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January 2019

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Whisky Galore

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThe Girl and I attended – jointly or severally – two whisky-based events of late that proved to be just the ticket for whiling away the long January nights as we wait for the first signs of spring to appear. And what an excellent way to pass the time!

The first of these was a whisky tasting – one of the events that comprise the Victoria Whisky Festival. I had acquired a wodge of tickets for this evening at an Intrepid Theatre charity event last November, as a result of trying to drive up the bidding (wearing my board of directors hat) and getting caught unexpected with the lot when the music stopped. Not that I was complaining…

As it happened I got caught out this way on several other items, but all of them have (or will) come in most useful. A gift voucher for Orr’s Family Butcher provided us with our Christmas prime rib and a similar token for Fig Deli furnished goodies for our holiday entertaining. I still have some vouchers for Flying Fish Winery (where we make our ‘own’ wine) and I need to head over soon to place an order so that our wine rack continues to overflow.

The whisky festival runs over four nights at the Hotel Grand Pacific by the Inner Harbour and this was the fourteenth incarnation thereof. The tasting that we attended was led by the knowledgeable Mike Brisebois of Distell Malts, which outfit owns the Bunnahabhain, Deanston and Tobermory Distilleries. Seven whiskies were tasted from the range offered by those three concerns – and very good they were too.

Deanston I did not know. It is a lowland distillery, not too far from Stirling. It was established in the mid-sixties in a disused old cotton mill on the banks of the river Teith, and has built a reputation since then. The Tobermory Distillery, the only such on the island of Mull, dates back much further – to 1798 – and is one of the oldest in Scotland. Bunnahabhain is a much loved distillery on Islay that – unlike most of the other distillers on the island – does not foreground the peaty tones for which Islay is known.

We were most impressed by the almost sweet tones of the Palo Cortado cask finished Special Edition, but pretty much everybody present agreed that the Bunnahabhain 18 Year was the whisky of the evening. Now – if only I could afford a bottle!

The second event of the month was the wild celebratory night that we spent this Saturday just passed at the Caledonian Distillery and Twa Dogs Brewery, where we enjoyed a fabulous five course Scottish menu (including, naturally, haggis, neaps and tatties) by Truffles Catering, who are locally based in Brentwood Bay. To accompany this feast we tasted a further five of the Caledonian’s whiskies, particularly enjoying their guest whisky – a blend of Blair Atholl and McDuff single malts. The evening was admirably hosted by the Caledonian’s resident hairy Scot and much reciting of the Great Man’s poetry and accompanying merriment were the order of the day (or night!).

Never let it be said that the Scots do not know how to celebrate!

 

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…but I’m all better nooooooooooooooooow!!

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

Fnar, fnar! What is it they say about the old ones?

The media and the InterWebNet were this evening awash with tales of those hoping to catch a glimpse of the Super Blood Wolf Moon eclipse having to brave the freezing elements, waiting in vain for gaps in the clouds or having to rouse themselves at unsociable hours of the night so to do.

We just looked out of our windows at about 7:00 in the evening and there it was – sailing across a perfectly clear sky!

Sickening – isn’t it?

 

PS – I’d love to know how flat-earthers explain away this (or any) sort of eclipse. On second thoughts – no I wouldn’t!

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Give us a sign

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThere are major differences in house construction between Canada and the UK. When it comes to individual dwellings it is true that there is now a fair bit of wood framed construction in the old country, but here is BC there is virtually nothing else – certainly if the construction were done in recent times.

Such differences extend also to the estate itself. In Canada they do not go in for boundary fences… walls… hedges… dividers of any sort. The norm is that the open space between houses is just that – open. We have a lawn between us and our nearest neighbours with the actual boundary running somewhere down the middle of it. When either of us cuts the grass we make a ‘mood’ judgement as to how far to go. If we are feeling generous we take in an extra couple of metres to save our neighbours having to do it. If, on the other hand, we are feeling surly… or lazy… we don’t.

