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…you lose some!

My last posting celebrated our recent tenth anniversary dinner at the Deep Cove Chalet at the top end of the Saanich peninsula. Though obviously meaningful in its own right this event carried an extra significance in that it was our first meal out at a restaurant since the COVID-19 lock-down took effect in mid-March. We have somewhat lost the habit of dining out and it felt slightly surreal to be doing so again. We were glad in the circumstances that we got to dine outside on the terrace; we are still not sure how we feel about repeating the experience indoors.

In any case the evening started me thinking about all of those good things that have been lost to us all in this peculiar summer as a result of the pandemic. I am not in this instance referring to those who have tragically lost loved ones, friends or colleagues (or even of those who have themselves been ill) – our hearts go out to them all and those that we know are very much in our thoughts.

No – in this case I am thinking of the everyday things that have disappeared or been put on indefinite hold and have as such left a hole in our lives. In addition to dining out and gathering together with friends we very much miss going to the theatre and the loss of the live music scene is keenly felt; at this time of the year we would normally be enjoying the weekly music in the park series in nearby Brentwood Bay.

Travel is not so much missed – the thought of flying at the moment gives me the shivers – but the pleasures of planning the next trip are. I do, of course, also miss live sport. International cricket has recently resumed in the UK – played in empty grounds and with the players essentially quarantined for the duration of the series. Rugby has yet to restart and is sorely missed. We have still not yet seen the end of the Six Nations tournament that was so abruptly truncated in March.

As is my nature I also fell to wondering if any positives could be identified from this much disrupted period. I believe that there are. Not having to commute to work is a definite plus, as is being able to spend more time at home. We are fortunate in that we have not – as have some – gone stir-crazy as a result of a paucity of things to do. We have both been busy, busy, busy… (in my case this includes the writing of many new songs and the re-writing much of my course material for the autumn).

Some people’s gardens have had more attention than they have had for a good long while and one of my great joys has been just how much more time we have spent entertaining in our garden (in a suitably socially distanced manner, of course). In some years this wonderful garden does not seem to get enough use – what with one thing and another. This year has more than made up for any previous lack.

Of course, we have not yet arrived at the hardest part of the lock-down. At the start of it we were all in a state of some shock and just wanted to hunker down and stay out of trouble. By the time we started getting really restless again the summer was upon us and there we pleasant diversions – even if only just outside our doors. Now we are heading rapidly towards the autumn and the winter – with no relief currently in sight.

I fear that it is going to be a long, hard winter…

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…of outrageous(ly good) fortune.

The Girl was recently the (delighted) recipient of a tax rebate!

OK – that is not the entire story…

Since we came to Canada we have done annually that which I (at least) had never done before; use a tax accountant to file our tax returns. In the UK I always (eventually) figured it out for myself and filed online. Here, it just seems all too much trouble to try to work out our (by now) quite complex arrangements, so – for a small(ish) fee…

The slight downside of this is that one never quite knows how things are going to turn out, since the tax accountants are always looking for new and better ways to earn their dollars. This year – for example – The Girl was due a rebate and I had an outstanding tax bill to pay… except that – by the time our accountant was done – I received a hefty rebate and the Kickass One an even larger tax bill. Apparently this was the result of a tax juggling act that saved us a few hundred dollars overall (for which – many thanks!).

Naturally I passed my rebate cheque straight over to The Girl (along with the balance owing) so that she could send it right back to Revenue Canada again. Being a gentleman I also gave her an amount equal to the rebate that she would have had, had our accountant kept things simple.

Anyway…

The Girl likes to cycle. The only problem is that, because we live on the bosky slopes above Bazan Bay and because the topography of the peninsula at this point is just so, it doesn’t matter which way she heads off on her bicycle, she always has to ride up a fairly steep hill on the way home (somewhat in the manner of an Escher drawing!). Naturally this somewhat diminishes the pleasure that she gets from taking the bike out in the first place.

She determined – therefore – that she would investigate putting her rebate towards the purchase of a (nowadays very trendy) electric bicycle. Now – these come in two flavours… the fully-fledged designed-from-the-ground-up electric bike (a pretty heavy beast but with lots of power!) or the traditional bike modified by the addition of battery and motor/dynamo. The latter devices are lighter and less expensive but also less powerful, providing assistance to the pedaling rather than rendering it superfluous.

The Girl had pretty much decided on one of the lighter machines but was still at the sucking-her-breath-in-between-her-teeth stage over the multiple-thousands of dollars that would be involved, when she went for a walk with an old work colleague. At the very point of parting she mentioned in passing her bicycling intentions, only for her friend to announce that her mother had just such a machine that she was in the process of trying to sell.

