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2018

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Homeward bound

May 19, 2018 in Life as we know it | Permalink

Homeward Bound, Albert Pinkham Ryder, c. 1893-1894, oil on canvas mounted on wood panel - Phillips CollectionThere came a moment – just over an hour and twenty minutes into the opening night of Paul Simon’s ‘Homeward Bound‘ farewell tour in Vancouver on Wednesday last – when the most excellent fifteen piece band brought an exuberant rendition of ‘You Can Call me Al‘ to a juddering close and the great man himself stepped forward to acknowledge and bask in the applause of the devoted crowd – when a sudden startled stir rippled through the arena. Was that it? Had a mere sixteen songs from Simon’s extraordinarily extensive back-catalogue been all that we would be left to remember him by?

It was not enough. Not by a long chalk…

Three extended encores (featuring ten further songs and lasting for a full fifty minutes) later we reluctantly let the man go. He is – after all – seventy five years of age and this was the first night of a long tour. Perhaps he was testing the water – investigating what was possible and seeing how far he could push a voice that – whilst it sounded a little tenuous at the start – warmed up more and more as the evening progressed.

Were we satisfied? Well – of course we were – though much of the talk afterwards was of classic tracks that had not been included. There was no ‘Kodachrome‘ – no ‘Train in the Distance‘ – no ‘Only Living Boy in New York‘…  but I guess that is the inevitable side-effect of having such a voluminous inventory of classic compositions from which to choose.

Simon ended alone on stage singing – along, it seemed, with the entire crowd – ‘The Sound of Silence‘. My view (widely shared of course) that the man is a complete genius was again borne out by the recognition anew that his music – even that dating from the mid-sixties – has really not aged at all – neither in its poetry nor its melodies. This is surely a true mark of the enduring legacy that this great artist has gifted to us. He makes us sing – he makes us happy – he makes us dance – he moves us to tears (at least three times during Wednesday night’s show).

More than this we cannot ask – though should his tease that he had only billed the tour as his farewell so as to be able to push up the ticket prices turn out to be true – I have no doubt at all that he would be welcomed back to the West Coast with open arms.

Genius! ‘Nuff said!

 

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Innocents abroad

May 13, 2018 in Flotsam and Jetsam, Photos | Permalink

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid“In Paris they just simply opened their eyes and stared when we spoke to them in French! We never did succeed in making those idiots understand their own language.”

Mark Twain – The Innocents Abroad

Let it be said at once that in Montreal there is no need at all to try to make anyone understand their own language. The locals will – in a nanosecond – detect that French is not your native tongue, from which point on they simply abjure its use – effortlessly showing up your linguistic shortcomings and contriving so to do without effecting the distainful air that one so often encounters in Paris.

Should you, like us, have transported your existence to the paradise that is the west coast of Canada (some five and a half thousand miles distant from the European continent) but still on occasion find yourself assailed by yearnings for the sophistication and epicurean delights of the French capital… then Montreal is the perfect halfway house in which just such a fix may be obtained.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThis is specifically so of the old town, in which we are currently staying in a perfectly decent Air-B’n’B apartment. Unlike much else in Canada Vieux Montreal is properly old and has a strong European heritage. On our first day here we ventured forth looking for a suitable bistro. In the ‘Modavie’ we found one that was so French that we might easily have been in the backstreets of Paris itself.

The fare was excellent French bistro cooking, with a truly authentic Soupe a l’Oignon followed by a lamb burger made with pulled lamb for me and sea bass (really hard to find on the west coast) for The Girl. We wrapped up with a Pouding Chômeur which reminded The Girl of her childhood.

The evening was made, however, by the wonderful hospitality of our server – Caroline – and the larger than life maître d’ – Lorenzo Baldassarre – who went out of his way to make the occasion memorable.

Now – Canadians (and those who have visited) will need no convincing of the ‘Frenchness’ of Montreal. To others, have a look at the photos in this (and subsequent) posts and see what you think.

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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Big country

May 11, 2018 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

A reminder of just how big this country is…

Yesterday we travelled east to Montreal. Now – granted we were not able to go by the most direct route (when utilising loyalty card points one is at the mercy of the airline) and were thus routed via Vancouver and Toronto with all the commensurate delays during flight transfers, but nonetheless the trek took around thirteen hours! From Victoria one can be in London in less time…

Furthermore – Montreal is three hours ahead of the West coast. As a result it was long gone 3 am when we finally collapsed into bed in our rented apartment!

