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2012

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Cultural differences

August 8, 2012 in Life as we know it | 4 comments

I was really quite taken aback – after nearly eight years together – to discover that there are still major cultural differences between Kickass Canada Girl and myself.

Picture the scene… The Girl and I exit the Hypermarche laden with Provencal goodies which I lovingly load into the minuscule boot of our diminutive hire car. She tosses me the key and says,

“You drive”.

With the sun attempting to scorch us to toast before the air conditioning has a chance to kick in I jump into the driver’s seat and fumble with the key for the ignition lock. Got it! I twist the key vigorously. The car leaps forward and slams into the kerb in front of us.

“What the heck!”, she exclaims. “Could you jolly well not do that?”

She didn’t actually say that, but for the sake of the sensibilities of the gentle reader let us assume that she did.

“Could you not leave the jolly car in gear!”, I retort.

Actually, I didn’t say that either…

Apparently I am a particularly slow learner, because it took me four or five bunny-hopping commencements to excursions before I figured out that the Girl was not – in some heat induced stupor – forgetting to put the car into neutral before disembarking… This is, clearly, what she always does. I had not noticed before because – under a peculiarity of UK regulations which meant that the Girl could only exchange her Canadian drivers’ licence for an automatic licence – she had not driven what the Canadians call a ‘stick-shift’ during her time in England.

It turns out, of course, that in Canada one is taught always to leave the car in gear when parked. My protestations that this renders the parking brake somewhat redundant – particularly because Canadians are apparently taught not to use it when waiting to move off on a gentle incline either – cut no ice. It seems that the gearbox is to be relied on but that the parking brake is not. So much for automotive technological advancement!

Let us hope – in the interests of saving face in front of the amused locals – that we reach a compromise rapidly, and that our progress throughout the south of France is free of further lapinary lurches.

Still – as they say here – ‘Vive la difference”!

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Photos from Provence

August 7, 2012 in Flotsam and Jetsam, Photos | Permalink

Some images of the residence at which we are staying in Avignon…

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Vive la France!

August 1, 2012 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

In about an hour from now (time of writing rather than posting!) Kickass Canada Girl will be touching down at Heathrow. Hooray! I will, of course, be there to meet her.

We are going on Holiday.

Double hooray!!

On Friday evening we fly down to Marseilles – in the south of France – and on the Saturday will drive up to Avignon where we will meet our dear friends from Saanich and their two small boys. They are travelling to France independently – and directly – but once we have conjoined there we will be spending a (hopefully) completely relaxed fortnight recovering and recuperating from all the recent trials and tribulations. I can’t wait…

I intend to send images and despatches from Provence if at all possible. The apartments we have booked are equipped with wifi and as long as there are no unexpected hitches I should be able to post some relaxed and contemplative musings on life, the universe and – well – everything!

Hmmm!

 

The Girl and I also have reason to celebrate as yesterday marked our second wedding anniversary. Strangely whereas, on the one hand, the wedding feels as though it took place only yesterday, at the same time it is as though we have been married forever. I think this must be a good sign – though as I am an optimist I think that everything is a good sign…

Happy days!

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Olympic dreams

July 30, 2012 in Life in England | Permalink

Why on earth would an Oscar winning movie director – who can pretty much pick and choose his projects these days – wish to take on the impossible challenge of directing the London Olympics opening ceremony?

Any way you size it up this really was the poisoned chalice – the hopeless cause – the no-win situation.

Consider…

  • It would be impossible to top the massively funded, meticulously choreographed (some might say ‘regimented’) show that the Chinese put on in Beijing four years ago.
  • Given a potential world-wide audience running into the billions it would be completely impossible to please all – or even the majority – of them, let alone to entertain everyone whilst contriving to offend no-one.
  • From the director’s point of view devising such a show would surely be – in any case – an impossible task. How could one create a show that was at once local and global – embodying some essence of this sceptred isle whilst not being so parochial than no-one else would get it? How could one reconcile the demands of the TV close up with the requirement for a spectacle that would fill a stadium? How could the show be at once personal and universal?

