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Welcome back!

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I am delighted to be able to wish a warm “welcome back” to English Premiership Rugby!

Hoorah!

When the 2019/20 season was so abruptly terminated back in March in the face of the pandemic there were still nine rounds to be played and it was by no means certain that the program would ever be completed.

Now here we are – in the dog days of the summer – watching (where that is possible) rugger again and with the prospect of a great deal more of it to come. The 2019/20 season is to be wrapped up by the end of October – at which point the 2020/21 season will start immediately. The remaining fixtures in the abandoned 2020 Six Nations Championship are also to be shoehorned in and there is talk of some additional autumn internationals – which all adds up to a mouth-watering prospect.

The games are – of course – being played in empty stadia, which does take some getting used to. When one watches TV coverage of any of the matches one is immediately aware of the presence of an artificial ‘stadium noise’ soundtrack. This is actually quite cleverly done – incorporating as it does peaks and troughs that go someway towards emulating an authentically live ambience. What I don’t know is if this soundtrack is added only to the TV coverage, or if the players can hear it in the stadia.

Anyway – when we left them back in March my team – Bath Rugby – were hovering in the exact middle of the Premiership table. They made a good start in the first game back last week – beating London Irish comfortably at The Rec for a bonus point win – and this week they went one better, trouncing old rivals Leicester away at Welford Road. Granted that is not the challenge that once it was, but it is nonetheless still no mean feat. Let us hope that this momentum can be maintained.

It is very good to see live rugby again; a return to at least some semblance of normality.

WordPress update

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I thought it only fair that I should add quick addendum to my previous missive on the difficulties of turning out blog content using WordPress 5.5 (the latest update at the time of writing) – should one be wedded (as am I) to the ‘Classic’ editor rather than whatever it is that WordPress want us to adopt now.

My complaint (should you have missed that message) was that the ‘Classic’ editor (which WordPress is trying to phase out) ceased to work after the recent upgrade to WordPress 5.5.

After further research online I have ascertained that the problem actually lies elsewhere – probably with one or more third party plugins that get referenced by the editor.

OK – now this is going to get a tiny bit technical, but I promise to keep it as simple as possible.

These older plugins had continued to work across previous upgrades because the WordPress build itself used to include a library called Jquery.Migrate – the purpose of which was to provide a mechanism for out of date code to continue to operate even if using deprecated methods. WordPress have now removed that library – hence the pain.

Some good-hearted folk from the Open-Source community have kindly and generously provided a workaround in the shape of a new plugin – Jquery.Migrate.Helper. This gets tools such a the Classic Editor working again – albeit with a constant background cacophony of warning messages.

WordPress seems to be determined to be shot of the whole affair, however, which doesn’t bode well for future upgrades… regardless of the veritable howls of protest from around the community.

Now – what else does that remind you of?

WordPress woes

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I am not a happy bunny!

I consider myself to be a long-term user of WordPress – the platform on which this blog is constructed. I have used the software since establishing the blog in 2012, but have also built a number of websites on it and have cheerfully recommended the platform to others looking to establish any sort of web presence themselves.

I am – to put it mildly – a fan.

I am not – however – a fan of some of the things that they have done recently.

When one writes routinely and regularly – an activity which requires speed and accuracy – one demands that the tools that one uses do a good, efficient job without getting in the way of the creative process. Such folk – and particularly those who are growing a bit long in the tooth (such as I) – do not like their tools to change because that interrupts the process, disrupts the flow and requires an agonising re-learning period just at the point that one is trying to focus elsewhere – on that which is being created!

The editor that one uses (or used to use) in WordPress is fairly basic, but it is simple – not unlike using a word processor such as Word. It had its drawbacks but many of us loved it and knew intimately its various foibles.

In their wisdom WordPress decided to replace it. Many of us old farts immediately disliked the new tool – a very different beast called the Block Editor. WordPress claims that it is simple to use. Well – let me tell you – it ain’t! Now – I realise this is the equivalent of some teenager telling you that his new mobile device is ‘simple’ to use. That is because it is – to him! Not so the rest of us…

Fortunately – in this case WordPress relented slightly and allowed us old buggers to continue using the ‘Classic’ editor whilst the hip young things got on and did whatever the heck it was that they wanted to do. So that was OK – until the recent upgrade to WordPress 5.5. Now – though the Classic Editor is still visible and can still be opened – lots of bits of it don’t work anymore. It is for that reason that this post looks a mess – ‘cos I can’t access the tools that I am used to employing to format it properly. I can’t format the image – I can’t add tags – I can’t look at the page in raw text mode – I can’t tell how many words I have written…

In fact – I can’t at the moment tell what it is going to look like when published – so my apologies if it is simply unreadable!

