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2019

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“If you can’t take a punch, you should play table tennis”

Pierre Berbizier – former French rugby player 

It is difficult at the moment not to continue with the rugby theme of recent posts. In fact, I promised in my last such that I would make some mention of home nations (UK) other than the Scots – who have themselves now sadly been ‘sent homeward to think again…’

This weekend just passed saw the quarter finals of the 2019 Rugby World Cup. We are now down to the business end of the tournament – having entered the knockout stages.

Of the quarters it must be said that the results pretty much went the way – and in the fashion – that one might have expected… although there is always room in rugby for things to run counter to any presumption.

The English took on Australia. Now – there has been much talk of late about an Aussie renaissance, but frankly the English have had their number for some years now. It was about time that the men in white turned in a truly good performance and they duly did so. There might be some gripes about them having had the run of the ball – getting the lucky breaks and suchlike – but what actually happened was that they very coolly let the Australians throw the ball around and generally run themselves a bit ragged, whilst at the same time exerting the sort of pressure that would inevitably lead to Aussie mistakes. When these occurred they were appropriately taken advantage of with clinical proficiency. The English are starting to look good and are – frankly – the only side that one could imagine mounting a challenge to…

…the All Blacks! Quite a lot has been made of the fact that the much-fancied Irish actually beat them twice in the last couple of seasons. A fair bit was also ignored concerning the recent dip in Irish form that coincided rather unfortunately with the ABs coming on song themselves just in time for the big event. The inevitable happened… The All Blacks blew the Irish away and now look pretty much unstoppable with regard to retaining the trophy for the second consecutive time.

The France/Wales game? Well – this one really did go exactly the way that one might have anticipated. Rising to the big occasion the Welsh played as they had been doing a couple of years back – complete rubbish (slight exaggeration for dramatic effect)! They also contrived to squeak a win with their dying breaths. The French did what only the French can do. They displayed in one moment the mercurial talents that have seen them in the past knock the All Blacks out of this very tournament… the next they looked like total novices – handing the ball to the Welsh for them to canter downfield to the try line. Having built a healthy first half lead there was an inevitability about the way one of their locks – Sébastien Vahaamahina – got himself red-carded shortly after the start of the second half. One might imagine that the French despair – but they probably just shrug their shoulders in that familiar Gallic manner.

We all so wanted Japan to continue their magic carpet ride and to beat the South Africans, but frankly that was never going to happen. The Japanese are nowhere near as diminutive overall as they used to be, but the oxen that the Saffers put out to face them had clearly been chosen purely to accentuate the size advantage. There was nothing very attractive about the Saffer win and they had to work hard to get on top of the ceaselessly energetic Japanese, but in the end they duly squashed them.

How will Wales get on against the Boks? I think I may already know the answer to that one.

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Oh well!

With reference to my last post concerning the Rugby World Cup… the good news was that the Scotland/Japan pool match to decide the quarter finalists did indeed go ahead.

Any good news was, however, overwhelmed by the terrible news – the tragic loss of life suffered in Japan as a result of typhoon Hagibis. No amount of other news can in any way compensate for or help with that.

This perspective should not, however, take away anything from the fact that Japan out-played, out-ran and out-thought the Scots and rightly won the match, topped the group and thus won through to the country’s first ever quarter-final place in the world cup.

The tragic losses should also put into perspective the emotional impact on the Scots of being the first of the home nations (in regard to the UK of course) to be dumped out of this year’s cup. Four years ago Scotland were the last of them to be knocked out (controversially) in the quarters by the Australians, so this represents a significant step back.

It is not even that they played badly. They did not. But they were as unable to live with the Japanese as they had been the Irish just a few short weeks back. Given the talent now available to the team they really should be making more progress than they clearly are.

Time – once again – for some serious navel gazing.

PS – I have not yet made any reference to other nations competing in the tournament. There will be time for that as the knockout stages progress. I would like to put in a word for Canada though. In the first three rounds of their pool stages they predictably lost to Italy, to the All Blacks and to the South Africans (tough pool, that one!). They were hoping for some payback in their final pool game against fellow minnows – Namibia. Sadly that was one of the three games to be abandoned because of the typhoon.

