in here, I warned the Brits aboard to prepare for a tiresome immigration encounter. Last time we were escorted to the terminal building and in another farcical event, the newly installed security door systems completely baffled out intrepid host. alarms were ringing and we got lost. This time is wasn't so bad and the officials were surprisingly courteous, they'd also mastered the ridiculously complex door opening procedures which I won't describe for fear of a security breach. We're all being watched aren't we?