Bah!

Not impressed!

 

Weighty matters

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There was an item missing from my recent list of COVID-19 pandemic losses and gains. That item was – counter-intuitively – both a loss and a gain… indeed, it was a gain because it was a loss!

Cryptic – huh?!

The fact is – since the beginning of March I have lost a healthy (see what I did there?) amount of weight – which is, naturally, a significant gain.

Now – I am aware that for some people the lock-downs enforced throughout the COVID world have had the opposite effect – and that the loss of gym sessions and other physical exercise has led to less than pleasant effects. My apologies to anyone to whom this applies (and indeed anyone else who takes offence!) should my gentle celebration come over as being in any way… smug!

Clearly I have been lucky. Now – I do habitually weigh a little less in the summer than I do when clad in my winter ‘overcoat’ and though my regular fitness sessions at our local leisure centre were abruptly curtailed in March I have continued to attend classes… first online via Zoom and more recently in the open air in the rather lovely park adjacent to the library in Sidney – but I don’t feel that these influences are great enough to have caused this difference.

No – something else is definitely going on. This is what I think has happened:

Being (mostly) retired and no longer tied to a single weekly grocery shop I have been in the habit of popping out on a day by day basis as and when we decide what to eat. Further – my two days a week at the college and my visits to fitness classes usually entailed the partaking of a coffee (or two) as part of the process. I have to admit that I had rather fallen into the habit of rewarding my endeavours with a little ‘treat’ of some variety.

Of course, under COVID one goes grocery shopping as little as possible – once a week or less – and without classes to attend (either as instructor or instructee) the notion of a reward becomes redundant.

There you have it. Cutting out the little treats helps Jack to lose some weight!

But does it make him a dull boy?

You win some…

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…you lose some!

My last posting celebrated our recent tenth anniversary dinner at the Deep Cove Chalet at the top end of the Saanich peninsula. Though obviously meaningful in its own right this event carried an extra significance in that it was our first meal out at a restaurant since the COVID-19 lock-down took effect in mid-March. We have somewhat lost the habit of dining out and it felt slightly surreal to be doing so again. We were glad in the circumstances that we got to dine outside on the terrace; we are still not sure how we feel about repeating the experience indoors.

In any case the evening started me thinking about all of those good things that have been lost to us all in this peculiar summer as a result of the pandemic. I am not in this instance referring to those who have tragically lost loved ones, friends or colleagues (or even of those who have themselves been ill) – our hearts go out to them all and those that we know are very much in our thoughts.

No – in this case I am thinking of the everyday things that have disappeared or been put on indefinite hold and have as such left a hole in our lives. In addition to dining out and gathering together with friends we very much miss going to the theatre and the loss of the live music scene is keenly felt; at this time of the year we would normally be enjoying the weekly music in the park series in nearby Brentwood Bay.

Travel is not so much missed – the thought of flying at the moment gives me the shivers – but the pleasures of planning the next trip are. I do, of course, also miss live sport. International cricket has recently resumed in the UK – played in empty grounds and with the players essentially quarantined for the duration of the series. Rugby has yet to restart and is sorely missed. We have still not yet seen the end of the Six Nations tournament that was so abruptly truncated in March.

As is my nature I also fell to wondering if any positives could be identified from this much disrupted period. I believe that there are. Not having to commute to work is a definite plus, as is being able to spend more time at home. We are fortunate in that we have not – as have some – gone stir-crazy as a result of a paucity of things to do. We have both been busy, busy, busy… (in my case this includes the writing of many new songs and the re-writing much of my course material for the autumn).

Some people’s gardens have had more attention than they have had for a good long while and one of my great joys has been just how much more time we have spent entertaining in our garden (in a suitably socially distanced manner, of course). In some years this wonderful garden does not seem to get enough use – what with one thing and another. This year has more than made up for any previous lack.

Of course, we have not yet arrived at the hardest part of the lock-down. At the start of it we were all in a state of some shock and just wanted to hunker down and stay out of trouble. By the time we started getting really restless again the summer was upon us and there we pleasant diversions – even if only just outside our doors. Now we are heading rapidly towards the autumn and the winter – with no relief currently in sight.

I fear that it is going to be a long, hard winter…

Copper bottoming

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Photo by Andy Dawson Reid“Are you aluminiuming them my man?” “No, I’m copper-bottoming ’em Mum.”