Tant pis!

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At this point in the Rugby World Cup four years ago (just before I posted this!) the competition had reached – as it has now – the last round of the pool stages and the quarter final line-ups were taking shaping.

The shock result of the pool stages in 2015 saw lowly Japan defeat the much fancied South Africans in Brighton. As a result the Japanese stood a good chance of making it to the quarter finals for the very first time and were they to do so it would have been at the expense of the Scots, who had – as so often – looked far from convincing.

As it turned out the Scots did just enough to squeak through, leaving Japan as the first side ever to have won three of their four pool matches and still not made it through to the quarters.

The shock result of the pool stages in 2019 saw a somewhat less lowly Japan defeat the much fancied Irish (at that point ranked number two in the world). As a result the Japanese stand a good chance of making it to the quarter finals for the very first time and if they do so it will again be at the expense of the Scots.

Deja vu – all over again!

There is one major difference this time. The Scotland/Japan pool encounter which will seal the progression is scheduled for this Sunday. The other event scheduled for this Sunday in Japan is the tail end of Typhoon ‘Hagibis’ – which has already led to the abandonment of Saturday’s pool fixtures between England and France and Italy and the All Blacks. Both England and France have already qualified and the match would simply have determined who got the top spot in the pool. Italy have some cause to feel aggrieved that their chance to qualify has been snatched from them, but in the real world the fact is that they have never beaten the All Blacks and the odds against them doing so on this occasion are as close to a sure thing as it is possible to be.

The Scots have more cause for concern. If their Sunday match is cancelled the Japanese go through and the Scots go home. If the game does  take place the Scots might still lose (or not win by a four point margin, which is the requirement) but after their shaky start to the tournament with a loss to Ireland they have looked increasingly competent, winning their other two pool games (against minor opposition, granted) at a canter.

The grumbling at the moment is over why the game can not be held over for 24 hours or moved to another location. The rules and regulations of the tournament may well – as is so often the case – prove to be less than fit for purpose in the light of events.

All anyone can do in the meantime is to wait patiently – which ain’t easy!

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The Children

To the Belfry last weekend for the first production in the new season – English playwright, Lucy Kirkwood’s, 2016 piece – ‘The Children‘.

The original production’s website contains this teaser:

“In a remote cottage on the lonely British coast, a couple of retired nuclear engineers are living a very quiet life. Outside, the world is in utter chaos following a devastating series of events. When an old friend turns up at their door, they’re shocked to discover the real reason for her visit.”

I think that it is fair to say the heart of the play turns out to be about something other than that which seems obvious from the get-go. Whilst not being perfect (what is?) The Girl and I both found the production engaging, rewarding and thought provoking and I strongly recommend it should you yet be able to get a ticket.

It seems a little harsh to say that it was good to see a ‘proper’ play again, though regulars of these musings will doubtless have heard my plaintive little cries on the subject before. Nonetheless we greatly enjoyed watching believably three-dimensional characters engaging with each other in a work which is strongly about ideas.

One of Kirkwood’s previous plays – ‘Chimerica‘ – was in the news quite a bit in London in 2014, before – of course – we moved across the pond, but I had rather lost track of what she was doing since and that turns out to be a little embarrassing. ‘The Children‘ is a three-hander – with two good female parts and one male. In the Belfry’s production we felt that the latter was the weaker of the performances.

Reading up on the play beforehand – however – we realised that in the original Royal Court production this part had been played by a friend of ours – to very good reviews. Furthermore he subsequently transferred with the piece for a successful run in New York. The embarrassment arises because whilst in London earlier this year I had lunch with him and we talked about all the various things that he had been doing over the last few years. He probably mentioned ‘The Children‘ but I clearly did not later make the connection. The trouble is that – though he is a fair bit older than I am – he is still working furiously and successfully on stage and on the screen. It is hard work keeping up!

