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Friends

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“Good morrow, Benedick. Why, what’s the matter? That you have such a February face so full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?”

William Shakespeare

Two years back – just before the world went crazy (though of course a very strong case could be made that it had already done so back in 2016) The Girl and I were sorting through our summer clothes and beachware, deciding what to take on our upcoming cheeky winter sojourn to Zihuatanejo in Mexico during the College’s Reading Week.

I mention this because running away to Mexico is a very Canadian thing – an essential mechanism by which they survive the worst of the winter. The Girl had been doing just that for years prior to moving to the UK and indeed owns part of a timeshare in Mexico.

Come the pandemic many Canadians have suddenly been deprived of their essential vitamin D booster. Not all, of course. A good number have resolutely ignored the risks and made the pilgrimage anyway. Us old folk (me, rather than The Girl of course) tend to me somewhat more circumspect and are eschewing the delights of the sunny south in the interests of longer term health.

Unfortunately that means we have to stay home and endure that most tricksy of months – February.

This is the month that offers us Valentine’s day and slowly lengthening evenings, whilst also tempting us with occasional balmy days and hints of spring – only to snatch them away again with renewed wintery blasts.

It helps not at all to have so little to which we can look forward. This year has been even tougher than usual in that The Girl needed to have a tooth pulled (as I write this she has just come out of the dental surgery and I am about to convey her home). Dentists here apparently prescribe a single dose of Atavin for such circumstances (not something I ever encountered in the UK) and the results are… interesting! Anyway – I am sure that gentle readers would join me in wishing The Girl a speedy recovery.

It is thus with considerable pleasure that we anticipate the brief visit to Victoria next week of old friends from the UK. There is something about receiving guests from over the water that is redolent of normality – though of course our interactions will doubtless be executed with full mind to the essential protocols.

Should the gentle reader be ‘tutting’ at this point about the irresponsibility of international tourism in such times, rest assured that the visit is actually for business – specifically that involving an interview for possible employment! That in itself raises the delicious possibility of our circle of friends here in BC being enlarged by acquaintances renewed – which can never be a bad thing.

No matter what transpires it will be good to see them.

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The third day of our sojourn in and around Vancouver was dedicated to seeing again the dear friend who lived with us for a period at the start of 2020 and is now based in North Vancouver. The limitations imposed by the response to the COVID-19 pandemic – and in particular the need to restrict oneself to strict social ‘bubbles’ – have meant that, though some of our dear friend’s furniture yet lives with us, we have not been able to see her since she moved out last summer.

Now that the restrictions have been eased we very much wanted to get together again – and we duly set off across the Lion’s Gate bridge in the directions of ‘North Van’.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThe form for the day was a drive up the southern half of the ‘Sea to Sky Highway’ to Squamish for a spot of lunch. I have not previously traveled this route (which starts off along the east coast of the Howe Sound and which leads ultimately to Whistler) and looked forward to enjoying its beauties. The nature of the day and the sheer weight of traffic meant that stopping to take photos along the road was not realistic, but should you be interested this website gives a good and detailed introduction to the route.

I did snatch a couple of shots in Squamish but lunch and catching up were a far higher priority.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidAfter lunch we visited Shannon Falls, which are but a stone’s throw from Squamish (should you be an Olympian and possessed of a very light stone). Shannon Falls is one of the highest in British Columbia – with a drop in excess of 800ft – and is classified as a horsetail fall, with multiple elements fanning out (like a horse’s tail) and with the water making frequent contact with the underlying rocks.

I have read subsequently that Shannon Falls – along with other similar types of waterfall – can be difficult to photograph convincingly – which explains (I hope!) why none of my shots really does it justice or truly captures the scale of it.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidThe standard of the photography aside – a jolly good day was had by all…

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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A very dear friend here in Victoria gave me for Christmas a copy of Bob Woodward’s 2020 book on Donald Trump – ‘Rage‘. This friend is building an excellent reputation for giving me thoughtful and imaginative gifts – particularly in the form of books that should be read – and this is no exception.

Now – some readers might well demur.

Trump is gone – thank heavens!” – they may say. “Why would you not just consign all thoughts thereof to the dustbin of history?“.

The reason for not so doing, of course, is that one must always be on guard and must without fail be able to recognise the enemy. That Trump was elected in the first place is scary enough. That he might be so again – or that someone in his image could so do – is an ongoing, clear and present threat.

At one point in the book Woodward recalls an English professor at his college who advised him that – to be an effective biographer – the writer must find true ‘reflectors‘ of his subject – ie: those who know the subject intimately and can provide perceptive character assessments. Woodward toys with the notion of casting Jared Kushner (Trump’s son in law) in the role, but decides that he is too much in thrall to the man himself.

