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2015

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Image from Pixabay“What bothered me about this terrible recognition was the way in which the evidence of past things lies before us, trailing clouds of meaning… and we miss it!”

Hugh Hood – ‘A New Athens’

In my last posting – with reference to the start of my final term at the School – my train of thought terminated with a perhaps slightly unexpected reference to the circle of life. It was not the first time that this notion has featured in this eclectic assemblage of jottings.

I find myself – as life progresses – increasingly aware of its oblique nature. The events of the past make appearance alongside that which is present and – indeed –  that which is yet to come. Should an analog assist at this point you might try imagining that you are standing on the face of a huge clock at – say – seven o’clock. You can look back across the clock face to three o’clock – and indeed look ahead to ten o’clock, but when all is said and done time will still appear to sweep by in a continual circuit – a sort of temporal Mexican wave – with midnight marking both the end of the old and the start of a new cycle.

To what – I hear you ask – might this metaphysical mood be attributed?

On Friday last I attended the funeral and wake of a widely loved and sadly prematurely deceased member of the School’s support staff. The turnout was of such proportion that the diminutive chapel at the cemetery was almost literally bursting at the seams, the magnitude of which congregation might at least have offered some small consolation to the grieving relatives.

Such occasions do of themselves have a tendency to promulgate the philosophic. A little more than a year ago – in March 2014 – I posted this piece on the occasion of a not dissimilar event that had contemporaneously marked the the passing of one life and the arrival of another. The Kickass Canada Girl and I had attended the memorial service for a very old friend, the day before hosting a gathering at which was present a very dear but considerably younger friend, whose four month old baby boy inevitably and utterly stole the limelight.

At last Friday’s gathering the self-same friend (whose connection to the School was the source of our friendship) was once again present – this time bearing another very recent and as yet unmet addition to the family – a three week old daughter. On both occasions it was impossible not to be moved to the quiet contemplation of higher matters.

It would seem that – in these days – even our reminders of the cyclical nature of existence are now arriving periodically…

Perhaps the ultimate cybernetic system!

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Image from PixabaySummer term at the School started yesterday…

It need hardly be repeated that – for one member of staff at least – this term will be unlike any other. It is not merely my last term at the School – but my last term anywhere!

Retirement is a big deal. Retirement and emigration in one fell swoop is an even bigger one. There will, doubtless, be plenty of opportunity on future occasion to dwell at length on the emotion and intellectual chaos that will almost inevitably be the outcome of pursuing such a rash, if delightful, course – and you just know that I will avail myself of that opportunity. It is not – however – my topic for today.

Having spent my entire career in education – both higher and secondary – I am in consequence well used to that particularly perennial rhythm familiar to those whose years are divided into academic terms.

Since the age of five my annual round has comprised three concentratedly intense and well defined trimesters separated by welcome periods of recovery. When at school myself – and when later at college – such hard-earned breaks actually were holidays, rather than simply the much-needed respite from the demands of academics that has been a feature of my working life since. It will surprise the gentle reader not at all to discover that – at the School – such exeats are – in the splendidly anachronistic tradition of public school terminology – designated ‘Remedy’!

I am grown so accustomed to this familiar rhythm that I fear that life post-retirement without such a framework might take some getting used to. The ebb and flow of the academic year is – for those who choose such a life – part of the attraction.

Academic terms are simultaneously tense, exhausting and strangely exciting. So much happens in such a brief period that the senses can be quite overwhelmed. It is very much the norm for all staff in schools such as this to become heavily involved in a wide range of extra-curricular activities, and those who complain that teachers have a cushy number, blessed with long and undeserved holidays, should remember that a house master at a boarding school – for example – is pretty much on duty for eleven or twelve weeks on the trot, twenty four hours a day and with the bare minimum of time off throughout that period. Staff not in house might have things slightly easier, but will still probably find there to be little opportunity during term time for a life outside the school.