Tongue-twister

Well – I promised you another anniversary – and here it is…

As of last Friday The Girl and I have been married for ten years – a decade which has passed in a flash… or mayhap in a haze of happy hours and preposterously pleasant pursuits. In common with others who would normally have been celebrating significant anniversaries in this most unprecedented of years we have been unable to do that which would normally come naturally – the throwing a party (or at the very least a full-scale barbie!).

So – I hear you mutter through clenched teeth – just how did you celebrate then?

Easy… we went out – just the two of us – to indulge in a splendid dinner at The Deep Cove Chalet. They may not have been able to accommodate the Ginger Prince earlier in the year but they had no trouble fitting us in for our special occasion on their lovely waterfront garden terrace.

Now, neither of us have previously visited The Chalet – which is no surprise in my case given my status as a BC ‘noob’ but is more so in the case of The Girl, who has intimate knowledge of most of the eateries of Greater Victoria. I think it is safe to say, however, that this will not be our last visit.

The Deep Cove Chalet – in its gorgeous position overlooking Deep Cove at the northern end of the Saanich Inlet – dates back to 1913 but has been owned by Pierre Koffel since 1972. It is a classic French restaurant of the sort that would come as no surprise in northern Europe, but the which is considerably harder to find in the non-French speaking parts of Canada. They do what they do well and with panache. The service was attentive and well-judged and they clearly have a good understanding of special occasions and of how to enhance them.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidAs to the feast itself – we shared Atlantic scallops followed by a fabulous steak tartare, before each having our own helpings of a wonderful saddle of venison. This excellent repast was washed down (though that is hardly the appropriate term – let’s say ‘perfectly complemented’ instead) by an excellent red Burgundy from Morey-Sainte Denis.

As it happened I had popped over to The Chalet a couple of days previous to our booking, to check the availability of wines on their extensive list and to arrange for our chosen one to be treated with respect and opened appropriately ahead of our arrival. On asking Pierre for his recommendation I was invited to go down to the wine cellar to have a look for myself. Once down in that chamber of delights Pierre disappeared, with a wry – “If you have not come out in an hour we will send someone to look for you“.

I think that it must be clear that we were impressed all round and really most grateful for the excellent hospitality.

 

Copper-Bottoming? Well – the tenth anniversary is traditionally ‘aluminium’ (not aluminum!) and I’m sure that you know the tongue-twister…

Well – you do now!

Always going back

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“It’s said that you can never go home again, and it’s true enough, of course. But the opposite is also true. You must go back, and you always go back, and you can never stop going back, no matter how hard you try.”

Gregory David Roberts, ‘Shantaram’

We find ourselves in a brief period of anniversaries – the which are as ever cause for celebration… and in these difficult times any reason so to do is to be seized upon with gratitude.

The weekend before last saw the fifth anniversary of our arrival (or re-arrival in the case of The Girl) as residents in Canada. As I have noted in other recent posts, this milestone is significant for various reasons – not least because I can now apply for Canadian citizenship to add to my British variant. It seems somehow appropriate that The Girl and I should each be a citizen of both countries, as both have been particularly good to us.

On which note – the image that accompanies this post is apt and heart-felt. I am most grateful both to Canada and to Canadians for taking me in and helping me to feel at home here. I will never forget the kindnesses that we have been shown. Canadians are – by and large – a generous, modest and gentle people (traits shown up all the more by the manners of their nearest neighbours) and have thus earned my undying respect. Thank you one and all.

We will certainly be making the journey across the water again (when the current crisis has abated) and I will naturally always be drawn there – but Vancouver Island is now my home and I am delighted at that.

Next time – yet more anniversary news…!

 

Never simple

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“The truth is rarely pure and never simple”

Oscar Wilde

It need hardly be said that the truth is far from being the only thing that is ‘never simple’ and I could – at this point – be referring to any one of a great number of subjects. Those who pursue the many strands of this online delectus will not, however, be surprised at my current target.

As divulged within these meditations but a few posts back, I am currently engaged with the relevant authorities in the pursuit of an application for Canadian citizenship, as well as for the renewal of both my Canadian permanent residence card and my UK passport. Anything connected to citizenship or passports can be guaranteed to conceal a veritable minefield of obstacles, obfuscation, obstruction, obscurement and obduration.

The opening salvoes in this particular engagement were fired back at the start of July and things had reached the point – I surmised – that it was time to sit back and to wait for the inevitable interminable months to pass before anything further happened.

