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Back to Westhills Stadium in Langford on Saturday for Rugby Canada’s last home fixture (the final two games are away in Argentina and Chile!) of the 2016 Americas Rugby Championship. This match was also the first ever rugby test match between Canada and Brazil! Exciting stuff…

As you can see, this is very different to a 6 Nations fixture:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThese pictures are – of course – somewhat misleading. The stadium holds getting on for two thousand and was on this occasion gratifyingly almost full. The grandstand – however – runs only along the south side of the ground, with the result that my photos give the impression that the match was played in the middle of nowhere.

Rugby in Canada – as in the Americas as a whole – is definitely on the up but there are things that we Brits take for granted that they don’t yet have here. This has much to do with the game in Canada still being amateur, along with the concomitant dearth of funding. As you can see to the right in the background of this view of Canada warming up for this week’s thriller…

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid…there is at one end of the stadium a big screen showing rugby. Unfortunately it is not equipped to actually show the game being played – let alone the now obligatory instant slo-mo replays that are demanded in the UK – so instead simply cycles random northern and southern hemisphere ‘highlights’ throughout the proceedings… presumably to add ‘atmosphere’.

In fact, no additional atmosphere is required because watching the national side in Victoria is a true delight. The crowd may be small but they are knowledgeable and the ‘craic’ is first rate. On both of our recent visits to Westhills we got chatting to families supporting their sons who were recent additions to the youthful Canada squad. Two of these made their debuts off the bench for the last ten minutes or so on Saturday. One of them scored the final try and the other landed a penalty – to the delightful and unbounded joy of all concerned.

That one of these young men was the first representative player in an age to have hailed from Nova Scotia only highlights how difficult it is to organise a national team across such a vast land mass. There are more clubs and players in Ontario than anywhere else in Canada, but the climate is less favourable – with unpleasantly harsh winters – which explains why Rugby Canada’s headquarters is about as far west as one can go – in Victoria. Lucky for us that it is so.

Fans here are as fanatical as they are anywhere:

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid…but in Victoria you can reserve your seat simply be dumping your toque on it!

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidBut of course – you are eager to find out what the result was…

Well – the Brazilians are quick and athletic and they didn’t give up without a fight – even though a fair bit of their play took place suspiciously close to the offside line. They don’t as yet – however – have the bulk or the necessary technique up front and it was no real surprise when Canada put their collective feet down and ran in seven tries, closing the match 52 – 25 victors. It was also particularly telling that all seven of those tries were scored by forwards – though that fact gives a misleading impression of the play, which was in the main adventurous and free-flowing.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidWatching rugby at Westhills reminds me more than anything of being at grounds such as Moseley’s ‘The Reddings’ or London Irish’s Sunbury back in the amateur days in England. Very friendly, very intimate and a lot of fun. Big days out at Twickenham are all well and good, but there is a lot to be said for the way that the game is in Canada now.

Mind you – my favourite ground remains ‘The Rec’ at Bath… at least when they are winning!

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Photo by Andy Dawson Reid…some you really lose!

I have reason yet again to be grateful to my adopted country – this time for saving the day on Saturday last with regard to the hooligan’s game (as played by gentlemen!). Rugby Canada prevented what I had billed in my last post as a BIG weekend of rugby from fizzling out into a damp squib.

I did not mention in that message that Bath Rugby – of whom persistent perusers will know that I am a huge fan – were also playing a home derby against Gloucester on the Friday evening. Having scaled the heights last season with a triumphant run to the Premiership Final they have thus far this season lost the plot completely. They were bundled unceremoniously out of the European Championship before Christmas and now languish in the bottom half of the Premiership table.

Friday’s result was no improvement!

For the first half of the Calcutta Cup game at Murrayfield Scotland gave the impression of a side with at least half an idea as to what they were doing. They spent much of the second half demonstrating that this had – in fact – been an illusion, losing in the end 15 – 9 to a somewhat raggedy-arsed England. Observers bewailed the fact that all of Scotland’s progress in the latter half of 2015 seemed to have been undone… very much a case of one step forward – two steps back.

Not good!

The French narrowly beat the Italians in Paris – by all accounts the result going to the side that were marginally less poor on the day – and on Sunday the twin tournament favourites – Wales and Ireland – did everyone else a favour by drawing in Dublin.

