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The slowest art

April 26, 2020 in Life in BC, Photos | Permalink

“Gardening is the slowest of the performing arts.”

Anonymous

Enforced inactivity (courtesy of the social isolation essential to the mitigation of the current pandemic) does have its upside. Sometimes it finally shakes one into commencing some project or other that one should have started years before.

Thus it is with our pond!

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidWhen we purchased our lovely home – nearly five years ago now – we observed that it had in the front garden (yard!) a small raised ornamental pond. As a water feature it distinctly lacked interest and its main function appeared to be to provide a breeding ground for mosquitoes and other biting things. We determined that we would get rid of it.

About a year after we purchased the property I bought a boat – the good ship ‘Dignity‘. In order that we might accommodate her (when not upon the saltchuck) in the driveway next to our house our landscape gardener friend from Saanichton carried out some groundworks to widen the ingress.

We asked him about our pond and he suggested that it should be no problem to demolish. As it happened he had with him his small backhoe loader – the sort of thing once known as a ‘digger’. He took a run at the pond in it and it simply bounced off – without leaving so much as a scratch mark. We decided that more serious firepower would be needed and resolved to temporarily park the problem in the bay marked ‘stuff for the future’.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidLast year I decided that the future was now with us and that something must be done about the pond. Demolition proving too difficult a task we decided instead to turn the feature into a raised bed. This would mirror other existing such beds in our front garden.

I carefully siphoned the (revolting) water out of our water-feature. The next task was to punch a hole in the bottom of the pond at its lowest point to allow it to drain properly. Since the thing had proved immune to the backhoe the logical thing to do(!) was to attempt the job by hand – with a club hammer and cold chisel. The result – after several months of repeated hammerings – was a gratifying six-inch hole through to the earth below.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThus it remained through the winter – until such point as we found ourselves isolated by the pandemic – at which time our thoughts (well, mine anyway) turned to gardening. I quickly discovered that I could order and pay for the necessary materials online. At the allotted time a week or so later a spotty youth in a dump truck approached the house in a gingerly fashion – as though it were a leper colony or somesuch – dumped the contents at the end of the driveway and accelerated away as quickly as possible.

Perfect!

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidIt took but a short hour’s work to fill the bottom of the erstwhile pond with six inches of drain rock and to then top it up with fresh topsoil.

So – now we have a splendid new bed outside our kitchen window. All that remains to do is for us to figure out what to put in it. More on that later.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

 

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One world together

April 20, 2020 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

Photo by Markus Spiske from PexelsWatching the ‘One World Together at Home’ extravaganza on TV the other night somewhat inevitably brought back memories of that particular sunny Saturday back in July 1985 – and of how we all dropped in and out of the TV coverage of Live Aid… on the day that we were going to feed the world.

That unlikely day was not the last time that the music industry tried to save the world. Nor was it the last on which it was both praised and lambasted for so doing. There is for me something genuinely affecting and stirring in our pampered pop princes and princesses getting together to do something selfless for others (the gentle reader will observe that I have exercised my prerogative not to be cynical but instead to believe in only in the highest motives on all parts). In any case – those who are susceptible to being moved will be moved and those who enjoy a good whinge once again get the opportunity to indulge themselves… so everybody’s happy (or not!)…

On this occasion our musical exemplars were not themselves saving the world (this was no fundraiser like Live Aid) but they were, on our behalf, lauding and thanking those who actually are so doing… the essential workers – the wonderful and brave doctors, nurses and other healthcare workers, the shop workers, delivery drivers and cleaners. Strange how so many of these essential workers – who take their lives into their hands to protect and to help others – often receive the most humble of remunerations for so doing, whilst those who are paid as though they actually are essential can choose which of their homes to ‘work’ from. Plus ça change…

Aside from the goodness of the cause in either case another reason why Saturday’s broadcast brought to mind those events from thirty five years ago was that we were once again wowed (those of us old enough not to be totally blasé in the face of such ‘magic’) by the technological miracle by which means the events were effected. Back in the mid 80s the notion of having a major live concert running simultaneously in two countries (with feeds from many others) and of (relatively) seamlessly switching from one continent to another – not just on TV but in the stadia themselves – seemed incredible. That the much abused Phil Collins could perform on both stages courtesy of the singular contrivance that was Concorde simply added to the legerdemain.

