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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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“…to the show that never ends”

Emerson, Lake and Palmer

Though it did look for a while there as though the show might end after all…

Welcome back indeed to the Brentwood Bay summer season of Music in the Park. This year – for the first time since the COVID pandemic struck in 2020 – we have again been able to indulge ourselves with the weekly free concerts that have for such a long time been such a splendid feature of life on the Saanich peninsula. I have no doubt at all that similar stories can be told for other al fresco summer music seasons on the island – but the Brentwood Bay events are local to us and much beloved by all of the communities in these parts.

Now, you might – with good reason – cavil that there is little point in my writing about this splendid seasonal entertainment… when the concert series has just finished!

Good point – well made!

The thing is, of course, that we were out of the country for the first part of the season and sufficiently badly stricken with the hideous lurgy that we were unable to attend the first couple of events subsequent to our return. We did, however, get to enjoy the final two weeks of the program and I did not want to miss the opportunity to raise a cheer to mark the occasion.

We are particularly grateful for the return of this relatively safe form of entertainment. The Victoria Fringe – in a somewhat truncated and localised form – is also upon us, but frankly we are very unlikely to partake of any of the offerings. One weighs in the balance the risks of sitting in a small, crowded venue with others who may have contracted the virus against the desirability of the fare on offer. Frankly, nothing in this year’s festival moves us sufficiently that we are prepared to take that sort of risk.

The same is true of the local music scene (when not in the parks!). Local venues such as the Mary Winspear in Sidney have started booking acts again, but one really has to want to see something to overcome the reluctance to expose oneself to another dose…

I guess such things will improve slowly over time and, though we do somewhat resent the way that a huge chunk of experience has been denied us, we also acknowledge that these are our choices.

I guess that life was ever just such an ongoing battle of risk versus reward.

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“Where did I learn to understand sculpture? In the woods by looking at the trees, along roads by observing the formation of clouds, in the studio by studying the model, everywhere except in the schools.”

Auguste Rodin

The second splendid day out on our recent expedition to the heat-scorched shores of our former home was again courtesy of those with whom we were visiting – and an inspired choice it was. I did not know that such things as ‘sculpture gardens’ existed, nor that there was a splendid one in Churt- in Surrey. A most magical and bonkers-ly (is that a word…? it is now!) inspirational collection of all different shades of the sculptors art – displayed (and indeed for sale) in a beautiful and peaceful garden.

Best – frankly – if I just let the pictures tell the story:

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 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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‘Nuff said…!

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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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“Pain: An uninvited guest that comes into our lives that demands our fullest attention before it can even think about leaving us.”

Unknown

Bah!!!

Well – I guess it was inevitable…

When The Girl and I returned the other day from our travels abroad we brought with us an uninvited guest.

That’s right – we got COVID!… and that after all the worrying earlier in the year as to whether or not we should be traveling at all.

To be fair – the world is a very different place to that which it was a year ago. Back then we went to great lengths to keep ourselves healthy. Now, in many countries, the assumption is that – vaccinated or not – one will eventually succumb to the virus. Here in Canada we may still be wearing masks to go grocery shopping – and certainly if we go to the theatre or to a concert. For goodness sake – even our national carrier still insists on masks being worn at all times – which is certainly not the case with all airlines.

In the UK and in France the great majority of folk do not wear masks at all and many other precautions seem to be exercised in a desultory fashion if at all. I read a piece the other day by a Brit who had recently been infected, the which meant that he was no longer one of the 15% of the population that had not had the virus – and thus joining the 85% that have! The gist of his piece was that the majority of those recently infected belong to the group that had never had COVID, rather than being re-infections of those that have.

Now, The Girl and I are both inoculated to the eyeballs – four shots apiece (the which clearly did not stop us catching the wretched thing!) – and we are now isolating and relying on dearest friends to do our shopping for us. My symptoms are mercifully mild – little more than a scratchy throat and a predilection for sneezing. The Girl – as is sadly the way with such things – is having a tougher time, as a sinus infection seems to have taken advantage of her weakened state to set up shop alongside the spiky thing. Not fair! Not fair at all!!

The only bright side (and certainly not one that I will bring to The Girl’s attention just yet awhile) is that our four shots will shortly be joined by the additional immunity that comes with a having a dose of the blasted thing…

Hey ho!

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Regular visitors to these pages – and indeed those who are subscribed to this long-running assemblage of trivia – may have detected something of a stony silence around these parts of late. There has been – it cannot be denied – an absence of posts.

The explanation for this phenomenon is simple. For the first time in around two and a half years the Imperceptible Immigrant and The Girl are off and away… travelling!

On previous such jaunts I have endeavoured to keep the blog up to date as we went; the which was not always easy, particularly when it came to the editing and uploading of photographs.

This time I decided upon a different approach; I would collect images, impressions and experiences as we journeyed, but I would not upload or write anything until we returned.

Well – our sojourn is almost over. In a couple of days we head back to the west coast of Canada. Once there I will again commit to electronic media all manner of impressions of the places to which we have been and of the things that we have been doing.

See you there!

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Peter Brook
1925 – 2022
RIP

There is little that I could write about the towering figure of post-war British theatre that was Peter Brook that could not – and will not – be far better addressed elsewhere. His influence on the theatre was immense, even once he had retreated to Paris and was less frequently seen in the UK. Sadly I was too young to catch the productions at the Royal Shakespeare Company that cemented his reputation (the which famously included ground-breaking productions of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream‘ and ‘Marat/Sade‘) and I only saw the filmed version of ‘The Mahabharata‘.

Brook was – of course – not only a theatre practitioner, but also a teacher, a thinker and a writer on the subject of the noble arts. Theatre students today would do just as well to seek out his many books. A quick hunt around my shelves reveals copies of ‘The Shifting Point‘, ‘There are no Secrets‘, ‘The Tip of the Tongue‘ and – of course – ‘The Empty Space‘ – without which I would not be.

A sad loss to the theatre and to the world.

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“The cool thing about being famous is traveling. I have always wanted to travel across seas, like to Canada and stuff”.

Britney Spears

Last Friday was Canada Day.

I have mentioned this event several times in these meanderings since first I visited these shores. It is perhaps little surprise – given recent (and more distant) history – that the reaction to the celebrations has become considerably more equivocal over the years. As an outsider (and in particularly one with the background that is my inheritance) I hope that I can empathise appropriately with all (or most!) parties. There is much that is good here – and that should be celebrated. There is also much that is bad – and that needs to be repaired.

There are also fireworks – the which we get to see from our deck. Here be some pictures thereof:

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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