So – it was left to the Canadians to provide us with some rugby highlights which their young squad (six new caps!) duly did on a lovely crisp and sunny February evening in Langford, running out comfortable winners against a chirpy Uruguayan side by 33 points to 17. Both sides gave a fine example of imaginative running rugby and the small (1100) but eager crowd were sent home extremely happy.

This was the first weekend of the new format Americas Rugby Championship which provides second tier nations Canada, the USA, Chile, Brazil and Uruguay (with Argentina ‘A’s making up the numbers now that their first team play with the big boys of the Southern Hemisphere) with an opportunity to gain more international experience. The tournament is played over five consecutive weekends in a format not dissimilar to the Six Nations. Canada next travel to the US before hosting Brazil at Westhills Stadium again on the 20th February.

We will most definitely be there.

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Image from Wikimedia CommonsA BIG rugby weekend coming up…

This Saturday sees the start of the 2016 Six Nations Championship which is most eagerly awaited in the wake of last autumn’s Rugby World Cup – particularly given that none of the northern hemisphere sides exactly covered themselves with glory thereat.

I will – naturally – be up promptly (Pacific Standard Time) to catch the coverage of the Calcutta Cup from Murrayfield (for Canadians and non-aficionados: Murrayfield is Scottish Rugby’s base in Edinburgh).

Scotland’s Six Nations record in recent years has been dire but under their relatively new coach – Vern Cotter – they have looked altogether sharper than of late and arguably put up the best showing of the home nations in the World Cup. They were certainly robbed by a refereeing error of a rightful semi-final spot at the death of their quarter-final against Australia.

England have an even newer coach in Eddie Jones, who master-minded Japan’s excellent showing in the World Cup which reached its zenith with their memorable last minute victory against the Boks. The English also have a new captain in the much maligned Dylan Hartley – presumably appointed on the same principle as promoting the ‘bad’ boy to be a prefect.

All in all it should be a cracking game, with both sides having a fair bit to prove. At this stage I am filled with the Scot’s customary blind optimism, but we shall see…

Later on Saturday – after a suitable pause for refreshment – the Kickass Canada Girl and I will head for Westhills Stadium in Langford to watch Canada take on Uruguay in their opening exchange of the 2016 Americas Rugby Championship. I think it is fair to say that there was a time, not so long ago, when the Scots and Canadians might have been thought pretty much on a par in rugby terms. Whatever the truth of that particular notion there can be no comparison when it comes to attendance at the comparable matches. Murrayfield holds around 67,000 and for Calcutta Cup fixtures against the ‘Auld Enemy’ can be guaranteed to be near as dammit a full house. Westhills Stadium holds 1,718 and on the one occasion that I have seen a game there – the Canadian development squad in action – the crowd numbered only in the hundreds. Here’s hoping for a decent crowd for this important fixture.

So – on Saturday it’s “Go Scotland!” (subsequent weekends will find me also cheering for England again…) – and “Go Canada!“…

 

Addendum: Canadians and others may wonder why the winner of the England/Scotland game is awarded the Calcutta Cup. Wikipedia helpfully furnishes the history here and a picture of the splendid silver trophy – made from melted-down silver Rupees – can be found here. The original trophy is now too weak to be transported or man-handled, so both England and Scotland have replicas for use on cup days.

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Full house

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThree months and eleven days have elapsed since I landed in British Columbia clutching my Confirmation of Permanent Residency (COPR) documentation.

In this post – dating from a few days before we left the UK in July – I mused upon the unsettlingly stateless limbo in which we found ourselves at that point, having divested ourselves of all of those accoutrements by which one’s existence is normally defined.

As documented a few days subsequent to our arrival in Victoria I had rapidly commenced the task of constructing a new Canadian identity. It has taken a while but I am delighted to report that the process is now pretty much complete.

Over the past few weeks a variety of critical markers – in the form of credit card sized identity cards – have dropped into our Community Mailbox…

A digression for non-Canadians… Until recently the majority of inhabitants of this brave young country were blessed – as we yet are in the UK – with a postal service that provided door to door deliveries. Now – for all of the usual painful reasons – that service is being curtailed. Even since we took up residence in our North Saanich home the familiar sight of the year-round shorts-appareled post person has been replaced by a roadside stack of ‘Community Mailboxes’ for which we have all been issued keys. In our case this now means a quarter of a mile trek up the road – in all weathers naturally – to see if we have mail. That’s ‘progress’… and indeed ‘service’!

