web analytics

admin

Wild is the music

by

Image from Pixabay“The music of the far-away summer flutters around the Autumn seeking its former nest”.

Rabindranath Tagore

“Wild is the music of autumnal winds amongst the faded woods.”

William Wordsworth

Why should it be, I wonder, that I associate the autumn – the fall – with music?

Is it because – even though the summers are full of music, as we enjoy such delights as the Wednesday evening concerts in the park at Brentwood Bay – there is something particular about the long journey into winter that makes me long to be indoors, being comforted and moved – and that music is one of the greatest balms that I know.

Or perhaps I don’t really make that association at all! Perhaps I associate every season with music and it just happens to be autumn now. Or perhaps it’s just that – as they say north of the (Scottish!) border – “Ma bum’s oot the windae”!

Either way – last weekend we enjoyed once again one of the treats that the season routinely bestows upon us… the annual visit to the Mary Winspear Centre of Barney Bentall’s Caribou Express. Yes – I have waxed lyrical in the past on the subject of the delights extended by this hardened band of musical desperadoes and I have no doubt that I shall do so again.

There were eleven of them this year but the numbers matter not a jot. These boys – and girls – were at the Mary Winspear for three nights on the trot and they were enjoying not having to travel. This was their last night and they were clearly determined to enjoy it even more than the preceding two. They certainly need have had little fear that the packed crowd would do anything less than back them to the hilt… which is just what they – we! – did. The sound was great – the vibe fantastic. The joint was hopping and our hands and voices were sore the morning after!

So great to find something in these tempestuous times on which one can utterly rely.

Playing the piano

by

The other day The Girl and I were both about the house. I was down in my studio (which has been mentioned in these pages before) and The girl was in her office (which has not). There is at some point more to be said about her plans for the future but this is not that moment. By way of enabling progress thereon – however – she has established a rather plush office/consulting space on the main floor of our splendid abode. As the gentle reader may discern we are slowly turning our dwelling here into our perfect living/working space – the which makes us both very happy…

Where was I?

Oh, yes!

Suddenly we were both – in our different ways – disturbed by a solid ‘thump’ from somewhere upstairs. Intrigued and somewhat concerned we convened above in an effort to discover the cause. Opening our front door revealed the sad answer. A bird – a robin – had flown into our kitchen window.

Now – two things you should know. Firstly, though a reasonable size with regard to the kitchen itself the window is not really that big. It is also tucked back underneath the broad roof overhang that forms a sort of veranda outside our front door. In other words – it is not that big a target at which to aim and it is not clear why a bird would do so.

Secondly – this was a North American Robin. This – from InterWebNet site ‘Metafilter’:

March 3, 8:17 PM
With spring just around the corner (Mother Nature swears for real this time), North Americans are eagerly on the lookout for one of the earliest migratory harbingers of spring, the robin.

Wait, what? Robins are a Christmas bird! Hey, that’s not a robin at all!

Indeed not! The North American Robin is actually a thrush. It is roughly twice the size of a British Robin and – in the winter – it ‘fecks off’ to Mexico (or somesuch!) thus completely avoiding appearances perched atop snow covered Yule logs outside 18th century coaching inns or whatever (insert your own favourite clichéd Christmas image here!).

The Brits amongst you might well imagine the British equivalent flying into a pane of glass and simply bouncing off. Sadly this North American cousin (though not actually a cousin at all!) packs a fair bit more weight. Our new windows are no pushover, however, and the poor thing simply killed itself outright. The Girl was quite upset and I had to take the formerly feathered friend down to the bottom of the garden and return it to nature.

Now – the more astute amongst you might yet be racking your brains as to where the piano player (see post title) comes into all this. The answer is that – being a Brit – I am blessed with the obligatory dark sense of humour. My first observation upon seeing the recently redundant robin was thus:

“Well – he won’t be playing the piano again!”

…which didn’t go down too well.

It occurred to me afterwards to wonder as to the origin of this handily apposite phrase. For once the InterWebNet let me down. There were to be found many an example of the phrase in use (and not all such from the UK) but nothing as to its inception.

