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Long live the king

May 6, 2023 in Life as we know it | Permalink

For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings;
How some have been deposed; some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
Some poison’d by their wives: some sleeping kill’d;
All murder’d: for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be fear’d and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable, and humour’d thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!

William Shakespeare – Richard II

Out here on the far distant west coast of Canada it feels a long way away from today’s events in London. I was not of a mind to get up in the middle of the night to watch the Coronation events unfold, though I will no doubt catch up with the news coverage later.

I am a staunch believer in the monarchy, although this is as much for fear of there being something far, far worse in its place should the republican adherents ever get their way. They protest loudly that as a nation Great Britain should be able to choose an elected and accountable head of state; and that somehow not to do so infantilises us. I’m afraid to say that, over this last decade, we have done ourselves no favours at all through our wildly negligent choices and find ourselves as a result sadly diminished as a nation. Not exactly a good precedent.

I wish Charles the very best fortune in his long anticipated role. I can’t say that he looks exactly comfortable with it but I do believe that he still has some power to do good.

Back in October last – when writing about my Canadian Citizenship Ceremony – I wrote of the strangeness of being obliged to swear allegiance to the monarch – something I had never done as a Brit. Interesting to see that, as an optional element in the Coronation rituals, the population of the United Kingdom have now been invited to do the same.

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Huzzah!

February 7, 2023 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

Image by <a href=" https://www.vectorportal.com" >Vectorportal.com</a>, <a class="external text" href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/" >CC BY</a>It is not often that one gets to celebrate happy occurrences two days running. This just happens to be one of those occasions.

In my last post I announced the long-awaited arrival last Friday of my shiny new Canadian passport.

“Hurrah” – says I!…

Then – on the very next day – Scotland triumphed at Twickenham over the auld enemy in the Calcutta Cup.

“Hurrah and twice hurrah” – I cry!…

Yes – it is that splendid weekend at the start of an otherwise gloomy February when the Northern Hemisphere’s greatest sporting event – the Six Nations Rugby tournament – kicks off. This year – being a Rugby World Cup year – promises to be particularly exciting, with the current top two sides in world Rugby – the Irish and the French – taking part. Both sides started with an away win – the Irish convincingly at the Principality in Cardiff – the latter rather more tenuously in Rome against the Azzuri.

The final match was the aforementioned Calcutta Cup clash between Scotland and England at Twickenham. There was a time – not so long ago – that the Scots routinely took a drubbing at the Cabbage Patch. Indeed, one had to look back a long way to find any Scots wins at all. Of late and for the moment, however, the worm has turned. Scotland have won the last three such encounters – including consecutive wins away from home. This is splendid stuff! Over the last six years the English have won once – there was a magnificent 38-38 draw at Twickers – and the remaining four wins have gone north of the border.

So far, so good. However, the Scots are all too aware that they have not, of late, been able to follow up these excellent wins with consistent results elsewhere. Now – no-one is expecting them to beat either the Irish or the French this year, but wins against the struggling Welsh and the greatly improved Italians would be most welcome.

Fingers – etc – firmly crossed and many pious invocations to the rugby gods duly rendered…

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A surfeit of Rugby?…

November 7, 2022 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

…surely some mistake! How could such a thing be possible?

It has been sometime since I last mentioned the noble game of Rugby Union within these scribblings. ‘Too long!‘ – I hear you cry – and you are absolutely correct; a great deal has been going on in the sport and I am remiss not to have made mention of at least some of it.

The Girl and I have been greatly enjoying the Women’s Rugby World Cup – the which is about to arrive at its climax down in the Land of the Long White Cloud. The standard has been exhilaratingly high and the matches have for the most part been gratifyingly exciting. It also helps that the time difference means that live coverage (thanks TSN!) has been primarily in the evenings here in the Pacific Northwest. Jolly good show.

We found ourselves in something of a quandary with regard to our support last weekend when England went up against Canada in the first of the semi-finals. The winner would face either France or the hosts – the Black Ferns – in next weekend’s final and all four sides were in with a very good shout. Canada put up a terrific performance against the Old Country and pushed them to the last – losing only narrowly… though – it has to be said – not as narrowly as New Zealand, who won at the last gasp by a single point.

