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Life in England

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“Sharks are as tough as those football fans who take their shirts off during games in Chicago in January, only more intelligent.”

Dave Barry

Sadly, this is not a post about sharks but rather about the weather in January. To be specific – this January!

I know, I know – the month is but a few days old and here we are – grumbling about the weather already. In my defence I should point out that it has been – thus far this year in the UK – either really cold and frosty or incredibly dreek. (Regarding which splendidly descriptive Scottish term the Urban Dictionary helpfully offers this definition:

dreek

It means bad weather. The kind of weather which makes you miserable: dull, grey and wet. If it rains hard and water runs down your neck it’s dreek.

…which is clearly not confined to areas north of the border).

Ah well – at least the days are getting longer!

Here are some pictures (I didn’t bother with the dreek days!).

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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At the School the Parents Group have decided that our normal low-key run-up to the end of the autumn term is all a bit too dreary for words, and have thus arranged to provide us with real Christmas trees (to complement our normal lone artifical affair) complete with fairy lights and baubles.

All together now…  Aaaaaahh!!

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

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“The perfect weather of Indian Summer lengthened and lingered, warm sunny days were followed by brisk nights with Halloween a presentiment in the air.”

Wallace Stegner, Remembering Laughter

The unseasonably warm weather continues – with the BBC declaring that:

“This year’s Halloween is the warmest on record in the UK, with temperatures reaching as high as 23.5C, breaking the previous record of 20C.”

Nature – however – continues with its plans for the impending winter. Photos – as ever – courtesy of the Fuji x10.

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

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Bath

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidI do not intend that I should spend the next nine months composing a series of valedictory posts for this blog prior to our departure for Canada – though it is fairly inevitable that there will be some such. In the case of a Bath – however – I feel that I must!

For the Kickass Canada Girl and I Bath has long been – as it has for so many others before us – a place to which to run away for a break when the rest of life becomes just too much to bear. I have posted before concerning these escapes on more than one occasion – which homilies may be found here and here.

We have been in Bath at many times of the year, but perhaps our favourites have been those visits that have taken place in the spring – to break the long hibernation of winter – and in the autumn – to celebrate the Girl’s birthday.

Amongst the many attractions that Bath has to offer may be numbered:

  • the classic beauty of the Georgian architecture
  • the abundance of decent restaurants
  • the plethora of stylish hotels and guest houses
  • the spa(s)
  • first class rugby played in an unparalleled setting
  • the highly acceptable (to the Girl – which is a tough test!) array of retail outlets

As the saying goes –  what’s not to like?

Our visit of last weekend followed the form – a well established and much-loved routine. Splendid repasts were partaken of – excellent wines were imbibed – the corpus inperfectus was subjected to steam, dry heat, water jets and vigorous massage – retail therapy was undergone and rugby football was enthusiastically followed. A good time was had by all and the Girl’s birthday was well and truly celebrated!

 

On the subject of rugby… I had mentioned in my previous post that we would be present on the Friday at the top of the table clash between Bath and Saracens. The latter only narrowly lost out in several competitions last year – finishing as runners-up both in the Premiership and in the Heineken Cup. Their defence is well organised and impenetrable – their attack is remorseless if somewhat unimaginative. Coming into the match last Friday they had not yet been beaten this season.

Bath play a much more adventurous style of rugby, relying on scintillating line breaks and penetrative running. Those – such as I – who love the fluid game, support the club for just this reason. They have in past seasons suffered when their pack have been ground down by stronger opposition, and when as a result they have not had an adequate supply of good ball with which to operate. Over the last few seasons – however – things have been moving in the right direction and they now seem to have a much better balance between an aggressive and fearless pack and a truly exciting group of backs.

Cutting a long story short – last Friday – in front of an excited and highly partisan crowd – Bath overwhelmed the Saracens by 22 points to 11 to record a famous and excellent victory, the first against them in eight attempts. It was a wonderful night to be at the Rec and capped the weekend perfectly.

We are certain – of course – to re-visit Bath when we come back to the UK from Canada – but I know that we will also really miss these splendid retreats.

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ballot-box-32384_640“Experience hath shewn, that even under the best forms of government those entrusted with power have, in time, and by slow operations, perverted it into tyranny.”

Thomas Jefferson

The final UK party conference season of the current parliamentary term draws creakily to close with the Liberal Democrats somewhat bravely gathered in Glasgow. The extravasate of the drab convocations that we have had thus far to endure has left us – frankly – numb with disbelief at the grim prospect of the eight months of campaigning that will now follow – in the run-up to the election next May.