So – if anyone could please advise…

Simple Minded

by

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThere clearly comes an age (though at what point this occurs I am not exactly sure) that the notion of one’s bucket list and the contents thereof emerges as a key concept. In all probability this happens on a sort of sliding scale, becoming more and more important as the years pass by and as an increasingly unacceptable percentage of the items on that list remain unaccomplished.

I mentioned in a post earlier in the year that an unexpected opportunity had arisen to see live for the first time a favourite band of mine – Simple Minds. Now – that missive was posted all the way back in April, such being the nature of the modern concert going experience that one must needs book one’s ticket half a year and more in advance if one is to have any chance at all of attending said event (at a sensible cost!). Still – it gives one something to which to look forward.

Having gazed steadfastly in the aforementioned direction throughout the summer and well into the autumn (fall) a couple of Mondays since found me ensconced on the ferry to Tsawwassen on my way to Vancouver for the long-awaited concert. The Girl was not – on this occasion – with me. This was a considerable ‘bummer’ as all things are better and more fun in her company, but when I had booked the tickets back in April she was mulling other plans. I mentioned in a previous post that she celebrated but a month ago a most significant birthday and she had originally been planning a trip abroad with a friend (on which I could not go because of my teaching!). By the time that adventure had unfortunately fallen through it was too late to get a ticket for the concert.

I thus found myself alone (amongst three thousand other eager souls) in the splendid Orpheum Theatre in Vancouver on a rainy late-October Monday evening. The Orpheum – designed by Scottish architect Marcus Priteca back in the 1920s – is home to the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra and is a National Historic Site of Canada.

The Orpheum is considered to have excellent acoustics but, whilst that may be true for classical concerts, I was not entirely convinced from my seat underneath the overhang of the balcony. It may have been that the sound engineer had different ideas to me as to what constitutes a good sound, or it might be that the area underneath the balcony traps certain frequencies; in any case it became apparent even from the pre-concert melange of 80s hits that the sound (played at what was for me too high a level to start with) comprised a great deal of low bass and a superfluity of unpleasantly aggressive high-mids, with a considerable gap in between in which important details were lost.

I had, fortunately, taken with me my musicians’ ear protectors, which enabled me to enjoy the concert, though at the cost of feeling slightly  distanced from it throughout. Given the incredible quality of modern concert sound systems this was something of a shame – though I should say at once that the Minds were on excellent form and that they themselves were fantastic throughout. They played pretty much everything I was hoping to hear and it became clear that Jim (Kerr – founder member and vocalist) didn’t want to go home. Towards the end of an extended set of encores he enquired pleadingly of the crowd:

“Can we do one more?“.

Best moment of the evening? During the inevitable ‘Alive and Kicking‘ – as Jim conducted the eager fans in the extended “La, la, la…” singalong – he cracked everybody up by calling in broad Glaswegian:

“OK – now sing it in French!“.

Priceless!

 

Permanence and change – 2

by

More autumnal images. Although it has rained a fair bit in recent weeks the weather here on the island has been surprisingly mild and balmy. Today the sun shone and it was 14 degrees C! A nice day for a walk…

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

The rice trick

by

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidIf you know about the rice trick then there is a good chance that you – or someone of your acquaintance – has done that which I was unfortunate/careless enough to do a couple of weeks back… to drop my mobile device into a liquid! In my case it was into a hot bath…

OK – I feel the need to explain how a Capricorn such as myself (and thus naturally cautious in all things) contrived to do something so careless/stupid. Well – towards the end of the week I find myself pretty tired these days. Thursdays are particularly hard work, starting as they do with a fairly tough exercise class, continuing with a quick shower (no time for lunch!) and a rush to the college at which I teach for two and a half hours of classes and lab supervision followed by an hour or so in my office and on occasion a meeting of some sort… and then on some Thursdays on to something else in the evening.

Come Fridays I am usually ready for some relaxation – but not until domestic chores, shopping and cooking prep are done (yes – poor me!). Anyway – there eventually comes a point at which I like to immerse myself gratefully into nice hot bath.

If The Girl is out and about – as on this occasion – I leave my mobile phone somewhere to hand in case she should call. And, of course, call she did. Unfortunately I was fast asleep in the bath at this point. Being wrenched abruptly from my hard-earned slumber by the ring tone I grabbed sleepily for the phone with wet hands, jabbed at the speakerphone button and watched horrified as the device slipped from my grasp like a bar of soap and tumbled into the tub.

