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Holiday

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Last Friday The Girl and I had a telephone consultation with the Travel Medicine and Vaccination Centre here in Victoria. Our purpose was to establish that which would be required for our forthcoming trip to Africa.

Now, The Girl has a rather splendid written record of her previous vaccinations and it was a breeze to determine what (if anything) is in need of updating and what additional precautions should be taken to keep her safe on the basis of our detailed itinerary.

I – naturally – presented a rather different challenge. I feel sure that all in the UK must now be effected in a considerably more rigorous manner than ‘when I were a nipper’; clearly I must have had the usual round of immunisations for a child growing up in the UK in the 60s – but I as far as I can recall I have never possessed a written record thereof. With the memory of a man heading rapidly towards his eighth decade there was no chance that I could categorically state that which I had had and when I had had it.

The lady from the TMVC cut through all the cr*p. I mattered not a hoot what jabs I had had back in the day; with the exception of HEPs A & B (which I had somehow contrived not to have thus far) everything would need to be updated anyway.

We thus presented ourselves the following day at the TMVC to be stuck like pin cushions. Tetanus, Typhoid, Polio, Diphtheria, HEP A & B… It is a good thing that we each have two arms !

Anyway – ’tis done and all we need to do now is to pick up our Malaria medication. Things have apparently moved on since my last experience of these vile tinctures – the which saw me through a visit to India back in the 80s. Then – having failed to read the instructions for the tablets with adequate care – we experienced several distressing nights of psychotic reactions – waking at 4:00am, sweating profusely with pounding hearts and the conviction that we were about to die in our beds. Not nice!

Preparations for the Africa trip are proceeding apace. Travel in Botswana on small planes necessitates the toting of only very limited luggage. We not only had to purchase soft bags small enough to fit into the cargo hold of a Cessna, but also to equip ourselves with a new safari wardrobe. The limitations are not solely to do with weight. The wildlife in Africa doesn’t like whites or other bright colours. The mosquitos – on the other hand – do like blues, blacks and other dark colours.

As we are travelling in the African winter we must be prepared for cold 5:00am starts, but also for 30C days. Layers it is then – and of suitably lightweight clothing. It is a good thing that Canada – being a nation in love with the great outdoors – has plentiful supplies of high-tech gear that is just the job (though at a price, of course).

Well, I think that is about enough of an update for now. More – of course – to come!

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Target – an indicator established to determine how successfully you are achieving an objective.

Goal – an indicator established to determine whether you have achieved your objective.

I had an email from an advisor at my bank just today. The lady responsible for it ‘reached out‘ to me (thanks for that!) to enquire as to whether (or not) I was ‘on track to reach all of my goals‘.

I pondered awhile as to how my career as a global music megastar was progressing – what the likelihood of a multi-billion dollar lottery win was – or indeed how my devious plans for world domination were shaping up…

I replied to the nice lady that – as far as I could tell – I was roughly on track to reach such goals as I had.

This did remind me, however, that I owe the gentle (and most patient) reader an brief list of our goals (and possibly targets!) for 2023. After all – we are now half way through February and my promise to deliver same is as yet outstanding.

OK – here we go.

So – after our big trip to Europe last year this will obviously be a quiet, ‘home-ish’ sort of a year – our aims and ambitions being not dissimilar to those to which we have aspired ever since the pandemic broke…

…except…

…such a lack of ambition simply does not sit comfortably with – The Girl. She argues – persuasively – that if there are places to which we might desire to travel, then the time so to do is now – before I move into another and even more expensive (particularly in terms of travel insurance) decade. Who can tell – she further reasons – how long we will be fit enough for such bold venturing?

Now, though she has already traveled pretty widely, her bucket list has for a long time included an expedition to Africa – in particular to go on safari to Botswana and to the Victoria Falls.

This, then, is what we are going to be doing at the end of May and into June this very year. Such a venture does not come cheap, particularly as we are no longer prepared to set forth on such a long haul faced with the relative privations of economy class. To help fund my part in this  lavish expedition I have had to take on the teaching of a double course this term at the College. As long as that in itself doesn’t do me in I figure I should be fit and ready to go by mid-May.

It is going to be an altogether wonderful, splendid (if somewhat unanticipated) venture and you, gentle readers, will be hearing and seeing a great deal more about it as we progress through the first half of the year.

Such is the mental magnitude of the undertaking that we don’t have much space left in our imaginations at this juncture to conjure up other aims and ambitions for the year – with the exception of a musical ambition on my part. The Chanteuse and I have decreed that this year we should prepare ourselves to perform live. Even should we not manage so to do before the year’s end – we will be ready and raring to go immediately thereafter. More on this also –  later in the year.