As The Girl is wont to say in such circumstances:

“Did ya get the number of that truck?”

Fortunately we seasoned travellers are alert to such rigours of the road and our only engagement for our first day in Montreal (aside from some explorative dining out of course) is a visit to a Scandinavian Spa and Massage Studio for some seriously recuperative pampering.

Bring it on, say I!

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These are a few…

May 8, 2018 in Life as we know it, Photos | Permalink

It is no secret that we have now entered my favourite time of the year – a subject on which I have almost certainly waxed lyrical any number of times in previous postings (at around this time). There are many reasons to delight in the season… nature reborn – the first hints of the summer to come – the warmth anew upon one’s shoulders – the fresh aromas on the balmy breeze – that strange golden light in the sky!…

My first instinct is to break out the trusty Fuji and to document the nascent spring/summer season as I have done so many times before. As the photos attached below will attest I am not about to refrain from so doing on this occasion either.

It is also time for the first Intrepid Theatre festival of the season – ‘UNO Fest’ – a feast of one man/woman shows which aim to amuse, inform, to move and to set the tone for the rest of the year. I am once again on airport/ferry pickup duty – an endeavour that brings me into contact with fascinating artists from around the world – and what’s not to like about that?!

Finally – in response to Aeroplan threatening to expire our precious points should we not have used them by the end of the month, a short but expedient trip has been arranged. We leave on Thursday for Montreal – a city that I have not yet visited but which am very much looking forward to seeing – before heading back to Vancouver early next week in time to catch the Paul Simon farewell concert that was the subject of a previous missive.

Further photographic images are bound to follow…

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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O Fortuna

May 6, 2018 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

“O Fortune,
like the moon
you are changeable,
ever waxing,
ever waning,
hateful life
first oppresses
and then soothes
as fancy takes it;”

O Fortuna
Carmina Burana
Various

 

Regular cohorts of this cornucopia of little consequence will know that I am a great fan of Rugby Union Football. The more ardent amongst you will also know that I am a long term follower and supporter of both the Scottish national side and – at club level – of Bath Rugby. Both of these venerable institutions are quite capable of producing delight and despair in equal measure.

For many years I suffered along with many other Scots the painful cycle of blind optimism dashed by crushing reality as I followed the fortunes of Scottish rugby. Then – all of a sudden – over the last couple of years we have been delighted to observe the most scintillating recovery of form to the extent that Scotland can now (with the occasional unfortunate aberration) almost always be relied upon to play an adventurous and exciting game – resulting in not infrequent and often famous victories.

Bath also play the adventurous game (for which we love them dearly) and back in the old amateur days of the game (which only turned fully professional in the mid 90s) they had a long and glorious record. Since then they have struggled a great deal more but they are still capable of considerable achievements. A mere three years back they made it to the Premiership final – sadly being overpowered on that occasion (as so often) by the merciless Saracens.

Since then they have found themselves in something of a unfortunate cycle. They start each season well, win some brilliantly exciting and dashing games against serious opposition and find themselves at the mid-point of the season hovering around the top four. Sadly they then go into a decline as the season takes its toll on bodies and spirits, ending up disappointingly lower in the table than once seemed likely.

This season followed this familiar pattern, with a number of brilliant wins followed by inexplicable and unnecessary losses. As the final weekend of the regular season approached (this one just passed) Bath were lying in eight position. Now – there are two initial targets for any Premiership side – to get into the top four (and thus into the playoffs) or – failing that – into the top six (and thus qualify for the European Cup competitions for the following year). On this occasion, for Bath to achieve a coveted and lucrative top six finish they would need to win their final game by such a margin that they would gain full points (including a winning bonus point) and the two clubs above then – Sale and West Country rivals Gloucester – would both need to lose, in the case of Gloucester without gaining even a losing bonus point.