The mouth-watering final thus pits the Red Roses (currently ranked no: 1 in the world and on an unprecedented winning run of 30 victories) against the Black Ferns (current World Champions).

We can’t wait!

Where the rugby surfeit comes in is that the Men’s Autumn Internationals are now also under way. Since they are not being shown on the BBC this year (boo!) we have had to subscribe to DAZN to see any coverage. Having paid up we are determined to get value for money – and the schedule last weekend made that possible.

Having watched the Women’s World Cup semi finals on Friday evening – through to 1:30am PST – I was back in action for the second half of the Scotland/Fiji game (Scotland took a somewhat unconvincing win) which started at 6:15am on the Saturday. This was followed by Wales/All Blacks at 8:15 (back to school for Wales) – Ireland/South Africa (yet another famous win for the Irish) at 10:30 and France/Australia (the French – but again by a single point) at 1:00pm.

That’s a lot of rugby in 24 hours!

I didn’t have the energy to watch the England/Argentina game on Sunday (again at 6:15am!) and it sounds as though the England side felt much the same way.

I should also mention the English Premiership. Sad to see both Worcester and Wasps forced into administration and relegated this season. I feel sure that both will be back where they belong, though there are clearly financial questions to be answered across the whole of the Premiership. Rugby Union only relatively recently joined the ranks of professional sports and there is still much to be done to make things work reliably.

On the other hand, Bath Rugby (our team!) having been terrible last season (finishing bottom!) have now won a couple of games on the trot. I do so hope that this is the start of a major turnaround.

 

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HRH Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh

April 9, 2021 in Life as we know it | Permalink

HRH Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh

1921 – 2021

RIP

There have already been many tributes paid to Prince Philip, who died today at the age of 99. There will be many more such in days to come. Our thoughts are with The Queen; she and the Duke had been married for seventy three years.

On such occasions it seems inevitable that all and sundry will trot out their anecdotes concerning the prince. For what it is worth – here is mine:

I was only once in the same space as the Duke – way back in the mists of time before the turn of century. I was invited to attend a Gala Dinner somewhere in the midlands of the UK in support of a charitable foundation that I can no longer can recall. Philip was doubtless the patron of said charity and was the guest of honour at the gala.

Now – it happened that on the night in question a very important (if such a thing there could be!) football match was taking place. I believe that it was the semi-final of some footie contest between England and Germany (or West Germany – depending exactly when this took place). There was much grumbling amongst the attendees of the dinner – many of whom would have preferred to be at home watching the game.

For a while the Master of Ceremonies – who was in any case making regular announcements – kept the assembled throng up to date with the score from the match, which England were at that point leading. Then all of a sudden the announcements dried up. Word went around the room that Germany had equalised and that Philip had decreed that no further updates should be given.

Several courses later I chanced to look around the room – which seemed less crowded than it had before. I was slightly surprised to observe that the Duke and I were amongst only a very few men left in the room, all others being of the fairer sex. Again, word went around that there was a large screen TV in the kitchens, the which had been thoughtfully provided so that the chefs could keep an eye on the game. Now – I have no interest in such matters and the Duke clearly could not slip out to have a look… so thus we remained.

Yet another while later and there was a muffled groan from somewhere offstage and all of a sudden a hoard of be-tuxed chaps wearing disconsolate expressions filed back into the room. It seemed that England had once again (as was/is their habit) lost on penalties.

I like to think that the Duke had been wise enough to have privately predicted the potential outcome and had thus made a smart choice.

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Free to air

February 11, 2021 in Life as we know it | Permalink

I promised that I would cover a second sporting matter in addition to the encomium regarding Scotland’s excellent  Six Nations achievement of last weekend that featured so prominently in my last post… and as I am (where possible) a man of my word – here it is…

When The Girl and I first became what is charmingly called ‘an item’ some decade and a half ago, one of the many things to which I determined to introduce her – as a means of binding our futures more closely together through mutual understanding and appreciation – was the supreme sport of cricket. Long time readers of these meanderings will be well aware of my enduring love for the game – as well as my complete mediocrity as a practitioner thereof.