Now – of course – I wish that I had seen him in the production. Apart from anything else I know that he would have been splendid in the role.

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At the start of September I posted a missive to these humble jottings, the subject of which was just what a busy time of year it was.

That was no word of a lie and proceedings have indeed involved a fair degree of frenzy since then.

That posting contained a list of promises – or threats, depending on your point of view – of further screeds on a whole range of topics… the Fringe… the new academic year… the re-decorations in our basement… Brexit!… etc, etc

As a man eager to be thought of as someone who keeps his word I have indeed since posted on all of these subjects…

…bar one!

I have been dropping hints for a while now that I consider it high time that the music that the Chanteuse (with whom I am working and to whom I have previously referred in these pages) and I are creating should cease merely to be written about but to become reality in the form of being available for download from the InterWebNet.

I am now happy and excited to announce that this has indeed come to pass.

We work under the name ‘Anam Danu‘. To save the inevitable puzzlement let me offer this elucidation:

Anam Danu is Irish Gaelic for Soul Goddess of Life. In Irish mythology, she is mother of the earth, the gods, fertility, wisdom, wind and of all the Celtic people.”

The Chanteuse and I both have Celtic origins – she Irish and I a Scot – and the music that we write mixes Celtic influences with those obtained by living in Cascadia.

We have recorded seven (out of an eventual ten) tracks for a collection entitled “Winds of Change“. We have had them professionally mastered by the estimable Brock MacFarlane at CPS Mastering in Vancouver and we have made them available for streaming and download on Bandcamp at the following address:

https://anamdanu.bandcamp.com

Do please have a listen. If you like what you hear do please also pass the word on to anyone that you think might be interested.

Sláinte!

 

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidWe had unexpected guests in Victoria yesterday.

The Red Arrows – the RAF’s display team – have been on an eleven week tour of north America. The trip included only two excursions north of the border, so yesterday’s brief appearance in British Columbia was all the more welcome.

Whilst not performing a full aerobatic display the team were scheduled to perform a number of passes yesterday over Vancouver as well as making a two day ground visit.

As a precursor to the Vancouver flypast the Red Arrows carried out a single pass over Victoria’s Inner Harbour and Parliament Building. Given that it can take them only about five minutes to get from Victoria to Vancouver there is no doubt that they were well into the second part of their jaunt whilst those watching in Victoria were still wondering if they were coming back.

Indeed, the brief nature of the event would in normal circumstances have put us off driving the twelve miles or so into the city. Yesterday, however, we had an engagement downtown anyway, so we went a little early and found a spot by the Inner Harbour to watch the spectacle.

I have seen TV coverage of the Red Arrows many times on a variety of ceremonial occasions but never actually encountered them in the flesh – so to speak. I don’t know quite what I was expecting but I was taken completely by surprise by a sudden involuntary lump in the throat as they soared over the city, trailing the red, white and blue plumes for which they are well known. Those who have had similar experiences will be very aware of the power and efficacy of this strangely arcane form of ritual.

Some might think that such displays are out of place in this troubled and restless new world. I am an old fart, however, and I say long may such spectacles continue.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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WTF…

Image from Pixabay…is going on in the UK? (subtext: with Bre**it!)

Safe to say that this (or a more polite form of it) is the question that I get asked more than any other – as a Brit – here on the west coast of Canada. Usually the best I can do is to reassure Canadians that no-one back in old Blighty has much of a clue either.

After today’s momentous events in the Supreme Court I feel that some further enlightenment is required. Being myself totally unqualified to offer any such (though I accept that that doesn’t usually stop me) I am directing the gentle reader to this useful opinion piece by Rafael Behr in The Guardian.

It will certainly do a better job than could I!

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Diabetics!

The Girl swears blind that the hummingbirds in our front garden (yard!) are diabetics. This is based on their slavish predeliction for the nectar that I lavish upon them at infeasibly frequent intervals. Being made by combining four parts boiled water to one part granulated sugar these must provide a healthy (or un-healthy) kick whenever they sock it back.