Enough! Back to identity cards. I have recently taken delivery of the following:

  • my Permanent Resident card. Hooray! I now officially exist.
  • a permanent Driver’s License – to replace the temporary document that I have been toting around with me.
  • my British Columbia Services Card. This precious piece of plastic signifies that I have now not only met the residency requirements for eligibility but am a fully paid up member of the BC Medical Services Plan (MSP).

I think it is now safe to say that I am no longer a non-person.

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Photo by KTSquareOn Monday Canada goes to the polls for the 2015 Federal Election – the which in the UK would be a General Election.

As a newcomer to this fair country I quite rightly (in my view) have no vote, though interestingly the reverse is not the case – the Kickass Canada Girl having regularly voted in UK elections as a Permanent Resident even before she attained her citizenship.

The Girl has done her best over the past decade to give bring me up to speed regarding both federal and provincial politics in Canada, yet I still feel scarely qualified to make a properly reasoned decision. Maybe by the the time the next election trundles around I will be fully qualified – in all senses.

The one big drawback to having taken this giant step across the ocean in the summer of this particular year is that we have had to endure the nightmare of not one but two election campaigns. The May election in the UK this year was grim in many respects – for the drear campaign that was waged on all sides but especially for the outcome, in which the Tories were unexpectedly (and to many unwantedly) returned with a slender but decisive majority.

Having now been obliged to suffer a second campaign within a year that has been every bit as unedifying as the first, my plea to all good and rational folk is to think long and hard before inflicting on us another similar result here in Canada

…if for no other reason than that the Girl will be impossible to live with for a while should that turn out to be the outcome!

Pretty please…!

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imageStreaming coverage of the Rugby World Cup matches from ITV in the UK to the enormous TV that the previous owners of our new house very kindly donated to the cause has proved a big success.

Rather too much of a success, perhaps, since some of that which has been on display has not made for comfortable viewing. The less said the better concerning England’s ingnominious departure from their own tournament before the end of the pool stages – though in my humble view some frankly bizarre selectorial decisions contributed in no small measure to their untimely demise. There is no small irony in the fact that only in the last dead-rubber game against minnows Uruguay were my preferred half back combination of Ford, Joseph and Slade seen in action together.

That Canada fared no better is – of course – mitigated by the fact that they were not expected so to do. It would have been good had they managed at least one win, but sadly their best opportunity – against Romania – saw them squander a 15 – 0 lead well into the second half – eventually losing 17 – 15.

Wales and Ireland both did well to get into the quarter finals – Ireland in particular gaining a convincing victory over the French and thus avoiding an unpleasant encounter, at this early stage of the knockouts, with the All Blacks. Unfortunately both teams have suffered injuries to key personnel which may count heavily against them as the tournament proceeds.

The Scots achieved their prime objective of a quarter final berth losing only to the Boks – though they had to work pretty hard against a Samoan side with nothing to lose to come out ahead of the brightest lights of the tournament thus far – Japan. The Japanese – who host the next World Cup in four years’ time – not only beat the feared South Africans but also became the first side in the competition to win three out of four pool games and still not make the quarters.

The Scots’ reward is an outing next weekend against the form side of the tournament thus far – the Australians – who have turned around several years of lacklustre performances to peak at the right moment.

Do the Scots believe that they can overcome the rampant Aussies? Of course they do? Is that likely to happen? Er – no!

Though I would not be caught putting money on that particular outcome I might we’ll be tempted to a flutter – if I were a betting man – on the final featuring the Australians and the All Blacks.

Hmmmmm!

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Image from Pixabay“A transition period is a period between two transition periods.”

George Stigler

The period following the declaration in September 1939 that a state of war existed between the United Kingdom and Germany – the which endured until April of the following year – came to be know as the ‘Phoney War’. This because, following the Nazis’ blitzkrieg attack on Poland and Chamberlain’s dramatic declaration, as far as the general public could tell – absolutely nothing happened!

That this was – of course – far from being the case became all too apparent as the following year unfolded, but the phrase – and the notion – has stuck. It now provides a useful analog for an unexpected hiatus.

Far be it from me to suggest that the events of the past two months in our humble lives could in any way compare with such great moments from history – but I am, naturally, about to do just that.

