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Celebration

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidAt around about this time last year the Kickass Canada Girl and I were eagerly anticipating our then imminent excursion to Barcelona on which we accompanied the A level Theatre Studies students from the School. As I wrote in a post at the time, Easter last year fell about as late as is possible and our jaunt to Catalonia was over and done before the feast itself was celebrated.

Whereas the festal day this year is not quite as early as that of 2013 it is still a little on the precipitate side. As a result the weather – until today at any rate – has been anything but spring-like – erring in fact on the side of the distinctly chilly and leaden. Normal Easter bank holiday activities – dropping the top on the convertible, sitting outside some pleasantly rural hostelry nursing a glass of cool Sauvignon Blanc and otherwise generally celebrating of the vernal season – have thus had to be put on hold.

As it happens this is no bad thing as there is much to be done.

The bulk of the holiday weekend was thus spent sorting through cupboards, bookcases, storage shelves and the loft above the garage, doing what Canadians – and doubtless plenty of others (though clearly not Apple who auto-correct the phrase to ‘bucking’) – describe as ‘hucking out’ all those goods and chattels that will not be making the trip to the Pacific North West with us. Normally a brutal operation, on this occasion the task was facilitated considerably by its being the fourth such episode within the last decade. When the Girl and I moved in together in 2005 we had of necessity to find space for our combined possessions. Then, when we first put the Buckinghamshire apartment on the market in 2011, we had a clear out as part of the staging process. Further, when we came to Berkshire later that same year we carried out yet another purge to ease the move.

Now the process must be repeated – this time with an immovable deadline!

All the surveys carried out by our shortlisted international movers agree on one thing – we have approximately 10% more ‘stuff’ than will fit in a 20 foot container. As we are determined that this will be our limit some things clearly have to go. The double bed from our spare room – an inexpensive item purchased primarily for the staging exercise – was an obvious selection. My piano – a rather beautiful Edwardian upright that I inherited from my father – is considerably tougher to part with. The balance is tipped by the knowledge that the trans-Atlantic crossing might in any case prove rather too much for its increasingly fragile fabric. The challenge now is to find a good home for it before we depart.

All else is really just nipping and tucking to bring down the volume – but there is no harm in that in any case.

 

I am perhaps actually being a little unfair with regard to the holiday break as a whole. The Girl is in the midst of a two week exeat from work – taken in part to use up leave that she would otherwise lose. In addition I took the Thursday before and the Tuesday after Easter off so that we might share a six day recess during which sojourn we could once again rehearse being retired together.

I am very happy to report that it has all gone extremely well…

…as has the opportunity to catch up last Friday with some dear friends whom we have not seen since last autumn. Our most grateful thanks to them for entertaining us so splendidly!

 

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rugbyThe weekend just gone saw the final three fixtures in the 2015 Six Nations Championship. I have made reference previously to this northern hemisphere rugby tournament, and I feel sure that you already know that England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, France and Italy compete annually for this keenly contested trophy.

The format of the tournament is a straight league with no bonus points – with each nation playing every other in a single fixture, alternating home and away from one year to the next. The winner is the team with the most points at the end of the five rounds. Should there be a tie in this regard the outcome is decided on points difference (scores for/scores against).

The start of this year’s final round found three teams – England, Ireland and Wales – on the same number of points. By chance each of these teams was to play a different opponent – Wales/Italy, Ireland/Scotland and England/France – and in each match the side in contention was the favourite to win. Points difference was clearly likely to determine the eventual winner.

By further and the most pure of chances the matches were to be played one after the other (in Rome, Edinburgh and at Twickenham respectively) in the order of the points difference at the start of the matches. Thus for Wales – up first – to be able to challenge for the trophy they would needs outscore Italy by at least 26 points. At half time Wales were trailing by a single point at 13-14 but – clearly mindful of what was required – they then proceeded to run riot, the final score being a massive 61-20 to the Welsh.

Ireland – up next against Scotland – were thus required to win by at least 21 points to set England a challenge. They duly hammered the hapless Scots by 40 points to 10, setting England the target of beating the French – by far the most dangerous of the day’s underdogs – by an unlikely 26 points.

As the sun set over Twickenham and in front of a capacity crowd of more than 80,000 the English came out of the blocks like a train. Within the first four minutes they were a try to the good. Unfortunately, by the ten minute mark they were two tries to one down! The tone was thus set for the remainder of the match. In what is normally a relatively tight fixture the sides went at each other as though possessed. No sooner had one scored than the other would strike back.

England, eventually and inexorably, drew slowly ahead of their old rivals and as the match entered its last breathless minute they were within six points of the target. The final attack – a rolling maul in which practically the whole squad took part – saw the English poised above the French line only for the referee to blow-up for a penalty to the visitors. Even at this late stage the French, instead of kicking the ball out of the park, tried to run it out from behind their own lines. Older and wiser counsel finally prevailed.