In many cases there is little or no division between individual properties and the public road either. As it happens we have a screen of shrubs, bushes and trees in front of our domicile, but many do not. They are simply open to the public in a way that would make many Brits feel somewhat uncomfortable (I am trying very hard not to slip into Brexit metaphors here – but it is not easy!).

One side-effect of this lack of dividing infrastructure is that there is often nothing at the front of the property to which to affix a sign bearing the house number or name. Our property has its number displayed on the front of the building itself, but as the house is set back somewhat it is not very easy to see from the road.

I seem to recall that in many parts of England there is a fairly relaxed attitude as to whether or not house numbers are prominently displayed. Here in BC it is considered important for emergency reasons that each property has a sign that is clearly visible from the public road. These are known as 911 Address Signs and they usually take the form of a vertical reflective sign at the very edge of the roadside. Given the relative speed with which wooden framed house can be destroyed by fire it makes good sense that the emergency services be given every opportunity to locate a property as quickly as possible.

For reasons unknown we did not inherit such a sign but with the advent of The Girl’s new venture looming it seemed important to make our residence more visible to the world.

Given that these things are everywhere I assumed that they would be easy to source. They are not – and I guess that the fact that most properties already have them means that there is little demand for new ones. Some Fire-Halls offer programs through which they may be obtained but ours did not obviously do so.

I eventually found a source online through one of Amazon’s third party suppliers. I duly placed an order and sat back to await the manufacturer making contact to check the details.

I received instead an email telling me that the product had been shipped!

Huh?!

I replied to the email, enquiring as to how they had managed ship my order without first asking me what house number the sign was for.

“Oh!”, came the reply. “There was an option on the order form if you wanted to customise the sign”.

I pointed out that I did not consider having the right number on my sign to exactly be ‘customisation’, that the option on the form was not at all obvious and asked who in their right mind would order an address sign with some random number on it anyway?

They seemed to take my point and agreed to refund the purchase price.

“What should I do with the random sign?”, I enquired. They told me that I could keep it.

Fortunately I discovered that – with a little careful effort – the numbers could be scraped off without causing damage and that Staples could supply suitable replacements – this time with the correct digits. A Home Depot mailbox post, some brass brackets and screws, a little white paint and a club hammer later we had a new 911 sign.

Now – ain’t that pretty?!

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I recently had a birthday.

Not – perhaps – of the sort of significance that would normally persuade me to acknowledge the event in any way or even – dare I say it – to celebrate a little (ie – a decade). It cannot be denied, however, that this particular milestone does carry some resonance.

Yes – I am now sixty five and thus truly a pensioner – which sounds so much less disagreeable than being an old-age pensioner (OAP).

I don’t even feel old – though I must admit that it is late in the evening as I write this… Some mornings I feel quite differently!

I guess that I now need to pay closer attention when purchasing items or making bookings to ensure that I take full advantage of those attractive discounts that are offered to senior citizens… whilst at the same time endeavouring not to feel guilty concerning same. Oh – it’s a constant battle!

To tell the truth I am (thus far at any rate) rather enjoying my sixties. I don’t think that it is being immodest to say that a big advantage of having got this far is the acquisition of a pretty comprehensive degree of self knowledge. I am not only well aware of my various faults and foibles but I am much better at recognising as yet undiscovered ones. Even more importantly I have learned not to take any of these things too seriously – whilst at the same time not dismissing them either.

I believe that I possess a good understanding of my capabilities and of my talents. I know what I can do and what I can’t do and I have learned to gauge just how well – or otherwise – I can do things. This means that – without claiming for a moment to be ‘an island’ – I am far less reliant on the affirmation of others (though naturally I appreciate strokes just as much as does the next man – or woman).

All in all I have no complaints.

More that that in fact – I am daily filled with gratitude for the many blessings with which I and those for whom I care have been bestowed.

 

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…with apologies to those gentle readers who don’t have the good fortune to live in Victoria BC (or are currently holidaying in Mexico!)…

Click the images for the big picture!

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

It’s the second week of January. Must be time to take the boat for a spin!

