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Flotsam and Jetsam

Cheeky chappie!

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Ever since arriving in Canada (more than six years ago now) I have – twice a week – taken part in a fitness class for those over 55 years of age. I do not do so because I enjoy this particular form of exercise but because I am determined to keep everything going for as long as possible. If that means doing some work – so be it.

The majority of of the group are ladies, with whom – naturally – I now have reasonably good relationships. We often go for a coffee after the class, to the delightfully named “Fickle Fig” farm shop on the outskirts of Sidney. We sit outside around a huge table – for the (by now) usual COVID protection reasons.

Sometimes we are not alone. Sometimes the wildlife wants to join in – as with this cheeky chappie!

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidHe – or she – doesn’t seem to care for coffee but does quite like the pastries (which, of course, I can’t eat).

He – or she – cared not a jot that I was taking pictures of him/her!

 

Antony Sher

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Antony Sher

1949 – 2021

RIP

It is, sadly, that time of year when those who are elderly or infirm – or who have been fighting against illness or disease – are perhaps at their most vulnerable. It should come as no surprise that amongst the number of those who pass at this time there will inevitably be found great men and women whose loss – though no more profound than those less known – may touch a greater number of those of us who remain.

It is but a few days since Stephen Sondheim was mourned in these jottings – and of course in many other fora. Now comes news of the passing of the great Shakespearean actor – Antony Sher. Sher was born and brought up in South Africa in the 1950s and 60s, before fleeing to London to train to be an actor. His record as a great Shakespearean – with the Royal Shakespeare Company and with other prestigious companies – is detailed splendidly in many other places and one could do worse than to start with Wikipedia.

Sher also wrote a number of books and his memoir of the year in which he played Richard III at the RSC – a role that cemented his reputation – was published in 1985 as “The Year of the King“.

Sher was married to Greg Doran – the Artistic Director of the RSC. I had the very great fortune to meet both men whilst working at my penultimate school. Doran had – as I recall – been invited to judge one of the School’s many competitions and Antony Sher accompanied him. At the dinner that inevitably follows such events I found myself sitting beside the latter for a while. I had just read his autobiography – “Beside Myself” – in which he wrote movingly about his relationship with his late father. At that point (in the early 2000s) my father had also recently died and we had a conversation about the effect that this has on one. He was entirely gracious and thoughtful and I was most grateful that he had been prepared to be so open with someone that he had not previously met.

Back on the tracks

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Regular patrons of these marginalia will doubtless greet as old friends those posts that recur – in some form or another – on a regular basis. Into this distinguished category fall the annual November reports of our most recent outing on the Cariboo Express, courtesy of the engineer in chief – Barney Bentall.

We enjoy these evenings (in support of the Sidney Lions Foodbank) so much that we are quick to purchase tickets each year as soon as they become available. This we did as per usual last year (2020).

On that occasion, of course, the concert did not take place – for reasons that require no further elucidation. The dates were once postponed – and then postponed again. This was deeply sad but necessary. The run-in to Christmas just wasn’t the same without this jolly evening out, but we were not prepared to take any risks that might endanger our (or other people’s) health and well-being.

The final postponement of the event resulted in us being offered the chance to let the tickets spill over to become valid for this year’s equivalent pageant – and fortunately this time the precautions were deemed to be adequate (vaccine passports and photo IDs thoroughly checked) and we were able once again to gather at the Mary Winspear Centre in Sidney – well be-masked and well-behaved – for a most welcome live performance.

It really was quite moving to suddenly find oneself once again in the proximity of real live musicians and singers – and, of course, in a real audience. An object lesson – I think – in the need that we all (many of us anyway!) have to experience live performance… something else of which we clearly need a regular shot! A good evening was quite clearly had by all!

At this juncture we do not have anything much else of a similar nature in the calendar and – with new COVID variants looming – who knows how things will pan out or when we will next get to sit in a theatre watching a live show.

We are (said he through gritted teeth) determined to remain optimistic…

Stephen Sondheim

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Stephen Sondheim

1930 – 2021

RIP

 

Sad news yesterday of the passing of the last of the four iconic creators of what is almost certainly the best musical ever conceived – West Side Story. Jerome Robbins, Leonard Bernstein and Arthur Laurents were all in their late thirties at the point at which the show was created in the late 1950s, whereas Sondheim was the baby of the quartet at just 26 years of age.

