As part of Canada's Electronic Travel Authorisation system, prospective visitors to the country get sent emails. The email I received had a broken image right at the top:

At least there's some alt text!

Gmail on Android doesn't let you view the source of an email, but the web version does. Here's what it says:

Immediately you should be able to see what the problem is and why it wasn't detected. The URl of the image is:

http://cicintranet.ci.gc.ca/connexion/communications/poli-guide/fip-pcim/images/goc-e.gif

The image is loading from the Intranet. So it isn't visible to those on the outside. I suspect this bug wasn't caught by testing because the testers were all connected to their intranet.

This missing image is bad for two reasons.

Firstly, people can't see the image. I choose to believe it is an animated GIF of the proud Canadian moose chugging some poutine.

Secondly, it leaks information about an internal system. We now know the domain name of the Intranet server. The path also gives us information about the CMS it uses and the filesystem layout.

I can't find an easy way to report this minor bug to the correct Canadian agency. If you have a contact there, please encourage them to share a link to this blog post on their intranet!

The form asked me if I'd ever had a previous visa for Canadaland. As it happens, yes! I spent a year studying in Ottawa.

Well then, said the form, you'd better tell me your old visa number.

Ah…

In amongst the various shoe boxen which serve as my ersatz filing system lay a tatty old passport. Crumpled in it was a fading visa, the ink smeared with a barely legible reference number. I entered it, and mighty Eunomia - goddess of paperwork - seemed satisfied with my offering and let me continue with my journey.

Flicking through the leaves, I noticed my entry stamp for my original visit to the Canada.

Today. Twenty-three years ago.

Coincidences are meaningless. But that doesn't mean we can't try and find meaning in them.

I wonder how I've changed in the intervening years? I'm still a long-haired nerd who only wears jeans & t-shirts. I still stay up too late reading and programming computers. I'm probably happier now - despite being less carefree. More assertive while also being more thoughtful. Less internalised misogyny and a greater sense of equality. I became vegetarian while in Canada - and still am. I feel like I was better at making friends back then, but that's the nature of throwing teens together in a strange environment. I'm better at self-directed learning, and probably just as bad as I ever was at procrastinating.

Is that enough? Do I have to change? Can't I just be 19 forever?

By yet another coincidence, today is also my 6 year anniversary of joining the Civil Service.

I wonder how I've changed in the intervening years? I'm still a long-haired weirdo who only wears jeans & t-shirts in meetings with ministers and other senior bods. I feel more confident in challenging things that I think are wrong, but less certain of my deeply held beliefs. Some of the shine has rubbed off - but I still feel pride telling people what I do for a living. My subject-matter expertise has grown, but I wonder if I'm making the best use of it. I feel like I'm better at making connections with people - but still just as bad as I ever was at remembering names.

All of which is to say that time marches on inexorably. But "meaningless" coincidences help me compare and contrast what my life was like and what it is like.

Perhaps those two data-points are enough to extrapolate what my life will be like? Or, more importantly, what I want it to be like?

While I was studying at Carleton University in Canadaland, I joined the prestigious(?) Sock n Buskin theatre troupe. Together with "Where's the Soup", we put on an "Improv Superbowl". Basically a team version of "Whose Line Is It Anyway?"

The director - Jenny - and I went on LIVE RADIO to promote our show to all of Ottawa. Somehow, that got recorded onto cassette, and then transferred to an old computer of mine. Here's our comedy stylings...

I must apologise to Jen Vandergraaf for mostly editing her out of the interview. I was trying to cut together clips of my voice for a showreel and the above is reassembled from those scraps. If anyone has access to the archives of a local Canadian radio station, do let me know.

Here's the poster in all its hand-drawn glory.

I also found a mention of the 2000 Improv Superbowl in newspaper archive The Charlton 29.

Hullo - finally got round to putting my pics up.  There not all wonderful, I can't remember what half of them are, but they are here anyway.

All the pages have lots and lots of pictures, so you might want to go and brew a nice steaming mug of Bovril as each one loads.

Lots of love (void where prohibited)

Note to all persons who in any way understand computers:-

Right, listen up.  I haven't the time or inclination to do anything proper, so I've just quickly created this all in MS Frontpage.  I'm really sorry if it offends anyone that I can't be arsed to hand code this in notepad </sarcasm>

Campus

Disclaimer - these pictures were taken when campus was both sunny and warm. It's not all ways like that brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

A quite lovely bit of campus, all trees and grass and stuff - just outside my room.

The actual place where I live - Glenngarry. Although in this picture the tower is disapearing into the clouds, I live down in the dungeon.

This is Dunton Tower. The tallest building on campus. I have one class here. Luckily it's not on the top floor, phew!

Here you can see the bottom of Dunton Tower (or DT as we like to call it).
Also, please not the bus. ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE %&^#!@#$ ROAD! I can't stress this enough - it is vital to drive on the correct side of the road to prevent English exchange students being run-over. Canadian Government please take note!

In the park opposite DT (seen in background) is a park with a very scary statue. Made of rust it would appear...

In the distance you can see the Herzberg Labs where I do LOTS of work.
My, the campus does look lovely.

The Library! I have never been in here.

