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Subsequent to my posting of last week regarding my application for Canadian Permanent Residence, it is good to see that we are now properly in the system. As reported, the Kickass Canada Girl’s part in the proceedings is done – at least for now. The Citizenship and Immigration Canada Application Status tool shows the following details for me:

application status Good to see that my medical results have also been received – by virtue of their having been extracted from the online system. This means that the CIC will be aware that my medical certificate dates from the end of April this year – and that the clock is thus running!

I will keep my eye on the status pages and report further progress as it occurs.

How exciting!

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThis happy breed of men, this little world
This precious stone set in the silver sea
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house
Against the envy of less happier lands

William Shakespeare – Richard II

Finding myself in want of some new t-shirts (yes – I am of the breed of unreconstructed hippie that still prefers to dress in sandals, jeans and a comfortable top well into my seventh decade!) but not caring much for the choice of overpriced designer-labelled or eyeball-scorchingly be-slogan-ed apparel on offer on the high street – I turned as ever to the InterWebNet to discover what might be available out in the wild – so to speak.

I was looking for something with a nautical flavour – such being to my taste – and by good fortune it seems that the seafaring style is very much “in” at the moment – whatever that might signify.

What it did presage – of course – was the need yet again to skirt the worst excesses of the ‘designer’ end of the rag trade – but this time online. Fortunately – however – I soon found myself delighting in the pelagic pages of one of my favourite small-scale outfitters – Quba & Co – who are based out of Salcombe in Devon. If you haven’t come across them before I do encourage you to take a moment to examine their wares – commencing mayhap with the ‘Company History‘ page on their website, which explicates their ethos rather well and should give you a good insight as to why they appeal to me.

This post does not – however – concern male fashion, though the seed for it did emanate from the pleasures that I clearly obtain from all things related to the sea. Although I have spent a certain amount of my time over the years ‘messing about in boats’ (nowhere near enough time of course!) I have never actually owned one. This will – I firmly intend – be rectified when we move to BC. To my very great pleasure the Kickass Canada Girl has indicated that she will willingly join me on a Power Squadron course once we arrive in Victoria preparatory to us taking to the waves together.

Now – I am aware that a great many of those who live on Vancouver Island are themselves boat-owners and also that these craft are predominantly used for the purposes of fishing. I never have been an angler and nor do I have much interest therein – although I did gain some valuable insight into the pursuit courtesy of the Girl’s cousin who introduced me to the practice of throwing out a couple of lines and then sitting back with a beer… not that I am suggesting for a moment that this is customary amongst British Columbian fisher-folk.

There are, of course, many reasons why – over the centuries – the Brits have been drawn to the west coast of Canada, and in particular to the islands. Much of this surely stems from the fact that both races – as island folk – share a common love for the sea and alike feel the draw of the ocean. I have doubtless quoted John Masefield before in these posts but make no apology for repeating these lines from ‘Sea Fever’:

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking,
 
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
 
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

 

Incidentally – the oft-quoted phrase that I appropriated for the title of this post is not without interest itself, in that its exact origins are not at all clear. My thoughts ran first to Shakespeare – and in particular to the celebrated John of Gaunt speech from Richard II that is quoted at the top of this missive. When that presumption proved erroneous I resorted once more to the InterWebNet.

Other than a (doubtless worthy and fascinating) tome documenting 135 years of the history of British bicycle racing the most numerous references I could find were to Winston Churchill. The extract from his ‘History of the English Speaking Peoples’ is actually titled ‘The Island Race’, and though Churchill is widely attibuted as having ‘frequently’ used the phrase in the form prepended by the pronoun rather than the definite article I could find no categorical reference thereto. It seems that the usage has simply evolved because it is actually too good not to have done so.

Bully for that, I say…

 

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sponsorIt occurred to me – a couple of weeks back – that it had been a number of months since I had last been in contact with Oldest Friend and his good lady. I should perhaps – I mused to the Kickass Canada Girl – drop them an email.

“Give him a call” – the Girl directed.

As a long term proponent of world peace I acceded to this ultimatum, quickly dialling Oldest Friend’s mobile number. Following a brief hiatus he answered – somewhat testily, I thought.

“Not a good time?” – I enquired.

“We are in Australia” – he grouched. “It’s three in the morning!”

I forwent quizzing him as to why his mobile phone was switched on if he was trying to get some sleep and promised to contact him again in short order. I briefed the Girl.

“I had a hunch they might be down under!” – she said brightly. I bit my tongue.

She was right to be unsurprised. Oldest Friend’s son lives in Australia with his lovely wife and they have only recently taken delivery of their firstborn.

A couple of weeks on and Oldest Friend called to say that they were back in the country. We arranged to meet  them last Wednesday evening at the same Surrey pub at which we had discussed retirement with them a couple of years back. It was good to see them again.

