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Friends

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“No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other’s worth.”

Robert Southey

A little less than two weeks ago I wrote the following on the subject of how I felt about returning (for however brief a visit) to the land of my birth.

“A dear friend here in BC asked me the other day how I felt about going back to the country of my birth. I told him the truth: I am really not at all sure how I feel about it. I am certainly looking forward to seeing family, friends and acquaintances and it will be good to visit some of the old haunts again. Beyond that I currently feel somewhat ambivalent.”

Safe to say that I am now a whole bunch less ambivalent!

Since arriving in the UK just over a week ago I/we have been met with nothing but kindness, generosity, enthusiasm and love. It has been a real joy to revisit old friendships and acquaintances and to rekindle relationships that have been dormant for years or even decades. The whole trip has thus far been an incredibly positive experience.

That said it seems invidious to single out any particular one of these joyful (and I make no apology for the repeated use of that word) experiences – but I do have to make mention of the heart-warming gathering that took place on the first Sunday that I was back in the UK.

Shortly before leaving for Canada four years ago I passed a delightful afternoon in the company of some old musician friends of mine – none of whom I had seen for some considerable time – chewing the fat about the old days in which we had played in a band together and about the theatrical works with which we had been involved.

With this visit to the old country in the offing I once again contacted my guitarist friend and suggested that it would be good to repeat that experience. What he actually did – whilst keeping from me all but the broadest hints – was to arrange a full-scale re-union of all of the old band members and a good number of those who belonged to the youth theatre with which we then worked.

Any fears that I might have had about being able to recognise those whom I had not seen for forty years – some of whom were then only in their late teens – vanished just as soon as I walked in. I was far from alone in showing my delight at seeing again those with whom we had enjoyed such formative experiences all those years ago. The afternoon was quite, quite magical and none of us really wanted to leave at the end of it. The subsequent outpouring of gratitude on email by all concerned clearly illustrated just how much the re-union – and the adventures some four decades back that we were celebrating – had meant to us.

A lovely, lovely occasion – and one which I will never forget.

A heartfelt thank you to all concerned.

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…surprised me on my arrival back in the UK for the first time since leaving the country for British Columbia nearly four years ago…

The first was that on landing, coming through customs and leaving the airport I had the strangest sensation that I was entering a foreign country. I can’t quite put my finger on what it was that made it feel that way, but it undoubtedly did so.

Now – a day and a half later – the feeling has diminished somewhat but I still find myself experiencing the sensation of being a little disconnected from everything I see about me.

The second oddity is quite the opposite. I had been rather concerned that, having driven only in Canada for the past four years, I would find it difficult to deal with a right hand drive car on the ‘wrong’ side of the road. This would have been made worse by the fact that I had hired a manual (stick) vehicle as opposed to the automatics that I have been driving for the past four years. That I had immediately to set out on that bear-pit of a road – the M25 ( the London orbital motorway) did not help at all.

In the event – and for reasons I need not go into here – the vehicle was upgraded to a better model, one with a hybrid transmission (to all intents and purposes an automatic).

Further – and to my surprise – it felt as though I had never been away and driving on the left felt entirely natural. In the last couple of days I have driven into London twice but not yet felt out of my depth once. Fingers crossed (and wood touched) that this state of affairs continues.

The visit is already massively busy – but at the same time really rather lovely (with the sorry exception of badly missing The Girl!) and everyone is being most kind and massively generous.

My heartfelt gratitude to all…

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Photo by Andy Dawson Reid …more Canadian – or what?!

OK – now I know in reality that the mere acquisition of power tools is no signifier of national characteristics, but I think I can safely say that – had we remained in the UK instead of crossing an ocean and a continent to come to this delightful spot – I probably would not now be the proud part-owner of a gas (petrol) power washer.

I can further safely say that the thought of (part) owning such a thing would never have crossed my mind. Nor – in all probability – would I have known what to do with such a beast.

Out here on the wild west coast, however, there is apparently sufficient use for such a thing (for cleaning one’s deck – getting the crud off one’s patio and pavers – cleaning the stucco or sidings with which one’s house is most likely clad) that it is worth forming a partnership (in our case with a dear friend from Saanichton also in possession of deck, pavers, stucco etc) to jointly invest in same.

And of course, if one is going to do such a thing it makes no sense at all to go with a namby-pambly, wussy electric version (for pussies only!). No – the only real option is to go for the all-Canadian, hard as nails, tough as you like gas model – preferably with a Honda power unit (like the one here!). I have to say, it made short work of cleaning two year’s worth of gunk off our deck.