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

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidWay back in the early 1990s (long before, of course, I had the slightest notion of even knowing anyone from the west coast of Canada, let alone of emigrating to this blessed spot) I came across a newly published and really quite extraordinary book – in the form of what I later came to know to be an epistolary novel – by artist, illustrator and writer, Nick Bantock.

Griffin & Sabine was the first in what evolved into a set of seven books which document the extraordinary correspondence between Griffin Moss – a London-based designer of postcards – and Sabine Strohem – a mysterious woman who resides on an island in the South Pacific. This communication commences with an exotic card from the southern seas.

Griffin

It’s good to get in touch with you at last. Could I have one of your fish postcards? I think you were right – the wine glass has more impact than the cup.

Sabine

But Griffin had never met a woman named Sabine. How did she know him? How did she know his artwork? Who is she?

The novels are exclusively in the form of exquisite and exotically illustrated postcards and of letters which are tucked into their envelopes affixed to the pages.

I think I was drawn to the original book not only by the sheer beauty of its design and artwork, but also by the magical and mysterious quality of its premise. I purchased a copy shortly after its publication, appreciated its allure and then tucked it away in one of my bookcases where it has languished ever since.

What I did not know then – or indeed discover until recently – was that though Nick Bantock grew up around London and in Kent, in the late 1980s he moved to Saltspring Island, British Columbia (scarcely a stone’s throw from our home on the Saanich peninsula) where he has lived ever since. I might not have discovered this fact even now had not Mr Bantock teamed up with Michael Shamata – the Artistic Director of The Belfry Theatre here in Victoria – to adapt the series of novels for the stage. On receiving The Belfry’s programme for the year and observing upon it notice of this premiere we naturally purchased tickets forthwith for the last show of the run, two days before Christmas.

With some difficulty (in the finding) I dug my copy of the book from our library. I was intrigued to know how this highly unusual graphical novel could possibly be adapted successfully for the stage. It is a challenge that I, frankly, would not myself have dared attempt (even had I the talent so to do!). I am therefore delighted to report that The Girl and I both found the production to be magical and moving and that it somehow managed to avoid all of the most obvious pitfalls that usually befall attempts at the marriage of two such wildly different forms. Let us hope that the production now travels further.

Bravo to Mr Bantock and to all concerned – say we!

 

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“I try to avoid looking forward or backward, and try to keep looking upward”

Charlotte Bronte

Okay! Here we are – a week into 2019 and how is it looking thus far?…  and let’s not have any of that negative thinking, “Doesn’t look any different to me!” sort of thing. Now is the time to accentuate the positive – or at least to look forward to the year ahead in the light of plans in the making and schemes being dreamt up. This is time of year for thinking outside the box – particularly if the box in question is quite such a tatty beat-up old thing as the one in which we currently appear to be stuck.

So here’s what The Girl and I are planning:

After a quick recuperative jaunt to Mexico for The Girl (I am otherwise engaged!) the start of the year will follow a familiar pattern… well, familiar in that it carries on where 2018 left off. The Girl works four days a week (when not gadding about south of the border) and has another three months of her course to complete before she is fully ready to strike out on her own. I have one more term of teaching at my post-secondary college – albeit on a slightly reduced timetable as enrollment is down. It may be that this turns out to be the last term that I will teach, but I have learned from long experience not to make definitive statements about such things. This unexpected return to work has certainly served its purpose and been a lot of fun in the process, so you will hear no complaints from me.

Once we are fully into the spring – however – everything changes. Come the middle of May we are heading for the UK and for Europe. This will be our first visit to those shores since leaving in 2015 so will definitely be a big deal. There are multitudes of family, friends and acquaintances to be visited, as well as places that we would love to see again and experiences that we will want to have. We end the trip with an expedition to Greece for a short recuperative cruise around the Greek islands.

Much, much more information about our jaunt will be forthcoming over the next few months, so – should you have an interest – watch this space. Let’s just hope that the country is still there when we get back!