What changes his mind is advice that Kushner gives to unspecified others on how to understand Trump. He points them in the direction of four texts:

  • A piece on Trump by Pulizter Prize-winning columnist from the Wall Street Journal – Peggy Noonan. Noonan writes:

We are not talking about being colorfully, craftily unpredictable, as political masters like FDR and Reagan sometimes were, but something more unfortunate – an unhinged or not fully-hinged quality that feels like a screwball tragedy.

Noonan continues: “Crazy doesn’t last. Crazy doesn’t go the distance. Crazy is an unstable element that, when let loose in a stable environment, explodes.

  • Kushner’s second text is ‘Alice in Wonderland‘ – and specifically the Cheshire Cat! Kushner paraphrased the cat:

If you don’t know where you are going, any path will get you there.

  • The third text is Chris Whipple’s book – ‘The Gatekeepers: How the White House Chiefs of Staff Define Every Presidency‘. In a section on Trump added in 2018 Whipple wrote that:

Trump ‘clearly had no idea how to govern’ in his first year in office, yet was reluctant to follow the advice of his first two chiefs of staff – Reince Priebus and John Kelly“.

  • The final text is Scott Adam’s (the creator of the Dilbert comic strips) book – ‘Win bigly: Persuasion in a World Where Facts Don’t Matter’. Adams argues that:

Trump’s misstatements of fact are not regrettable errors or ethical lapses, but part of a technique called ‘intentional wrongness persuasion’Trump ‘can invent any reality’ for most voters on most issues and ‘all you will remember is that he provided his reasons, he didn’t apologise and his opponents called him a liar like they always do’.”

Kushner adds:

Controversy elevates message… A controversy over the economy – and how good it is – only helps Trump because it reminds voters that the economy is good. A hair-splitting fact-checking debate in the media about whether the numbers were technically better decades ago or in the 1950s is irrelevant“.

Remember that these are texts that Kushner – a fervent acolyte of the then-president – volunteered by way of trying to help others to understand Trump. Woodward concludes:

When combined, Kushner’s four texts painted President Trump as crazy, aimless, stubborn and manipulative. I could hardly believe that anyone would recommend these as ways to understand their father-in-law, much less the president they believed in and served“.

We would be wise – to quote Thomas Cranmer – to: “Read, mark, learn and inwardly digest…

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The fourth quarter of the year starts as it always does – with the Kickass Canada Girl’s birthday. There have been times in the past when the celebrations have been really quite elaborate, involving a trip to some splendid resort or reservations at a fancy eatery (or on occasion – both!). We have many happy memories of these celebratory excursions; those to Bath and the Algarve perhaps standing out in particular.

There are other times – however – when something simple at home is the order of the day. In such pandemic-ridden times as these this latter was clearly called for. The Girl seems to have had a good time nonetheless, having seen loved ones and dear friends and having at least been wined and dined on my special homemade pizza accompanied by a rather stonking Chateauneuf du Pape.

Happy birthday to The Girl!

October also means that the first month of teaching is done. We have scampered through the opening laps – acclimatising ourselves to the pace – and we are now digging in for the long haul through to Christmas. There will doubtless be a point – as the climax of the race approaches – at which there will come a moment of truth, when we must needs push through the barrier, discover our true character and determine who the winners and runners up will be.

I think I have pushed that metaphor about as far as I reasonably can…

The nights are – naturally – drawing in (boo!) and the only remotely good thing about that is that, by the time that we are aware of it, we are more than halfway towards the shortest day. Now I know that the winter proper (as Canadians would have it) doesn’t kick in until January and February but – frankly – that is a problem for another time.

I can’t let this moment in time pass without making further reference to Bath Rugby.

Oh dear, oh dear!

Today saw the final round of matches in the Premiership, the which would determine the final four who would progress to the playoffs. Bath needed only to beat the grim Saracens to get through. Naturally, having led for much of the game they contrived to give up several scores as full-time approached – the fixture ending in a draw! This would have been enough to put Bath out, were it not for the fact that one of the other key fixtures – the Sale/Worcester clash – was postponed after Sale suffered sixteen positive COVID-19 tests! That match has been put back until Wednesday, but if further tests are also positive may not take place at all – which would mean that Bath sneak through to the finals instead.

So – three days (perhaps) on tenterhooks and then a hardly satisfactory outcome – whichever way it goes…

Oh dear!…

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Last weekend we saw again one of my favourite plays – the late Brian Friel’s “Faith Healer“. Though I have read it again in the interim I have not seen it since the splendid 1992 Royal Court production in London.