The recent referendum on Scottish independence – along with the concomitant hullabaloo south of the border – has provided us with several excellent examples – in both positive and negative veins – of exactly what is wrong with the current political process.

My previous post on the referendum provided the positive illustration. It is quite clear that the splendid and unprecedented turnout on that occasion was the result – not of the frankly ludicrous posturings of the political parties – but of the Scots recognising that, for once, they actually had a say in something that mattered – a chance that they took with both hands.

The flipside side of the coin was – true to form – all too clearly demonstrated by the parties at Westminster. Having until this point remained nervously aloof from the proceedings they were finally galvanised by the single, erroneous poll a week or so before the event that suggested against all the odds that the ‘Yes’ campaign might actually triumph. The panicky political denizens of the capital at once scrambled to Euston station, took to Virgin Trains and headed north.

Once there the three main parties – Tories, New(ish) Labour and the Lib Dems – cobbled together a shaky agreement to dangle before the Scottish people an orange(ish) vegetable in the shape of an extension to the devolved power that they already had – in return for their remaining in the Union. Thus far all entirely predictable – the only surprise being that the consensus held just about for long enough for the poll to actually take place.

What happened next was – sadly – just as predictable. Scarcely had the Scots taken the bribe accepted this generous offer than Tory leader David Cameron scurried from the door of 10 Downing Street to issue this breathless edict. The government would – he insisted – most certainly honour its pledge to the Scots, but in the interests of fairness it would at the same time legislate for a devolution of powers to the poor downtrodden English – which latter must be effected concurrent with the former!

Was this mayhap a noble gesture – the righting of some ancient wrong – the far-sighted act of a great statesman?? Not a chance! It was a piece of shameless, shabby political maneuvering!!

Cameron knows all too well that this belated resolution of the West Lothian question would deprive Labour of its healthy rump of 41 Scottish MPs – and thus of any real chance of a future Commons majority. He further knows that Labour therefore must needs oppose the issue, and that when the Devo-Max process inevitably breaks down as a result he will be able to place the blame on them for the resultant broken promises to the Scots. This has nothing to do with the desires of the English for self-determination. It has everything to do with Cameron and Osborne’s desire to fatally wound the Labour party.

“So what” – I hear you say? “That’s just politics. If you can’t stand the heat…”

“Well” – say I – “that’s just not good enough!”

Had Cameron announced his intention before the referendum – instead of after the count – not only would there have most likely been no agreement to ‘save’ the Union at all, but also a fair chance that the Scots – seeing which way the wind was blowing – would have modified their thinking and given Cameron and Co the kicking at the poll that they so richly deserve!

And these are the men that want us to entrust them with our precious votes?!

Don’t get me wrong – I have no more truck with the shameless hucksters from any of the other parties either – that dare to perch so precariously on the shoulders of giants – those worthy statesmen of yore who so richly decorate the tapestry of the history of this land. It comes as no surprise that the impossibly patient inhabitants of these fair isles now clearly regard politicians as ranking even lower on the scale of pond-life than do tabloid journalists! How many now must be wishing fervently for a ‘None of the above‘ option on the ballot paper?

 

I would like to think that our forth-coming emigration to Canada will lead to our escaping into clearer air. Sadly – everything I read about Canadian politics suggests that things are just about as bad there as they are in the UK.

Sigh!

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Brave hearts

Photo by W. L. Tarbert on Wikimedia CommonsI have – to this point – made no comment on this blog or anywhere else regarding the recent campaign which culminated in yesterday’s referendum on Scottish independence.

I am a Scot by (slightly remote) ancestry. Though I have never lived in Scotland I know parts of the country pretty well. I was rightly not entitled to vote in the referendum and therefore thought it appropriate to maintain a dignified distance and to say nowt!

I know that the nationalists will be hugely disappointed by this morning’s results. I really do believe – however – that the outcome will in the long run prove to have been for the best for of all of the constituent parts of the United Kingdom.

What has been fascinating has been to observe how the referendum has re-invigorated political debate in Scotland. The Scots have given the rest of us an object lesson in how to address, debate and resolve complex issues. They have done so in the main in spite of the blandishments of the politicians rather than because of them. Voting has quite clearly not split on party lines but rather with disregard for them.