Since the offer on our new home on the Saanich peninsular was accepted and the contracts signed back at the start of August we have existed in a dreamlike state of limbo. Schemes have been schemed – researches pursued relentlessly – plans prepared patiently… inspiration quivering tremulously just beyond reach like some slippery Will O’ the Wisp…

Not a great deal of any true import has been achieved. We have instead floated through a delightful holiday-like existence at our lovely friends’ smallholding in Saanichton, indulging in all the delights that Victoria has to offer of a summer season.

All this is about to change…

Next week we take over and move into our new home and all of our worldly possessions finally finish their long voyage from the UK.

I have already made reference to some of the many differences between buying and selling property in Canada and so doing in England. A further disparity – particularly if one is in the fortunate position of not requiring mortgage finance – is that the legal profession’s part in the process over here amounts to little more than a cameo.

As soon as we had received an offer on our apartment in Buckinghamshire I had immediately to engage a solicitor, by whom the process was effectively run from that point on – all the way to completion. Here in Canada we were advised that a lawyer would not be required until the very last moment. Sure enough we finally met our lawyer earlier this week, signed the necessary papers and handed over a bank draft made out for a very large sum of money. Apparently we will not need to see him again.

The funds will be transferred to the vendor on Monday next, we take possession at midday on the Tuesday and our goods and chattels should be with us on Wednesday.

There is some uncertainty as to the exact timing of this final phase because our various bits and pieces – having been extracted from their container upon arrival in Vancouver a couple of weeks ago and subsequently stored in a bonded warehouse there – still need to be cleared by Canada Customs. We will meet the truck bringing them from Vancouver at Victoria International Airport (where Canada Customs have an office) and the business will be transacted there. We don’t envisage there being any problems, but don’t yet know if this will take place on Tuesday afternoon or Wednesday morning.

Once everything has been unloaded and unpacked – that’s when the fun really starts…

Until then – and as a way of preparing ourselves for the busy and arduous week ahead – we have run away for a couple of nights to Saltspring Island, concerning which more anon…

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imageThis post has been a long time coming.

Regular readers will need no reminder of the tortuous genesis of our Canadian adventure. Should the casual passer-by wish to catch up on the history of our struggle to divest ourselves of our UK property – of the Kickass Canada Girl’s abortive 2012 attempt to establish a new career in Victoria – of our brief long distance relationship and of my delayed retirement… all of the necessary information may be gleaned from the archives to this blog.

I will simply refer all other gentle readers to this post, dating from the end of April of this year. This missive – lurking under the banner “A lesson in patience” – had as its theme the notion that the entire enterprise had been an extended education in endurance.

It turns out that in this regard I was somewhat off-beam!

The post contained the following paragraph:

“As the deadline for our departure for Canada approaches with all the subtlety of a runaway train we must keep our faith, our belief in our good fortune and our fingers firmly crossed. The universe is surely planning for everything to pan out just right – at just the right moment.”

At the point of posting the Girl and I had both made something of psychological leap, deciding that we would no longer fret and strut regarding our lack of progress but determining instead that we would retire and move to Canada in July come what may! Had we not found a purchaser for our Buckinghamshire apartment – or had my Permanent Residency at that point not been approved – we would go regardless and make of the emprise what we might.

It is now a matter of history that within forty eight hours of this missive having been penned we received – and accepted – a reasonable offer for the apartment. Within little more than a week of that milestone my application for PR was also granted.

The sale of the apartment was completed a mere week before we departed on our trans-Atlantic jaunt, just in time for a six-year high in the Sterling/Canadian dollar exchange rate to gift us a bonus of around $145,000 on what we would have had, had the property been sold when we first attempted so to do.

Our good fortune in finding our dream house in Victoria has been documented sufficiently recently that I need not repeat myself here. Suffice to say that faith in our fellowship of the fortunate few, which had been somewhat eroded over the last year or so, has been dramatically restored.

What might all of this mean?

Well – there is no denying that a great deal of patience has been called for over the last four years. The ultimate lesson – however – is surely rather that one should trust in the universe to provide what is needed – when it is most needed. One may – of course – ascribe this fortune to whatever higher force one deems appropriate. Personally I just think that we are just lucky, lucky buggers!

End of story…

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image…no, no – that’s just a little too obvious!

Let’s just say that the Immigrant is Imperceptible no longer (though I like the tag so much that I most certainly intend continuing my use of it).

