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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidI really must apologise for the recent lamentable lack of interesting new images to accompany these posts. I can only beg your indulgence for what will doubtless be an equivocation of excuses.

As ever I carry the Fuji X10 with me every day – to work and elsewhere – looking for opportunities to record what I see and whatever tickles my fancy. However, the start of this year really has featured atmospheric and climatic conditions of such a truly dire nature that the impetus to indulge in observational lacunae has been strictly limited. In other words – the weather has been so sh*t that I can’t be ar*ed to stop to take pictures!

This time last year – as is evidenced in this post from last March – saw the UK basking in almost summer-like conditions with the temperature approaching 20C. I enjoyed a wonderful top-down drive down to the coast in Pearl on the occasion of a family funeral.

This year – as can been seen from the accompanying image – temperatures struggle to rise above zero and even the south of England is still suffering snow falls and heavy frosts. The poor daffodils look shocked and stunned and resolutely refuse to open their buds. Who can blame them? Last March was the third warmest here on record. By contrast – in some parts of the UK – last weekend was the coldest March weekend for 50 years. What’s more, there is no sign of the weather improving this side of Easter!

Bah! – and Bah again!!

Our dear friends in Saanichton report that temperatures in Victoria are up into the mid-teens – and that spring has well and truly arrived. I will do my very best just to feel happy for them – and not to be at all bitter!

How am I doing?

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Photo by 37 °C on FlickrIt is difficult now to imagine that – had our plans of the past year come to fruition – I would have been packing up and moving permanently to Canada in a little over four months from now. Much of this imaginative difficulty stems from the ‘sheer weight of traffic’ on my calendar since the turn of the year. We have not yet achieved the vernal equinox and already six months’ worth of activity seems to have been  packed into a few brief weeks. How would I ever have found the time to organise my emigration? Right now – sadly – retirement feels a long way off!

This calendrical congestion has not been ameliorated by the precosity this year of Easter, which movable feast – as you doubtless know – falls on the Sunday following the first full Moon on or after the equinox. Since that date can be as early as March 22nd, this year’s festival (on the 31st) might be thought a breeze. By contrast to the latest possible date (April 25th) it does – however – still represent a significant squeeze to the schedule. School term finishes on Maundy Thursday (the 28th) so there is no time to ‘wind down’ before the holiday weekend commences.

Furthermore – the end of this particular term affords little opportunity to catch my breath…

The School’s Easter holiday will be a busy time – for those of us in IT at least. The remaining two departments must be moved into the new Science building and the occupants of our single boarding house must be moved out into their new accommodation so that demolition can start on the current building – to make way for the next phase of the redevelopment – the School’s new Drama Centre.

For my part there is an additional burden over the coming months – though ‘burden’ gives a somewhat misleading impression. I have agreed to direct the next School production – the Junior Play. Parts in this traditional end of year entertainment are open only to the 4th and 5th forms (ages 13 – 15) for the simple reason that everyone else spends much of their summer term buried in the examination hall – or in preparation therefore.

To add to other immediate stresses – therefore – it is also necessary to audition for – and to cast – the production before this term ends. Practically that means auditioning, recalling, whittling down and selecting twenty four from more than fifty budding thespists during the lunch hours of the only three full days next week that the boys are actually in school.

No pressure then!

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThough this year marks the 40th anniversary of my first involvement with young people’s theatre (a fact that had not occurred to me until I sat down to compose this post) and though I have throughout the last decade and a half been involved in a variety of capacities (writer, director) with school productions, I have only been teaching drama in secondary education (Canadian: high school) for the past four years. The School’s last inspection was more than five years ago and I have thus not yet had to endure the scrutiny of formal lesson observation.

Until now…!

I led two drama classes yesterday, either of which could have been observed – although since I only teach a couple of 4th form (1st year – don’t ask!) sets there was a fair chance that the inspectors would not bother with me at all. My morning group are pretty hard work – still lacking a degree of self discipline and featuring a couple of characters seemingly determined to argue every point. The afternoon set are considerably better behaved – though to this point they have not been particularly adventurous.

I found myself offering up a silent prayer to a whole panoply of deities prior to my first class – hoping that no inspector would appear. Once we were five minutes into the period I was able to relax a little, secure in the knowledge that my struggles to keep the group on track would go unrecorded.

Having successfully taken this hurdle at the canter I thought I could relax a tad (tad = smidgeon!). I arrived – quietly confident – a few minutes early for my afternoon class. First through the door at the class change bell… was one of the inspectors! Deep breath! Hold the nerve…!

Well – I don’t know how I did, but my set were total stars. For the first time since I had met them – a few weeks ago – they started to show real imagination and a fair bit of potential. Frankly – they were brilliant! The icing on the cake was that – at the precise second that I wound up the session with my final exhortation – the bell rang. Nice timing!

What I did not anticipate was quite how wiped out I would feel afterwards. There must have been a fair bit of tension and adrenalin involved, though I was not particularly aware of it at the time. Lying down in a darkened room seemed the best restorative…

…that and a large drink!