As you may have deduced – I spend Friday evening watching Danny Boyle’s bizarre, amateurish (in the best sense), messy, insanely brilliant opening ceremony. I fell off the sofa laughing. I howled like a baby – at some points so hard that I could scarce catch my breath. In the kaleidoscopic whirl of layered references (oh what delight – an Olympic opening ceremony incorporating subtlety and ambiguity, whilst at the same time displaying complete self-confidence!) I repeatedly heard and saw images and ideas in the magical musical and visual smorgasbord that made me cry out, “Yes – that’s us… and that… and that…”

From the exquisitely intimate (the tribute to the dead of 7/7) to the breathtakingly spectacular (the dark satanic mills rising Bosch-like from the stadium floor, the newly forged Olympic rings coming together in the sky above the crowd) Boyle nailed each potentially difficult shift in tone with complete assurance. The collective gasp when it appeared as though Her Majesty herself was going to take part in Daniel Craig’s granite-faced Bond spoof (she couldn’t be – she was!!), and smirk of pleasure at the wonderful tongue in cheek arrival of the Olympic flame carried on a powerboat skippered by David Beckham, in exactly the image of himself that we all believe he holds – merely confirmed a sureness of touch that the rest of us can only dream of.

That touch extended right through to the Olympic cauldron itself. Assembled unseen throughout the parade of athletes as each team carried in one of the ‘petals’ that formed the organic heart of the sculpture, and lit – not by any of the luminaries that had been the subject of pre-Olympic speculation, but by seven young athletes nominated by seven existing Olympic heroes – the individual flaming branches each representing one of the competing nations slowly rose toward the night sky, coming together to form a single, united blossom of fire. As Tim Berners-Lee had previously texted to the stadium – and to the world – “This is for everyone!”

Did everyone ‘get it’? Well – the correspondent of Le Figaro observed – with a generosity not always apparent in the relationship between our ancient races:

“The display reminded a billion viewers of the best contributions that Britain has given to the world for over a century: its sense of humour, its music, and of course sport”.

My view? Danny Boyle is nothing short of a genius. Give that man a knighthood!

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The Silent Salesman

July 26, 2012 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

“I’d rather trust a man who doesn’t shout what he’s found,
There’s no need to sell if you’re homeward bound.”

Peter Gabriel

Shortly before the end of last term – and my subsequent trip to BC – I was visited by the account manager for the School’s telecom provider. I am responsible for all of the School’s telephony and external data connections and the meeting was really just a routine catch-up, to see how things were going.

A day or so later – immediately before I left for Canada – I had an email from the account manager advising me that she could offer some significant savings if we signed a new three-year deal. As our existing three-year contract was about to expire this made good sense, but I was sufficiently tired and befuddled that I thought it best to take more time and to work through the implications when my head was clearer.

In the jet-lagged period following my return from Victoria our account manager again approached me, enquiring as to whether I had made any progress. Feeling somewhat guilty I admitted that I was still not entirely clear as to any possible ramifications of taking the offer, and asked for further clarification. The account manager offered to visit me again to explain further – an invitation that I gladly accepted.

When she duly arrived – on a glorious and rare 30°C morning – it took her a mere ten minutes or so to dispel any lingering doubts. This left me feeling guilty again, as I had forgotten that she had to drive all the way up to London from the south coast, which journey – given the heat and the traffic restrictions arising from the fast-approaching Olympics – had proved long and arduous. I spun the meeting out to an acceptable length on the entirely unreasonable premise that this might somehow make it seem to have been more worthwhile. She was – it has to be said – entirely equitable about the whole affair.

I walked her back to her car, passing on the way the three-quarters complete Science Building that is the first stage of the School’s major redevelopment programme. I explained that we would need to move all of our external connections – phone and data – to this new building once it had been handed over, and we discussed what would be involved in doing so.

I also mentioned that we had a small number of direct analogue phone circuits – provided by British Telecom rather than our own provider – which service fire alarm panels, security systems and the like. These would also need to be moved. She suggested that we simply install new lines – cancelling the old ones when the transition was complete.

Standing next to her car, a thought occurred to me. I asked her if her company could provide such circuits.

“Yes”, she replied.

I asked what would be the difference between them providing the lines and my ordering them from BT.

“Ours would be cheaper.”

I asked what I would need to do to set things in motion.

“I’ll send you the forms.”

Job done – a potentially tricky problem solved – everything integrated into one contract, and – without my prompting – she wouldn’t have said a word. Now – given that really don’t like being sold to, my question is – is she actually a brilliant sales-person, or just a very lucky one!

I know which my money is on…

 

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Home fires

July 24, 2012 in Life in England, Photos | Permalink

As a counterpart to my previous post on cricket in Victoria…

On Sunday I visited my old village cricket club in Buckinghamshire in the UK. It was the occasion of the annual President’s Match – always the highlight of the season. Perhaps for this week only the weather had turned glorious and the day was – as a result – really rather splendid.