Though we and our dear friend will be taking turns at having fun with it, for the moment the machine is sitting in our shop alongside our gas mower, our gas weed-whacker (strimmer!) and our unfortunately girly electric leaf blower (ooops!).

Oh well – there’s always next year!

 

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Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/StevenGiacomelli-2218761/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=1263821">Steven Giacomelli</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=1263821">Pixabay</a>“The hardest thing to do is dig deep and be patient about the things you’re going to learn month to month and quarter to quarter.”

Christina Tosi

Holy Moley! A quarter of the year gone already! It seems no time at all since I was writing this post looking forward to all the things that we are aiming to get done in 2019. I thought I should take advantage of the fact that we have just slipped with relatively little fuss into April to review progress thus far.

So – how’s it going?

Well – The Girl went to Mexico (though that seems like an awfully long time ago now) and I am just entering into the last week of a fourteen week teaching term. I know that I only do two days a week (though I have also been doing a bit of project supervision work on the side) but it still feels to have been pretty full on. I guess that is in part because it has been winter, which always feels like harder work.

Planning for our Grand Tour of the UK and the Greek Islands in May and June proceeds apace. Having not been in Europe for four years – and having little likelihood of returning in the short term – we are naturally determined to see everyone and do everything. Fortunately all are being most kind and most accommodating but creating a workable schedule is – as Oldest Friend remarked – a bit like juggling cats! Still – we now have a seriously intense – and fun – looking itinerary and there is no question that we will have had our money’s worth by the time that we return.

This very weekend has seen The Girl finish the course about which I wrote in the above post. She has already been seeing clients for some months now – enough to prove to herself beyond all doubt that she has made the right choice of direction – and once we are back from beyond she will start ramping things up in a serious manner. She already has a splendid new logo for her business – courtesy of a very talented designer friend – and I will next need to step up to help create a website for her.

This venture is all very exciting for us both and I am as proud of and for her as can be – and also as pleased as Punch about this new direction!

Oh – and there is more to say… so another post will be in order in a day or so.

Can’t wait!

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidA couple of weekends ago we were fortunate enough to be invited by splendid friends of ours to dine with them at The Union Club in Victoria.

Those native to Victoria will – of course – know of The Union Club. It is – as their website describes it:

A landmark institution in the heart of downtown Victoria, with an imposing neo-Georgian design inspired by the classic clubs of London.”

The club’s position adjacent to The Empress hotel facing the Inner Harbour is a prime location and – as you can see from the photo galleries that grace the club’s website – the building and facilities do not let it down. Those who know The Girl and I will not be the slightest bit surprised that the whole ambience appeals to us enormously.

Much as I have cast envious glances in its direction many times, however, I have always felt somewhat guilty about my attraction to the place. The whole institution feels somehow redolent of privilege and entitlement, which sits rather uncomfortably with my left of centre inclinations. Friends and acquaintances will scoff at these sudden scruples, pointing out that I worked at several extremely ‘posh’ boys schools in the UK and lived in a Georgian Manor (part-of anyway).

I suppose that a component of this ambivalence comes down to the belief that to belong to such an organisation requires contacts in the right places and a fair bit of cash. Except that it doesn’t! Union Club membership is surprisingly good value, the restaurant is by no means expensive and staying in the club’s most pleasant rooms is considerably cheaper than doing so at The Empress next door. Membership of the club also rewards one with significant benefits such as attractive rates at affiliate clubs in other countries – such as the RAC in London, or Stoke Park in our old stamping ground in Buckinghamshire.

Not that I am thinking about applying for membership…

…well – maybe not anytime soon! Hmmm!

Still – it was a very good dinner and a splendid evening with our dear friends. After dinner they gave us a tour of the club and it’s facilities. We were heartily impressed…

…as you may have gathered.

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidOn Sunday evening – just as the storm winds from the weekend were beginning to slacken but also as the first of the serious snowstorms was starting to dump its icy load all over Victoria and the peninsula – I was on my way downtown to pick up the three members of a Halifax-based theatre company who had been performing the previous night as part of Intrepid Theatre’s OutStages festival. My task was to run them to the airport so that they could start their long journey (three hops) back to Halifax.

As we started back up the Pat Bay highway the snow really set in and the residual winds whipped it horizontally across the carriageway, reducing visibility quite dramatically. It was shortly after five o’clock and the temperature had dipped below zero. The compacted snow that had already fallen began to freeze into ice and – though snowploughs had clearly been up the highway at some point – there was no sign of them nor of gritting trucks at this juncture.

The airport is at the top of the peninsula, about five minutes drive from us but around twelve miles out of the City. The road climbs steadily from Downtown and there are long stretches with gentle but persistent inclines – both up and down – as one heads north.

