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A few more images from the City of Glass!

All of these photos – as well as the images in the previous post – were taken from the window of our hotel room in Coal Harbour.

Cool – huh?!

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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To Vancouver last weekend for a work event…

That is one of The Girl’s work events, of course. I only work from home these days – and more power to that – but The Girl’s new venture is sending her darting about hither and thither just at the moment and on this occasion I went along for the ride.

We were kept pretty busy eventing (which all went pretty well, as far as I was able to ascertain) but we still had time to dine out in a manner to which we are no longer as accustomed as once we were (probably a good thing!)

We didn’t get to do much more than that in Vancouver (unless you count a fairly brief visit to IKEA on the way back) but given that the weather was pretty terrible (blowing half a gale in the Georgia Strait) that was a good call.

When the cloud cover blew away late in the day I thought I would take some photos from our room of the early evening light playing on downtown Vancouver’s signature glass edifices. Herewith some examples:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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A couple of posts back I was musing upon the permanence/impermanence of things – including those items of domestic appurtenance with which we surround ourselves.

My last post concerned the domestic refurbishments/renewals we have recently effected to enhance our living spaces.

What odds then that this next post must needs concern a matter that touches on both of those last two topics. As the saying goes in London (on the subject of the London omnibus):

You wait fifteen minutes and then three come along at once!

Last weekend The Girl flew off to Prince George (for non-Canadians: in BC but way up north and still in the middle of winter) for a work event. She did not return until late on Wednesday evening.

The day before her return I had, in the morning, attended my regular fitness class – and had upon my return home made myself a cup of coffee, the which I was enjoying whilst checking my emails at the very peninsula in our kitchen at which I am writing this missive.

All of a sudden there was an almighty crash from somewhere close at hand, though I was unable to ascertain immediately whence the sound had emanated. Naturally I at once set off around the house to see if I could discover the cause of this loud report. The Master Bedroom was clear, but when I entered the en suite bathroom I came face to face with this:

Wow! The inner fixed glass screen of our bath/shower had shattered into a gazillion fragments, most of which had fallen into the bath. There followed an extensive and delicate operation to remove all of the glass debris from the room. Naturally it had gone everywhere.

The very next thing to do was to question the InterWebNet as to how such a thing might have happened. We had the shower screen installed when we renovated the house in 2017, so it is not that old. Google informed me that such happenings are not exactly rare – though the odds of being hit by flying glass whilst in the shower are apparently a fair bit less than those of being struck by lightening.

There is – it seems – always a cause for such a calamity, be that a manufacturing defect or damage caused to the screen during installation. Tempered glass is, of course, effectively under constant tension and a small flaw can spread suddenly and explosively… as we have seen.

Now, of course, we will have to battle to get the screen replaced. Sigh!

I was just very glad that The Girl was not at home – and certainly that she was not in the shower. I am also very glad that I was at home. I don’t go into the en suite (the which is The Girl’s bathroom) except to hoover it – and had I not heard the crash the first we would have known about it was when she arrived home at 11:30pm from Prince George and went into her bathroom to prepare for bed. That would definitely not have been a laughing matter.

Phew!

 

 

 

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The home is a human institution. All human institutions are open to improvement.

Charlotte Perkins Gilman

As we wait for spring to arrive (today the sun shone – then it hailed, whilst the sun still shone – then it clouded over and big fluffy snowflakes started falling. We are now left with what is, I am assured, termed a ‘dusting’!) our thoughts inevitably turn to matters inside the home.

The Girl and I are very fond of our dark-wood furniture – a fair amount of which followed us here from the UK. One ensemble that did not was our rather fine twin pedestal dining room table and matching chairs – the which we acquired here in Victoria from some folks who no longer had room for it. For a reproduction suite it was and is really pretty splendid, with the exception of the rather tasteless fabric with which the chairs had been re-covered. Having lived with this for a couple of years we decided that it was high time to get things upgraded.

As is often the way here in Canada we rapidly established that the perfectionist friend of ours – who did all the difficult painting when we renovated our main floor some years back – was also a wiz at re-upholstering chairs and benches. Cool! She has just completed the task – perfectly as ever – and we thank her most gratefully.

Whilst we were at it we thought we would buy a couple of nice stools for the peninsula between our kitchen and dining room – and a dark-wood plant stand for our over exuberant spider plant.