I was slightly (though entirely unreasonably) shocked to learn that Sondheim was 91. Time really has flown! West Side Story has been with us for pretty much all of my life and – though I have not myself been involved in a production – I have been close to those who have on numerous occasions.

Sondheim is also, of course, renowned for many other groundbreaking productions in music theatre in addition to West Side Story (Company, Follies, Into the Woods, Sunday in the Park with George, A Little Night Music etc). Others far more qualified will write far better valedictions than can I; and I commend them to you.

Way back in the mid 1980s I saw Sondheim give a most erudite platform at the National Theatre in London, to accompany the National’s production of Sunday in the Park with George. If ever I find myself musing that his work tends to be rather too cerebral (and clever!) and not to carry a sufficiently direct emotional charge I remind myself that he also wrote the immortal ‘Send in the Clowns‘.

‘Nuff said. Respect!

Nothing without work

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“The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work”

Emile Zola

I am currently reading “The Gift”, by the estimable Lewis Hyde. I shall have more to say about the book once I have finished it, but already all manner of fascinating thoughts and notions have been triggered thereby.

Sadly, as befits my increasingly elderly status, I cannot now recall exactly how I came to the book in the first place, though I feel certain that it must have been referenced in something else that I was investigating. That is normally the way these things happen – to me in any case. I do know that I was greatly attracted by this quote from the foreword by Canadian icon – Margaret Atwood:

”[A] classic… If you want to write, paint, sing, compose, act or make films – read ‘The Gift’”

One motif from the book has already attracted my attention and formed itself into the outline of a song. I certainly did not set out with this in mind, but the muse – as we all surely know – works in wondrous and unexpected ways…

…as became all the more apparent late one night last week.

I find quite frequently that one of more elements of a new song will unfurl themselves relatively rapidly and without my having any real idea as to how this has happened. At this point I might well get stuck – with no idea how the piece will proceed from its temporary conclusion.

My normal procedure – with a view to jump-starting proceedings – is to play/sing repeatedly that which I have already written, in the hope that the next part of the composition will suddenly reveal itself to me by emerging organically from the elements that I already have. This sometimes has the desired effect but as often as not simply results in my straining way too hard for a result and ending up with nothing of any use.

Now I am a night owl. The Girl heads for bed reasonably early but I often get in a couple of hours work before I follow her. This I was doing the other night, in my search for a suitable chorus for the new track. I could feel that my efforts were going nowhere and – having an early start the following morning – I decided to call it a day.

I shut everything down in the studio – doused the lights and tip-toed upstairs in the dark. No sooner than I had emerged onto our main floor than the whole chorus arrived in my head – out of nowhere! Not only did I get the melody and the phrasing but also the harmonic progression and half of the words.

Now – how did that happen!

Of course – to ensure that my flash of inspiration was not lost to posterity I was obliged to scuttle back downstairs, to power everything up again and to rapidly commit this latest gift to my recording software – lest I should forget it again overnight…

What a wondrous thing is the creative process!

Thank you…!

 

 

Mileage may vary

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“As it is with all stories, fast cars, wild bears, mental illness, and even life, only one truth remains: your mileage may vary”

Jenny Lawson

Last November I posted to these pages a brief item which celebrated (should that be the appropriate expression) the fact that my much loved Lexus GX470 had just passed the 200,000 mile mark (miles rather than kilometres since she is of US origin).

That post went on to muse upon the annual mileage that this now eighteen year old vehicle had clearly done throughout its life to date.

Based on the mileage that was on the clock when we purchased her she had to that point apparently averaged some 14,000 miles per annum. Since coming to us she had enjoyed a considerably less energetic existence, covering only around 6,000 miles each year…

…until last year!

The COVID-19 pandemic has had many side-effects, one of which – as you might expect – is that we have all stayed home a great deal more than we had done previously. Working from home and not being able to travel or to get out on the town as we had been used to doing, meant that our vehicles have only been used for short, essential(ish) trips.

I mention this here because just the other day I noticed the odometer click over 203,000 miles. Now – I know that there is another month before a year will have elapsed since my last post on the subject, but I will be very surprised if I cover more than another few hundred miles in that time.

I can’t be entirely sure – but the last time that I did such a low annual mileage might well have been the year that I started riding motorbikes – back when I was in my very early twenties…

…and a lot of water has flowed under a great many bridges since then!