In some ways they are in a similar position to us. Having inherited the family home on the death of his mother some 18 months ago Oldest Friend is battling to sell the property with a view to relocating elsewhere – although unlike us they have not yet decided where that should be. Like us much is yet up in the air for them and we compared notes concerning the dread feeling of powerlessness by which we all seem currently to be enveloped. We bemoaned as one the fact that nothing seemed to be moving forward on any front. Knowing that one is not alone in one’s travails is surprisingly comforting.

But then – on the very next day – something did happen and there was after all a reason to crack open the Harry Champers in celebration. Yesterday was our fourth wedding anniversary – the which had already put us into a good humour. This mood was further enhanced by the receipt from Citizenship and Immigration Canada of a couple of weighty emails. CIC had not – to this point – even acknowledged our presence on the planet, so it was with great excitement that we learned that not only had my application for Permanent Residence been received by them, but that the Girl has already been approved as my sponsor! The whole shooting match is now on its way back across the pond for the second part of the process to begin in London.

Hoo – bloomin’ – ray!!

Now that does feel like progress…

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The Fuji x10 understandably gets more use in the summer months than at other times of the year and I try to ensure that it is always to hand whenever I am out and about.

I find myself looking out for interesting shapes and textures, or for the interplay of light and shade on different surfaces. Here are some snaps taken both in and out of town.

Hammersmith Bridge makes a constantly fascinating subject, even on an overcast day:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid…as do the ‘Canadians’ that live nearby:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidWhilst at the opposite end of the spectrum lies this rural idyll – observed on the occasion of a most pleasant Sunday lunch with good friends whom we have not seen for a while:

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

 

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThis tickled my fancy!

Discovered on the wall of a building in Hammersmith – West London.

 

I hope there is no ‘barrier’ to my entry into Canada!

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Image by chrishoefliger on PixabayMy previous post turned out to be a somewhat generic disquisition on the nature and uses of the ubiquitous shipping container. This one really should contain (see what I did there?) rather more in the way of specifics.

If moving one’s existence to another continent can ever be considered straightforward, then the engagement of an international removals company to bring a container to the door (along with a team of experts to pack it) prior to waving goodbye to it for however many weeks it takes to circumnavigate the globe for delivery to the new door – is probably about as simple as it gets.

For the Kickass Canada Girl and I – you will be unsurprised to hear – things are likely to be rather more complex.

Whilst waiting for the new owner of our splendid Buckinghamshire apartment to put in an appearance (to be followed shortly by a mutually agreeable offer and a grateful exchange of contracts) we have been occupying our energies with the consideration of a variety of alternate scenarios by which means our migration might yet be effected.

The simplest of these entails attracting a purchaser in short order and selling the apartment before the end of the year. We would then look to acquire a property in Saanich as quickly as possible before retiring and emigrating at a point of our choosing between January next and the summer of 2015.

Should Plan A not work out as intended we now have a full set of plans bearing alternate majuscules. These variously involve one or both of us retiring in advance of our being able to move to Canada – either staying where we are in Berkshire or moving back to our erstwhile apartment in Buckinghamshire. Some of these options are affordable; some – frankly – are not.

Were we to pursue any of the options that involved moving back to Buckinghamshire the business of shipping would inevitably become considerably more complex. To be able to present the apartment in its best possible light – ‘staging’ as I believe it is known – we would needs place some of our possessions in storage until we were ready to move to BC. The optimal way so to do would probably involve the acquisition of a container – the which would be part-filled and stored it until the time came to emigrate. This option would have the additional benefit of providing some flexibility at the Canadian end should we not have a house lined up ready for us when we got there.

This course of action would require either the purchase a container or the location of one that could be hired for an extended period at a reasonable cost. We would further need to find somewhere to store said container and contents securely once acquired. Again – the best solution would probably be to find a company that could deal with all aspects of the operation.

There is an abundance of information on the InterWebNet regarding such matters. I have found the MoveHub website to be particularly helpful – their site containing a useful shipping guide. Matters are not helped at this stage – however – by the uncertainly as to which course of action we may eventually follow. To gain a reasonably accurate quote for shipping it seems that we would need to get a company involved to a level that we would prefer to avoid at this stage – not least because we cannot at the moment give chapter and verse as to our requirements.

As with so much of this project just now it seems we must wait and see…

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Image from de.wikipedia.orgDeciding that I should direct my thoughts to more positive substance than has perhaps been the case over the past few weeks I have begun again to contemplate the complexities of moving our existence to a different continent.

When the Kickass Canada Girl arrived on these shores a little more than a decade ago she did so accompanied by nothing more than a couple of suitcases and thirteen cardboard boxes containing her personal effects. When she returns to BC, with the Immigrant in tow, at some point in the next year she will undoubtedly be closely (hopefully!) followed by a shipping container of some as yet indeterminate size. I rather hope that she will consider this to be a good result for all her endeavours here!

The shipping container – or Intermodal Freight Container as it is perhaps more properly known – is a wonderful thing. Based on designs that evolved during the 1960s and were codified in ISO standards at the turn of that decade, the intention was – of course – to provide a consistent and reliable means of transporting goods throughout the world without the need to unload and reload cargoes.