Well – long story short – The Girl tried the machine – fell in love with it – struck a good deal and carried it away home…

…all of which might very easily not have happened at all!

Lucky! Lucky! Lucky! (again)…

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidHaving bid a fond farewell to my brother at the end of my second week (and The Girl’s first week) in the UK at around this time last year – and having at the same time reluctantly extracted ourselves from the slightly strange but delightful decadence of a mostly empty Oatland’s Park Hotel (for such it was, though I did not name it at the time), we set out on a short road trip to impose ourselves on the hospitality of lovely friends in Essex (Colchester), Kent (Sevenoaks) and Berkshire (Maidenhead).

A lesson that we learned from our trip as a whole – but from this segment in particular – was that though it was absolutely lovely to see again such a great number of those from whom we had been separated for at least the length of time that we had been resident in Canada… paying fleeting visits to them was never going to be enough.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

However generously and warmly we were received, entertained and generally spoiled rotten it was impossible not to feel that we had cheated these good folk out of the joys of our extended company. I say this not from any excess of ego on my (our!) part, but merely echoing the sentiments that they themselves repeatedly expressed (as well, of course, as our own feelings) at the point at which we had, reluctantly, to tear ourselves away and to move on to our next port of call.

I hope that my postings – then and now – have expressed adequately just how grateful we are for the amazing hospitality that we were shown by all concerned. Thank you.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

 

I looked back over the photos that I took on this part of the trip. I make a point – as any regular readers of these jottings will no doubt have noticed – of not uploading to the blog any pictures that identifiably include the people of whom I write (including myself, for which the gentle reader will be most grateful!). I do so as a point of principle; the matter concerning privacy. I extend my caution also to names and to other such detail. Not all bloggers adhere to such strictures. I do!

Sometimes however – as in this instance – I am as a result left a little short of interesting material with which to embellish my postings. In the case of our mini-tour I took photos of some of the lovely people with whom we stayed that must remain – and will remain – private.

Fortunately I, at least, get to look back at them…

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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If the first week of our epic jaunt to the UK and to Europe this time last year was all about me revisiting people and places that I had not seen for a goodly period – more than three decades in some cases – then the second week was about two things: visits with family and an opportunity for The Girl to catch up with those with whom she worked and played during her time in the UK.

Once we had enacted a joyful reunion at Heathrow airport (full details withheld to protect those of delicate sensibilities) The Girl and I boarded our hire car and navigated our way around the M25 to the town in which I grew up and where my brother still lives. It had been our intention to stay with him for the following week but as a result of the unforeseen circumstances detailed in this gripping blog episode we found ourselves rattling around a mostly empty grand hotel just down the road.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidNow – as it turned out this worked out particularly well for a number of reasons and we owed a great deal to my brother both in terms of smart thinking and also of massive generosity on his part (for he footed the bill!). Kudos!

Not only was the hotel a very good base for our excursions into Berkshire, Buckinghamshire and other nearby haunts where The Girl (and I in appropriate cases) was reunited with some of those with whom she had worked and some with whom she had become good friends (to the great joy of all concerned) but staying in a place with a bar and lounge that was open to service all day meant that those who had not been able to attend other gatherings could call by and one or other (or both) of us could spend a happy hour or so catching up with all of the news and gossip from the previous half decade or more. I was delighted to make connections anew with others from my musical and theatrical past and – as was the case with all of those whom we met throughout our stay – I was overwhelmed by the expressions of joy and love with which we were bathed.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidWith regard to family it was good to see my sister and brother again – though in both cases we have in the interim been fortunate enough to have had visits from them in Canada. My brother and his Lady in particular went out of their way to entertain us and to ensure that our visit was a success. There was dining and quaffing – a boat trip to Hampton Court – a visit to the Victoria & Albert Museum (with lunch in the Members’ Room!) and much more. In short – they treated us royally and we were most grateful.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidWe were quite sorry to leave our grand hotel but the third part of our expedition was to take us on a road trip around some parts of southern England to stay with other old and dear friends. More on that next time!