It rapidly became clear that most of the vehicles on the highway (which was quite busy with people trying to get home) were not equipped with winter tyres. As a result there was much lateral sliding as they fought for grip on the slippery slopes. We began to see accidents as cars and other vehicles slid into one another or off the carriageway entirely. We could see places where the traffic coming south had stopped completely.

The Lexus – with permanent four-wheel drive and fitted with a practically new set of snow tyres – sailed serenely through, though dodging other uncontrollable vehicles proved a challenge.

Slowly but steadily we made our way to the airport. The grateful thespists were decanted at the departure lounge and I headed for home. We had been checking continually as we progressed that the flight was still scheduled to depart on-time, but when I got home I thought I would check once more. The news was bad. The flight had been cancelled – as had all others by this point. Furthermore the Pat Bay highway had also been closed shortly after our transit thereof.

Much telephoning ensued on the part of the Intrepid Production Manager, to try to find an hotel near the airport that could put up our performers for the night. I headed back to the terminal so that I could transport them wherever they heeded to go. Naturally everyone else with cancelled flights was doing exactly the same thing and no rooms were be found. Thus it was that I brought a weary troupe of thesps and their equipment back to our now snowbound house, where we entertained them, fed them and put them up for the night.

When we struggled from our cosy beds the next morning (Monday) to be faced by a veritable winter wonderland outside, the first order of the day was to hit the phones again. We heard a sniff of a flight leaving within the next hour and a half so we rushed to get ready, dug out the Lexus and headed once more to the airport. After much frazzled to-ing and fro-ing it was determined that no seats were to be had after all and that many other flights were once again being cancelled. This time Intrepid managed to find our new friends a room at an Inn in Sidney and having deposited them there I headed for home as it once again started to snow in earnest.

They were now scheduled to leave on the Tuesday mid-morning. At around nine o’clock I received an urgent text telling me that they were struggling to locate a taxi. Once more I set to work digging the Lexus out of the snow. Fortunately word was received of a suitable conveyance having been found and I didn’t need to venture forth again. We anxiously watched the flight status online and traded texts with our new theatre-buddies as other flights were again being cancelled, before breathing a sigh of relief as theirs finally took to the air.

We heard later that the storms had extended all across Canada, that their flight had been diverted to Fredericton and that they had been put into a taxi for a four hour drive through the night to get back to Halifax very early this morning (Wednesday). Blimey!

The real hero of this whole adventure was a Lexus called Lorelei. I am completely in awe of this incredible machine which – equipped with the right tyres – is simply unstoppable. It goes about its work with the minimum of fuss, simply floating over anything that gets in its way. A fabulous piece of design and engineering!

A grateful thanks – say I!

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“Old wood best to burn, old wine to drink, old friends to trust, and old authors to read.”

Athenaeus

This old friend was given to me by another old friend almost twenty years ago.

The shirt is from Venice Beach in California and features Kokopelli – of whom Wikipedia informs us:

Kokopelli is a fertility deity, usually depicted as a humpbacked flute player (often with feathers or antenna-like protrusions on his head), who has been venerated by some Native American cultures in the Southwestern United States. Like most fertility deities, Kokopelli presides over both childbirth and agriculture. He is also a trickster god and represents the spirit of music.”

You can probably see why he appeals to me.

This much-loved garment has been in my care for a long time – first as a frequently worn fashionable item – then as slobbing-around-the-house attire – subsequently (once we had acquired a yard) as a gardening shirt – and then finally as a painter’s protector (throughout our recent renovations) and general handyman’s outfit for use when maintaining the boat or replacing the brakes and bearings on her trailer.

As a result – and as you can see – this dear companion may well be nearing the end of the line. I am nervous about offering it even once more to the washing machine, for fear that it might disintegrate completely therein. Perhaps it has one more role to play in the garage rag basket!

Now twenty years is a pretty good run for a t-shirt and this one has been particularly loyal – which I appreciate. As a Scot I naturally expect my clothes (and indeed my other possessions) to last as long as possible, but even I can have no complaints in this case.

I believe that it would be most appropriate to end this post with a toast to friendship!

“There are good ships,
and there are wood ships,
The ships that sail the sea.
But the best ships, are friendships,
And may they always be.”

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Image from PXHere“There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.”

F. Scott Fitzgerald

When I put the boat in the water at the start of July I toyed with the notion of keeping her there for two months instead of one. It would have been nice to have been able to take her out at a moment’s notice throughout the whole of summer.