Now – that concert took several armies of technicians on two continents to pull off and to cover on live TV. Had it not been for Bob Geldof’s legendary bloody-mindedness it would probably not have happened as it did. This week’s event – given the very different circumstances under which it took place – may well have involved a (somewhat smaller) army, but also one which was dispersed, fragmented and sequestered. The technology that was used to pull together eight hours of material from living rooms, gardens and home studios was as impressive in its own very different way as was that used back in 1985 – however much we now take these things for granted. Kudos to the increasingly impressive Lady Gaga for fulfilling the Geldof role on this occasion and for making this all happen.

As on the earlier occasion emotions were played upon, tears were shed and resolutions made. Let us do our damnedest to stick to them.

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Will there also be singing?

April 7, 2020 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

“In the dark times
Will there also be singing?
Yes, there will also be singing.
About the dark times.”

Bertolt Brecht, motto to Svendborg Poems, 1939

This poignant motto appears at the head of the last collection of poems published by Bertolt Brecht during his lifetime. He was by then living in exile from Nazi Germany in the town of Svendborg on the Danish island of Funen.

The ‘dark times’ to which he refers are, of course, considerably darker even than those which afflict us now, but a search on the InterWebNet for uses to which this brief motto has been put reveals a plethora of such instances in recent times – starting with the invasion of Iraq in 2003 and gathering pace since 2016. The latest of which I am aware was by Chris Riddell for his cartoon on the Corona virus lock-down in the UK for last Sunday’s Observer newspaper.

When I first became aware of Normal Lewis’ wartime memoir – through Francesco Patierno’s film, shown on the BBC toward the end of last year – the current COVID-19 crisis did not even feature on the roadmap of impending concerns. Now, of course, contemplation of conflicts still sharp in the living memory has become something of a pastime – or more accurately a ‘pass-time’, since many of us are unable to follow our preferred pursuits and must needs instead find alternative ways to occupy the time that hangs heavy on our hands. It has become quite the thing to compare our current trials and tribulations with those of the generation that lived through the last world war.

There are good reasons for so doing – though even better ones for exercising finer judgement. We do indeed live in unprecedented times. As things stand we have no idea how this is all going to pan out, or into what reality we might emerge on the other side. When we look back we can discern no other period since the last war in which so many people’s lives were simultaneously thrown into chaos by such a crisis – be that through the direct touch of the pandemic itself, or through loss of employment, income or – even worse – of friends and loved-ones.

Writing about my father’s war-time experience in Italy – contemporaneous with that of Norman Lewis – I suggested that he had subsequently spoken very little about his experiences there. My mother would describe how she went outside to watch the vapour trails over south London during the Battle of Britain, but otherwise she likewise gave little away about how the war had affected her and those close to her.

We know – we think we know – from our readings of history, from novels and poetry and from the many film and TV productions concerning the war and its aftermath – just how broken and fragmented was the world in the latter half of the 1940s. Populations had been destroyed or displaced, the greater part of a generation had lost their lives, families and societies had been torn asunder, economies wrecked and great expanses of the old world reduced to piles of rubble. How could the world – the lives – ever be rebuilt?

Yet many of those who lived through that period chose not to – or simply could not – speak thereof… and the world – as it does – moved on.

In this age of instant and incessant ‘communication’ there is perhaps a case for saying rather less and listening – and thinking – rather more…

…and – yes! – I am aware of the contradiction in so writing.

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Closed in

March 29, 2020 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

“We are closed in, and the key is turned
On our uncertainty…”

William Butler Yeats

As the world holds its collective breath – uncertain as to what will happen next…

…if nothing else we may find that we have time on our hands for musing – and a still, small space for so doing in this world normally in such a hurry might well be one of the only positives to come out of this calamity.

So – as a TV comedy character in the UK was once wont to exclaim…”Bear with…”

My parents were both hoarders. Which is to say – when my mother passed away and my siblings and I ventured to clear the house where they (and, for a considerably shorter period, we) had lived for almost fifty years, we discovered not only five decade’s worth of papers, postcards, letters, pirated music scores and so forth, but also – amongst many other items of furniture – every chair that they had ever purchased together… as well as some that they had probably inherited. Some of these items were, frankly, no longer in a usable condition but they had nonetheless been left in situ. When we had finished clearing the house it felt almost twice as big as it had seemed beforehand.

This was not to suggest, however, that my parents collected furniture; and certainly not in the sense that they knew anything much about it or had an eye for an attractive or collectable item. My father’s mother had lived (when I was a youngster) with her sister, my great aunt, in a large Edwardian house not that far from Sevenoaks in Kent. When they both passed away – within a month or so of each other – my father executed their estate. Looking around the house – which had not been updated for many a long year – we were struck by some of the beautiful pieces of furniture that they had obviously accumulated over an extensive period. When I asked my father why he would not, for example, hang on to that lovely Victorian dining table and chairs (it being considerably more attractive than the one that they then possessed) he simply opined that “a table is a table“, in spite of clear visual evidence that that was not in fact the case. When said dining room furniture was eventually sold at auction he expressed surprise at the value that was placed upon it and, indeed, at how much it sold for.