Constructed from corrugated weathering steel (developed to eliminate the need for painting and forming a stable rust-like patina after extended exposure to weather) the standard container is 8ft high by 8ft wide and comes in nominal 20ft or 40 ft lengths. They are designed to be stacked up to 7 containers high and the corners consist of castings with openings for twistlock fasteners by which means they can be fixed together. The containers are – when new and appropriately certified – both wind and water-tight.

There are – it is thought – now something in excess of 17 million shipping containers in the world!

It is a testament both to the enduring efficacy of a classic design and to human inventiveness that the humble shipping container – designed but with a single purpose in mind – has proved to be a fantastically flexible and useful resource. Aside from the obvious uses – for the actual shipment or storage of goods – I have personally seen containers used for the following:

  • as a cricket club sitesafe – for the storage of mowers, rollers and other groundwork equipment.
  • as an office. Our dear friends in Saanichton have converted a 40ft container into the site office at their smallholding.
  • as a ‘green screen’. Pinewood Studios constructs enormous exterior ‘green screens’ using walls of shipping containers.

Indeed – shipping container architecture has evolved into quite a field in its own right – as can be seen from this Wikipedia article.

I had not – needless to say – actually intended to post here a general piece on the admirable container, thinking rather that I would go into some detail regarding the complexities of using such to facilitate our emigration.

A second post is clearly called for…

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Some studies of the north bank of the Thames in West London – basking in the July sun. I thought these were quite… funky!

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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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidI have – as I did at this time last year – taken a week off work to recuperate from the rigours of the academic year which has just recently run its course.

Thus far – apart from running a few errands – I have done little of note… some barely consequential musical doodling and a pleasant walk when the gaps in the showery weather permitted. This is not a problem – however – the aim not being to achieve much beyond catching up on some sleep and getting myself back into my normal positive frame of mind.

I’m still working on that!

On one of my walks I took some snaps, none of which I particularly cared for with the exception of that appended here – an old tractor put out to pasture in the corner of a bosky meadow.

No need – I think – to dwell too heavily on the symbolism therein.

Work has – of late – been particularly bloody for us both. In my case there are things going on at the School that I do not much care for. I am all too aware that my disgruntlement is in no small part because I now long to be gone over the hills and far away – and that were it not so I would probably embrace the changes in a considerably more positive manner. It is nearly two years now since I first wrote on this blog – “I’m done“… Well – I am even more done now!

This is the waiting game – the hiatus in our onward march of progress – the lacuna in our strategic thinking.

My request for Canadian PR has been submitted – now we wait…

Our Buckinghamshire apartment hangs on the property market like a ripe fruit, waiting to be plucked – and now we wait…

Our pension projections – courtesy of the Kickass Canada Girl’s financial advisor cousin – glitter temptingly just out of reach – and we wait…

The girl and I both feel that we have achieved in our careers all that we wish or need to do. Nothing left to prove.

And now we await…

…the starting gun…

…the breaking of the storm…

…the moon on a stick!

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admittance-98620_640I have been fortunate enough – for the past several years now – to have been the recipient of a kind invitation to spend a day as a guest at the Henley Royal Regatta.

The Stewards Enclosure at Henley is the most extensive of the spectator areas along the course and also encompasses the finishing line – which naturally makes it the most desirable spot on the river bank. The enclosure is – unsurprisingly – open only to members and to their guests. Such membership is primarily available to those who have at some point in their lives actually competed at the regatta – which encompasses a surprisingly large number of former boatmen (and occasional women). Fortunately my host – an old boy of the School – is one such.

The Stewards Enclosure enforces a strict dress code which – you may be surprised to learn – troubles me not at all. It also – however – apparently adheres to other codes concerning which I am less acquiescent.

My progress was arrested at the entrance to the enclosure by the now ubiquitous security operative. He invited  me to don my blazer, which garment – since the day was already agreeably temperate – I was carrying over my arm. I agreed so to do as I moved to enter – reluctant to hold up the queue. He stopped me…

Before you go in…” – he instructed.

I raised an eyebrow but – being English – acceded politely. I had – however – by this point clearly irritated the man. I was carrying – amongst other items – the reporter bag concerning which I have posted previously. He scented an opportunity.

“What’s in the bag?”

I offered him a guided tour. He took a cursory look.

“Sorry” (he obviously wasn’t!) – “You can’t bring that in”.

I enquired as to why not. His eyes lit triumphantly.

“It’s the policy!”

To this there was no profitable answer. He pointing out the Left Luggage tent adjacent to the entrance. I sighed. Smirking a not inconsiderably unpleasantly smirk he applied the coup de grace…

“Of course – if you were a woman – I would have let you take it in”.

Now – I sense it likely that some readers of the gentler sex – and I include Canadian girls amongst this number – might consider this rank discrimination to be merely a much overdue rebalancing of the books when it comes to the treatment of the sexes.

Fair point!

Needless to say – I was far from amused!

 

 

 

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