This is not – you should understand – a complaint. As I have indicated, this life and its associated rhythms really are most attractive, for its variety as much as for anything. By the end of the summer term I may not much care if I never see another boy as long as I live but, after a measured, low-key, methodical and rejuvenating summer break from their presence, the place is only too ready for their return.

The Kickass Canada Girl is wont to extoll the virtues of Costa Rica – the climate of which blessed country supposedly varies nary a jot from a steady 72F throughout the year. This is – so she claims – her perfect temperature! That is as maybe but – as I will argue whenever the topic is raised – I much prefer that we actually enjoy seasons. How can one truly appreciate the glories of the summer if one has not had to endure at least some winter? Spring and early summer are my very favourite times of year because I love to see nature reborn after the vicissitudes of the autumn and winter. The seasons’ cycle does – after all – reflect the circle of life.

I clearly have a preference for a perennial routine. The varied Victorian climate looks pretty ideal to me, and I have no doubt that we will rapidly fall into a regular rhythm – rugby and trips to warmer climes in winter – cricket, boating and the great outdoors in summer – the familiar round of pagan festivals…

I am – all too clearly – a creature of habit!

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zero“Generally speaking, we get the joke. We know that the free market is nonsense. We know that the whole point is to game the system, to beat the market or at least find someone who will pay you a lot of money, ’cause they’re convinced that there is a free lunch.”

Ron Bloom

We all know this to be a truism – that there is no free lunch and that always, always, the little guy ends up paying – and through the nose at that!

Except – perhaps – when it comes to that totally wonderful organisation – Freecycle!

You may be familiar with their mission statement:

“Welcome! The Freecycle Network™ is made up of 5,238 groups with 8,743,027 members around the world. It’s a grassroots and entirely nonprofit movement of people who are giving (and getting) stuff for free in their own towns. It’s all about reuse and keeping good stuff out of landfills. Each local group is moderated by local volunteers (them’s good people). Membership is free. To sign up, find your community by entering it into the search box above or by clicking on ‘Browse Groups’ above the search box. Have fun!”

Not for the first time we find ourselves massively grateful that such an organisation exists. We have in just a few days found a good home for my treasured piano, for a surplus double bed and for some old bookcases that had been in use in the garage (‘shop’ to our Canadian friends) to house the usual tool-shed detritus.

If one were to ask for advice in this day and age regarding the disposal of an old upright piano the received wisdom would be that “you couldn’t give it away”. Except that it turns out that you can! Selling a piano may indeed be a near impossibility (given that most of us do not have the space for such a beast even should we actually want a real one rather than an electronic substitute) but Freecycle has enabled us to locate a good home for the instrument with someone who will appreciate it and use it but who couldn’t possibly have justified the cost of purchasing one.

Likewise the bed – really nothing special though in good condition – went to someone who was so grateful to have it that it hurt… and the bookcases – which I was all for taking to the dump (as we call landfills here in the UK) – have found a home with someone who ‘distresses’ furniture. Not that they will need to do too much in this case!

Each of these items came into our possession in a different way. They have all served us well and owe us nothing. We are delighted that we can now freely pass them on to others for whom they will have their own uses and meanings.

How satisfying is that?

 

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As we approach my favourite compass of the year here in the UK it is time to blow the cobwebs from the trusty Fuji X10 and to see if I can dredge from the recesses of my memory just how to go about capturing images with it. The dreary UK winter – with its dull and barren light – offers little in the way of an incentive to get out and about looking for those conjunctions of form and colour that just cry out to be recorded for posterity. Some practice is clearly called for.

Herewith some trial shots of nature awakening from its winter slumbers:

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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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidAt around about this time last year the Kickass Canada Girl and I were eagerly anticipating our then imminent excursion to Barcelona on which we accompanied the A level Theatre Studies students from the School. As I wrote in a post at the time, Easter last year fell about as late as is possible and our jaunt to Catalonia was over and done before the feast itself was celebrated.