I will not impose on the gentle reader at this point either an attempt to explain the game’s mysterious appeal, nor to exhaustive catalog our history with its regard. I will mention – however – the now legendary 2005 Ashes series between England and Australia… that being the year that England finally regained the Ashes after nearly two barren decades of trying. They did so – further – against one of the greatest of all Aussie sides.

Clearly this outstanding achievement – which was played out over five gripping five day test matches – was the perfect opportunity to introduce The Girl to the delights of the game. This was made all the more easy by the fact that – in those days – test cricket in the UK was given routine live coverage – for the whole of every one of those twenty five days – by the BBC. We would arrive home from work, switch on the TV and be immediately gripped by the sheer drama with which those encounters were completed. The Girl – who is a huge sports fan anyway – became a convert.

The timing was fortuitous, for the very next year the England Cricket Board (ECB) – in grevious pursuit of filthy lucre – sold it’s soul to the rebarbative Murdoch and the broadcast rights to Sky TV. Live coverage of international cricket disappeared from television over night for those unwilling to render their shilling to the appalling antipodean.

This state of affairs has remained the case ever since. Shockingly live coverage of the English national game cannot be seen on free-to-air TV by the youngsters who might some day play a part in its future.

Or at least – that was the case until this year. Finally, Sky grew tired of featuring the game and Channel 4 picked up – at the last moment – the broadcasting rights for England’s winter series in India. As things have only been put in place at the very last minute it all looks a little low-tech, but we can once again follow every ball in time-honoured fashion (even here in Canada).

Delightfully, the England team responded brilliantly to this development in the first test (which finished earlier this week) by playing a blinder and beating India in India for the first time in yonks. India are one of the very top sides and at home (this being a country that regards the game almost as a religion) they are virtually unbeatable.

Well done England!

 

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Good sports

February 7, 2021 in Life as we know it | Permalink

“The only way to prove that you’re a good sport is to lose”.

Ernie Banks

I changed my mind several times as to the form that this post should take.

The early 1980s are relevant both to the immediate topic and to something else on which I intend shortly to write – the current Channel 4 TV mini-series – “It’s a Sin“. It rapidly became apparent, however, that trying to link these particular two topics together would simply not work – diminishing them both.

Concerned that I have English readers and that I do not wish to offend any of them (unnecessarily!) I could have chosen to tie my main topic in with another related sporting matter – thus giving everyone something to cheer about.

In the end, however, I decided – “What the heck!“. I should leave all other topics for further posts and just go for it! To that end… English readers of a sensitive disposition may wish to look away now:

Yesterday saw the start of the 2021 Rugby Six Nations Championship. The second fixture of the day (once the French had dealt harshly with the ever eager Italians) was the Calcutta Cup fixture between England and Scotland at the home of Rugby – Twickenham.

And here is where the 1980s come into things; the last time that the Scots beat the English at Twickenham was in 1983 (the year that the US invaded Grenada, the year that Thatcher was first re-elected Prime Minister in the UK, the year that BC Place was opened in Vancouver, the year that McDonalds invented the McNugget!) – thirty eight long years ago!

Two years ago they came close in what proved an extraordinary game – the English leading at one point in the first half by 31 – 0 before the Scots scored 38 unanswered points to lead the match with five minutes to go. The English finally woke up and squeezed out a converted try to tie the game.

This time was a much more straightforward affair in some ways, though perhaps no less astonishing in terms of the way the contest played out. The Scots might consider themselves a little unfortunate to have finally broken their hoodoo and won a famous victory by a mere 11 points to 6, particularly given that the game was actually pretty one-sided in almost every respect. Scotland had 65% of the possession, 70% of the territory, made 11 clean breaks to England’s 0 and missed only 11 tackles to England’s 29.

Yes – the Scots probably should have won by a wider margin and indeed they left a number of points out on the field because their goal kicking was below par. This was, nonetheless, a famous and wonderful victory and – given that this year the Scots have three home fixtures still to come – they really ought to be able to do something a little special in the remainder of the tournament.

Well… special in terms of their recent record in any case.

Come on you Scots!

 

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The Lark Ascending

December 13, 2020 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

My tastes in music are distinctly catholic; the same being true of both popular and classical repertoires. With regard to the latter I must admit to being a romantic (actually probably true in many spheres) – the which never quite sat right with more formal classicists like my father whose interests tended toward the mathematical rather than the emotional.