Anyhow – I thought you might like to see a few photos…

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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Closure

<a href="https://www.freepik.com/free-vector/flat-vintage-travel-poster_4661673.htm#page=2&query=airplane&position=47&from_view=keyword&track=sph&uuid=8990c9ee-9876-4a5f-93b5-870f42785c91">Image by pikisuperstar</a> on Freepik“The beautiful journey of today can only begin when we learn to let go of yesterday”

Steve Maraboli

My last post to this journal ended with this sentence:

Anyway – I feel that it will not be long until the news here, at least, takes a turn for the better“.

The very next day…

Quite enough has been written in these postings over the last ten months concerning our abortive attempt at a trip of a lifetime, featuring an all bells and whistles safari to Botswana. If you somehow missed the saga of how British Airways wrote off our epic adventure (along with a considerable chunk of our savings) then simply use the search feature on the home page. A search for “British Airways” or any one of a number of expletives should return the information that you seek.

Back in December – shortly before Christmas – this post brought regular readers up to date with the current status of our long (out)standing insurance claims – by means of which we hoped to recover at least some of our outlay. At that point (back in November) the girl had received a partial payment from our main insurers but I had heard nothing. The post ended thus:

“We must, of course, needs be patient yet and wait and see what happens…”

So – back to where we started:

The very next day…

…I received in the post a cheque from our insurers. It was for the full amount of the claim (actually by a small but discernible margin rather more than I was expecting).

Hoo-bloomin’-rah!

Delighted as she was for me, The Girl was understandably put out that she had been left out of this little bonanza.

However – the very next day (again!)…

…another missive arrived from the insurers, this time including a cheque for the residue of her claim.

Hoo-bloomin’-rah-some-more!

Where does this leave us? Well – all the claims that could be met and all the payments that the various parties could not avoid making – are in. We have, between the two of us, recovered something in excess of $24,000 (CAD). That might seem impressive had we not laid out just slightly less than $40,000 (CAD) on the trip and the recovery operation as a whole.

Well – we did get a (hugely expensive) week in the UK, though much of that time was spent either on the phone to British Airways or being unable to sleep because of a growing sense of panic.

No matter. ‘Tis over and done and we have all the closure we are going to get.

I promise that I will do my damnedest not to mention it again.

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"Impermanence" by Licorice Medusa is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0“I’m here to tell you the tide will never stop coming in. I’m here to tell you whatever you build will be ruined, so make it beautiful.”

Hala Alyan

I find myself sitting here – on a blustery Valentine’s day – gazing from my studio window at the grey, choppy sea and the distant mountains – pondering questions of (im)permanence.

There is no question – regardless of anything that we might do – that this sea and these mountains will exist long enough to register as permanent (certainly by comparison with our measly four score and ten)… whereas the cherry blossom which is just starting to bloom on the tree at the bottom of our garden will be gone in a few short days (weeks at most).

A few years back – shortly after we came to Canada – I wrote a song which bore the title – ‘Cascadia‘. The lyric started thus:

Where I come from we are rooted in the land

Sinking where we stand in the slow sand

We know who we are – we’ve been here for so long

That even when we’re wrong we don’t care

In new found lands – where cities tremble on the brink

Closer than they think to Armageddon

Machines turn to rust and tremors shake the crust

Dominions of dust are blown away

The song came about because I was fascinated – having just moved to Canada – that in a country in which everything was considerably inflated by comparison with its north European counterparts (distances greater, climate more extreme, animals wilder, terrain more difficult) and subject to all manner of extreme events (snow storms, earthquakes, heat domes, avalanches, wildfires, arctic outflows, etc, etc) – domestic construction is, as far as one can tell, a good deal less robust than that to which we ‘old-worlders’ are accustomed.

Back in the UK I owned – at various times – portions of several houses constructed in the 1740s. Such buildings may have their short-comings by modern standards but they were clearly intended to last and tend to be fairly firmly embedded in the dark soils upon which they are erected.

Here in British Columbia most residential properties are constructed primarily of wood (no surprise there) and sit lightly upon the land. They are also considerably less valuable than are the plots of land upon which they are built. In many instances – should one see a house of maybe thirty or forty years of age for sale – one is not surprised when the purchasers simply tear it down and build a new one.