Once back in BC in the middle of June there is much more to look forward to. At work The Girl steps down to a three day week and starts ramping up her new endeavour. “Bon chance“, say I!

Festival season will then rapidly be upon us and this year for me there will be an additional thespian enterprise to be anticipated. I came to the view at year end that it was high time that I made some theatre again. I have thus booked the Intrepid Theatre Club for two nights in October and I intend to stage one of my pieces there. At this point there is still much to be explored – much to be decided – but 2019 feels to me like the year to once again dip my toe in the water.

There will surely also be more music to be made this year. 2018 was particularly creative in this regard so I have high hopes. Further news on this front will also emerge as the year progresses.

There will doubtless also be other breathless things to anticipate but this would seem to be quite enough to be going on with for now. It is going to be a big year all round.

Let’s hope its a good one…

Let’s make it so!

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…just happened?

2018 – that’s what!

The Girl and I spent a very low-key Hogmany last night, staying up barely long enough to greet the new year as it poked its head nervously around the door. Who can blame it? After 2018 was dragged from the room, kicking and complaining, punching the air with all of the self-possession of a drunk going down for the third time, 2019 was pushed and prodded into the limelight, most likely feeling anything but ready.

I am reminded of an occasion many years ago at the Edinburgh Festival. The Youth Theatre with which I was heavily involved had taken a show to the Fringe. Fighting – as ever – for any publicity we could get we had taken a late night slot at the Fringe Club to parade our wares. As we waited nervously in the wings – instruments at the ready – we could hear the previous act going down a storm. As soon as they finished there was a mass exodus from the hall, with hundreds of souls pouring out and heading for the bar. Nervously we tiptoed in. Magically the place was still packed to the rafters, with considerably drunk and extremely raucous revelers, all armed to the teeth with heckles! The less said about our performance the better, but as we left one of the young thespists turned to me and said:

Don’t ever ask us to do that again!”

OK! So this is traditionally the point at which I look back at the outgoing year and summarise what has happened for us. Given that everything at the moment is overshadowed by the scary goings-on in the wider world it must be admitted that – though the year has thrown up more than a few surprises – we have done pretty well for ourselves.

2018 was always going to be the difficult year for us. When we did our retirement projections well before we left the UK we could see that there was going to be a financial dip, caused in part by the fact that my state pension does not kick in until part way through 2019. The collapse of the Sterling/CAD exchange rate that followed the Brexit vote made things worse, though being able to purchase ahead gave us something of a buffer up to this time last year.

It was clear that I was going to need to earn some extra monies to support our adopted lifestyle. By this time last year I had failed to find temporary or part-time work and it was not clear how I was going to do so. I was most fortunate to land the teaching contract that I did, and even more fortunate that I got another one for the autumn (Fall). With luck I may have another for the coming spring. Of course, none of this had been planned at our point of departure and I really had thought that my working days were over.

The Girl has had a difficult year at work as a result of changes to which I alluded in my equivalent report of this time last year. Change is never easy and as a species we tend to handle it poorly. She has persevered – something that is a most admirable strength of hers – and it does seem that the situation with her agency is now greatly improved. Fingers crossed.

She is not, however, one to sit back and to let things come to her. She has thus spent much of this last year planning her slow withdrawal from the world of work as she currently knows it. To this end she is undertaking a year’s course of study which will equip her to set up her own business, which will then gradually supercede her current role.

With regard to matters artistic it has also been a somewhat varied year. I got to teach a term’s worth of drama to a small but keen group of youngsters up here on the peninsula, but it rapidly became clear that there was no easy route to making this into something more permanent. My efforts in the realm of theatre have thus been primarily been devoted to wearing my Board of Directors’ hat for Intrepid Theatre. I have been able to spend a fair amount of time making music and I am hopeful that developments towards the year’s end might result in a further collaboration in the new year.

2018 afforded us little opportunity to travel aside from the excellent short trip that we made to Montreal during the spring. It is our intention that in this regard – as in many others – 2019 will be different.

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