On this occasion fortune smiled upon Bath. Their last fixture was a home game against the already relegated London Irish. Sale hosted heavyweights Leicester (smarting from being unable to finish the season higher than fifth – thus missing the playoffs for the first time in an age) and Gloucester went head to head with the ever-present current runner-ups, Saracens. The results were as follows:

Sale Sharks 13 : Leicester 35

Saracens 62 :  Gloucester 12

Bath 63 : London Irish 19

Europe here we come…

O fortuna indeed!

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Tax brakes! (sic)

May 2, 2018 in Life in BC | Permalink

Image from PixabayI am one of that supposedly rare breed of souls (in all probability actually considerably less rare than urban myth would have us believe) that is happy to pay my taxes. Well – ‘happy’ might be going a bit far, but let us agree at least on ‘content’…

This does not – of course – imply that I am at all content with some of things upon which my tax dollars are spent, but that is a matter between me and my government (or would be, if I had one. As I am not eligible to vote here until such time as I can apply for and am accepted as a citizen it could be argued that I don’t actually have a government, though that does not stop them being eager to get their hands on my ill-gotten gains).

Should the gentle reader care to cast an eye back over the proceedings on this site he or she will discover a fair number of entries dealing with matters of taxation. Transferring one’s financial affairs from one continent to another is no trivial matter though, naturally, one in which revenue offices everywhere take a particularly keen interest. It is of no great import now – of course – all such issues having been settled. These days my tax affairs are simplicity itself –  not least because The Girl and I employ an extremely efficient tax accountant (an old friend of hers) to process everything for us. Worth every cent, too!

The Canadian tax year runs from January to the end of December each year. Tax returns must be completed and outstanding monies paid by the end of April. Up to the end of the last tax year my income consisted solely of the three pensions paid to me in the UK, the which I transfer monthly to Canada at whatever favourable rate I have been able to negotiate. I simply submit the transfer slips for the year and on that basis my taxes are calculated.

Now – this should all be sufficiently straightforward that there be no surprises. We pay both Federal and Provincial taxes but the formulae for each are widely published and there are plenty of online tax calculators on the InterWebNet which can be used to predict how much should be put aside to cover the resultant bill.

I must admit to being slightly disconcerted by the fact that the three or four calculators that I tried this year all gave different results for the same initial data – but as they were all roughly within spitting distance of each other I resolved simply to save conservatively and to keep my fingers crossed.

The paperwork was submitted as usual and on the very last day possible – April 30th – I visited our tax accountant to pick up the account and pay the bill. I was in for a most pleasant surprise. The reckoning was several thousand dollars less than any of the estimates had indicated.

I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth and I am certainly not complaining at this unexpected good fortune. I think I can also live with any feelings of guilt by which I might be assailed. I am – however – somewhat concerned that I clearly still don’t fully understand how tax arrangements here work.

Hmmm! More study required…

 

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The universal language

April 28, 2018 in Life as we know it | Permalink

Image from Pixabay“Music is the universal language of mankind”.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

One of the fascinating aspects of life post-(semi)-retirement here in Victoria has been the unexpected number of music acts that we have seen – many of them British and a fair percentage that I had not seen live before (regardless of having had many opportunities so to do in the past in the UK).

I have previously waxed lyrical about seeing Ringo Starr’s All Star band and my joy at being able to experience Peter Gabriel in Canada – something that I had really not expected – was unconfined.

In but a couple of week’s time we will be in Vancouver to see Paul Simon on his retirement tour. He is another that I have never gotten around to seeing and am chuffed at the opportunity so to do before it is too late.

The Proclaimers will be in Victoria later in the year and we have tickets! I have not seen them before either and would not perhaps have thought so to do were it not that I recently saw a fascinating documentary about them (narrated by David Tennant) that filled me with admiration for their ethos and work ethic.

I have long been a Simple Minds fan but have as yet – you’ve guessed it – never seen them live. I was recently listening to one of their greatest hits compilations and decided to look them up online to see if they are still active. I quickly discovered that they have recently released a new CD and are touring Europe during the summer. Sampling the new tracks online I was delighted to find the band back in vintage form. I rapidly purchased the album – lamenting the while the fact that the band’s tour did not extend to North America.

The very next morning The Girl received an email notification (she is massively organised in such matters) that the Minds had extended their tour and would be closing it in Vancouver at the end of October!

No prizes for guessing who now has a ticket!