Where the anchor drops

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“Home is where the anchor drops”

H. Jackson Brown Jr.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

The good ship Dignity has returned from her sojourn with Seapower Marine in Sidney.

Hoorah – and welcome home!

“Hang on a minute…” – I hear you cry. “Did you not announce that the boat was off for a service back in July?!”

Well done for paying attention at the back there. I did indeed write that – and I did indeed deliver Dignity to Seapower Marine for a service back in July. As is often the way – however – things did not turn out quite as planned. The service was done but other issues were noted and duly dealt with as they unfolded.

I had been concerned that the batteries (of which there are two) might have died as a result of the lack of use – and that indeed turned out to be the case. Also, the original wooden battery enclosures had rotted and smart new vented plastic ones were installed to keep all matters electrical well away from anything with fuel in it.

The marine techs also recoiled in horror when they had a look at some of the wiring around the engine. Clearly a job of the botched variety had been carried out at some point prior to our taking ownership. A necessary rewire was duly carried out.

Then a fault with the starter motor was diagnosed. A new part was sourced from the US but with a lead time of three to five weeks… unless I was prepared to pay a hefty express freight fee. Fearing already the loss of an arm and a leg I declined the offer – and thus Dignity’s sojourn was extended by another goodly period.

No matter – she is back now. Too late for this season of course, but raring to go for next year.

School’s in!

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“Respect your parents. They passed school without Google!”

Anonymous

OK – so it is college rather than school, we’ve actually been back for nearly three weeks now – and September 2021 is not long for this world either.

Apart from that… you get the idea!

I promised that I would write something about going back to college – as in actually ‘going back to college’ rather than just starting another ‘virtual’ term from the comforts of my studio at home…

…and here I am!

The College decreed that for the new academic year we should all be back face to face in the classroom and lecture hall. This is entirely understandable, given that students had started displaying (along with gratitude that their health interests were being foregrounded) some discontent that they were not getting the full college experience even though they were still being asked to pay for it. In the light of this pressure the College probably had little choice in the matter.

The decision would doubtless not have been particularly contentious had it not been for the subsequent emergence of the Delta variant of the COVID-19 virus. This unpleasantness has inevitably ramped up the risk level again and left us all considerably more concerned as to the best course of action going forward.

Still – face to face it is for now – but with a plethora of precautions to try to keep things safe. Masks must be worn inside buildings – including in the classrooms – and vaccine passports are required for access to sports and some other facilities, though not for the cafeterias and bookshops.

I am all for appropriate precautions and particularly keen to remain healthy myself. There are implications for teaching, however. We are obliged to wear a mask when teaching unless there is at least two metres between us and the nearest student – in which case we can unmask. Two of the spaces in which I operate are large enough that I can – gratefully – go maskless. My other classroom is a pokey little hole in which I have to deliver an eighty minute class once a week. Fun it is not!

My Chair is very keen that we should also make provision for any students who cannot attend classes in person – either because they have had to quarantine or because they do not feel comfortable being in such public spaces. There are – of course – methods by which classes could be simultaneously streamed if required, but this demands additional equipment and configuration which the department – and College – have thus far proved slow to provide. I don’t mean to be awkward, but I certainly have no intention of teaching the classes twice – once for those who are present and again for those who are not.

Oh well! No doubt we will stumble through the term in our usual manner. The odds on the term ending in the same manner that it has begun must reasonably long, I would have thought.

Sporting life – 2

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CC0 Public Domain image from https://www.maxpixel.net/sportsIn the afterglow of Emma Raducanu’s thrillingly successful and unprecedented title campaign at the US Tennis Open last week I promised that I would take a quick canter through the various sporting events that took place throughout the summer, as it now winds down into the Fall.

In the normal run of things I would certainly have posted little vignettes on the events that interested us as they came and went – as a normal part of the rich tapestry of life – by way of illustrating that which keeps us oldies chugging along as opposed to just slumping into an armchair and gazing, dead-eyed, out of the window.

I am, therefore, slightly worried that we have gone through this brief season – watching coverage here and there, rejoicing when sports that we love have shown signs of recovering from the pandemic – only for very little of it to have moved us as it would normally have done.

Is this somehow down to the events themselves – or is it just us?