Now – for sure these gorgeous little friends burn off a fair bit of energy and because they are so tiny they don’t have much room to store same – but I am beginning to wonder what is going on. Our feeder at the front is suspended next to a hanging basket that is lavish with unctuous blooms – all containing stacks of that yummy nectar. But do the birds bother with that? Nope! They head straight for the feeder.

Hmmmm!

This is the work of but a few days…

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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“Space is big. The whole point of the frontier is that we go there to do new things in new places – not one place, and not one thing, but all of the above.”

Rick Tumlinson

It is very nearly four years since we acquired our lovely home on the Saanich peninsula.

I have – as it happens – good reason to recall that moment in time precisely. The day that we moved in to our new residence – the day after all of our worldly possessions were delivered by our carrier – I arrived early in the morning because I wanted to watch on the TV one of Scotland’s final pool matches in the 2015 Rugby World Cup, the which was taking place back in England (the reason for the early start times on the west coast of Canada).

Now here we are – four years on – and the 2019 Rugby World Cup is just about to start in Japan.

This post is not, however, about rugby.

I made reference in a recent post to the fact that we have been re-decorating our downstairs ‘family’ room. This work was actually started by a dear friend whilst we were away in Europe earlier in the year, but she and I finished it off together over the summer. We then had the carpets cleaned before reorganising all of our downstairs spaces ready for our recent guests (also trailed in the above mentioned post).

Why is all this significant – and why ‘final’?

Well – this past four years has seen a great deal of action on the home front – as regular readers of these meanderings (should such there be) will be aware. There have been legal battles to be fought – monies to be scrimped and saved – new decks to be built – extensive renovations of the main living spaces to be wrought and all manner of other nipping and tucking besides.

On our arrival here four years ago the downstairs ‘family’ room was immediately pressed into service as a repository for goods and chattels from our transatlantic move for which we did not at that point have a home elsewhere. It then became a temporary studio before subsequently being turned into a furniture store and living space when we moved everything downstairs for the four months during which we handed over the whole of the main floor to our contractor. It then reverted to being a dumping ground and part-time workshop… until earlier this year.

Now – finally – four years after our arrival here – the last remaining unallocated space in our home has been turned into a proper functioning room.

Job done! Yaaaaaay!!

 

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“I am definitely going to take a course on time management… just as soon as I can work it into my schedule.”

Louis E. Boone

As I start a new term (my fourth) in a new academic year with a new group of eager(?) young (mostly) students I am made aware that the honeymoon period for this particular post-secondary lecturer is over…

…in timetable terms at least!

If I am more honest I should really admit that – as a term-contracted semi-retired part-timer – I am rightly considered the lowest of the low when it comes to the allocation of teaching slots.

I teach one course – two days a week. On each of those days I lecture for sixty or ninety minutes and run a lab session for ninety minutes. I am also obliged to spend a couple of hours a week in my (shared) office so as to be readily available to students. The rest I can do from home. Until now I have been fortunate with regard to timetabling. None of my starts has been early and on each of my teaching days the lab sessions have followed hard on the heels of the classroom lectures.

Not so this term. I teach on Mondays and Wednesdays – at 8:30 am!

Now – I really can’t pretend that the early start is an issue. It takes me about half an hour to get to the college – even in the morning ‘rush’ – and let’s face it, compared to to my pre-retirement commute this is a complete doddle.

My issue is that on both of my teaching days the lab sessions are scheduled in the mid-afternoon – at 2:00 pm and 3:30 pm respectively. This means a gap of four and six hours on those days during which I am somewhat stuck. A couple of hours are used up as office time and of course I do have preparation and marking, but I find both of those easier to do in the comfort of my studio at home.

If I lived close to the college I would simply go home in between lectures and labs. Indeed, that is what I will doubtless be doing for the longer of the gaps on Wednesdays – but that does mean wasting another hour a week in the car and the Lexus (which I love to bits) is not the most frugal of beasts…

I simply have to remind myself that this is very much a first-world problem and to get on with it. It is, after all, only for fourteen weeks… well – twelve now!

As you were…

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