I make no apologies for that…

I have a particular passion for the composers of what might be considered the golden age of British music (contentious, I know – but not the main drift of this post) – the music of Elgar, Holst and Vaughan Williams all being dear to my heart. Given the relatively low esteem in which English composers are held in general by comparison with the greats of classical music I sometimes wonder just what it is about this music which touches my soul in ways that, say, Mozart and Beethoven – for all their acknowledged genius – do not.

Is there some musical chauvinism at work or could it really be that there is something in the music that captures an essence of (at least part of) the country and of its peoples?

I am – of course – far from alone in my appreciation for these works. The long running British radio program – ‘Desert Island Discs‘ – for which (often celebrity) guests choose the eight recordings with which they would care to be marooned on the fictive island of the title, noted that Vaughan Williams’ ‘The Lark Ascending‘ was one of the most frequently chosen pieces. Indeed – when the program ran a poll of its audience’s all time favourite recordings, ‘The Lark…’ came out on top.

The reason for my musing on this subject in the midst of a British Columbian winter is that I re-watched the other day a short BBC documentary from 2012 – hosted by the late Dame Dianna Rigg – on the subject of ‘The Lark…‘.

Vaughan Williams started work on the piece in 1914 just before the outbreak of the Great War, inspired by George Meredith’s poem of the same name. In the hiatus that ensued Vaughan Williams (who was 41 at the time) served as an ambulance driver in France and Salonika. After the war he re-visited ‘The Lark…‘ with the help of the English violinist, Marie Hall, to whom the piece is dedicated. The original version of the work – scored for solo violin and piano – was premiered in December of 1920 in conjunction with the Avonmouth and Shirehampton Choral Society, at Shirehampton Public Hall, not far from Bristol.

The main feature of the 2012 documentary was a re-creation of that first performance of ‘The Lark…‘ at Shirehampton Public Hall, with the young violin virtuoso, Julia Hwang, in the staring role. The audience comprised mainly good folk of what we might call ‘a certain age’ and as the piece progressed the camera lingered on individual faces so that the viewer might best measure the effect the the work has on those with familiar sensibilities. The audience did not disappoint and no British stiff-upper-lip could disguise their emotional response to the piece.

What struck me most was that at the time of the recording, Julia Hwang was a mere fifteen years old. How could one so young give a performance with such intense detail; laden with emotions of which she must a that age surely have been innocent?

Therein – I would humbly suggest – lies the formidable power of music…

 

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So… Rugby!

November 13, 2020 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

Now – where was I?

Other more pressing matters have been occupying my attention over the past weeks (not necessarily in a good way) and it has been a while since I last posted a comment on the current happenings in the world of rugby.

Some might argue that focusing attention on a sport in these stressful times is the equivalent of sticking one’s fingers in one’s ears and loudly proclaiming “La la la la…!” – to which I reply – “Too right! That’s the whole idea“.

Now then…

Much has happened since my last rugby update. In my 4th October post – ‘Fourth Quarter‘ – the subject of Bath Rugby’s progress (or lack thereof) in the hastily reconvened Premiership was left on a cliff-hanger: they would make it through to the playoffs if the COVID affected game between Sale and Worcester Warriors failed to take place on the following Wednesday. As it turned out that game did not take place and Bath squeaked through to the semi-finals. Unfortunately there they met the eventual champions (of everything this year!) Exeter Chiefs, who proved considerably too much for them. Still – at the start of the season a semi-final slot would have been scarcely thinkable, so this still counts as a good result.

The Six Nations championship had been abandoned back in March with little more than one round left to play. That final round was eventual played on 31st October, with England away in Italy, Ireland away in France and Wales at home to the Scots. All that need be said was that the English did enough against Italy to hit the top of the table and the French win over Ireland in Paris proved close enough that neither side could overtake them.

The key game (for me, anyway) was the doughty performance of the Scots in dreadful conditions in Wales. It wasn’t pretty but the Scots came away with a 14 – 10 win; their first in Wales for eighteen years. This left them fourth in the championship with three wins out of five – and the best defensive record of the tournament! That definitely counts as a win in my book.