Wisely (as it turned out) I deferred making the decision regarding a second month until near the end of July. My concern was that August might turn out to be a sufficiently frantic month that getting away to sit contemplatively upon the waters could turn out to be merely a pipe-dream – and the good ship ‘Dignity’ might simply bob about, sadly neglected, in her slip in Portside Marina for a month.

My fears proved to have been well grounded – with August slowly building up a powerful head of steam as it unfolded.

The latter part of the month is these days (as previously reported) given over to the Victoria Fringe. The Girl and I will have seen half a dozen shows by the end of the festival (upon which I will report in a subsequent post) but in my Intrepid Theatre BoD ‘Fringe Ambassador’ role I will have ‘schmoozed the queues’ for a dozen shows, spent an evening selling 50/50 raffle tickets at the ‘Fringe Preview‘ night and given a Saturday afternoon over to manning the Cardboard Castle at the ‘Fringe Kids‘ event.

I also have another term contract for post-secondary IT Literacy teaching for the fall term. This term starts in the first week in September, so preparation – including a fair round of meetings, INSET sessions and lengthy email exchanges – has been underway for a while now.

Finally – we are helping a dear friend move into a new house – in addition to hosting (this coming weekend) a birthday BBQ for her, since she is not really in a position to do so herself at the moment. To do this is, of course, both a privilege and a pleasure, but it does entail trying to knock the garden back into some sort of shape at just the time of year that it has decided that it can now relax, kick back and chill a bit.

This being retired lark is a total picnic!

 

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After a considerable period during which the summer attempted in only a somewhat lacklustre fashion to get properly started… now, suddenly, here it is! Temperatures kicked up by six or seven degrees Celsius almost overnight and the sun is now truly hot.

Nice!

We entertained friends on Saturday evening last and it was the first occasion this year on which we were able comfortably to sit out late on our now year-old deck. Indeed, ’twas so balmy that we stayed out ’til midnight or thereabouts, clad only in t-shirts, shorts and summer dresses (as appropriate to our genders and inclinations!). A splendid evening was had by all even if we were too busy chewing the fat to venture onto the freshly mowed croquet lawn. Oh well – plenty more opportunities now that summer is truly here.

On the Sunday – and only a little worse for wear – I was on Intrepid Theatre board duty. As part of its outreach program the company mans a feature at a number of Victoria public events. On this occasion it was ‘Car Free Day’, for which one of the city’s main thoroughfares – Douglas Street – is closed to vehicular traffic and given over to all manner of stalls and amusements. Next month it will be ‘Pride’ and then in August ‘Fringe Kids’ as part of the Victoria Fringe Festival.

For these events the company creates a 65 sq metre ‘Cardboard Castle’ for youngsters to paint. Those eager to express themselves are given an oversized t-shirt to cover their own clothes, a small container of poster paint in a colour of their choice and a brush, before being set loose inside the castle to cover its walls in any manner that they choose.

They may, of course, return at any point to top up with further colours and some spend a considerable amount of time creating their own masterpieces… either that or just painting each other! Either seems to work and the attraction is hugely popular, not least with parents who can come to rest for a while knowing that their offspring are safely pre-occupied within.

Golly… we are nearly at the solstice already! Now, how did that happen?

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“It is not your paintings I like, it is your painting.”

Albert Camus

Ho, ho! Little painting related joke there… which is most apposite because much of our time at present is spent with paintbrush and roller in hand – or failing that with filler and sanding block.

The main floor of our lovely home comprises a living room, a dining room area, a kitchen, master and guest bedrooms, two bathrooms, a laundry, several hallways and four sizeable built-in closets… All of which must be painted before our renovation is complete.

As painters we are most fortunate that our dry-waller – who gave us splendid new non-popcorn ceilings – also painted them as he went. Further, our excellent contractor budgeted for his painter to handle the woodwork – baseboards (skirting) and trim. Indeed, he would have done the lot were it not that I felt guilty about our playing no role at all in the proceedings (other than in the financial sense).

So here we are – with several thousand square feet of wall to be prepped (filled, sanded and cleaned), primed as required and given two coats of decent quality eggshell (or pearl for the bathrooms).

In this enterprise we are even luckier to have a dear friend who not only operates a sideline in interior decorating but is quite the most ferociously perfectionist craftswoman I have encountered. When it comes to the laborious, time consuming and delicate operation of cutting in it is my view that she has no equal. Furthermore she seems actually to relish the challenge, leaving to the ‘oily rags’ like me the prosaic duty of wielding the roller – a low-order task if ever there be one!

Even luckier (for us!) she is gifting us her time and expertise – and extensively so – on a quid pro quo basis. There can be no doubt at all as to who is getting the better part of this particular deal.

We are truly blessed!

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