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Victoria

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Snow drops

The snow itself is lonely or, if you prefer, self-sufficient. There is no other time when the whole world seems composed of one thing and one thing only.

Joseph Wood Krutch

Aha! I see from the indispensable BBC website that winter has finally arrived in the UK and that there has been snow in many parts. Well, well, well!

On learning that we were to be moving to Canada the most common reaction engendered in those to whom I had imparted the news was to wonder how we would survive the endless sub-zero winters – or to surmise that we must surely have a penchant for winter sports. To keep such innocents happy here are some images from our sojourn in Kamloops:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidNow – whereas those from the interior may scoff and cry “You ain’t seen nuttin’ yet” – given that to them 10 degrees below and 10 inches of snow merely represent a somewhat chilly day – here on the island we are partial to a more riviera-like climate. We are currently enjoying pleasantly balmy conditions – and we have these…!

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

So there!

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Image by Wolfi Korn (Cartoonist Illustrator)The wine’s all drunk and so am I
Here with the hoi-poloi, don’t ask me why
We’re celebratin’ anticipatin’; end of the year
everybody come, everybody here
– well more or less
Some already in a mess
I guess they’re waiting for the big one.”

Peter Gabriel – “Waiting for the Big One”

Plus ça change!

A little over a year ago I used a very similar title and exactly the same graphic and Peter Gabriel lyric to introduce a post concerning the year into which we had just nervously stumbled. We knew then – without a shadow of a doubt – that a year hence we would be seeing life very differently.

It will not surprise the gentle reader, therefore, that I should use a similar introduction now for a totally different topic.

A feature of life on the Pacific Northwest coast that really doesn’t register until one actually resides there is the fact that one is living in an earthquake zone! I knew before we came here that this would be so because the Kickass Canada Girl told me repeatedly that it was so. I am, of course, a chap – and as with many things that chaps are told that don’t seem to have an immediate relevance I did what chaps traditionally do and filed the ‘fact’ away somewhere in what Sherlock Holmes called the Mind Palace – as being something of vague interest but having no direct import.

I can sense those of you who live on the coast tutting piteously at this point and rolling your eyeballs noisily, but I can assure you that those from ‘sheltered’ parts of the planet will be racking their brains now for dimly remembered references from Hollywood movies or nasty Channel 5 documentaries to glean some idea as to what this might mean. Clearly many millions of people – including the Girl herself – have lived for a considerable number of decades in this part of the world in complete safety.

To gain a clearer picture do please have a look at this most useful earthquake tracking site.

It may surprise you nearly as much as it did me to observe that one of the most recent events listed thereon is a 4.8 magnitude earthquake with its epicentre 52 kilometres beneath North Saanich.

Hold on” – you cry. “North Saanich? Isn’t that where you live?

Well yes – it is… though because the Girl and I are currently in Kamloops in the interior of BC we got to hear about the quake in much the same way as most other British Coumbians – by reading about it on the news. Our friends in Saanichton were awoken at around midnight by a sudden shock.

What the f**k was that?” – she enquired sleepily.

Earthquake” – he replied, rolling over and going back to sleep.

OK – he got into trouble for that, but the point remains… British Columbians are sufficiently used to such apparently minor happenings that they pretty much ignore them. As one commentator wrote after the event (I paraphrase):

How many rushed out the next day to update their Earthquake Kits? How many actually have Earthquake Kits? I have – it’ a bottle of single malt!”

The probable reason for this almost English-like complacency is that these frequent minor quakes usually cause very little damage and are apparently no indicators of – nor have any relevance regarding – that which is at the back of everybody’s mind – the Big One! In common with the whole of the west coast of the North American continent British Columbia is (not) holding its breath for the forthcoming major cataclysm – which is due any century now!

In the meantime I rather liked the caption – which has I know been used before – in a local paper. It read:

Vancouver Island 2015… We will not forget… We will rebuild!”

…over a picture of a fallen garbage bin!

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Holy moley!

Having spent a laborious portion of the day yesterday clearing up the coniferous detritus left in the garden (yard) by the last high winds I was none too pleased this morning to find that it was once again blowing half a gale. I had occasion to venture into Sidney by the Sea this morning and took these snaps – from inside the Lexus – on the Galaxy S6.

The seas on this side of the peninsula are usually pretty flat calm, as you might have seen from previous photos. We are on the lee side of the island and well protected by the Gulf Islands.

Today was different. These pictures might not really capture the intensity of the winds but you should know that the logs that you can see littering the shore in a number of them were being tossed about like matchsticks. I was not for one moment impelled to leave the safety of our chunky 4×4…

…nor would I have liked to have been aboard that ferry!

When I returned home the power was out again.

Hey ho! West coast winter living!