Well! Who saw that coming?

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“London is a riddle, Paris is an explanation.”

G.K. Chesterton

High time to put to bed – once and for all – the trickle of images that I have been slowly posting of our trip across the pond back in July.

On our last full day in Paris we visited the Musée de Montmartre, the which is located – as you might expect – in Montmartre, a little to the north of the Basilica of the Sacré-Cœur. The museum was founded in 1960 and was classified as a “Museum of France” in 2003. The buildings in which it is housed were formerly the home of several famous artists, including Pierre-Auguste Renoir and Suzanne Valadon.

Here are some photographs of our day:

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

In the late 19th century, the lower section of Montmartre was home to many cabarets, such as le Chat Noir, le Lapin Agile and le Moulin Rouge. Many posters, stage designs and the reknown Shadow Theatre at le Chat Noir were created by the artists who lived in this Bohemian quarter of the city.

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

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I have been completely remiss in leaving unfinished my posting of images from our wanderings abroad during the summer – for which I heartily apologise. I shall remedy immediately…

Whilst in Paris we took a day trip to Fontainebleau to visit the Château, a residence for French monarchs from Louis VII to Napoleon III. Neither I nor The Girl had previously visited Fontainebleau but – given that I have a long-standing interest with Bonaparte – we were both very pleased to be able to rectify that situation. The palace is spectacular!

Anyway – here be pictures:

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 ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

 

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“Paris is always a good idea.”

Audrey Hepburn

Though it seems a long time ago now our trip to Europe back in July culminated in a few busy days in Paris, soaking up the culture and – as it turns out – catching COVID! These last few travel related posts will showcase some photos of the “City of Light” – starting with a miscellany of odd images…

Enjoy!

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid
We celebrated our anniversary a few days early (it is on the last day of July) so that we had an excuse to sample another Michelin-starred Parisian restaurant; in this case the very wonderful Maison Rostang – billed on their website as “a mythical place”. Who are we to argue?!

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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Those who have been tuning in to these ‘broadcasts’ for any length of time will doubtless be familiar with certain themes that re-surface time and again with the regularity of the phases of the moon. One such is that of the writer’s (and his delightful spouse’s) state of engagement; to be specific, how busy we find ourselves at any given moment.

A quick glance through the archives shows that ‘state of busyness’ messages are posted pretty regularly and especially at two times of the year – just as August fades into September and the Fall – and then, slightly more desperately, as Christmas approaches.

This is in part, of course, due to our ongoing connections with the world of education. After the indolence of the summer months (should they indeed prove so to have been) the commencement of the new academic year and the return to a fresh term can be quite a shock. Trust me – it doesn’t get any easier the longer that one has been doing it.

So – the term has begun, I have a fresh faced group of students and I have been rushing around getting everything ready for the fray. Come Christmas-time I have no doubt that I will once again be running on fumes and anticipating complete collapse just as soon as the term has ended.

The Girl’s employ is not related to education but, for some reason, this seems to be a busy period for her as well. The end result is that we both feel somewhat weary. An element of this malaise arises from our having used up a considerable fund of energy (though delightfully so) on our our foreign travels during July and – of course – in fighting off the nasty bout of COVID that we picked in the process.

Once home again at the start of August we struggled to recharge the batteries in time for the launch of the new Anam Danu album – ‘Soul Making‘. Having been restricted by the pandemic lock-down at the time of our previous album release (‘Winter Blue and Evergreen‘) to merely raising a glass during a Zoom call we wanted to celebrate properly this time. It was decided that we should have a small reception, inviting close friends and supporters to help us with the festivities.

The Girl volunteered bravely and selflessly as prime organiser and she and the Chanteuse and I – with gratefully received assistance from old and dear friends – put together a rather splendid little shindig (if we say so ourselves). The highlight (should one discount the excellent finger food and beverages – which I certainly don’t) was a short performance of a few of the songs from the album. It was not entirely live – since we were obliged to use some backing tracks – but it was our first appearance in person in front of anyone and we were well aware of the significance thereof.

Come the end of the day, of course, we were even more exhausted than before. Ah well – doubtless we will once again get into the swing of things.

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Bath

We were lucky enough – on our recent visit to ‘abroad’ – to spend a couple of days in Bath, a city that long-time followers of these amusements will know has always been a particular favourite of ours. A quick search for ‘Bath’ in the archives of this journal will reveal plenty of photographs taken on previous such visits, but that need not (and indeed will not) stop me posting a bunch more from this most recent sojourn.