 

Stop press: Though the report on the inspection will not be published for another month – and the contents are strictly embargoed until then – the High Master indicated that they will cause general contentment all round when released.

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidA tightly controlled level of something only faintly resembling panic has set in at the School as we embark on four days of inspection. The outcome is expected to be positive – if not very positive – which certainly adds to the pressure.

Independent schools in the UK are inspected by a body called the Independent Schools Inspectorate – or the ISI (should you prefer the TLA). An ISI inspection can take one of two forms – an interim inspection or a full inspection. This one is the latter. Independent schools must be inspected every six years at the outside, but inspections can occur more frequently should the inspectorate deem there to be a need so to do.

The effect of this regimen is that the more time passes without an inspection taking place the higher is the likely-hood of one being called at any point. The ISI gives one week’s notice – making the announcement of an inspection by a telephone call on a Tuesday for a visit the following week – the which has the effect of keeping everyone constantly on their toes. As time passes and the probability of an inspection increases so one feverishly checks the number of weeks left in the term during which such a visit could take place. Since much of the summer term is ruled out by examinations, had we in this instance made it through another week without getting the call we would have been in the clear until the autumn.

No matter. Better in many ways to get it out of the way.

The inspection team comprises eleven inspectors who – in addition to all of the attention that they will be paying to governance, health and safety, child protection and other policy issues – will be observing around one hundred classes over the four days. There won’t be time for the inspectors to observe every teacher but they will cover the majority of them and – understandably – no notice will be given as to which those will be. The inspectors will appear – or they won’t! I have two drama classes on Thursday – either (or neither!) of which might be chosen. At this point I am really not sure whether I would prefer to be observed – or not.

We shall see…

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“Take the attitude of a student, never be too big to ask questions, never know too much to learn something new.”

Og Mandino

I thought you might like to see what northwards of £18 million can buy you – should you be in the market for a science teaching block!

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhot by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidDSCF3006Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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up-downThe colds from which the Kickass Canada Girl and I have of late been suffering are quite the most loathsome that I can recall. I am still struggling to shake off the residuum – in the shape of a vicious dry cough – nearly two and a half weeks after first succumbing to this pernicious pestilence. The Girl is following on roughly a week behind me and an entire month will thus have passed by the time that we have both fully shaken off this scourge.

Neither of us has felt throughout this period like doing anything much more than hunkering down and waiting for the storm to pass. This last weekend however – although it is still only mid-February and the mornings are yet frosty – there was a distinct intimation of the imminence of spring in the air. Closer attention to the world outside revealed that the first green shoots had started to poke their sleepy heads through the permafrost. Lambent spring colours may thus shortly bring relief to our saturnine winter gardens.

Once back in the land of the living it will be high time to make a point of getting together with old friends, some of whom we seem not to have seen for ages. I suppose that this negligence could be considered an ineluctable side effect of the customary brouhaha of Christmas and the dark days that follow, but that does rather feel like excusing the inexcusable.

The joyous sensation that the thought of such engagements engenders is – however – tinged at the same time with sadness… not at the prospect of rekindling old friendships, but on the recognition that other such occurrences will not be possible in the near future. Over the past few years the Girl and I have become rather accustomed to making frequent trips to British Columbia. In 2010 our wedding and the arrangements therefore prompted several trips to the province, including one extended visit for the event itself. 2011 – through a combination of circumstances both happy and sad – saw another brace of visits and, of course, once the Girl moved back to Victoria last spring I became – as regular readers will know – a regular myself on the transatlantic route.

All of which led us to becoming somewhat spoiled with regard to the access that we had to our dear and lovely friends in Victoria and Saanichton. One of the consequences of our recent decision regarding my 60th birthday celebration next January is that we will not now be able to revisit Canada until next Christmas. For me that will mean a gap of a year and a half – and more – without my setting foot in BC…

…and I miss the place – and I miss our friends…

Sniff!

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Here in the south east of England we don’t get very much snow – and when we do it doesn’t usually stay very long. Canadian readers and those in the north of the UK will probably snort derisively at this point, but the Kickass Canada Girl and I currently live in the land of the ‘soft southern jessies’ and that is just the way it is. Anyway – as a result we get pretty excited when the snow lasts a long time, as it seems to be doing at the moment. I trust that you will forgive me, therefore, if I post a few more snow snaps!

 

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

I rather liked this instance of Pepper’s Ghost… candles in the snow!

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidReaders may recall – and those who do not may refresh their memories here should they so wish – that the Kickass Canada Girl and my very first scheme for moving to British Columbia – even before she was offered the job there – involved us moving out of our home in Buckinghamshire into rented accommodation, selling our apartment, purchasing a property in Victoria, letting it and then using the income to cover our rent in the UK until such time as we could move to Canada. The chief purpose of this little scheme was to enable us to leave the UK quickly when the time came and to have a property ready and waiting in BC on our arrival there.