Whereas the festal day this year is not quite as early as that of 2013 it is still a little on the precipitate side. As a result the weather – until today at any rate – has been anything but spring-like – erring in fact on the side of the distinctly chilly and leaden. Normal Easter bank holiday activities – dropping the top on the convertible, sitting outside some pleasantly rural hostelry nursing a glass of cool Sauvignon Blanc and otherwise generally celebrating of the vernal season – have thus had to be put on hold.

As it happens this is no bad thing as there is much to be done.

The bulk of the holiday weekend was thus spent sorting through cupboards, bookcases, storage shelves and the loft above the garage, doing what Canadians – and doubtless plenty of others (though clearly not Apple who auto-correct the phrase to ‘bucking’) – describe as ‘hucking out’ all those goods and chattels that will not be making the trip to the Pacific North West with us. Normally a brutal operation, on this occasion the task was facilitated considerably by its being the fourth such episode within the last decade. When the Girl and I moved in together in 2005 we had of necessity to find space for our combined possessions. Then, when we first put the Buckinghamshire apartment on the market in 2011, we had a clear out as part of the staging process. Further, when we came to Berkshire later that same year we carried out yet another purge to ease the move.

Now the process must be repeated – this time with an immovable deadline!

All the surveys carried out by our shortlisted international movers agree on one thing – we have approximately 10% more ‘stuff’ than will fit in a 20 foot container. As we are determined that this will be our limit some things clearly have to go. The double bed from our spare room – an inexpensive item purchased primarily for the staging exercise – was an obvious selection. My piano – a rather beautiful Edwardian upright that I inherited from my father – is considerably tougher to part with. The balance is tipped by the knowledge that the trans-Atlantic crossing might in any case prove rather too much for its increasingly fragile fabric. The challenge now is to find a good home for it before we depart.

All else is really just nipping and tucking to bring down the volume – but there is no harm in that in any case.

 

I am perhaps actually being a little unfair with regard to the holiday break as a whole. The Girl is in the midst of a two week exeat from work – taken in part to use up leave that she would otherwise lose. In addition I took the Thursday before and the Tuesday after Easter off so that we might share a six day recess during which sojourn we could once again rehearse being retired together.

I am very happy to report that it has all gone extremely well…

…as has the opportunity to catch up last Friday with some dear friends whom we have not seen since last autumn. Our most grateful thanks to them for entertaining us so splendidly!

 

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"Alex Pickering van"  - Photo by Harry Shipler - Wikimedia Commons In a previous post – ‘Movers and Shakers‘ – I described our search for an international removals company who could assist us – for a healthy fee, it must be said – with our relocation in July to Victoria, BC.

As that post made clear the process involves a fair amount of research even before the first call is placed, if one is to avoid the fate of those poor souls who bewail their lot on the expat InterWebNet fora as a result of having been ripped off, treated negligently or finding themselves the victims of some insensate act of god… without adequate insurance!

We felt confident that we would be treated well by our chosen quartet of companies – Abels, Bournes, GB Liners and Renmar – and that indeed proved to be that case. None of them flinched under the Kickass Canada Girl’s steely gaze and each responded to her carefully weighted interrogation with an appropriate degree of confidence. They clearly all know what they are about.

Fundamentally all four companies offer a very similar service. They take similar routes, use similar storage facilities, take much the same time and trouble with packing, offer much the same insurance and have almost identical terms and conditions. They all have a decent track record and belong to one or other of the well established trade associations.

What did come as a bit of a surprise – therefore – was that they quoted a wide spread of prices, from around £6,500 (including the quoted insurance) to getting on for £11,500. Each of the companies was quizzed further in an attempt to identify some discrepancy in their offering that had not hitherto been apparent – but there did not appear to us to be any substantive difference that would account for the price gap.