Even the fabric and fittings of these buildings seem destined not to be long for this world. Our house dates from the late 1970s and is thus positively ancient by Canadian standards. We were advised upon purchase that it had had its roof replaced some twelve years before our purchase – the which was therefore around halfway through its expected life (the shingles at least). The slate roof of our apartment in Buckinghamshire in the UK dated was back to sometime in the 19th century! The hot water tank here (powered in Canada by what we Brits would call an immersion heater) was replaced (cheaply!) when the house was put on the market in 2015. The Girl assures me that it is thus nearing the end of its useful life and must needs be exchanged for something more robust. I am sure that she is not wrong!

I am not entirely sure why I am musing upon such matters at this point – though the long wait for spring might have something to do with it. Yesterday and today have been particularly blustery and we were without power for a number of hours overnight – though fortunately all was restored by the time we awoke (thanks BC Hydro!).

Anyway – I feel that it will not be long until the news here, at least, takes a turn for the better.

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The deep roots never doubt spring will come

Marti Rubin

American author Lionel Shriver wrote:

“February is for curmudgeons, whinge-bags, and misanthropes. You can’t begrudge us one month of the year or blame us for being even crabbier, it’s so short. There is nothing good about it, which is why it’s so great”.

Ah – ha! Not so short this year… this being a leap year!

That aside it is not altogether difficult to agree with Ms Schriver. By the time one has finished exhaustively cataloging all the reasons why February in so darn cheerless (Six Nations Rugby aside) it is almost over.

Hmmm!

However, what we all know – of course – is that under the forbiddingly dark, dank, semi-frozen soil, all of the tender young shoots are working out – gathering their strength ready to burst forth just as soon as spring gets the go-ahead. It may not look as though too much is happening right now – but it is all just waiting for the call to arms.

Now – as it happens this is not too bad an analogy for how things appear chez The Girl and I. To the casual observer nothing much might seem to be happening – but that would be misleading. We are currently both working (so much for retirement!) from home.

Having spent a considerable amount of time (and money) over the last few post-COVID years, driving into one or other of the College’s Victoria campuses, I find myself this year co-ordinating an online course from the comfort of my studio. I say co-ordinating – rather than teaching – because this course is entirely asynchronous… which means that I prepare course materials, make little videos, post all manner of resources on our learning platform and wait for assignments to roll in for marking. It is a not altogether unpleasant way of going about things, though I do miss the face to face teaching a little. It does seem to be – however – what the students require nowadays.

The Girl is also beavering away in her home office, on the project that cannot yet be named. Her endeavours actually also involve some travel (concerning which I am less keen) – but she does have a sparkle in her eye, which is good to see. Let’s hope that it stays there!

So – for now we just ‘sit back’ and wait. Spring will soon be here!

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Start by <a href="http://www.nyphotographic.com/">Nick Youngson</a> <a rel="license" href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/">CC BY-SA 3.0</a> <a href="http://pix4free.org/">Pix4free</a>If you have a dream, you can spend a lifetime studying, planning, and getting ready for it. What you should be doing is getting started.

Drew Houston

In these recent posts – ‘Adjusting the Sails‘, ‘One and One and One is Three‘ and ‘The World of Work‘ – I sought to bring the gentle reader gently up to date with how things had come to rest for The Girl and I at the culmination of a particularly – er – ‘eventful’ year (though aren’t they all nowadays!). What I have not yet done is to peep out from underneath the metaphorical duvet – to see if I can detect good news anywhere betwixt where we are now and the distant horizon of 2025.

So – this is what we know currently about what 2024 has in store for us…

In terms of travel 2023 was – for us – a complete shocker. Without incessantly ploughing the same furrow it is worth reminding ourselves that there was a point last year when we seriously thought that our travelling days were over. Not so – you will be happy to hear. We are already well advanced with the planning for another expedition for April/May this year.

Which exotic part of the globe will you be visiting?” – I hear you cry. Well – I’m sure we all have our own definitions of ‘exotic’. This is one of ours.

The Girl and I have for a considerable while now felt drawn to visit the mystical realm of Scotland. Even casual viewers of these witterings will be aware of my love for – and great pride in – the home of my ancestors (the which I inherited from my father). My family travelled many times to the highlands for holidays just as soon as we were old enough. My father was a great hill walker and he and I (and sometimes my younger brother) climbed many a peak in different parts of the land. I have regularly over the years visited both Edinburgh and Glasgow for work and – with my theatrical hat on – ventured to the Edinburgh Fringe on more occasions than I can now enumerate.