Before I go – the image below is of my alma mater’s boathouse, the which is on the bank of the river Thames opposite Hampton Court Palace. It is named the R. C. Sherriff Boathouse after one of the School’s famous alumni. The playwright had been a great sportsman, had rowed for the School and subsequently raised funds for rowing both at the School and for the nearby Kingston Rowing Club. On his death in 1975 his house – Rosebriars – was sold and the monies from the sale put into a trust to help support the arts in the district. The youth theatre with which I was associated benefited from these funds during the 90’s, which enabled us to commission a writer to create a new play for the group.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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Up island

Whenever we head up island to Duncan or Nanaimo – to visit friends and/or family – I take with me a camera of some variety with a mind to capturing all manner of fascinating images. As our modus operandi is normally to catch the Mill Bay ferry (thus avoiding the drive over the Malahat) we head first for a favourite spot of mine – Brentwood Bay. The result is that I usually end up with some nice photos of Brentwood Bay itself… and then nothing further!

Here are some of this last weekend’s pictures of Brentwood Bay – (double click for the full effect!)…

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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“No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other’s worth.”

Robert Southey

A little less than two weeks ago I wrote the following on the subject of how I felt about returning (for however brief a visit) to the land of my birth.

“A dear friend here in BC asked me the other day how I felt about going back to the country of my birth. I told him the truth: I am really not at all sure how I feel about it. I am certainly looking forward to seeing family, friends and acquaintances and it will be good to visit some of the old haunts again. Beyond that I currently feel somewhat ambivalent.”

Safe to say that I am now a whole bunch less ambivalent!

Since arriving in the UK just over a week ago I/we have been met with nothing but kindness, generosity, enthusiasm and love. It has been a real joy to revisit old friendships and acquaintances and to rekindle relationships that have been dormant for years or even decades. The whole trip has thus far been an incredibly positive experience.

That said it seems invidious to single out any particular one of these joyful (and I make no apology for the repeated use of that word) experiences – but I do have to make mention of the heart-warming gathering that took place on the first Sunday that I was back in the UK.

Shortly before leaving for Canada four years ago I passed a delightful afternoon in the company of some old musician friends of mine – none of whom I had seen for some considerable time – chewing the fat about the old days in which we had played in a band together and about the theatrical works with which we had been involved.

With this visit to the old country in the offing I once again contacted my guitarist friend and suggested that it would be good to repeat that experience. What he actually did – whilst keeping from me all but the broadest hints – was to arrange a full-scale re-union of all of the old band members and a good number of those who belonged to the youth theatre with which we then worked.

Any fears that I might have had about being able to recognise those whom I had not seen for forty years – some of whom were then only in their late teens – vanished just as soon as I walked in. I was far from alone in showing my delight at seeing again those with whom we had enjoyed such formative experiences all those years ago. The afternoon was quite, quite magical and none of us really wanted to leave at the end of it. The subsequent outpouring of gratitude on email by all concerned clearly illustrated just how much the re-union – and the adventures some four decades back that we were celebrating – had meant to us.

A lovely, lovely occasion – and one which I will never forget.

A heartfelt thank you to all concerned.

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…surprised me on my arrival back in the UK for the first time since leaving the country for British Columbia nearly four years ago…

The first was that on landing, coming through customs and leaving the airport I had the strangest sensation that I was entering a foreign country. I can’t quite put my finger on what it was that made it feel that way, but it undoubtedly did so.

Now – a day and a half later – the feeling has diminished somewhat but I still find myself experiencing the sensation of being a little disconnected from everything I see about me.

The second oddity is quite the opposite. I had been rather concerned that, having driven only in Canada for the past four years, I would find it difficult to deal with a right hand drive car on the ‘wrong’ side of the road. This would have been made worse by the fact that I had hired a manual (stick) vehicle as opposed to the automatics that I have been driving for the past four years. That I had immediately to set out on that bear-pit of a road – the M25 ( the London orbital motorway) did not help at all.

In the event – and for reasons I need not go into here – the vehicle was upgraded to a better model, one with a hybrid transmission (to all intents and purposes an automatic).

Further – and to my surprise – it felt as though I had never been away and driving on the left felt entirely natural. In the last couple of days I have driven into London twice but not yet felt out of my depth once. Fingers crossed (and wood touched) that this state of affairs continues.

The visit is already massively busy – but at the same time really rather lovely (with the sorry exception of badly missing The Girl!) and everyone is being most kind and massively generous.

My heartfelt gratitude to all…

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Photo by Andy Dawson Reid …more Canadian – or what?!

OK – now I know in reality that the mere acquisition of power tools is no signifier of national characteristics, but I think I can safely say that – had we remained in the UK instead of crossing an ocean and a continent to come to this delightful spot – I probably would not now be the proud part-owner of a gas (petrol) power washer.