In the end the field was narrowed down to two very similar offerings that were only a few hundred pounds apart. Our ultimate choice was based to an extent on membership of the British Association or Removers (BAR) – the which operates a very useful guarantee scheme in the unlikely event of the carrier folding at the critical moment.

Our chosen international removal company is Bournes International Moves.

The expat fora on the Interwebnet offer much advice on the subject of insurance – largely to the effect that one should eschew that offered by the carrier (at a healthy premium) in favour of a keener deal from a specialist third-party. Opinion seemed to be divided – however – as to whether or not this course of action would make one’s life harder should a claim become necessary. As we (or at least this half of us!) are now officially old farts we decided to take the course of least resistance and to accept what was actually not an outrageous mark-up from our chosen tranter.

Fingers, arms, legs, toes, eyes, etc, etc – firmly crossed that it will not be needed…

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Image from PixabayIn a previous posting – released into the wild in the earliest days of this unruly month and somewhat cheekily entitled “Much ado” – I offered the determined reader a ‘shopping list’ of things that must be done to progress our emigration, now that we have handed in our notices to our respective (and understandably heartbroken) employers.

It ran thus:

In the immediate future we must:

  • set in motion our remaining pension plans
  • ensure that everything required for the smooth transition of our tax arrangements has been done
  • check that the necessary finances are in place
  • book our one-way flights to BC
  • arrange surveys and obtain quotes from a number of international moving companies
  • push through the refurbishments necessary at our Buckinghamshire apartment
  • agree a notice period with our tenant

The gentle reader is doubtless eager to know how things are progressing. Herewith my end-of-month report:

  • My remaining pension provider (the School) has been alerted to the upcoming transition and I await the necessary paperwork.
  • Much research has been done on the means to effect the necessary tax changes. I have a feeling that some professional advice may yet be required if all is to progress seamlessly.
  • As far as is possible at this point the required finances have been marshaled into the appropriate positions.
  • Our one-way flights to Victoria have been booked – taking full advantage of the Air miles accrued during the Kickass Canada Girl’s sojourn in beautiful British Columbia in 2012.
  • We have been surveyed to the utmost degree by our panel of international movers and have on this very day confirmed a booking with our chosen tranter.
  • We have effected the necessary repairs and redecorations at our Buckinghamshire apartment.
  • Our tenant has agreed to vacate the apartment at the very start of May.

Thus far – so good… I will naturally report further on the next steps to be taken as they become apparent.

Full steam ahead!

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rugbyThe weekend just gone saw the final three fixtures in the 2015 Six Nations Championship. I have made reference previously to this northern hemisphere rugby tournament, and I feel sure that you already know that England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, France and Italy compete annually for this keenly contested trophy.

The format of the tournament is a straight league with no bonus points – with each nation playing every other in a single fixture, alternating home and away from one year to the next. The winner is the team with the most points at the end of the five rounds. Should there be a tie in this regard the outcome is decided on points difference (scores for/scores against).

The start of this year’s final round found three teams – England, Ireland and Wales – on the same number of points. By chance each of these teams was to play a different opponent – Wales/Italy, Ireland/Scotland and England/France – and in each match the side in contention was the favourite to win. Points difference was clearly likely to determine the eventual winner.

By further and the most pure of chances the matches were to be played one after the other (in Rome, Edinburgh and at Twickenham respectively) in the order of the points difference at the start of the matches. Thus for Wales – up first – to be able to challenge for the trophy they would needs outscore Italy by at least 26 points. At half time Wales were trailing by a single point at 13-14 but – clearly mindful of what was required – they then proceeded to run riot, the final score being a massive 61-20 to the Welsh.

Ireland – up next against Scotland – were thus required to win by at least 21 points to set England a challenge. They duly hammered the hapless Scots by 40 points to 10, setting England the target of beating the French – by far the most dangerous of the day’s underdogs – by an unlikely 26 points.