Until he retired a couple of years ago when well into his 80s (to be replaced by his son in law!) the post of club President was held for many years by one of the scions of the Guinness family. A long-time resident of the village and a tireless worker for charities and local causes he is a great supporter of the club and can still be seen regularly at the ground on a Sunday, sipping a cold Guinness and enjoying the cricket.

The Guinnesses famously provided Vancouver with the Lion’s Gate bridge (as our ex President takes delight in reminding me). They did not, naturally, do so for altruistic reasons, but because they had purchased more than 4,000 acres in what is now West Vancouver and were busy developing it.

It has become a tradition over the last decade or so for the team fielded on behalf of the President to comprise, in the main, members of the extended Guinness family, with – on occasion – three generations represented in the same team. A number of them played cricket to a decent level at the sort of schools with which I am very familiar and in some cases well beyond. As a result it has also been a tradition of recent years for the President’s side to win the fixture – often handsomely. Two years ago saw the first ever tie between the two sides and then last year – for the first time in many years – the village finally came out on top.

This year – in a very close game – the the club finally scraped across the line with three balls to spare and with the final pair at the crease. Nail-biting stuff!

Here are some (remarkably) random images from the day.

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Foreign fields

July 20, 2012 in Life in BC | Permalink

One of the attractions – for the ex-pat Englishman in particular – of living in Victoria is that there is a healthy interest there in that greatest of all games – cricket! Should this latter assertion cause hackles to rise, passions to become inflamed and throats to be cleared in preparation for argument – let me refer you to this article by Sambit Bal, the editor of Cricinfo.com, from the latest edition of Intelligent Life magazine. He makes the case more eloquently than I ever could.

I have, thus far, spared the gentle reader my fondness for philosophising on the subject of the great game and in particular on its purest form  – village cricket! That joy is yet to come – quite possibly over an extended series of posts. For now let us content ourselves with discussion on the game as it is extant on the southernmost tip of Vancouver Island.

Cricket in Victoria is organised by the Victoria and District Cricket Association. There are two leagues – a weekend league which plays 45 over matches on Saturdays or Sundays – and a midweek league which plays 16 over matches, mostly on Tuesday or Wednesday evenings. There is also a Twenty20 competition, and the well known – and internationally so – Victoria Six a Side competition.

The weekend league features 8 teams, whilst there are 15 in the midweek league. It will come as no surprise that many of the players in either league have their origins outside Canada, coming primarily from the subcontinent. The midweek league teams are – in the main – sponsored by various pubs and other such establishments around Victoria and the stated aim is for inclusivity whilst still being competitive. That appeals for LBW are frowned upon in this league should give an indication of the spirit in which games are intended to be played.

There are really only 6 cricket grounds in the Victoria district and – sadly but inevitably – they all feature matting or other artificial tracks. This does enable them to be used heavily with a minimum of maintenance, but it does alter the nature of the game. Two of the prettiest grounds are those in Beacon Hill Park – which dates back to the 1850s and possibly even earlier – and in Windsor Park in Oak Bay.

This is Beacon Hill Park:

And this is Windsor Park, with its splendid new clubhouse:

On my recent visit to BC I watched one midweek game – between the Prairie Inn and a youth side called the Colts – at Stelly’s School in Saanich (nowhere near as pretty as either of the above grounds). As the school was out for the summer the outfield had been allowed to grow rather longer than is normally acceptable and the style of play could – as a consequence – best be described as ‘agricultural’!

The Prairie Inn side were pretty well organised and had some big hitters, scoring an even 100 in their 16 overs. They then ran through the Colts’ top order in the first few overs and effectively killed the match as a competition. The Colts came back well near the end, however, with their star player being a 14 year old – on his first outing for the side – who played with an admirably straight bat. The boy’s father was watching and I engaged him in conversation, remarking on his son’s obvious talent and enquiring as to whether he had been coached. The father informed me that they had only recently returned to Canada having lived in England for a number of years, and that the boy had not only played cricket at his school there but had also done well in the Surrey under 14s.

It showed…

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Catching up

July 18, 2012 in Life as we know it | Permalink

Well – I am back in the UK. A chance to draw breath, to stand back and to try to get a little perspective on how things stand…

The journey was relatively uneventful – if one discounts Air Canada’s now familiar round-trip performance… starting well but tailing off quite badly towards the end (not a good modus operandi for an airline!). The flight from Victoria to Vancouver was on time, but that from YVR to Heathrow began at 75 minutes and ended up nearer 2 hours late. Not a good start for the Canadian Olympic hopefuls with whom I was sharing the flight (though sharing only in the sense that they were sitting up in Executive First and I wasn’t! Still, they doubtless deserve it; let’s hope they are still in First Class for the return trip). My deputy was supposed to pick me up from the airport but the A4 was closed as a result of an accident so I had to take the tube and then walk instead. Doesn’t exactly look good, does it?

