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Flotsam and Jetsam

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Jeff Beck
1944 – 2023
RIP

Marco Rosanova (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jeff_Beck_(56341210).jpeg), „Jeff Beck (56341210)“, https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/legalcodeVery sad to hear of the passing of yet another rock legend – the great Jeff Beck. Along with Eric Clapton and Jimmy Page, Jeff was one of those towering figures who defined what was possible on the electric guitar back in the late 60s/70s/80s and beyond. If it feels as though he has somehow always been there then that is because – for my generation – he always was. Even if at times he was not directly in the spotlight (the music business being the fickle creature that it is) he continued recording, playing and touring until the summer of last year.

Many obituaries and retrospectives have appeared in a broad cross-section of the media and I commend such to any gentle readers unfamiliar with the great man’s oeuvre.

Rest in Peace

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…this year – for which my humble apologies:

…to friends, acquaintances and gentle readers…

…from the Kickass Canada Girl and the Imperceptible Immigrant…

we wish you a safe and peaceful Christmas and a Happy Hogmany!

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

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“If you want to change the world, start off by making your bed”

William H. McRaven

When The Girl and I started living together – many moons ago now (and long before this online journal was even a glint in the eye) – one of the first things that she suggested as a means of improving our life together was that we should purchase a new bed. Her reasoning was that – since sleep is such an important restorative for both the body and the mind and given that we spend a considerable percentage of our lives between the sheets (perchance in the land of slumber!) – we should ensure that we had nothing but the finest of tools with which to work. This – naturally – appealed to me as being an admirable ethic, so out we set to purchase a bed.

We were fortunate enough to find a really good deal (end of line for this particular model!) on a splendid hand-made Vispring bed, the which we have enjoyed over the years since – dragging said item halfway around the world with us to our new Canadian home.

Now, the bed has a thirty year warranty and would doubtless go on serving us well for some time to come – were it not for a couple of factors that we had not previously foreseen.

The first is that even really good mattresses do decline over the decades. Our mattress was split between a firm side (mine) and a soft side (The Girl’s). Her side had become less supportive over the years and was eventually not doing enough to keep her comfortable and ache-free throughout the night.

I made reference to the other matter in a couple of posts earlier this year. It involved something of a sleep issue that I was experiencing and – if you really must know the details – I recommend those musings to you in preference to re-hashing things here now. Anyway – one of the outcomes of that episode was that The Girl and I decided that it would be a good idea to purchase a bigger bed.

Something I did not know before moving to the land of ‘Big‘ (but which in retrospect should have been obvious) is that bed sizes here are very different here to those back in the Old Country. Our Vispring bed was a UK King size. Here the same sized bed is but a Queen! Standard King-sized beds here are a whole ten inches wider than was ours!

Long story short… we are now the proud owners of a rather lovely wooden Canadian King-sized bed, complete with a splendid multi-layer latex mattress (the which is a first for us both).

The down-side of up-sizing one’s bed is – of course – that one’s duvets and bedding no longer fit and must at some point be replaced. In the short term we are managing with a couple of UK King-sized duvets, but the question is – how to deploy them. Does one go for the (apparently) European approach of having an overlap in the middle of the bed (which looks rather odd and tends to leave far too much duvet hanging over the sides of the bed)? We may well adopt this approach when we get around to purchasing new duvets, but utilizing a couple of twin-sized duvets rather than the UK Kings.

In the meantime we have opted temporarily to sleep Burrito-style – the which is somewhat restricting when it comes to contact but is oddly effective in all other ways.

Oh well! First-world problems, of course!

 

 

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In complete contrast to the experience described in my last post – “Every exit“…

Regular ingesters of these random(ish) gobbets will no doubt feel completely familiar by now with Barney Bentall’s Cariboo Express – that charitable roadshow of assorted musicians and other performers that makes a three night pitstop at the Mary Winspear Centre in Sidney each November – raising much needed cash for the Sidney Lions Food Bank. We have been in Canada for over seven years now… we have traveled on the Cariboo Express at least six times since we arrived… I have written posts about it at least five times!

I was not intending to pen another post this year, in the wake of our annual pilgrimage a couple of weeks back. I thought that I had pretty much covered the subject in previous years and the last thing I would want to do is to bore you – the gentle reader…

However…

…each time we surrender ourselves to the oncoming Express – regardless of how tired we may be or how weighed down we are with the burden of the world’s (and our own) problems upon our shoulders – a couple of hours spent in the company of this exuberant assemblage of musicians of all ages… and we find ourselves once again rejuvenated by the spirit of bonhomie and love.