As the sun set over Twickenham and in front of a capacity crowd of more than 80,000 the English came out of the blocks like a train. Within the first four minutes they were a try to the good. Unfortunately, by the ten minute mark they were two tries to one down! The tone was thus set for the remainder of the match. In what is normally a relatively tight fixture the sides went at each other as though possessed. No sooner had one scored than the other would strike back.

England, eventually and inexorably, drew slowly ahead of their old rivals and as the match entered its last breathless minute they were within six points of the target. The final attack – a rolling maul in which practically the whole squad took part – saw the English poised above the French line only for the referee to blow-up for a penalty to the visitors. Even at this late stage the French, instead of kicking the ball out of the park, tried to run it out from behind their own lines. Older and wiser counsel finally prevailed.

The final whistle left both sides exhausted, those of us watching emotionally drained and with fingernails gnawed down to the quick, and England the eventual winners of a tremendous match by a scarcely believable 55 points to 35!

Still not enough – though – to win the title…

Congratulations to the Irish on their splendid campaign. Hearty felicitations also to all those involved for taking part in one of the most extraordinary days of rugby that has ever been seen. Three matches – twenty seven tries – two hundred and twenty one points on the day!

Magnificent! Thrilling! Glorious!

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Glory be!

Inf. an exclamation expressing surprise or shock. (A bit old-fashioned.)

Idioms – The Free Dictionary

Since paying the Right of Permanent Residency Fee (RPRF) shortly before the end of last year I have – with almost religious fervour – been logging on daily to the CIC’s Electronic Client Application Status (ECAS) portal to check on the progress of my application for Canadian Permanent Residency. The status routinely revealed thereby appeared to be stuck so obstinately on “Application Received” that I was beginning to wonder if the whole kit and caboodle had become lost somewhere in the machinery – or whether there might be some sort of un-revealed issue with my application – or if indeed we would needs make the journey to BC in July without having heard anything at all…

Then – all of a sudden – when I logged on yesterday the status had changed to “In Process“! As you can see from the screen capture below – processing actually started on March 10th.

In Process!

Whoopee!!

This is very good news. There is but one step to go, at which point the status will change to “Decision Made” and – all being well – the necessary documents will be sent out. Anecdotal evidence from the expat fora suggests that this might not take too much longer, and further that sometimes the documents arrive without the status on the ECAS being updated at all.

Well – this is all really quite unbearably exciting!

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Photo by Andy Dawson Reid“If men can run the world, why can’t they stop wearing neckties. How intelligent is it to start the day by tying a little noose around your neck.”

Linda Ellerbee

I have on more than one occasion taken advantage of these postings to bemoan the fact that – at the commencement of the academic year in September – I must henceforth accoutre myself with that most offensive and pointless item of apparel – the necktie! I have – to be entirely fair – also used this forum to celebrate the most wonderful of work-days – usually at the point in May when the sun first puts in a proper appearance – on which the Surmaster of the School declares that Summer Dress may at last be worn, and the absurd adornment may thus be banished for an extended period until the summer is over and done with.

That this year will be – for the Kickass Canada Girl and I – like no other need hardly be mentioned. Apparently trivial circumstances would seem to be conspiring to make it even less so.

Yesterday – at morning break – the Surmaster announced to the Common Room that the School’s dress code – to which all pupils must adhere – was – by general consent – to be tightened up. We are not like our sister school, the which has no school uniform at all and whose dress code is apparently limited to the stricture – ‘no beachwear’! Our juniors do have a uniform and our senior boys must wear ‘smart business dress’.

This was not – however – the key part of the announcement. The Surmaster added that he would in future forego his right to declare that some random spring-like day in May should herald the advent of ‘Summer Dress’. In future such would be permitted for the whole of the summer term!

For me in particular this edict carries a special significance. When the Easter term has finally shuddered to a close – in just over a week’s time – I need no longer wear a tie – ever again!!

My whoop of delight from the back of the room at this particular pronouncement did not go unnoticed…

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