I was at the time living in the very first house to which I was a party to the purchase. This was a most pleasant but tiny Victoria terraced cottage and there was scarcely room to swing a (smallish) cat, let alone to find room for further items of furniture – however lovely. At my grandmother’s house my eye had been caught by a really most attractive Davenport writing desk, after which I soon found myself hankering. I certainly did not want it to go outside the family so I persuaded my parents to hang on to it and also to ‘put my name upon it’ as a potential future inheritance. This beautiful item thus eventually found its way – upon my mother’s passing – to our home in South Buckinghamshire, where it looked quite as though it had always been there.

Naturally the piece followed us, first to Berkshire and then eventually across the pond (and a continent) to the West Coast of Canada, where it now sits proudly in our living room.

There is but one small problem, however. The desktop of the Davenport – though unlocked when the movers arrived in the UK – was firmly locked by the time the item was unpacked in Victoria. The key, sadly, was nowhere to be found. In spite of my best efforts since I have been thus far unable to gain access to the top of the desk… which is annoying!

Now – I can sense a certain impatience out there in reader-land. “Why is he prattling on about furniture (however lovely)?” – I hear you asking. “Is he just going quietly bonkers cooped up in doors because of the Corona virus?“.

Well – there is a connection and all will be revealed – but that may take one – or two – more posts…

What? You had something else to be doing?

 

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Crisis management

March 26, 2020 in Life as we know it | Permalink

“There is no longer such a thing as strategy; there is only crisis management.”

Robert McNamara

…which may well be true – particularly at the moment. What most of us are doing would definitely not count as strategy and I’m pretty certain that that goes for many of the world’s leaders as well. Some of them are palpably not even aiming for management…

The world is in a deathly strange place right now – and all is uncharted territory! Nothing that we knew before seems to apply any more.

And then there’s shopping! Not just exotic or even casual shopping – the sort of thing that used to fill rather too much of our time and would produce unpredictable – if not always unpleasant – results. No – I am referring to that simple, routine and essential round of visiting those commonplace purveyors of comestibles – the grocery stores/supermarkets – call them what you will…

It seems likely that throughout the world what was once a familiar ritual (or chore, depending on your point of view) has been transformed utterly into a mysterious and really rather threatening procedure, throughout which one constantly expects the sirens to start wailing, the searchlights to pierce the darkness and those masked agents of authority to swoop out of the shadows to haul one away for some uncomprehended infringement.

I exaggerate of course (though dramatic effect seems somehow superfluous in these dark days) but nowhere near as much one might have guessed before this all started.

Anyway – this is how it goes at our local Thrifty’s…

One aims to get there early – to avoid the crowds. The car park is sparsely occupied which gives one a false sense of optimism. The main entrance to the store – with automatic doors facing three ways – has been reconfigured to allow ingress and egress through two of those openings. A member of staff is on permanent duty there to ensure that people are only going in one direction at a time.

Only a very limited number of shoppers are being allowed in to the store at any point. Shoppers going in queue by one of the doors. This queue snakes round the side of the building and adheres to the spacing set by the big back crosses marked on the paving – each two metres apart. When one reaches the front of the queue one waits to be summoned inside. A trolley is offered and carefully sanitised by the staff member before one is allowed in.

Inside the store everyone struggles to stay two metres apart. We all pass down the aisles in the same direction, waiting for spaces to open up before we enter the aisle.

No bulk foods are available, though staff have  pre-packaged a reasonably selection of what is normally on offer. The fresh meat and fish counters are closed – and again there are more pre-packaged offerings than are usual for Canada (in the UK there is often a lot of pre-packaged fresh fish for example; in Canada there is rarely any – we get it done freshly by the fish guy). There is still a good selection of produce in store and whilst I was there last there were three semis (articulated lorries) outside unloading more supplies.

Every other checkout is closed so that you don’t stand next to someone else and again there are boxes marked on the floor two metres apart to control the queues. If one wishes to use one’s own reusable bags – as did I – one must pack for oneself (again – most Canadians expect the checkout person to pack) and the bags must be left in the cart and not placed on the checkout ‘desk’. The checkout operator sanitised the card reader between each use. I asked her what would happen if the moisture were to damage the reader. She told me they would simply get out another one.