In short – the music and dancing weaves its magic spell and we are once again recharged with a joyous zest for life and all that is good about it.

Those who know me well would never have expected me to be so taken with this particular genre of music (sort of country-ish) and yet I take great delight each year in attending the show and having my faith in live music emphatically restored.

It helps, of course, that the Cariboo Express crew so clearly love doing the whole tour themselves. The ensemble seems to grow larger each year. This time round the cavalcade winding its way around BC comprised some nineteen performers who – at various points – assembled together on the Charlie White Theatre stage.

Good thing it is a particularly wide stage!

To Barney and to the whole crew – thank you again for this year’s fabulous show. See you next year!

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We do on stage things that are supposed to happen off. Which is a kind of integrity, if you look on every exit as being an entrance somewhere else.”

Tom Stoppard, ‘Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead’

This weekend just passed The Girl and I finally got to see a play again at The Belfry here in Victoria (for the previous failed attempts – see here).

Actually – that should more accurately be: ‘Half a play’!…

Oh dear!

In all of my (and latterly, our) many years of theatre going I can count the number of performances out of which I have walked on the fingers of one hand… and still have had spares! It is not something that I like to do and nor is it something that I feel comfortable about doing. As a thespist myself I think it is jolly bad form to give up on any creative performance at the interval (it is no co-incidence that a fair amount of theatre for and by young people has no interval – thus reducing the opportunity for audience members so to do).

I have very occasionally ducked out of a school production – usually because the whole thing has been a huge error of judgement on somebody’s part and well beyond the capabilities of those involved. I have equally occasionally removed myself from adult (and professional) productions when the piece itself has turned out to be deeply disappointing – though this has happened but extremely rarely.

In this case we found ourselves at a loss to know what to make of the play – which is an even more rare occurrence. I would feel guilty that we had not prepared ourselves adequately in advance to know what we might expect, except that our frantic visits to the InterWebNet at the interval did not really turn up any rationale for boycotting the piece.

I am not going to name the play – or the author (though he is Canadian). It is not a new play; having been around for several decades. Previous reviews from elsewhere in the world seemed reasonable. The work is billed as a Black Comedy, though it seemed to us to lack a basic requirement of a comedy – namely the delivery of laughter. The first act seemed to me to essentially consist of the same ‘humourous’ twist repeated over and over.

We found it impossible to empathise with, or to believe in, either of the characters presented to us, or indeed with their situation. Even once we realised that the second act must contain some sort of plot/character twist that would somehow justify the inertia of the first act – we did not feel that the piece (or the characters involved in it) had done anywhere near enough to have earned our continued engagement.

We thus absented ourselves for the second half, went across the road for a coffee and struck up a fascinating conversation with someone whom we had not previously met…

Much more entertaining!

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Doddie Weir
1970 – 2022
RIP


Very sad to report that the much loved Scottish and British and Irish Lions lock forward, Doddie Weir, passed away at the end of last week at the age of 52. Doddie was a fixture in the Scottish squad at around the time that Rugby turned professional in the 1990s and was a fan-favourite with the Murrayfield crowd. He turned out sixty one times for his country, played for the Barbarians six times and went on the 1997 British and Irish Lions tour to South Africa.

Weir is known just as much, however, for the time after his retirement from the game. It was announced in 2017 that he had been diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease (MND), with the prediction that he would be unable to walk within a year. Instead of sitting back to await the inevitable Weir threw himself into campaigning and fundraising to help find a cure for MND, setting up the “My Name’5 Doddie” foundation which had, by June 2022, raised in excess of £8 million.

The “My Name’5 Doddie” foundation website obituary includes the following:

“Since making his condition known, Doddie has championed the campaign for more to be done for sufferers of the disease, both in terms of finding a possible cure, and with the treatment and welfare of patients and their carers.

Doddie’s work over the past five years saw him recognised with several honours and accolades, including an OBE, presented by Queen Elizabeth II for his services to rugby, MND research and the Borders community. He also collected Honorary Doctorates from both Glasgow Caledonian and Abertay Universities, as well as becoming a recipient of the prestigious Edinburgh Award. Within sport, a trophy named after him is now contested between Scotland and Wales, and he became recipient of the Helen Rollason Award at the BBC Sports Personality of the Year ceremony in 2019.