Faith Healer” is a three hander but written in an unusual form – comprising as it does four long monologues, starting and ending with those of the play’s protagonist – the ‘Fantastic Francis Hardy’ (as the poster for the faith healer’s one-night performances in small towns and villages throughout Wales, Scotland and – fatally – Ireland has it).

I am not usually a big fan of the monologue (a fact that I have broadcast within these musings on more than one occasion) and particularly of the way that it forms the core of the majority of one-person shows. It seems to me in most instances to lack the dramatic power of dialogue, reducing the performance to a one-dimensional perspective. Now – there most certainly are exceptions to this generalisation, but they have to be exceptional to be so as the form itself mitigates against it.

That Friel’s masterpiece does so triumphantly only starts to become apparent some minutes into the second monologue – delivered by the faith healer’s English mistress, Grace – or is it his wife – and is she actually English after all? Even those familiar with the concept of the unreliable narrator will find it difficult to keep their feet as the play lurches from one telling of the tale to the next (the faith healer’s manager Teddy completes the trio) and even the faith healer’s own second monologue contradicts his first in vital respects.

The audience is left to try to pick the elements of truth from this tangled web of narratives – a brilliant device that renders the play instantly multi-dimensional and restores to the form one of the elements it most commonly lacks – that of subtext!

In the aforementioned 1992 Royal Court production a good friend played the part of Teddy – the which he was to repeat in the 2016 London revival to five star reviews. We were sadly unable to see the latter production – having already moved to Canada.

This latest production was live-streamed from an empty Old Vic in London as part of that wonderful institution’s response to the COVID-19 pandemic – “Old Vic: In Camera”. The theatre sold the same number of tickets (at heavily discounted prices) for Zoom streaming as the house usually seats and for “Faith Healer” there were just four live shows – which were not recorded. For us this meant watching the excellent Michael Sheen, Indira Varma and David Threlfall at 11:30 in the morning (that being 7:30 in the evening UK time) and it really did feel a little like being present at a live theatrical performance. It was – at any rate – about as close as we are going to be able to get anytime soon.

Our grateful thanks to all concerned for a wonderful and thought-provoking experience.

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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…

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…of outrageous(ly good) fortune.

The Girl was recently the (delighted) recipient of a tax rebate!

OK – that is not the entire story…

Since we came to Canada we have done annually that which I (at least) had never done before; use a tax accountant to file our tax returns. In the UK I always (eventually) figured it out for myself and filed online. Here, it just seems all too much trouble to try to work out our (by now) quite complex arrangements, so – for a small(ish) fee…

The slight downside of this is that one never quite knows how things are going to turn out, since the tax accountants are always looking for new and better ways to earn their dollars. This year – for example – The Girl was due a rebate and I had an outstanding tax bill to pay… except that – by the time our accountant was done – I received a hefty rebate and the Kickass One an even larger tax bill. Apparently this was the result of a tax juggling act that saved us a few hundred dollars overall (for which – many thanks!).

Naturally I passed my rebate cheque straight over to The Girl (along with the balance owing) so that she could send it right back to Revenue Canada again. Being a gentleman I also gave her an amount equal to the rebate that she would have had, had our accountant kept things simple.

Anyway…

The Girl likes to cycle. The only problem is that, because we live on the bosky slopes above Bazan Bay and because the topography of the peninsula at this point is just so, it doesn’t matter which way she heads off on her bicycle, she always has to ride up a fairly steep hill on the way home (somewhat in the manner of an Escher drawing!). Naturally this somewhat diminishes the pleasure that she gets from taking the bike out in the first place.

She determined – therefore – that she would investigate putting her rebate towards the purchase of a (nowadays very trendy) electric bicycle. Now – these come in two flavours… the fully-fledged designed-from-the-ground-up electric bike (a pretty heavy beast but with lots of power!) or the traditional bike modified by the addition of battery and motor/dynamo. The latter devices are lighter and less expensive but also less powerful, providing assistance to the pedaling rather than rendering it superfluous.

The Girl had pretty much decided on one of the lighter machines but was still at the sucking-her-breath-in-between-her-teeth stage over the multiple-thousands of dollars that would be involved, when she went for a walk with an old work colleague. At the very point of parting she mentioned in passing her bicycling intentions, only for her friend to announce that her mother had just such a machine that she was in the process of trying to sell.

Well – long story short – The Girl tried the machine – fell in love with it – struck a good deal and carried it away home…

…all of which might very easily not have happened at all!

Lucky! Lucky! Lucky! (again)…

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidHaving bid a fond farewell to my brother at the end of my second week (and The Girl’s first week) in the UK at around this time last year – and having at the same time reluctantly extracted ourselves from the slightly strange but delightful decadence of a mostly empty Oatland’s Park Hotel (for such it was, though I did not name it at the time), we set out on a short road trip to impose ourselves on the hospitality of lovely friends in Essex (Colchester), Kent (Sevenoaks) and Berkshire (Maidenhead).