The whole experience had a somewhat surreal post-apocalyptic air about it – as though one were visiting a hospital – or a morgue…

It is good to see everyone abiding by these necessary but completely foreign precautions. Perhaps we can get through this by working together. My fear is that when people realise just how extended this period is likely to be they will lose interest in being responsible.

Let us hope not – for all our sakes.

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Make yourself happy

March 22, 2020 in Life as we know it | Permalink


“If the reality makes you unhappy, make yourself happy with the surreal”

 Mehmet Murat ildan

We live in unprecedented times – concerning which I feel that I have more to say (though I am not yet ready so to do). For now – therefore – the ever so slightly surreal!

It is a given that the Brits are sports mad. So too are the Canadians of course, though for very different sports. So too – one suspects – are just about all other races that do dwell upon this usually pleasant planet.

Now – in the light of the current COVID-19 crisis and with all good folk very sensibly following the official advice and socially isolating themselves (and if you are not then you should be!) our lives have changed dramatically overnight. Maybe we are working from home. Maybe we are just staying at home. Either way, finding ourselves restricted in what we can and can’t do can be a fretful and stressful experience, particularly as we can currently see no resolution to the situation anytime soon.

With time on our hands and in search of stimulation it is no surprise that at some point – having exhausted other avenues – thoughts turn to sport. Since we must stay home so as not to spread the virus what could be better than hunkering down in front of the TV to watch our own favourite sport.

Except – of course – that in such times of national or international crisis sport is inevitably one of the first things that has to go by the wayside. In just about all sports current programs, leagues and competitions have been postponed or even abandoned. Who knows if the 2020 Six Nations will ever be completed? Certainly the English Premiership has been abandoned – as has the footie! As – of course – have other sports here in Canada and indeed all over the world.

At this point the TV channels – with a view to keeping the customer satisfied – naturally raid their archives to bring us re-runs of favourite matches and contests from days gone by. Nothing very surprising about that, one might think, but I saw something yesterday on The Guardian website that took the whole thing to a new and somewhat bizarre level.

What The Guardian was doing was replaying the classic 1970 FA Cup Final (footie!) between Chelsea and Leeds United. Being a newspaper, however, they were not screening the match itself, they were doing a real-time minute by minute commentary – starting at the same time as did the original match – and including reports of post match interviews and analysis and so forth.

Now – to do this they must have been watching a recording of the match and then typing in updates as though it was actually happening. What boggles my mind is that there are undoubtedly videos of the game available on the InterWebNet – so why would anyone sit watching The Guardian website for written updates on something that not only happened a long time ago, but that they themselves could also just as easily watch online. What is more, this was apparently just the first of a proposed series of such ‘replays’.

Well – I am, sure that there were those who really enjoyed  (or re-enjoyed) the experience – but I can’t help thinking that “There’s nowt so queer as folk!”.

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All change

March 15, 2020 in Life as we know it | Permalink

Ooooooo-kay!

So – it has been most interesting – and not a little nervous making – watching the walls slowly pressing in towards us. This was not how it was meant to be.

I am of course referring to the ongoing and increasingly immediate COVID-19 pandemic crisis.

It has been hard enough watching the headless chickens (however much one might acknowledge their anxieties) stripping the stores of comestibles, but it is sometimes difficult not to roll one’s eyes. As reports filtered back to me of frantic hordes in Costco loading up their outsized trolleys with toilet paper and emptying the racks in the process I was eyeing up shelves groaning with said same items in our local store.

Of more immediate concern has been the situation at the College. There are but three weeks or so of this term remaining – and I do not teach in the summer term. As governments and authorities have taken each faltering and uncertain step towards total social isolation – shutdown in any other language – so the odds have been shrinking of us getting to the end of term without having to step back from classroom teaching.

Well – now that point has been reached. The College remains open but there is a ban on face to face teaching. What this means is that we have to find alternative methods of delivering classroom teaching materials, running lab sessions and assignments and of handling the all important examinations.

The College is well enough equipped with appropriate technology. We have a slightly eccentric but quite usable learning platform and tools for creating and disseminating distance learning materials. The issue is not with the technology. The problem is with the time and effort that must now be put into converting materials meant for face to face delivery in the lecture theatre to online only form. Given that I had still to finish the necessary items for the last few lectures of this new(ish) course anyway I now have double the work to do.

The likelihood is that not everything will run smoothly. Mistakes will be made. Things will go awry. As the students’ education is at stake – for which they have, of course, paid not insubstantial fees – such things matter.

Finger firmly crossed on all fronts? Here we go…!

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