As will be clear by now neither this nor any of our subsequent schemes worked out at all as planned. When it became apparent that we were not to be able to sell our apartment in short order we had to re-think. Rather than move back to Buckinghamshire we decided to seek a tenant to occupy the property and thus to cover our rental costs until such time as we were able to find a buyer. This was, after all, exactly what we were planning to do in Victoria – so where was the difference?

Well! All I can say is that the experience of our first year as landlords (or more properly as landlord and landlady) may well have put us off the whole notion for life! Nor does it does take much research on the InterWebNet or elsewhere to establish that anyone who lets property for any length of time ineluctably accrues their own horror stories. We just have to hope that our inchoate experience was anomalous and that our next time round will prove more propitious.

We seem to have suffered a particularly infelicitous run of bad luck when it comes to expenses. The Girl and I had spent a considerable amount renovating the apartment over the previous few years, which enterprise had included the installation of a complete new kitchen designed to a high standard by my brother – who makes his living thus. He is not cheap but he is very good!

Imagine my consternation, therefore, when – over the course of the year – I was obliged to:

  • replace the fridge/freezer
  • spend a considerable amount on oven repairs
  • call an engineer on several occasions to fix the washer/dryer
  • purchase a new control module for a gas fire
  • arrange for the ailing heating system to be looked at on more than one occasion.

This latter culminated in the eventual failure of the boiler (‘furnace’ – for Canadian readers!) requiring a complete – and expensive – replacement.

As though all of this were not enough our initiatory tenant proved to be a total nightmare. Quite apart from demanding a rent rebate whenever the slightest thing went amiss, this lessee eventually seemed to absent himself entirely from the property, only to be replaced (according to reports from our erstwhile neighbours) by a friend of his to whom he was ‘lending’ the apartment (the lease prohibiting him from sub-letting it). Our former home was thus now being lived in by someone of whom we had no knowledge or information at all, and who proceeded to upset the neighbours with noisy late night comings and goings and – ignoring our blandishments to the contrary – by smoking out of the windows. Matters eventually reached the point at which we were obliged to give the appropriate notice and the tenant – and his friend – finally moved out just before Christmas.

That was not – sad to say – the end of the matter. The tenant – whom we believed to be a very ‘house-proud’ fellow – had on taking up the lease enquired as to whether he could redecorate some of the rooms in neutral tones. We had no objection to this and at the end of the year were expecting to get the apartment back in good order. We were, therefore, upon receiving the check-out report from our management company, stunned to discover that the tenant had – without any consultation! – replaced a perfectly good neutral toned carpet in one of the bedrooms… with a black one!

Astonishing!! What sort of behaviour is that?!

As I write there are decorators and carpet-layers in the apartment restoring everything to a sensible state with a view to attracting fresh tenants. The cost of all this will hopefully – following the usual haggling, horse-trading and possibly arbitration – be recovered from the tenant’s deposit. I have no doubt that he will fight every inch of the way – because that is just the sort of unreasonable man that he is.

It takes – clearly – all sorts!

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justice-collective

I make no apologies for posting this. Great song – righteous cause…

For more background see here. For recent news update see here.

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It is 41 weeks since the Kickass Canada Girl moved to Victoria to take up the job there that we had hoped would see her through to retirement and me becoming a permanent resident of Canada. This weekend – in the brave new world in which we now find ourselves – she flies back into Heathrow to resume her life here in England, with our relocation to British Columbia postponed until some as yet unspecified date in the future.

Welcome back, Kickass Canada Girl!

This post is my one hundred and second since the Girl left for Victoria in early March and my one hundred and twenty first since I took up blogging towards the end of January this year. I suppose the obvious question in this regard is  – do I carry on blogging now that the balance of my life has swung away from immigration and towards imperceptibility?

It would be entirely understandable if regular readers were to curl their lips in disdain and demand to know – since the stated theme and purpose of this blog no longer exactly holds (at least in the short term) – why they should continue to waste their time on my picaresque meanderings. They would indeed have a point and I would not blame them for dropping out at this point.

However – as you may already have deduced from the tone of the above – my initial reaction is to carry on blogging regardless in the hope that some of what I write may still be of interest. The Girl and I have many connections in Canada and we will inevitably be visiting as time goes by, though our next trip will probably not now be until next summer. Hopefully my contributions on trans-Atlantic life will continue to resonate, creating perhaps something of a virtual connection between our communities of friends on both sides of the ocean.

Truth be told I have enjoyed blogging this year. The self-imposed discipline of having to produce posts on a regular basis was particularly beneficial whilst I was living on my own and will, I believe, continue to be so once the Girl and I are fully reunited. Writing virtually daily is terribly good practice and the need to polish the resultant prolix prose into concise, pithy and apposite nuggets is slowly imbuing in me a most useful skill in an area that has perhaps previously been somewhat neglected.

So – with your kind permission – I will carry on…

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