The Girl has toured parts of Scotland just once before – with a good guide and great friend – but she and I have not been there together and we feel a very strong urge so to do.

Anyway – more on that trip as it unfolds…

In ‘The World of Work‘ I wrote:

During the autumn just past The Girl reached the conclusion that her eight years at the volunteer service was enough. As it happens the service was undergoing some restructuring and she was able to do a deal whereby she would hand over the reigns to a full-time replacement, with a negotiated package that would enable her to take some time to figure out what – if anything – she wanted to do next. She is thus once again retired (for now!)“.

Following what might just be the shortest retirement ever… The Girl has just this week started an exiting new venture, about which I can currently reveal nothing at all, but concerning which I suspect a great deal will be said in the months to come. Watch – as they say – this space!

I have already dropped huge hints about creative developments in the musical department. We are firmly expecting a new album to put in an appearance at some point this year – and if we could play live somewhere to welcome it, then that would be splendid.

As ever at this time of the year there are many other exciting prospects bubbling under and – though there are also many very good reasons to feel nervous about 2024 – I like to approach the year under an umbrella of optimism. (Google assures me that – somewhat to my surprise – I am not the first to coin that particular euphemism. Oh well!).

Very best wishes to you all for 2024.

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Snow angels

“When it snows, you have two choices—shovel or make snow angels”

Unknown

Following a number of false alarms Vancouver Island finally succumbed to one of the snow storms that have already been prevalent in other parts of the country. In the usual manner – and for the familiar reasons – the BC capital failed to deal particularly well with what was in fact not really a huge amount of snow.

Those further east – where the winter weather is considerably more serious (snows that fall in November or December may still be lying in February or March) – are won’t to sneer at us coastal British Columbians for our general feeb-like response to this natural phenomenon. We simply smile at them and point out that the six inches of snow that fell here on Thursday will be gone by the weekend – and in four week’s time the city’s streets will be emblazoned with spring blossoms.

Yah boo sucks!

Of course, that means I have to whip my camera out sharpish and dash off a few snaps. I really like the way the snow makes these images look like monochrome ones – with just the odd Spielbergian splash of colour giving the game away.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidI loved the juxtaposition of the bright saturated colours of these flowers in our dining room against the black and white of the snow outside the window.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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Photo by Andy Dawson Reid“Age is not measured by years. Nature does not equally distribute energy. Some people are born old and tired while others are going strong at seventy”.

Dorothy Thompson

On January 7th 2014 I wrote this post whilst sitting in the departure hall at Vancouver International airport, waiting for a flight back to the UK. The Girl and I had been visiting British Columbia for Christmas and the New Year – as well as for a trip up island to Tofino… more specifically to the Wickaninnish Inn. The chief purpose for our trip there was to celebrate my sixtieth birthday – that somewhat scary turning of a decade which is a precursor to impending old age.

Now – it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that – if I turned sixty in 2014 – I must now have finally reached the ripe old age of seventy…

…which is indeed the case.

Our 2014 trip to Tofino was all the more epic because we were still living in the UK at the time. This time round we were not only resident in the country in which we celebrated, but also just down the road from our chosen destination – that favourite of ours, the Brentwood Lodge Spa. Because The Girl was in charge of the details the event turned out to be a slick piece of organisation – and a lot of fun and relaxation to boot.

We trundled over to the spa on Friday for sumptuous ninety minute massages (hmmm! dreamy!) – but came home thereafter to sleep in our own bed. We re-traced our footsteps on the Saturday and checked in for the night to one of what really are very gorgeous West Coast rooms – overlooking Brentwood Bay and the Mill Bay ferry dock.

There was time for lounging in the pool (outdoors, but startlingly warm) and the hot tub before we dolled ourselves up for dinner. We hugely enjoyed a splendid coastal repast with Tuna Tataki, Scallops and mushroom risotto to the fore – supported ably by a delicious bottle of BC Fool’s Mate Chardonnay from Checkmate Artisinal Winery.

Yum!

As for the birthday – job done!

Here are some piccies…

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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