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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The weekend was cold but clear with the bright sun low in the sky during the day and the very recently full moon illuminating the heavens at night. A walk with our dear friends’ young sons around Swan Lake – a lovely nature reserve on the edge of town – provided a brisk but beautiful introduction to a part of Victoria that was new to me. On this occasion the Galaxy S6 had to stand in for the Fuji x10 – the presence of energetic youngsters having curtailed my pre-outing preparations.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid
A little further north – and later that same day – I was in Sidney by the Sea, which is preparing for the advent season by donning its Christmas apparel.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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Winter warmer

I have previously made mention in these meanderings of my antipathy toward this particular time of the year – which I have always found induces in me a degree of melancholy. Though that is still true on this side of the pond Victoria does have a massive advantage over London in that – even when the temperature in both locations hovers around the same mark – the air here seems to lack that raw damp chill that is a feature of November in the UK. On relatively windless days it feels almost balmy. Time to take a stroll down to the seashore.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid
On the way to the ocean I passed this strange but rather delightful “Pop-up Sculpture Garden”, which occupies a corner of the road pretty much in the middle of nowhere.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidAnd here is Mount Baker again – looking suitably epic!

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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Stormy weather

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThe recent storm that has troubled parts of the UK has been brought to my attention by the ever helpful BBC website on the InterWebNet. This storm is the second to have been considered powerful enough by the Met Office to have been given a name under their new classification system – though it must be said that compared to ‘Hurricane Joaquin‘ and ‘Typhoon Champi‘ – ‘Storm Barney‘ does sound a little – well – feeble! (My apologies here to any who have suffered damage or inconvenience. I certainly don’t mean to make light of your troubles).

It is marginally by coincidence – this being November on both sides of the Atlantic – that the past few days have also seen the first real storm of the season here on Vancouver Island.

It was only this morning that we could – for the first time in a week and then but briefly – make out Mount Baker through the cloud cover. For the last few days we have been ‘socked in’ – as the parlance has it (according to the Kickass Canada Girl) – and it has both rained heavily and at considerable length and blown half a gale for good measure.

In our little spot on the east side of the peninsula we seem to be quite well protected from the winds but there is still a considerable quantity of detritus on the roads and in our yards (UK: gardens!) from the evergreens. I guess this is just nature’s way of whittling out the dead (not to mention the weak and the feeble) wood before winter really sets in. We also seem to have had a bumper fall of pine needles this year – possibly because the summer was so dry.

The other sign that storm season has arrived manifested on the dot of midday yesterday – when the power went out! One rapidly realises once resident in BC that, in rural areas in particular, virtually all power cables are above ground on poles – and that there are also a lot of very tall conifers around. Add wind to the mix and the outcome is hardly surprising.

The helpful man at BC Hydro told us that the estimated time to fix (“It’s because of the storm” – “No kidding!”) was eight o’ clock in the evening. In the event the power was back by five – but by then we had packed up our lunch makings and scurried over to our good friends’ farm in Saanichton to commit an act of piracy on their kitchen.

We are in the process of having natural gas laid on (they should be doing the install tomorrow) and we are aiming to get a gas log fire for the drawing room and a gas range for the kitchen. We will then at least be able to cook and to keep warm should there be further outages…

…which is – according to the Girl – highly likely.

“Welcome to Victoria” – she muttered wryly!

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Image from Wikipedia.enSpeaking as I was only recently (in the sense of posting to this picaresque periodical) of living legends… cf. Mr Richard Starkey… not more than a couple of weeks have elapsed since that joyous outing until I found myself again heeding my own dictum – ensuring that no such opportunity be missed to catch these legends whilst there is still time.

Billy Connelly – like Ringo – is in his seventies, though he is by comparison a mere youthful seventy two. Unlike Ringo however (who has the air of a man intent on going on for ever) Connelly not only came through a recent prostate cancer operation and the subsequent treatment, but has also been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease.

This hardly seems fair – though fairness naturally plays little part in such things.

When Connelly shuffled onstage at the Royal Theatre in downtown Victoria (whence we had gathered with dear and good friends on Wednesday last) for the second of two shows in a city of which he is clearly very fond, his painful lack of mobility and apparently fragile voice caused one’s heart momentarily to skip a beat – for a second wondering how on earth he was going to get through the show.

Two and a quarter interval-less hours later we had our answer and the capacity audience responded by giving the comedian a generous standing ovation. No encore was expected or offered – which seemed in the circumstances to be entirely appropriate. One should never forget that Connelly is a Glaswegian, that he started out as a welder in the shipyards and that whatever has happened to him since he is undoubtedly hewn from that tough stuff for which the inhabitants of that tough city are reknowned.

Not everybody gets The Big Yin. Not everyone appreciates the genius of his comedic talent. For me he is simply one of the funniest men on the planet, and that is before taking into account his award winning acting career and his heart-warming TV travelogues.

Respect – I say. Respect – dammit! I wish the man nothing but the best and I am delighted to have had the chance to catch him here in Victoria whilst he is still touring.

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Photo by D Sharon Pruitt on FlickrA few weeks back (there having been so much to write about over this last period that I have been struggling to keep up with it all) I went with one of our dear friends from Saanichton to a concert – or perhaps more accurately a gig – at the Memorial Centre here in Victoria.