In keeping with the strange objects they place on campus - here is a sculpture which lists the names of people who've given vast amounts of cash to the university (other than students). Highlighted is the weird symbol.

And this is... well, the car park mostly.

My Room

Well, this is the actual side of the building where I live. My room is hidden behind the trees.

I have my own toilet! Well, I share it was Jas. We don't use it at the same time. That would be strange

For my birthday, my friends decorated the outside of my room.

This was some of the weird stuff they left on my door.

I'm fairly sure this level of graffiti is illegal in Canadaland.

But the balloons did look nice!

Friends

From the left...
Alison (Yet again pulling a face designed to scare the demons away)
Dave - being oh-so-funny
Nicola - wondering if there is anyone behind me.
Jas - wondering what has happened to half of his head.

Julia wearing a traditional Canadian hat.

Nicola not wearing a hat.

Nicola now wearing compulsory hat.

Rhys

Tianna is from Germany. Or Russia. Somewhere like that.

OK! Tianna is from Canada!

Me wearing a silly hat.

But I haven't forgotten you, my English friends. I have a montage to remind me of your stupid faces.

Snow!

It sometimes gets cold enough to snow.

Montreal

We all (that is all who went) took a trip to Montreal one day. I can remember when. Close to the beginning of the semester anyway.

Nicola and Alison (pulling one of her spectacular faces) munching on "chips" as we departed (or arrived, I don't really remember).

One of Canada's big lakes that we passed. And Nicola.

The hotel we booked into turned out to be a complete den of iniquity. But luckily Nicola and Alison founds us a charming little dorm. Here are they phoning to book us in. Also are some local Canadians, see if you can spot which ones are dodgy.

Dave and Alison. Marvel at how, no matter what the situation, Alison is poised with yet a new and unnerving face with which to frighten us.

A nice bit of Montreal. Ok, let's face it, it could be any city in the world, but trust me; it is Montreal.

Montreal's skyline (and Jas doing a funny dance)

A church and one of the less "interesting" backstreets.

Me, by a fountain. Taken by a passing goat farmer with a co-joined twin. He said I couldn't photograph him.... sigh

A shop we saw whilst eating petite-dejeurne. I don't know what is in it. Waveney Boys, however, will understand the crucial significance, Wok-Wok!

And on the way home, Dave fell asleep. Lazy git.

More friends!

I'm helping Julia practice her English.

Raj, Jenny Pi, Me, and John.

Digital cameras are rubbish!

17/09/1999

"Terry - you coming to Montreal with us this afternoon?" "uh...yeah..?" A quick stop by the bank to see how they had lost my $1000 (a long winded and most distressing story) and we were set to go.

A 2 hour bus ride took me, Jas, Dave, Nicola, Alison, Ingrid, Monique and Tianna to the heart of Montreal - which, it turns out, is sex town.

The hostel we booked said they wouldn't be able to pick us up and we'd have to make our own way to our beds. Not to be dissuaded we walked the length and breadth of the strip clubs in the search of food.

Well, one 12 inch sub, a scary look at the metro and a bumpy 20 minute bus ride later we found ourselves at the hostel.

"It's very... Bohemian," I said, diplomatically. "It's a shit hole," said Dave in a brusk Northen sort of way.

Julia and her Germanic beau were ment to meet us at the hovel.. hostel.. whatever.

"We're just out for a breath of fresh air," we said to no one in particular.

And off we ran, past more sex emporiums (where we briefly considered selling ourselves to get a room for the night) we found a charming little coffee house which, we figured, if nothing else would imbue us with enough caffeine to keep us going throughout the night.

As I suckled upon a Icepresso (perhaps a poor choice given the whether) the ladies got busy telephoning various hotels in the guide book. Things got a little desperate when we found out the 350 bed YMCA was full but, due to the presence of lucky commemorative quarters we found a pair of rooms. Hurrah!

On the way we met Julia - quite by accident.

Once settled in our gorgeous little rooms we got dolled up for a night on the town.

Up and down we pranced until, eventually we found a smashing bar with a gas heated garden. There we partook of much alcohol based merriment.

So - our new nick-names. Jas - er... Jas Nicola - Mom (for endless devotion to ensuring our well being) Ingrid - Snazzy Pants (for wearing some extraordinary floral trousers) Monica - Where is Monica (based on the fact that we managed to lose her several times that evening) Terry - Terry Dave - Twinkle (Lord only knows)

Moved to some other clubs were we were very tardily reminded that service was not included.

Of course no good night out is complete without a Kebab. Nice chicken 'bab.

Went to "The [gay] Village" to find Jas and (in a stunning break with expectations) did. The Village was very strange - I don't think I've ever been anywhere that wears itself on its sleeve quite as much as there - all very cool.

Spent the night in bed with Jas listening to the couple above us squeaking the bedsprings.

18/09/1999

Managed to lose Julia on the way to breakfast.

Did serious sight-seeing then decided to hire some tandems.

Then we met Julia again. Obviously she is drawn to ourselves like bees to honey (or flies to shit). Much buttock bashing later we had successfully learned to ride tandems. Several near misses later and playing the "Where is Monica" game, we returned to our sight-seeing and shopping trip.