The fact that the turnout was more than 84% – from the massive 97% of the population that had registered to vote – is truly staggering – particularly given that disenchantment with the political process has over recent years become endemic throughout these blessed isles. The Scots showed the rest of us how to energise an issue – how to take debate away from the political elites and to return it to the drawing rooms and kitchens – to the bars and cafes – to the street corner and to the garden fence!

The challenge for the political classes now is to work out out how to enthuse voters throughout the UK with similar passion, enthusiasm and commitment for the regular electoral process. Perhaps the now almost inevitable movement towards a federal framework for this patchwork nation will have the desired effect? Perhaps a re-focusing away from the whims and fancies of the 1% would help? Perhaps a determined ambition to renounce cynicism and self-interest would do the trick? Who knows…

In any event, it is good to see the Scots – as so often in the past – showing the rest of us the way. This evening I will – I believe – raise a glass of good cheer to them…

Here’s tae us, wha’s like us? Damned few an’ they’re a’ deid.

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Saturday last saw the final match of the season for the itinerant band of cricketing misfits for whom I still – on occasion – turn out. The fixture took place in a gloriously bosky setting in the Surrey hills, at a venue which – though I have long known of it – I have never previously visited.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThe ground at Holmbury St. Mary is the highest in the south of England and is reached by means of an unmade and deeply rutted track that might feel more familiar to residents of the Canadian wilds than it does to the natives here.

The track up Holmbury Hill is – however – considered a great improvement from the early days of the club, when all concerned had to trek up a narrow path carrying all of the required gear and equipment – not to mention foodstuffs and water, of which there was at the time no supply on site. At the end of the day – of course – everything had also to be laboriously carried by the weary contestants back down the hill to the village.

It struck me – as I journeyed hence – that the occasion might actually represent for me rather more than just the end of another season. It is quite likely that I will not get to play any cricket at all next year, since I anticipate that the preparations for our move to Canada – not to mention the event itself – will occupy much of our time and efforts during the temperate months.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidBy the time we are suitably established in BC I will be sixty two years old and somewhat long in the tooth for this sort of carry on. I have written previously concerning the cricketing scene in Victoria – the which would seem to be in good health – but I doubt that it will prove a broad enough church to provide a haven for a geriatric veteran of dubious ability such as myself.

If indeed that turns out to be the case then my cricketing days are over and I will have played my last match.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidI came late to the game – having effectively given up on it (as a participant – not as an enthusiast!) subsequent to my notably undistinguished career at school. I took it up again in my mid 40s at a time when I was re-evaluating many things in my life and have played consistently since. Though never achieving my fondly held ambition of scoring a fifty I have nonetheless derived a great deal of pleasure from the game – not least from some of the characters that I have encountered and from the wonderful mise en scènes in which the sporting drama is frequently enacted.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPerhaps – now that so many more things in our lives are changing – it might indeed be time to call it a day. Who can tell?

If this does turn out to be the case then this particular game was sadly not (the sylvan setting aside) one which by which I would have hoped my egress would be marked. We had not played the opposing side before (themselves also a wandering side) and it turned out to be a dramatic mismatch.  Having humiliated us in short order – and presumably not feeling that they had had their money’s worth – they insisted that we stay on for a further 20/20 game… so that they could crush us all over again!

I – for one – did not stay on for the beers!

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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Skylight

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidTo Wyndhams Theatre in the West End last Friday eve to catch the revival of David Hare’s 1995 masterpiece – ‘Skylight‘ – starring Bill Nighy and Carey Mulligan.

As Canadians would say – but as Brits would mean… “Awesome“!

The Kickass Canada Girl and I found ourselves earlier that evening – as we journeyed into town prior to the performance – discussing the fact that it has been some considerable time since we have truly had a five-star theatrical experience.

Come to think of it – and we did – there has also been a lengthy lacuna since we last saw a five-star movie. And as for television! Well – the fact that we are spending a considerable chunk of our current down-time (such as it is) either re-playing (in the case of the Girl) or mostly viewing for the first time (in mine) the complete cycle of Aaron Sorkin’s wonderful ‘The West Wing‘ courtesy of LoveFilm – says pretty much all that need be said about the current state of television drama.