Peter Gabriel visits aside I don’t venture forth to big gigs that much these days. I find that large impersonal arenas, the gridlocked post-gig car parks and the obligatorily aggressive comestible marketing all too often result in a somewhat wearing night out. Granted that modern technology usually now produces a auditory experience that would have been unimaginable when I first started attending live concerts (a good thing too as my ageing ears would not otherwise stand the strain) but that does not altogether compensate.

So – it takes something pretty special to get me out of the house of a night. In this case the something special was provided by Ringo Starr and his All Starr Band.

Now, I am a long time – a very long time – Beatles fan, but to this point I have never seen a Beatle perform live. There have been numerous opportunities over the years to catch McCartney in London and Ringo has been making these All Starr forays since 1989. I have not before, though, felt the slightest need to catch either of them – so why now?

Part of it is clearly the ‘London’ effect (other options available). Like London buses, if you miss one there will be another (or possibly two or three!) along in a moment. Cultural events are just so thick on the ground that if you miss a big show you can almost certainly catch it next time round – or just choose something else from the extensive selection on offer. For Victoria it is different. If the big names do land here the opportunity should be grasped with both hands.

Another reason is that there has been little incentive to see either Beatle right now. Yes – seeing either of them might be on the bucket list – but where’s the hurry?

Well – Ringo is 75! That’s right…

Fair enough – if I look a fraction as good at that age as does he then there would be serious suspicions that my loft housed a pretty decent collection of art. The point is that neither of these guys will go on touring for ever. In the same way that – a few years back – I decided not to miss a single Peter Gabriel show in case it turned out to be the last – I didn’t want to let this opportunity slip.

As for the show itself… It was excellent! The format is thus: When not bounding around the stage like a teenager flashing peace signs Ringo sings pretty much all the songs one would expect. The All Starrs – Todd Rundgren, Steve Lukather (Toto), Gregg Rolie (Santana) and Richard Page (Mr Mister) – each get to lead the band for three of their own best loved numbers. One thus gets to hear seriously good versions of songs such as ‘Africa‘, ‘Rosanna‘, ‘Black Magic Woman‘, ‘Oye Como Va‘, ‘Love is the Answer‘, ‘Broken Wings‘ and ‘Kyrie‘.

Best moments? Ringo announcing a song that he used to do with: “That other band I used to be in… Rory Storm and the Hurricanes!” – and Gregg Rolie commenting of one of his numbers that: “We played this at Woodstock!”

Blimey! It’s enough to make one feel old!

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“Let’s sit and pass the time away
And wonder at our fellow man
Down at the Seahorses Cafe
By Abernethy and Gaudin”

 

Brentwood Bay – September 2015

 

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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

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Converted

image from Pixabay

Way back in the very earliest days of this blog I posted this missive. The main thrust of the piece (aside from providing me with an opportunity to effect an introduction to ‘Pearl‘, my gorgeous and much missed Mercedes 300SL) was to ruminate upon the Englishman’s love of – almost fetish for – his (or her) open-topped automobile. This I duly did at my usual length.

Much later – of course – the Kickass Canada Girl finally succumbed to the Anglo-Saxon obsession herself and purchased her very own ragtop roadster. She enjoyed the top-down experience so much that she determined – on our arrival upon these shores – to seek in short order another similar vehicle.

Hunting through advertisements from various online sources before we left the UK left us with the very distinct impression that our search in Victoria for a Miata (as most British Columbians still refer to them) might not be a brief one. This did not altogether surprise me, for had I not written in my original post on the subject:

Which leads me to this observation… My perception, rightly or wrongly, is that – for a state that has a mild climate and considerably more days of sunshine than we do in the UK – British Columbians do not seem particularly keen on open top motoring. Yes, there are enthusiasts, but nowhere near the numbers that we see in England. Pickups are all well and good, but – for me – just do not hold the same appeal.

Recent readers will be aware that – counter to our expectation – the Girl effected the location and purchase of a good low-mileage MX-5 within a week of our arrival in BC. I put this down in the first instance to our newly rediscovered good fortune, but I have since been driven to revise this opinion. In this glorious Victorian summer (with apologies to those of you in the UK) it has become apparent that convertible usage at this end of Vancouver Island is as high as it is in the south of England. Indeed, the Mazda MX-5 is to be found here in greater numbers than just about anywhere else I know.

How to explain this shift in perception – this somewhat embarrassing revision to a publicly stated former view? I can think of only two possibilities:

  • there has been a dramatic increase in soft-top ownership in Victoria since my earlier posting in 2012…

…or:

  • Victorians – unlike the Brits – only dust down and bring out their convertibles when the sun is well and truly shining. There is none of the mad-March scramble at the first hint of a break in the cloud-cover that is so prevalent in the Home Counties.

Well – I am sure that I do not know the correct interpretation. All I do know is that this is yet another sure sign that the Girl and I have relocated to the right part of the world!

 

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