With regard to my UK passport renewal I had – as directed – completed and submitted the online application form and – somewhat nervously – entrusted my current passport to Canada Post (cue sharp intake of breath) in the expectation that it would wing its way back over the pond to Durham (in the UK) whence it had originally come.

Somewhat to my surprise I received, a couple of days ago, an email from the UK Passport Office advising me to do (again?) what I had already done. Naturally I had sent the precious document by recorded delivery, so I was able to check the tracking log. According to Canada Post’s records my passport had been delivered to Durham on July 9th – some two weeks ago. I figured that the best thing to do was to call the UK Passport Office to check that it had – in fact – arrived.

Easier said than done, of course!

Using Skype to make a trans-Atlantic call at a reasonable rate I suffered the expected multiple attempts at connection before finally a ‘ring tone’ was heard and I shortly thereafter found myself listening to the usual robotic instructions. After the familiar ritual of the system refusing to acknowledge that I had in fact pressed the numbers that I had, I reached – on the fourth or fifth attempt – an accommodation with the insensate automaton by which it agreed to connect me with my desired service if I were prepared first to listen to a whole bunch of badly recorded music punctuated by incessant and identical informational missives.

Eventually the call was picked up – not by a real live human (oh no!) but by another machine. This one had but a single purpose in mind. It demanded that I key-in a telephone number on which I could – at some unspecified point in the future – be called back. I could not – naturally – recall the correct recipe for calling Canada from the UK in the first instance, but eventually the machine seemed to be satisfied and abruptly disconnected me.

I thought that I had better check what was likely to happen next, so I approached the InterWebNet with a suitable query to determine what experiences others had had with this ‘service’. I rapidly discovered that my call-back might be anything up to about three days in coming. Given that there is an eight hour time difference between the west coast of Canada and the cathedral city of Durham it further seemed likely that the call would come sometime in the middle of the night – assuming that whoever made the call might not figure out that he – or she – was calling the far side of the world.

The Girl made it clear that this meant one or more nights on the sofa for me as she had no intention of being woken at some god-forsaken hour by a disinterested British bureaucrat.

I was sleeping the sleep of the just at five thirty the following morning when the phone duly rang.

“Good afternoon” – quoth a British voice (betraying the fact that – as suspected – my being a number of time-zones away from Blighty had escaped their notice) – “How can I help?“. The transition from being in deep REM sleep to having to explain why I was calling the far side of world went more successfully than might have been expected and the northern gentleman explained that – though my passport had undoubtedly reached them on July 9th, it would take a further ten to fourteen days for it to be entered into the ‘system’ – and until such time as it had done so the clock did not start ticking on the processing of my application.

There was a brief pause as we each mentally ticked off the two weeks that had already elapsed since my passport had reached Durham.

“I expect it will show up any day now” – he said, slightly unconvincingly. I mentioned that I lived on the west coast of Canada – more than anything to let him know why I felt so exposed as a result of not being in possession of a passport. “Ah!” – he exclaimed, unable to hide a note of triumph in his voice. “If you have sent your passport from abroad it takes three weeks for it to appear on the system!“.

Riiiiiiight!

Oh well – nothing to do but to wait – and to simply swat away any further spurious requests to send back my precious passport.

It’s a mystery!

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We are blessed this year with a veritable cornucopia of hummingbirds!

Never have I seen so many of the adorable little creatures in our yard. Never has the garden hummed so to the rhythm of their tiny beating wings. Never has the nectar level in my feeders declined at such a precipitate rate!

I’m not at all sure that I can afford to maintain the standard of living to which these perky little chaps have clearly become accustomed… The feeders need replenishing every other day. The sugar bills are horrendous!

Nonetheless…

This post is not actually concerned with the birds themselves. It is about the feeders – or one of them anyway. I bring them both in to clean and to refill at the same point, regardless of whether or not they are each quite empty. When I brought this one in there was still about an inch of nectar in the bottom of it.

There was also – a live wasp!

The mystery is – how on earth did it get in there? The only channels into the glass chamber that holds the nectar are those at the bottom through which the birds sup the fluid. These cannot be more than 1.5mm – 2mm across and are – presumably – full of the sweet sticky water of which the birds cannot get enough. I don’t see how the insect could have entered whilst I was filling the feeder – certainly not without being noticed – and I saw that it was there before I had opened the chamber today.

As I say – a total mystery!

The answer to the question – “What was a wasp doing in your hummingbird feeder?” – is, however, in this case quite literally – “The backstroke!“.

I’m here all week folks!

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