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 ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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On our first visit to the old country in three years (and not knowing when we might be back) there were certain things that we wanted to be sure to do and to see. One such was to visit an English stately home. These properties – many now in the hands of the National Trust or English Heritage (and thus preserved for the nation) – are not only somehow quintessentially English but also play an important role in the cultural life of the nation.

After some consideration we agreed to spend a morning at Hatchlands Park in Surrey, the which we had not previously visited in spite of its relative proximity to places that we know well. Wikipedia can, as ever, provide useful information about the estate.

Herewith some photographs from our sojourn there:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid
I am not sure why it should be so, but there is something about an old fashioned beech wood that just whispers ‘England! to me:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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Looking back at our recent trip across the Atlantic the thing that strikes us more than anything was just how much we were able to pack in to a relatively brief visit. The reason that we were able so to do is because all of those good and dear folk that we were able to see went out of their way to ensure that we were not only able to catch up with them (worth the price of admission in its own right) but also to visit – or indeed re-visit – places that we miss through living on a distant continent. We thank these folk most gratefully for going out of their way to facilitate this.

These next few posts will contain images from our first few busy days; the first visit being to the motor and air museum at Brooklands near Weybridge in Surrey.

Hmmm! Nice blower Bentley there if I am not mistaken!

Now, if you know nothing at all about Brooklands (the world’s first purpose-built banked motor racing circuit and later home to Britain’s largest aircraft manufacturing facility and the Wellington bomber) you might care to let Wikipedia enlighten you a little. My ‘connection’ with the old circuit comes from growing up about a mile away. As young teenagers we would on occasion play on the concrete struts of the bridge that carried the old circuit (which had closed before the second world war) over the river Wey – in spite of the notices informing us that such activity was strictly verboten, not to mention dangerous.

Much of the circuit had been swept away by then, to be replaced by the British Aerospace factory at which Vickers VC10s were built. The runway at Brooklands was famously too short for the VC10 to take off fully fitted, so the aircraft were flown out with no seats aboard to nearby Wisley aerodrome, where they could be finished off.

On many summer weekend afternoons we would hear all too clearly the VC10 engines being tested. Later my oldest friend’s father – who worked for BA – arranged a visit to the works for the scout troop of which I was a member – and we were able to admire the parts of the prototype Concorde on which they were then working.

Now, here is the potential next F1 world champion receiving some team orders before heading out onto the circuit for some ‘hot’ laps. In spite of nearly mowing down a steward, bouncing off the paddock wall and turning the wrong way onto the members’ banking she still came within an ace of setting a new lap record!!

The girl may be dangerous but she’s got some talent…!

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My last post – written in the shadow of the frustrating discovery that we had not, after all, contrived to visit parts of the world in which COVID appears now to be endemic and is yet, ‘irregardless’, largely ignored by the local inhabitants – we had not contrived by our diligence and native cunning to avoid succumbing to the same! In short – we got caught!

Now – the wording of that post might perhaps have given the impression that this regrettable lapse had inevitably taken the shine off the trip. Not so! Not so! We had a wonderful time and – could we but turn the clock back – we would do very little differently.

To any sensitive readers with whom we met in the UK and who might perhaps be fearful that they may inadvertently have played a part (so to speak) in our infection, we say: “Unlikely, chum!“. We suspect that a two hour delay in the Eurostar terminal at St. Pancras – where we were reluctantly obliged to share the space for an extended period with the teeming mask-less hoards who comprised the passenger compliments of four (or more) different trains – may have proved the straw that landed the camel with a hefty physiotherapy bill.

Over the next few posts I am going to share some images and impressions of our joyous travels, but first I just want to say a little about the nature of the expedition itself, because – for all sorts of reasons – this trip was very different to that upon which we ventured back in 2019. For a start regular readers will be well aware that we were extremely nervous of traveling abroad at all, in the light of the events of the last few years. That we were eventually persuaded so to do was in part because we had had encouraging conversations with those who had already done so, but also because of the invitation that we received to a celebration of good friends that we did not want to miss. The nature of our trip was inevitably defined by both of these considerations.

We rapidly abandoned initial thoughts to tour extensively because, at the time that we would have needed to make the necessary bookings, so much was yet up in the air and we would have created too many hostages to fortune. As a result the trip that we eventually planned was good deal shorter than one that we first had in mind. The celebration itself was to take place a considerable distance away from the capital – the which would inevitably skew our physical presence throughout our stay.

As a result we had sadly to accept that we would not get to see all of the good friends that we would have liked to have seen. We are most grateful to those with whom we were able to spend a little time; to those with whom we could not – our humble apologies and we hope that you understand.

Anyway – enough with the words… Next time – photos!

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