I can further safely say that the thought of (part) owning such a thing would never have crossed my mind. Nor – in all probability – would I have known what to do with such a beast.

Out here on the wild west coast, however, there is apparently sufficient use for such a thing (for cleaning one’s deck – getting the crud off one’s patio and pavers – cleaning the stucco or sidings with which one’s house is most likely clad) that it is worth forming a partnership (in our case with a dear friend from Saanichton also in possession of deck, pavers, stucco etc) to jointly invest in same.

And of course, if one is going to do such a thing it makes no sense at all to go with a namby-pambly, wussy electric version (for pussies only!). No – the only real option is to go for the all-Canadian, hard as nails, tough as you like gas model – preferably with a Honda power unit (like the one here!). I have to say, it made short work of cleaning two year’s worth of gunk off our deck.

Though we and our dear friend will be taking turns at having fun with it, for the moment the machine is sitting in our shop alongside our gas mower, our gas weed-whacker (strimmer!) and our unfortunately girly electric leaf blower (ooops!).

Oh well – there’s always next year!

 

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Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/StevenGiacomelli-2218761/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=1263821">Steven Giacomelli</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=1263821">Pixabay</a>“The hardest thing to do is dig deep and be patient about the things you’re going to learn month to month and quarter to quarter.”

Christina Tosi

Holy Moley! A quarter of the year gone already! It seems no time at all since I was writing this post looking forward to all the things that we are aiming to get done in 2019. I thought I should take advantage of the fact that we have just slipped with relatively little fuss into April to review progress thus far.

So – how’s it going?

Well – The Girl went to Mexico (though that seems like an awfully long time ago now) and I am just entering into the last week of a fourteen week teaching term. I know that I only do two days a week (though I have also been doing a bit of project supervision work on the side) but it still feels to have been pretty full on. I guess that is in part because it has been winter, which always feels like harder work.

Planning for our Grand Tour of the UK and the Greek Islands in May and June proceeds apace. Having not been in Europe for four years – and having little likelihood of returning in the short term – we are naturally determined to see everyone and do everything. Fortunately all are being most kind and most accommodating but creating a workable schedule is – as Oldest Friend remarked – a bit like juggling cats! Still – we now have a seriously intense – and fun – looking itinerary and there is no question that we will have had our money’s worth by the time that we return.

This very weekend has seen The Girl finish the course about which I wrote in the above post. She has already been seeing clients for some months now – enough to prove to herself beyond all doubt that she has made the right choice of direction – and once we are back from beyond she will start ramping things up in a serious manner. She already has a splendid new logo for her business – courtesy of a very talented designer friend – and I will next need to step up to help create a website for her.

This venture is all very exciting for us both and I am as proud of and for her as can be – and also as pleased as Punch about this new direction!

Oh – and there is more to say… so another post will be in order in a day or so.

Can’t wait!

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidA couple of weekends ago we were fortunate enough to be invited by splendid friends of ours to dine with them at The Union Club in Victoria.

Those native to Victoria will – of course – know of The Union Club. It is – as their website describes it:

A landmark institution in the heart of downtown Victoria, with an imposing neo-Georgian design inspired by the classic clubs of London.”

The club’s position adjacent to The Empress hotel facing the Inner Harbour is a prime location and – as you can see from the photo galleries that grace the club’s website – the building and facilities do not let it down. Those who know The Girl and I will not be the slightest bit surprised that the whole ambience appeals to us enormously.

Much as I have cast envious glances in its direction many times, however, I have always felt somewhat guilty about my attraction to the place. The whole institution feels somehow redolent of privilege and entitlement, which sits rather uncomfortably with my left of centre inclinations. Friends and acquaintances will scoff at these sudden scruples, pointing out that I worked at several extremely ‘posh’ boys schools in the UK and lived in a Georgian Manor (part-of anyway).

I suppose that a component of this ambivalence comes down to the belief that to belong to such an organisation requires contacts in the right places and a fair bit of cash. Except that it doesn’t! Union Club membership is surprisingly good value, the restaurant is by no means expensive and staying in the club’s most pleasant rooms is considerably cheaper than doing so at The Empress next door. Membership of the club also rewards one with significant benefits such as attractive rates at affiliate clubs in other countries – such as the RAC in London, or Stoke Park in our old stamping ground in Buckinghamshire.

Not that I am thinking about applying for membership…

…well – maybe not anytime soon! Hmmm!

Still – it was a very good dinner and a splendid evening with our dear friends. After dinner they gave us a tour of the club and it’s facilities. We were heartily impressed…

…as you may have gathered.

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