By some quirk of TV scheduling we also got to watch the four Bledisloe Cup games between the Aussies and the All Blacks. The latter took the series (again!) but didn’t have things all their own way. What was refreshing was to see rugby played again in front of a crowd. In New Zealand and Australia the pandemic is significantly more under-control than it is in the northern hemisphere.

And now…?

The Autumn Nations Cup! A (possibly) one-off replacement for the usual Autumn internationals – to be competed for by the six nations plus Georgia and Fiji. The tournament is to be played in two pools and would originally have featured Japan before COVID ruled that out and brought Georgia into the mix.

Anyway – it is starting as I write… so further reporting as things progress.

 

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The tide turns

March 10, 2020 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

My reluctance of but a few weeks back to talk at all about this year’s rugby has magically dissipated. Naturally this has come about because the teams that I support have had a good weekend. Had Bath not been schooled quite so comprehensively and to quite such an embarrassing degree by Exeter at Sandy Park it might even have been a great rugby weekend.

England were far too much for Wales at Twickenham, rediscovering their form from the World Cup at just the right point. The final scores were, frankly, closer than the game merited, as a result of England being down to thirteen men for the final ten minutes (through their own fault it must be said). On the run of the play overall they should have won convincingly.

Scotland – having come close but failed to register a win in their first two encounters – had finally done the business two weeks ago in Rome. Now they needed to beat the resurgent (and Grand Slam hopefuls) France at Murrayfield. The unbeaten French have started each game in the championship thus far at a gallop and have successfully hung on to the ensuing leads. Scotland, however, rather surprisingly find themselves flaunting this year’s best defensive record in the Six Nations – their parsimony with the points almost living up to the national stereotype. This promised to be a good contest…

…and close it was for the first forty minutes. Then – in classic French style – one of their young and hot-headed forwards reacted to a bit of the customary pushing and shoving by landing a hay-maker on James Ritchie’s jaw. Now, Ritchie is the sort of man for whom the term ‘nuggety’ was coined and he simply shook it off. The Frenchman, however, was duly dispatched for the remainder of the game and the Scots turned in an admirably ruthless performance to beat their Gallic opponents comfortably.

Joy!

The tournament itself, however, is now affected badly by COVID-19. Next week’s ‘Super Saturday’ (when all three matches are normally played one after another) has been reduced to just the first game – the Scotland/Wales fixture in Cardiff. The other matches will be played at some future date (probably in the Autumn – if at all) which means that there will be no actual tournament winner anytime soon.

The situation certainly does lend perspective to what is – and the end of the day – just a sport, but it is a great shame nonetheless. Our very great sympathies to all those who have been and will be affected by the virus.

 

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Absence of…

February 15, 2020 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

“Absence weakens mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind blows out candles and kindles fires.

Rochefoucauld

Those gentle readers who pay attention to such things will be wondering why this journal has not thus far this season featured its usual pithy observations on the great sport of Rugby Union – this, after all, being the time of year that the fabulous Six Nations tournament takes place in Europe.

Of course, those who not only subscribe to these musings but also follow the sport themselves will be very aware of one of the reasons for my silence on the subject – that being the abject performance – both on and off the field – of the Scots.

Actually – that is unfair. To be certain the Finn Russell affair shows everyone involved in a poor light and to lose one’s star player in such a manner goes way beyond careless, but on the field the Scots have actually looked considerably more competitive than they sometimes do. There is no getting round the fact that, however unluckily, they lost to the Irish in Dublin and then had the misfortune of coming up against both the English and storm Ciara at Murrayfield. The English handled the atrocious conditions marginally better than did the Scots and deserved to win, but it was not the game that either side – nor the partisan crowd – wanted to see.

The Scots absolutely must win well in Rome against the Azzuri next time out or things will look really grim. The French seem to have been re-invigorated this year and the final game against a smarting Wales at the Principality is no-one’s idea of a stroll in the park.

The other reason for the relative quiet on the Rugby front this year is that the Americas Rugby Championship – the North and South American loose equivalent of the Six Nations – has been moved from its now customary berth in February to the summer months. This year the tournament will be played in August and September. It will certainly be good not to have to sit on the cold aluminium bench seating at Westhills, nor to have to watch the players struggling with the snow covered pitch, but it remains to be seen how this traditionally winter sport transfers to the summer months.

I will let you know.

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