I digress…

For those who know him not Sir David Hare is one of the great knights of the English theatre – playwright, screenwriter and director. He is perhaps best known for his trilogy of ‘state of the nation’ plays for the Royal National Theatre in the early 90s – ‘Racing Demon‘, ‘Murmuring Judges‘ and ‘Absence of War‘ – as well as for his earlier play, ‘Plenty‘ – his own screen adaptation of which starred Meryl Streep. Streep featured again in the movie of his 2002 screenplay of Michael Cunningham’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel – ‘The Hours‘ – the which was directed by Stephen Daldry, who also does the honours for this revival of ‘Skylight‘. Hare’s 2011 one act play ‘South Downs‘ – based on his school days in Sussex and written to be played as a double bill with Terrence Rattigan’s ‘The Browning Version‘ for the centenary of the latter’s birth – is one of my favourite scripts of recent years.

Most recently Hare has turned his hand to writing and directing for television, producing a trilogy of dramas based on his long-serving MI5 character – Johnny Worricker. The ‘Worricker Trilogy‘ – comprising ‘Page Eight‘, ‘Turks and Caicos‘ and ‘Salting the Battlefield‘ features in the lead role no less than the estimable Bill Nighy. See above!

Hare is understandably widely regarded as a political writer – his work clearly reflecting his left of centre credentials. ‘Skylight‘ – written whilst the UK yet reverberated to the shrill cacophony of the Thatcher years – makes central the abyss between that era’s capitalist high-achievers and those left as human wreckage in their wake. Nighy’s driven and hugely successful alpha-manhood is pitted against Mulligan’s born-again social conscience. Not too difficult to imagine where Hare’s sympathies lie.

Skylight‘ is – praise be – much more nuanced than this, and considerably more complex and layered than first impressions might suggest. The play is in truth about these two engaging, much flawed and totally believable characters and their sad, funny, exasperating and moving relationship history with each other. Exquisitely written, Hare’s script eschews easy answers and ensures that should we as onlookers ever feel that we have enough of a handle on matters to form a judgement, we are rapidly disabused of the notion and forced to dig deeper.

One could posit that given such wonderful material all a decent actor need do is to hit the mark and to recite the lines. To suggest such in this case would be to damn Nighy and Mulligan with faint praise. I can’t recall when I last saw two thespists inhabit their characters as completely as do these two. This is acting of the very highest order.

But enough of my babbling. Instead of perusing my prattlings you should be online at once scrabbling to acquire a ticket for the last few weeks during which this wonderful show will be on the London stage. Such treasures are – by all accounts – yet to be had… though I doubt that they will remain so for long.

There are rumours of a Broadway transfer in the spring of 2015 – should you hail from across the pond or be feeling particularly flush – but who knows.

Don’t take the chance. Catch it now!

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The Fuji x10 understandably gets more use in the summer months than at other times of the year and I try to ensure that it is always to hand whenever I am out and about.

I find myself looking out for interesting shapes and textures, or for the interplay of light and shade on different surfaces. Here are some snaps taken both in and out of town.

Hammersmith Bridge makes a constantly fascinating subject, even on an overcast day:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid…as do the ‘Canadians’ that live nearby:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidWhilst at the opposite end of the spectrum lies this rural idyll – observed on the occasion of a most pleasant Sunday lunch with good friends whom we have not seen for a while:

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

 

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidI have – as I did at this time last year – taken a week off work to recuperate from the rigours of the academic year which has just recently run its course.

Thus far – apart from running a few errands – I have done little of note… some barely consequential musical doodling and a pleasant walk when the gaps in the showery weather permitted. This is not a problem – however – the aim not being to achieve much beyond catching up on some sleep and getting myself back into my normal positive frame of mind.

I’m still working on that!

On one of my walks I took some snaps, none of which I particularly cared for with the exception of that appended here – an old tractor put out to pasture in the corner of a bosky meadow.

No need – I think – to dwell too heavily on the symbolism therein.

Work has – of late – been particularly bloody for us both. In my case there are things going on at the School that I do not much care for. I am all too aware that my disgruntlement is in no small part because I now long to be gone over the hills and far away – and that were it not so I would probably embrace the changes in a considerably more positive manner. It is nearly two years now since I first wrote on this blog – “I’m done“… Well – I am even more done now!

This is the waiting game – the hiatus in our onward march of progress – the lacuna in our strategic thinking.

My request for Canadian PR has been submitted – now we wait…

Our Buckinghamshire apartment hangs on the property market like a ripe fruit, waiting to be plucked – and now we wait…

Our pension projections – courtesy of the Kickass Canada Girl’s financial advisor cousin – glitter temptingly just out of reach – and we wait…

The girl and I both feel that we have achieved in our careers all that we wish or need to do. Nothing left to prove.

And now we await…

…the starting gun…

…the breaking of the storm…

…the moon on a stick!

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