Fortunately instinct cut in at this point and I whipped the phone out of the water and powered it down, before getting as much water off it as I could with materials to hand. Once out of the tub I naturally turned to that source of all knowledge(!) – the InterWebNet – and discovered the rice trick.

This is the one where one gets as much moisture out of the gadget as possible by dabbing at it and turning it this way and that, before burying it in a container filled with rice. There it must be left for 24 – 48 hours so that the rice can absorb any moisture that remains in the device. Then, if one is lucky, it can be powered up again to see what (if any) damage has been done.

Of course, it helps hugely if the device is similar to my Galaxy S7 – which is advertised as being ‘water resistant’.

The good news in this case – which I sure will delight one and all – is that my phone suffered no ill effects at all and continues providing the excellent service that it has done to this point.

Phew!!

Bob!

by

Public Domain Image from Max PixelThis peaceful neck of the woods has recently been the scene of local elections and in the weeks running up to polling day – as it the way in these parts – verges, hedgerows and lawns slowly disappeared under a plethora of campaign signs and placards urging the local electorate to get out and vote.

In this day and age – and with times being what they are – it is hardly surprising that it is not always easy to encourage people to exercise their democratic right, no matter how important it might be for them so to do. I am certainly saying nothing against our local politicians – if for no other reason than that I lack the necessary knowledge of them – but on the wider scene the political classes have done so much damage to themselves in recent decades that it should be no surprise that the whole damned lot of them have become anathema (or an anathema – to your taste!).

Now – I cannot yet in any case vote in Canadian federal elections – I would needs be a citizen so to do – but I have a feeling that I could have voted in the recent local poll. That I did not do so is a sign that I am not yet sufficiently ‘au courant’ with the ins and outs of local politics, which is certain a failing on my part that I intend to rectify before the next such occasion.

One of the more prominent placards planted on the roadside not far from here, near to one of our bigger intersections (always a relative term of course) advocated the re-election of a man who apparently goes by the name of ‘Bob’ (that indeed being his name) whose surname I will not reveal (to protect the innocent!). Having dealt with the matter of the man’s name the sign simply read:

The only Bob on the Ballot!

Given the current febrile political climate in many parts of the globe it occurred to me that this might indeed be just as good a reason to vote for the man as anything else that might have been said.

It is not often that one gets a laugh from politics these days!

Go Bob!

A little learning

by

It has been – I feel sure – a widely held notion now for a considerable time that retirement means days spent lounging in an armchair or on a chaise watching daytime TV and scanning the popular press for things about which (righteously!) to complain.

If the boomers have managed to dent this injurious impression at all it is surely merely to replace it with an image of silver-haired gadabouts cruising their way around the exotic destinations of the globe burning their way through the planet’s fossil fuels and their progeny’s inheritances with equal abandon.

Now – I know that I am not currently one hundred percent retired – though in my heart I have certainly already taken up my commission in that distinguished regiment. Thinking back over the last three years – since my arrival in this congenial country – I find that my own particular focus has not been on day-time dallying, nor on intercontinental adventuring, but more on matters cerebral and intellectual.

In short, I have been learning… Loads!

Contrary to any notion that this be a pursuit only for the young and that as one ages one becomes more and more content with that which one has already assimilated, my recent experience is that there is nothing like both retiring and moving to a different continent to ensure that one must needs keep the brain constantly engaged just to keep up.

Herewith – in no particular order – just a few of the things I have learned since we moved to Canada:

  • How to buy a boat
  • How to pilot a boat
  • How to navigate (including charting and conning)
  • How to tow a trailer (including reversing into tight spaces)
  • How to replace trailer brakes and wheelhubs
  • How to launch and retrieve a boat single-handed
  • How to replace a boat’s sonar depth finder
  • How to operate a marine VHF radio
  • How to replace the wet-end seals on a hot tub pump
  • How to maintain the chemical balance in a hot tub
  • How to barbecue (a huge topic: I am just a beginner!)
  • How to maintain a supply of propane for a barbecue
  • How to maintain a garden irrigation system
  • How to replace heads on a garden irrigation system
  • How to operate a gas (petrol) mower and string trimmer (along with other garden power tools that I have not previously owned)
  • How to paint and decorate (to a much higher standard than I have done previously)
  • How to build bass traps for a music studio
  • How to record the human voice (at a far higher level than I have ever done before)
  • How to be a board director for a non-profit organisation
  • How to organise a 50/50 raffle
  • How to fund-raise
  • How to teach computer literacy to post-secondary students
  • How to drive on snow and ice
  • How to stream TV from other parts of the world