The final whistle left both sides exhausted, those of us watching emotionally drained and with fingernails gnawed down to the quick, and England the eventual winners of a tremendous match by a scarcely believable 55 points to 35!

Still not enough – though – to win the title…

Congratulations to the Irish on their splendid campaign. Hearty felicitations also to all those involved for taking part in one of the most extraordinary days of rugby that has ever been seen. Three matches – twenty seven tries – two hundred and twenty one points on the day!

Magnificent! Thrilling! Glorious!

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…a merry little Christmas!

To friends, acquaintances and gentle readers

  the Kickass Canada Girl and the Imperceptible Immigrant

wish – a wonderful holiday!

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SoNot for the first time in my life, yesterday found me (re-)creating my very own ‘déjà vu’ experience.

There – that’s a suitably enigmatic opening!

This is – of course – just another way of reporting that the Kickass Canada Girl and I once again spent a splendid evening in the presence of Mr Peter Gabriel at the Wembley Arena. The ‘remembered event’ sensation comes about because – as I have myself been able to do once before – we saw again essentially the same show as we experienced just over a year ago.

Mr Gabriel – mayhap in the autumn of his career as a performer – prefers his tours to be spread out over a suitably relaxed time period, presumably to ensure that he – along with his increasingly – er – mature ensemble – make it through the rigours thereof intact. He has thus gotten into the habit of starting a tour around these parts – venturing forth into the world (in this case for a little over a year) – before returning to a hero’s welcome to play a few final shows back where the tour started.

Thus is was that for the second time I was able to catch the same show twice – after a gap in each case of about a year…

…and bloomin’ good he was too!

Still – rather than repeat myself (again! – (see what I did there?)) – why not re-read the equivalent post from last year…

You might just experience a similar sensation!

 

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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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Image by Andy Dawson Reid“I was pirouette and flourish,
I was filigree and flame.
How could I count my blessings
when I didn’t know their names?”

Rita Dove ‘On the Bus With Rosa Parks’

We who are the fortunate ones should by now know most intimately the names of our blessings and thus meet no such challenges in the area of numeracy. Our blessings are counted daily and grateful thanks are offered to our gods – whatever form they may take.

This week brings yet another such benediction. We have to be at work for only three of its working days!

Yippee!

On Thursday it is the Kickass Canada Girl’s birthday and – as is our wont – we will be celebrating in some style. We escape in the morning to that favourite haunt of ours – the lovely Georgian city of Bath. Owing to a turn of outrageously good fortune I am in grateful possession of a gift voucher for the night at an extremely prestigious spa hotel, to which we will repair forthwith. Spa treatments for the Girl and extended exposure to sauna and steam rooms for me will be followed by a splendid repast at the hotel’s Michelin-starred eatery – and all as a result of a favour that I did for someone. Truly what goes around comes around.

Sadly we could not afford to extend our stay at this pleasure dome to a second night, and Friday thus finds us downgrading to a rather more humble hostelry. We should not complain though, as this one also has a pretty decent restaurant. We will not be able to tarry in any case as we must make our way over to the Recreation Ground – being lucky possessors of tickets for the Bath/Saracens game on the Friday evening. Those who follow such things will know that the top of the table in this year’s rugby premiership is currently fairly tight, and that as a result this particular clash carries great import.

Saturday will – the Girl assures me – be given over to shopping. There is the small matter of a birthday gift to be purchased, in the form – most likely – of a new outfit. I wouldn’t want to give too much away – however – so we will have to see what transpires.

We are very aware that we are extremely lucky souls and we are filled with gratitude for all of the wonderful gifts that are bestowed upon us. It behoves us not to take these things for granted – and we will do our darnedest so not to do.

Blessings, blessings, blessings…

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidAll journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.

Martin Buber

Time for some reflections on our recent sojourn in British Columbia.

The first thing to say is how very deeply grateful we are to our dear friends in Saanichton. They once again took us into their home, fed us, entertained and cared for us. They invited us to share their family Christmas – for which they cooked a magnificent dinner – and they laid on a splendid party at the New Year which was – in large part – also a celebration of my 60th birthday. They lent us vehicles regardless of their own convenience, including one for our four-day jaunt up-island. They went – as they always do – above and beyond at every conceivable juncture and I fear that we did not sufficiently express or demonstrate our gratitude. We will make up for this on future occasions. They are very special people and we wish them endlessly well.

The whole expedition to BC was quite amazing and most enjoyable. It was good to be able to visit friends and relatives in Kamloops, Victoria, Duncan and Nanaimo – as well as to be able to enjoy our celebratory down-time in Tofino. It had been a long eighteen months since my last visit to the province and there was much catching up to do…

…almost too much – though that perhaps sounds ungrateful, which I am most definitely not. When in BC I always find myself – with one eye on the future – trying to imagine the life that we will lead when we have finally moved to Canada. The demands of friends and family – though always most welcome – obfuscate to an extent the true picture of how life will be when each day is simply ‘normal’ rather than being a special occasion.