This was, of course, a belated Olympic and Paralympic year (confusingly maintaining the conceit that it was still 2020 in Tokyo rather than 2021). We enjoyed a fair amount of the coverage and the Brits and Canadians performed pretty much in line with expectation, but though the empty expanses of the spectator-free stadia did not prove quite the dampener that they might have there was still something about the event that prevented it from quite hitting the high notes. As a Brit I was also somewhat worried that in events in which we were but recently world-beaters (rowing and cycling come to mind) we seem to have fallen off the radar. True we won medals in some of the new events (skateboarding, BMX!) but I am not sure what to make of those.

For those of us who are Rugby enthusiasts and who hail from the UK, the quadrennial tours by the British and Irish Lions to the southern hemisphere are virtually on a level with the World Cup when it comes to representing the pinnacle of the sport. We were all thus agog with excitement this summer at the promise of the Lions twelve-yearly trip to South Africa.

You may have gathered from the overall tone of this post that the outcome was a disappointment – and not just because of the results. The tour – beset as it was by the now familiar COVID troubles – had a sadly sour note to it. This was very much not helped by the frankly bizarre behaviour of some of the South African backroom staff – including some who should very much have known better – but it also did not help that the rugby itself was fairly grim. World champions they may be but I for one do not care for the Springbok style of play and the fact that the Lions chose to try to fight fire with fire proved sadly to be the wrong approach on the part of the Lions manager – the otherwise estimable Warren Gatland.

There was one a brief passage in the third and deciding test when the contest suddenly sparked into life; when Scottish fly half Finn Russell finally made it onto the pitch. Sadly it was too little too late – though maybe lessons will be learned (again) for the future.

Having been given a drubbing in India during the winter the English mens’ cricket team faced a busy summer hosting the return series against the Indians as well as the Kiwis – who now hold the Test Championship title. In spite of Joe Root’s repeated heroics the inconsistent form of many of the squad and the lack of match readiness resulting from the introduction during the height of the summer season of an idiotic new short format of the game, resulted in a completely unpredictable sequence of results.

Some of those were down to the Indians, who suffered their own strange lapses without which the England results would have been even poorer. As it was the final test of the summer would have given the English an opportunity to come from behind to tie the series – had it not been postponed indefinitely at the last minute as a result of positive COVID tests in the Indian backroom team. This sad ending seemed about par for 2021.

There was also – I believe – some sort of footie tournament during the summer, but regular readers would not expect me to know anything about that – and nor I do!

 

Sporting life – 1

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The Girl and I watched the other day the extraordinary denouement of the US Open women’s tennis championship from Flushing Meadows, New York.

In the unlikely eventuality that any gentle reader might somehow have remained unaware of the details of this unprecedented match – here they are:

  • The final was between two teenagers – nineteen year old Canadian Leylah Fernandez and eighteen year old Brit Emma Raducanu.
  • Neither girl had been seeded and both had had remarkable and unexpected runs to the final.
  • The winner – Emma Raducanu – is the youngest Briton to win a Grand Slam title.
  • She is also the first British winner of the women’s US Open since Virginia Wade (who was in the crowd) won at Flushing Meadows back in 1968.
  • Ms Raducanu is the first woman or man ever to win a Grand Slam title having started as a qualifier.
  • She is the youngest Slam winner since Maria Sharapova in 2004 and the first woman to win without dropping a set since Serena Williams in 2014.
  • Both young ladies appeared to be supremely self-assured and nerveless throughout. Oh to be so at any age – let alone when still in one’s teens.

The Girl had, naturally, been rooting for Leylah Fernandez and the knowledge that Emma Raducanu was actually born in Toronto and moved with her parents to the UK when she was two years old didn’t really help much. For both Brits and Canadians, however, the current plethora of sporting talent on show from both nations is extremely pleasing and its like has not been seen since eons passed.

Hearty congratulations to both youngsters – but in particular to Ms Raducanu who, in addition to becoming US Open champion, earned herself two good passes in her A Levels a couple of months back (goodness knows how she found the time!). It think it is fair to say that neither of the girl’s lives will be the same again.

Writing about this event reminds me that I have not posted anything at all to this journal on the subject of sport for some considerable time – the which is all the more peculiar given that there has been a fair bit of it on offer this summer.

I feel that a brief catch-up and explanation is due and promise same for the very next posting (or one shortly thereafter should other ‘stuff’ intervene).

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