When I last posted concerning my attempt to become a Permanent Resident of Canada I described to process to the point – which had then just been reached – at which my Confirmation of Permanent Residence (COPR) had arrived in the post. All that remained – I wrote – was for me to ‘land’ in Canada.

The process is this:

The COPR document is essentially a temporary visa with an expiry date by which point the applicant must have ‘landed’ in Canada. Upon ‘landing’ the temporary visa is replaced by more permanent documentation and the applicant becomes a resident of Canada. This is done at the ‘port of entry’ into Canada.

Thus, when I landed on Sunday morning at Vancouver International I was directed to the Immigration hall, triaged by a very polite young man and then passed over to the Canada Border Services Agency (CBSA) for a brief interview and document processing.

Having heard that this might be a lengthy process we had arranged an hiatus in our journey at this point of some three hours before catching the connecting flight on to Victoria. Of course, when we entered the Immigration hall it was almost entirely empty, save for the helpful young man, a suitably stern CBSA lady and our good selves. As a result the whole operation was completed in around thirty minutes and we found ourselves with a considerable amount of time to kill before we could take the last step of our long trek.

For the record, the CBSA lady did not issue any new documentation – she merely stamped the existing COPR document. The final PR card will apparently catch up with me later. The stern lady also assisted us with our customs declaration which she need not have done, though as the centre was so quiet she seemed happy to do the leg work for us. She filled out Form B4 – ‘Personal Effects Accounting Document‘ (eschewing the copy that I had prepared earlier) – and stamped the printed copies of the spreadsheet that I had provided listing the ‘Goods to Follow’ which comprise the contents of our shipping container.

Now, I have to say that – compared to the preceding elements of the process – ‘landing’ could not have been accomplished in a more easeful and efficient manner. My thanks to the Canada Border Services Agency for helping to make my arrival go as smoothly as it did.

And as just about everyone has extended to me thus far – “Welcome to Canada”.

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Exclamation_mark_redPerfunctory
pəˈfʌŋ(k)t(ə)ri
adjective

adjective: perfunctory

  1. <(of an action) carried out without real interest, feeling, or effort.
    “he gave a perfunctory nod”

My apologies if recent posts have come over as being a little on the – er – perfunctory side. If I may plead an excuse – there is quite a lot going on at the moment! I do have a fair bit to report and much upon which to elaborate, but that may all have to wait until we actually find ourselves with some time on our hands.

Much of last week was given over to a series of fond farewells which – as you might imagine – caused no small amount heart-string tugging.  For emotional relief we indulged ourselves with a long wished-for trip to town to observe the taping of one of our favourite satirical TV shows – “Mock the Week“. The Girl has been applying for tickets for this chuckle-fest pretty much throughout the whole of the last decade – to this point with no joy whatsoever. Pleading that she was about to leave the country, however, seems to have done the trick and around a month ago a pair of priority tickets popped through the letterbox.

Mock the Week is a spoof news-based quiz show purportedly pitting against each other two teams of three comedians. The show is hosted by – and is in large part dependent for its success upon – the estimable Dara O’Brean. Whereas we never doubted that the twenty nine minutes that go to air each week are in fact culled from a considerably greater pool of material, we had not imagined for a moment that what the audience in the studio is actually presented with is more than three hours of inspired riffing on current affairs topics, a fair bit of which is completely un-broadcastable. The show is taped on a Tuesday night and broadcast the following Thursday and I for one have no idea how they manage to produce a coherent and highly entertaining program from the chaos with which the studio audience is presented.

 

In an abrupt change of gear, this – for those who are interested – is how the remainder of this week pans out.

  • Wednesday – our movers arrive to start packing.
  • Thursday – our movers finish packing and start moving! Having no bed we spend the night in an hotel.
  • Friday – we (and our cleaners) clean the Berkshire apartment, and our carpet cleaner then cleans the carpets. Obvious really. Still no bed, so back to the hotel we go.
  • Saturday – all done at the apartment and now just the cars to dispose of (to those who have kindly already agreed to purchase them from us), haircuts to have and odds and sods to deliver to all and sundry. Thence to another hotel – this time on the outskirts of the Airport.
  • Sunday – check in… and check out! Apparently this ain’t the Hotel California and we can – after all – leave…

 

BC here we come!

 

 

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