What is beyond question is that the Kickass Canada Girl and I find ourselves – with each visit – not only more certain of where we intend to end up (almost to the block!) but also more ready than ever to find ourselves there sooner rather than later. I am – however – all too aware of the dangers of wishing away one’s life so I will say no more.

I spent some time this trip re-visiting what have already become favoured haunts around the peninsular – the Inn at the Brentwood Lodge, Russell Books in downtown Victoria itself and Serious Coffee in Sidney… The Girl is in agreement incidentally – regarding the latter – that they brew the finest cup of Joe on the island, if not in the province… and I just love the whole West Coast ambiance.

One small incidental sadness – Orr’s Family Butcher – which used to be in Brentwood Bay and on which I commented here – is no more. They seem to have embarked on an expansion project that was possibly ill-timed. I – for one – will mourn their loss.

So much for looking back though. In the next post I will concentrate on things to come…

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Festal cheer

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidEach age has deemed the new-born year
The fittest time for festal cheer.

Walter Scott

First and foremost I should take this opportunity to wish the gentle reader – both regular and occasional – the Happiest of New Years. May your 2014 improve upon 2013 in every way.

Here in Victoria we were greatly blessed to be able pass the turn of the year with excellent companions – both our lovely friends from Saanichton and their sons, as well as other wonderful people to whom the Kickass Canada Girl has introduced me over the past half decade and more.

I was personally also greatly honoured that our dear friends chose to make the evening a double celebration, having prepared a splendid West Coast repast in honour of my birthday. This epicurean feast culminated in a gorgeous birthday cake of such sensual delight that it almost makes one wonder if the experience of consuming said ambrosial confection might actually be better than sex! Hmmm! Almost – but not quite…

These dear friends had also clubbed together to present me with something that I have coveted for quite some time  now… a nautical chart book covering the Gulf Islands. We may not yet live in BC – I may not yet have a boat – but I can at least get to work studying the charts of the waters that I will soon – with all good fortune – be sailing.

Happy New Year!

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Hard to take…

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidIt may seem somewhat hypocritical for someone who recently wrote a piece on envy to do what I am about to do – to wax lyrical about our sojourn in Tofino celebrating my sixtieth birthday – but I fear that on this occasion I intend being entirely shameless with regard to this grevious lapse – claiming the prerogative of recently acquired age for so doing (even though my actual birthday is not for another week or so).

Our room at the wonderful Wickaninnish Inn is at one corner of the building and has four picture windows on two sides overlooking the ocean. One can lay in bed watching the dawn evolve slowly over the breaking waves, warmed by the gas coal fire which fills the space between the two windows in front of the bed.

The slate-lined bathroom has a soaker tub large enough for two bodies to lay side by side and also looks out over the ocean. Blissful hours can be spent simply gazing at the ever-changing sea. It is quite a wrench to leave the room at all, but not to do so is to miss out on the other delights that the ‘Wick’ – as the locals know it – has to offer.

There is a fitness room overlooking Chesterman beach. There is a gorgeous spa in which we indulged ourselves with a lovely Hawaian-style ‘Lomi Lomi’ treatment – one of the best massages I have had in a good long while.

There is also – naturally – a splendid restaurant at which we officially celebrated my entering a seventh decade. The excellent tasting menu included two world-class courses – one of Sablefish and the other a blood orange dessert – whilst our passionately knowledgable server introduced us to a wonderful and previously unknown (to us) BC Pinot Noir from the Foxtrot vineyard in Naramata. Yummy!

The restaurant bar also holds one of the best collections of single malts that I have seen outside the Auld Country and we felt obliged to finish the evening with a short tasting flight of some of its rarities.

All in all a wonderful few days’ rest and relaxation, and very difficult to leave.

 

You may be glad to hear – however – that karma has a way of keeping one’s feet firmly on the ground even when one is flying close to bounds of heaven. The Kickass Canada Girl and I have both contracted colds! This is hardly surprising – I suppose – given that – a) it is winter – b) we have just fully relaxed for the first time since September – and c) we have been staying in a house with our dear friends’ two young sons!

Further karmic justice was delivered by means of a rare blogging-related accident. I was laying on my back on the bed with the iThing propped on my chest checking my previous post when I lost control (physically!) of the device and it fell forward and struck me smartly – with the edge of the glass screen – full on the bridge of my nose… leaving me with a painful and embarrassingly visible wound…

Welcome back to the real world!

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OMG!

Is this possibly the most beautiful place on the planet?

These photos were (mostly) taken from the windows of our room at the Wickaninnish Inn at Tofino whence we have come to celebrate my sixtieth birthday.

Further words are not necessary…

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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