Think of me when...

Last night, in my prison cell and awaiting the welcome light of dawn, I found myself surfing the web: couscous recipes, Canadian news, travel sites, British news ...back to Canadian news, Canadian sports and then...

And then I found myself there.

I really cannot pretend I don't know what brought me there. I suppose the eventual onslaught of homesickness is bound to hit me eventually--particularly because I have survived thus far unscathed.

But there I was, basking in the familiar and always cheeky banter of none other than ...

Don Cherry.

Yes. Hockey Night in Canada and Coach's Corner.

It was the theme song that first hit me, triggering a similar nostalgia I experienced so many weeks ago when a wayard flock of Canadian geese triumphed their awkward cry above Castle Irwell.

Coach's Corner--a piece of Canadian culture so integral to my sense of home, identity and personal comfort that even its simple trumpet instrumental was a near catalyst for a fallen tear, streaming down my cheek.

A near catalyst. I did not cry. At least that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
Right. So, instead, I watched as a goofy smirk of comfort spread across my face.

What could be more Canadian than odd couple, tag-team Ron MacLean and Don Cherry?

Memories washed over me of countless nights where the Hockey Night in Canada theme song flooded the house as dinner simmered on the stove:

...homework in front of the tv while the third period winded down

...shouts and roars of excitement, disgust and "ahhhhh, you bum!"

...the suspense of the instant replay, one from every angle imaginable and everyone in the living room on the edge of their seats, heads cocked sideways and eyes squinting for the best vantage point

...entire dinner tables cleared out as the family stampeded into the living room because there was a goal ("He shoots, he scorrrrres!!!"), an unbelievable save, an enormous hit or simply because the play-by-play commentator raised the intensity of his voice just so...

And my favourite: the first intermission and Don Cherry's almost infallible ability to hold my attention for a handful of minutes that have become the hours in my lifetime dedicated to Hockey Night in Canada. I remembered it all; and then there it was:

Homesickness that hit me square in the nose, just about as abruptly and obnoxiously as Don Cherry's tie clashes with his jacket.

But it was wonderful. And so, I watched; and Don did not disappoint:

He cut Ron off.
He got fired up --"I really have to control myself here...but it's gutless, gutless!!"
He interrupted Ron.
He raised his voice ...he yelled.
He cut Ron off again.
He praised.
He denounced
He preached -- "If you're gonna talk the talk, you gotta walk the walk!"
He rushed to fit everything into his segment --"Hurry up! We gotta go quick...we got all this stuff and we gotta go quick!"
And he called Ron "sweetheart," repeatedly.

It was glorious, and the thought of all the Coach's Corner segments I have been missing was suddenly very troubling for me--in that moment, in my prison cell.

I think I dreamed of obnoxious plaid patterns and high-collars that night. There was the sound of trumpet instrumentals as well, and hockey clips (dizzying dekes, spectacular saves and flying fists) flashed in and out of my consciousness. And I slept soundly, or about as soundly as a Canadian girl can so far from the comforts of Hockey Night in Canada.

So for those of you who will find yourself in front of a tv watching the game: when the first period comes to a close, and when you hear that infamous instrumental--I hope you will think of me.