 

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A theory of relativity

April 26, 2018 in Life in BC | Permalink

As the drear dark days of winter finally pack their bags and grumble off to the southern hemisphere to bother somebody else, nature rubs its sleepy eyes, yawns and sticks its head outside for a quick recce. To its surprise and great delight there is no-one home! The adults are apparently all away and that mischievous little imp has the garden (yard) all to itself.

The results are pretty much in line with the description that the excellent Glaswegian comedian – Kevin Bridges – ascribes to the teenage gangs from his boyhood whenever one of their number discovered that he was the fortunate possessor of an ’empty’* for the weekend!

Mayhem ensues!

 

By the time the rain has drifted away, the temperature risen to an acceptable level and I get around to dragging my sorry behind out into the garden – it looks as though the rain-forest has dropped by and decided to stay for the duration. There follows a month (and more) of hard labour!

 

Now – this is where ‘relativity’ comes in.

I am – you must understand – not talking about Einstein here – nor Galileo nor Newton. I am referencing neither the Sapir–Whorf hypothesis nor meta-ethical morality (which turns out to be a good thing as my knowledge of either is limited to the world of Wikipedia!).

I refer to the fact that what appears during the height of the summer (I don’t venture out there at all in winter!) to be a perfectly sensibly-sized plot – just about large enough that the neighbours on either side don’t intrude in any way – metamorphoses in the inchoate springtime into a vast overgrown estate full of fiendish flora resembling nothing so much as Wyndham’s Triffids.

A whole bunch of seemingly endless hard work – in other words.

Worth it though, of course. Best get back to it…

* Parents away – house to themselves – party!!

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Like Topsy

April 23, 2018 in Life in BC | Permalink

Not much later this time last year I was (ab)using the pages of this ‘journal’ to elicit assistance with the wildness that flourishes but a few yards outside my window. In that instance I was trying to establish which of the abundant flora in my garden (yard) were plants that I should be encouraging (not, of course, that that would make any difference either way!) and which were weeds and other undesirables.

The answer was – naturally – that all the things that were doing particularly well were the weeds!

Anyway – here I am again – begging free gardening advice from those amongst you who are horticulturally inclined (or perhaps make a living from said pursuit).

This – I take to be a Yukka of some variety:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidAs you can see it is doing its damnedest to push everything else out of the bed in which it resides.

The question is – how on earth does one prune such a beast?

Answers on a postcard please (as the saying goes)…

Ithankyou!

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Marking time

April 19, 2018 in Life as we know it | Permalink

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidBack in the UK I worked for a number of years either side of the millennium at a prestigious and venerable independent boys’ boarding school. It is the sort of school at which all of the pupils are obliged to board and only allowed to go home for a couple of weekends each term. There are twenty five boarding houses in total with around fifty pupils in each, under the close supervision of the Housemaster and the Dame (a sort of ‘Matron’).

These days the Housemasters receive considerable support from deputies, though this was not the case in even quite recent history. Since the Housemaster is responsible (in loco parentis) pretty much 24/7 you might imagine that the role can be a pretty exhausting one.

I was friends with several such fellows and used to tease them whenever they complained about what a hard life they led. I would point out that not only were they handsomely rewarded for their pains but that they also got to live entirely rent-free in really quite splendid residences – and to receive generous grants for decorating and furnishing the same.

At the end of each term the school (as indeed probably do all schools) would exhale a deep collective sigh as all the little treasures trekked off home in their parents’ plush automobiles, leaving the staff to relax abruptly and to try to get their lives back into some sort of sensible shape.

All except the Housemasters that is – who would at this point must needs write for each of their charges a detailed and considered report on their progress and well-being, such that the grateful parents would feel that they were truly getting their money’s worth. This task would keep these poor souls busy for another two or three days following the departure of the student body, whilst everyone else got on with the onerous burden of having fun and ‘chilling’!

What makes me think of this now? Well – I have spent much of the last three days marking homeworks, grading lab sessions, evaluating term projects and scoring the final examination papers of my recent students – who are doubtless all eager to know how they have done. I still have about half a day’s work to go and I am now really looking forward to the task being completed.

Strangely, I now feel considerable more sympathy for my former colleagues…

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