A lesson that we learned from our trip as a whole – but from this segment in particular – was that though it was absolutely lovely to see again such a great number of those from whom we had been separated for at least the length of time that we had been resident in Canada… paying fleeting visits to them was never going to be enough.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

However generously and warmly we were received, entertained and generally spoiled rotten it was impossible not to feel that we had cheated these good folk out of the joys of our extended company. I say this not from any excess of ego on my (our!) part, but merely echoing the sentiments that they themselves repeatedly expressed (as well, of course, as our own feelings) at the point at which we had, reluctantly, to tear ourselves away and to move on to our next port of call.

I hope that my postings – then and now – have expressed adequately just how grateful we are for the amazing hospitality that we were shown by all concerned. Thank you.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

 

I looked back over the photos that I took on this part of the trip. I make a point – as any regular readers of these jottings will no doubt have noticed – of not uploading to the blog any pictures that identifiably include the people of whom I write (including myself, for which the gentle reader will be most grateful!). I do so as a point of principle; the matter concerning privacy. I extend my caution also to names and to other such detail. Not all bloggers adhere to such strictures. I do!

Sometimes however – as in this instance – I am as a result left a little short of interesting material with which to embellish my postings. In the case of our mini-tour I took photos of some of the lovely people with whom we stayed that must remain – and will remain – private.

Fortunately I, at least, get to look back at them…

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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If the first week of our epic jaunt to the UK and to Europe this time last year was all about me revisiting people and places that I had not seen for a goodly period – more than three decades in some cases – then the second week was about two things: visits with family and an opportunity for The Girl to catch up with those with whom she worked and played during her time in the UK.

Once we had enacted a joyful reunion at Heathrow airport (full details withheld to protect those of delicate sensibilities) The Girl and I boarded our hire car and navigated our way around the M25 to the town in which I grew up and where my brother still lives. It had been our intention to stay with him for the following week but as a result of the unforeseen circumstances detailed in this gripping blog episode we found ourselves rattling around a mostly empty grand hotel just down the road.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidNow – as it turned out this worked out particularly well for a number of reasons and we owed a great deal to my brother both in terms of smart thinking and also of massive generosity on his part (for he footed the bill!). Kudos!

Not only was the hotel a very good base for our excursions into Berkshire, Buckinghamshire and other nearby haunts where The Girl (and I in appropriate cases) was reunited with some of those with whom she had worked and some with whom she had become good friends (to the great joy of all concerned) but staying in a place with a bar and lounge that was open to service all day meant that those who had not been able to attend other gatherings could call by and one or other (or both) of us could spend a happy hour or so catching up with all of the news and gossip from the previous half decade or more. I was delighted to make connections anew with others from my musical and theatrical past and – as was the case with all of those whom we met throughout our stay – I was overwhelmed by the expressions of joy and love with which we were bathed.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidWith regard to family it was good to see my sister and brother again – though in both cases we have in the interim been fortunate enough to have had visits from them in Canada. My brother and his Lady in particular went out of their way to entertain us and to ensure that our visit was a success. There was dining and quaffing – a boat trip to Hampton Court – a visit to the Victoria & Albert Museum (with lunch in the Members’ Room!) and much more. In short – they treated us royally and we were most grateful.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidWe were quite sorry to leave our grand hotel but the third part of our expedition was to take us on a road trip around some parts of southern England to stay with other old and dear friends. More on that next time!

Before I go – the image below is of my alma mater’s boathouse, the which is on the bank of the river Thames opposite Hampton Court Palace. It is named the R. C. Sherriff Boathouse after one of the School’s famous alumni. The playwright had been a great sportsman, had rowed for the School and subsequently raised funds for rowing both at the School and for the nearby Kingston Rowing Club. On his death in 1975 his house – Rosebriars – was sold and the monies from the sale put into a trust to help support the arts in the district. The youth theatre with which I was associated benefited from these funds during the 90’s, which enabled us to commission a writer to create a new play for the group.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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Up island

Whenever we head up island to Duncan or Nanaimo – to visit friends and/or family – I take with me a camera of some variety with a mind to capturing all manner of fascinating images. As our modus operandi is normally to catch the Mill Bay ferry (thus avoiding the drive over the Malahat) we head first for a favourite spot of mine – Brentwood Bay. The result is that I usually end up with some nice photos of Brentwood Bay itself… and then nothing further!

Here are some of this last weekend’s pictures of Brentwood Bay – (double click for the full effect!)…

Photo 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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