Plus – of course – how to navigate one’s way through all of the bureaucracy associated with everyday life in a another country!

“Travel broadens the mind” – as Mark Twain didn’t quite say. Well – so does starting afresh in foreign fields. I am grateful that (semi) retirement has given me the opportunity to exercise both the mind and the body in new and unexpected ways.

Life lesson

by

In the midst of a brace of posts on the closely related subjects of teaching and learning – comes this life lesson from the world of rugby…

…to be specific from last weekend’s opening round of European Champions Cup matches…

…and to be even more specific, concerning my favoured club – Bath Rugby.

Bath were hosting French multiple-championship winners Toulouse at the Rec in front of more than 14,000 enthusiastic home fans. The game had been tight throughout and as they went into the final few minutes the French side were a mere two points ahead.

Bath were attacking hard and their fly half – Freddie Burns (who had just moments before missed a penalty kick directly in front of the posts) finally broke through the defence and crossed the try line.

All he needed to do was to touch the ball down and the game was won.

What he actually did was to slow down, ball in one hand, and to blow a kiss to the home crowd with the other. What he did not do was to observe the French back Maxime Medard rushing at him from behind. The Frenchman knocked the ball from Burns’s hand, the try was not scored and the game was lost. Burns was – understandably – distraught.

One could feel sorry for the fly half – but he is a professional and a well remunerated one at that.

Moral of the story?

Do the job properly – celebrate afterwards!

A little teaching

by

At this point one year back we were just about to commence the intensive two week process of moving all of our furnishings and other goods and chattels into the basement of our North Saanich home preparatory to handing the main floor over to our contractors for the three month renovation for which we had been patiently planning for the preceding couple of years.

It seems like just weeks ago!

Of course – we have now been living with the completed and very lovely main floor since March and enjoying every minute of it. Somehow one doesn’t mind spending significant sums of money (quite so much!) if the results engender such happiness on a day to day basis… which in this case they do!

There was also something else on my mind at this juncture last year. It had become clear that 2018 was going to be the most challenging of our early years in Canada – financially speaking at any rate – because my final pension (that provided by the state) would not kick in until part way through my sixty-sixth year. I had as a result started looking – in an admittedly somewhat desultory fashion – for a job. This was complicated by the fact that I really only wanted to work one or two days a week for a limited period and I couldn’t imagine quite who would want to employ an aging geezer such as me!

As it turned out I didn’t find the answer to this question until we were already into the new year and a mere couple of days later I was standing in front of a class of slightly startled students at one of Victoria’s finest post-secondary educational establishments, about to launch into a fourteen week course in Computer Literacy.

In my End of Term report in these postings on the outcome of that experiment in returning – albeit on a part-time basis – to the workforce, I indicated that I had been offered a further term contract for what is here called the Fall Term (which would in the sort of school to which I am accustomed be known as the Michaelmas Term) and that I would not be averse to considering a further outing in what Canadians call the Winter Term, but which we Brits more optimistically refer to as the Spring, Easter or Lent Term.

Time passes rapidly and we are already approaching the halfway point of this term’s teaching. I have indeed been offered another contract for the start of next year – the which I have gratefully accepted. Truth be told I am rather enjoying this teaching experience. My forty years in the business has equipped me with a considerable stock of both knowledge and anecdote and the part-time, limited-contract nature of the job means that my responsibilities are pleasantly restricted.

Other benefits clearly include what seems to me (probably because I don’t need to live on it!) a decent level of remuneration for what I do, which not only pays my tax bill and covers any other shortfalls but will also facilitate some travel abroad during 2019.

I feel – as ever – most supremely blessed!

+ More