Naturally it was raining when I arrived back at Heathrow. Kickass Canada Girl and I had got into conversation with one of the Canadian Olympic administrators at Victoria International before the flight. We were watching the pictures of the sodden Olympic preparations on the TV news in the lounge. “That’s where I’m going”, she enthused. “I have to live there all the time”, I grumbled.

Talking of the weather (yes, I’m a Brit!) the graph at the top of this post shows what England has been going through so far this year. “Bah!”, I say – and “Bah!” again… I can’t immediately find any comparable statistics for Victoria, but during my stay over the last couple of weeks there was a good clear stretch of about 10 gloriously sunny days. I can’t remember the last time that could be said for the UK – and yet, there are suggestions that the weather is finally about to turn and that next week – just in time for the Olympics – the summer will finally arrive. I am an incurable optimist, but even I will not be putting money on this one.

 

I am aware that I have said nothing in recent weeks concerning the putative sale of our apartment in Buckinghamshire. There is good reason for this – nothing has happened! We have again had viewings, but no offers. We are at the stage of considering a possible further price reduction, but as the ‘summer’ is upon us – traditionally a dead time for house sales – I am not sure that such a move would make a difference. It is really quite depressing that this lack of progress simply brings everything else to a complete halt, and that nothing can be done about it. We have stopped looking at houses in Victoria because the trauma of seeing desirable properties – often great bargains to boot – slip by us is just too painful to bear.

The irony is, of course, that all gloom could be dissipated in a moment – if we could just find a buyer. We are – naturally – praying fervently to the real estate gods. Trouble is, I rather get the feeling that they might just be laughing at us…

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A salmagundi of simulacra

July 14, 2012 in Life in BC, Photos | Permalink

An assortment of images from Victoria and its environs…

Late afternoon on Island View beach:

An evening with a Glaswegian friend in Cadboro Bay. He rents a suite in a very fancy waterfront property. The owners – for reasons best known to themselves – spend half the year elsewhere:

On Clover Point after the storm:

Nighty night!

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Oak Bay

July 13, 2012 in Life in BC, Photos | Permalink

Staying – as we have been – in Oak Bay this week (for reasons outlined in this previous post) is a most interesting and illuminating experience. When Kickass Canada Girl described Victoria to me – shortly after her first visit home subsequent to our having met – it was one of the places in which she informed me she felt she could happily live. Now that I know it a little I can see why.

As the Brits amongst you will immediately recognise from the accompanying photographs, Oak Bay is a pleasant ‘village like’ community that has – visually at least – a great deal in common with the English Home Counties. For one thing, the ubiquitous evergreens give way to the deciduous, and in particular – as the name suggests – to the stout English oak… well, to the Garry oak, anyway! It speaks volumes that any damage caused to one of these splendid trees – in Oak Bay itself – results in a $10,000 fine.

In the light of all this it comes as no surprise to find that a certain breed of English ex-pat has made this enclave their home.

There is certainly money in Oak Bay – and it smells like old money. This villa is – by all accounts – merely a summer residence!

The village itself is well equipped with coffee houses, bistros, beauty salons, a plethora (for some bizarre reason) of dental hygienists and – as you can see – a pretty decent salumeria and butcher.

There is – in Windsor Park – a rather lovely cricket and rugby ground – but cricket in Victoria will feature in a future post, so I will say no more at present.

There is also one of the nicest marinas in Victoria which, I am told, boasts a pretty decent restaurant. The yacht basin itself is home to some of the tamest ‘wild’ harbour seals I have ever seen. A local lady told me that they are the former inhabitants of a marine park released into the wild when the park closed. They certainly know how to put on a show for visitors and – of course – to earn their supper in the process.

Could we live in Oak Bay now?

Cute – and faux-British – as it undoubtedly is the answer has to be ‘no’. However serene and well kept the neighbourhood is, it still feels busy – rather too full of (very proper) people and (admittedly slowly driven) cars. These days we yearn for the more open spaces of the peninsular – with little passing trade, a decent deck and views of the ocean and mountains…

…and, of course, closer to our dear and lovely friends!

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