He also became a best-selling and nominated author, oversaw the design of his own distinctive tartan, and was captured on canvas by artist Gerard Burns, the painting now hung in the National Portrait Gallery in Edinburgh.”

A giant of a man in every sense and a Rugby legend, Doddie Weir will be sadly missed.

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…surely some mistake! How could such a thing be possible?

It has been sometime since I last mentioned the noble game of Rugby Union within these scribblings. ‘Too long!‘ – I hear you cry – and you are absolutely correct; a great deal has been going on in the sport and I am remiss not to have made mention of at least some of it.

The Girl and I have been greatly enjoying the Women’s Rugby World Cup – the which is about to arrive at its climax down in the Land of the Long White Cloud. The standard has been exhilaratingly high and the matches have for the most part been gratifyingly exciting. It also helps that the time difference means that live coverage (thanks TSN!) has been primarily in the evenings here in the Pacific Northwest. Jolly good show.

We found ourselves in something of a quandary with regard to our support last weekend when England went up against Canada in the first of the semi-finals. The winner would face either France or the hosts – the Black Ferns – in next weekend’s final and all four sides were in with a very good shout. Canada put up a terrific performance against the Old Country and pushed them to the last – losing only narrowly… though – it has to be said – not as narrowly as New Zealand, who won at the last gasp by a single point.

The mouth-watering final thus pits the Red Roses (currently ranked no: 1 in the world and on an unprecedented winning run of 30 victories) against the Black Ferns (current World Champions).

We can’t wait!

Where the rugby surfeit comes in is that the Men’s Autumn Internationals are now also under way. Since they are not being shown on the BBC this year (boo!) we have had to subscribe to DAZN to see any coverage. Having paid up we are determined to get value for money – and the schedule last weekend made that possible.

Having watched the Women’s World Cup semi finals on Friday evening – through to 1:30am PST – I was back in action for the second half of the Scotland/Fiji game (Scotland took a somewhat unconvincing win) which started at 6:15am on the Saturday. This was followed by Wales/All Blacks at 8:15 (back to school for Wales) – Ireland/South Africa (yet another famous win for the Irish) at 10:30 and France/Australia (the French – but again by a single point) at 1:00pm.

That’s a lot of rugby in 24 hours!

I didn’t have the energy to watch the England/Argentina game on Sunday (again at 6:15am!) and it sounds as though the England side felt much the same way.

I should also mention the English Premiership. Sad to see both Worcester and Wasps forced into administration and relegated this season. I feel sure that both will be back where they belong, though there are clearly financial questions to be answered across the whole of the Premiership. Rugby Union only relatively recently joined the ranks of professional sports and there is still much to be done to make things work reliably.

On the other hand, Bath Rugby (our team!) having been terrible last season (finishing bottom!) have now won a couple of games on the trot. I do so hope that this is the start of a major turnaround.

 

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…no – not actually!

So – a couple (or more) of posts back I mentioned that we had finally plucked up the courage to return to the theatre here in Victoria for the first time since the start of the pandemic. On the very day of The Girl’s birthday we had tickets booked once again for a matinee at The Belfry.

I further mentioned in that post that we had had a phone call from the theatre – on the morning of the performance – informing us regretfully that as a result of an unspecified illness (not Covid – or so they said) that day’s performance would be cancelled.

After a little too-ing and fro-ing we managed to get our tickets rebooked for the following weekend and on the anointed day duly trundled our way into town to see the show.

We eschewed the refreshments in the foyer cafe – eager to keep our masks firmly on – and took our seats for the performance. A short while after the stated start time the Front of House manager appeared to make an announcement. There would be a short delay – she declared – because of a technical issue. We were welcome to retreat back to the foyer for ten to fifteen minutes whilst things were sorted out.

Ten to fifteen minutes later we were back in our seats and hoping to see the house lights go down.

Instead we were again treated to the presence of the Front of House manager. This time she admitted that there was yet again an unspecified illness (again – not Covid related, supposedly) and the show would not be able to go ahead. Ticket refunds through the box office etc, etc…

Well! This was – frankly – bizarre. I have never before – in all my years of theatre-going – been bumped out of a theatre after the advertised curtain-up time. It would have been nice to have received a proper explanation.

Sadly, we really wanted to see that show but were unable to get tickets for any of the subsequent performances since they were all already sold out.

Hmmm!

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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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