tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57527013271627653142024-02-20T05:30:07.021-08:00Morrison's Nifty Drivelarium & Gubbins RepositorySo, once again we meet at last...Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.comBlogger148125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-82573189558841149202018-01-23T16:06:00.000-08:002018-01-23T16:08:16.943-08:00Over and Out<div abp="1151">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not that this quiet announcement will change the course of human history or disrupt the space-time continuum, but this is my final post on Morrison's Nifty Drivelarium & Gubbins Repository. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There are several reasons for this, one being that 2018 has begun with three goodbyes to friends who have relocated far and wide, so as I've been considering shutting up shop here for a while now, it seems like an apt time to do so.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">When I used to blog on MySpace (creak, groan...those were the days), I stopped because it had started to feel like an obligation. Upon starting this one, I promised myself that if the same feeling overtook me here, I would do likewise and quit. That is exactly how it's become. Because my life is increasingly (though 'quietly') busy - more so than ever in the first weeks of this young new year - I must concentrate on things that really matter at the expense of follies such as this, rather than agonize about what nonsense I might wish to blather about in this forum. As I said in opening, disappearing from here is hardly earth shattering: the Drivelarium lurks in a dusty, cobwebbed corner of cyberspace that nobody* gives a damn about, and why should they? I certainly will not lose any sleep over not doing this anymore!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">However, at the heart of my main reason to jack in the Drivelarium is that - even though, with good reason, I don't engage in social media - I am bored shitless with the all-pervading social media culture we live in, in which it is generally expected that we share every last detail of our lives. I would rather live out my days considerably more privately, choosing to share anything I wish to only with those I want to know about it. At the tail-end of 2017 I sent out our traditional year-end round up email, 'sharing' the significant events of the previous twelve months, and - whether inadvertently or deliberately - one response revealed something I can only term a betrayal. That was kind of the final nail, really.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Over and out. Have good, happy, productive lives, everyone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">*Except George. Thanks for sticking with me, loyal reader.</span> </div>
Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-10521587831307683672017-12-19T11:19:00.002-08:002017-12-19T11:19:57.349-08:00Merry Christmas to All<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-37933852906889298832017-11-19T14:32:00.001-08:002017-11-19T14:32:40.853-08:00With Glowing Hearts...<div abp="1286" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Short of always wearing a beaver pelt hat and listening to Gordon Lightfoot 24 hours a day while holding a hockey stick in one hand and a box of Timbits in the other, as a Canadian citizen for the last six years I have been as Canadian as it's possible to be, yet with just one final, definitive piece missing to complete the picture: a Canadian passport.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">With an irresistible invitation to visit friends in San Rafael, California, for a few days (including New year's Eve), ours having expired long ago both Susan and I had to apply for passports, and they have arrived! I got mine on November 14th, and I have to say standing there staring at it, reading 'Canadian' under the nationality section on its main page was rather surreal. But it felt, and feels, good. However, it is certainly odd to think that when we do eventually return to the UK for a visit, I will do so as a 'foreigner.' I have no problem with that, nor do I bear any confusion of national identity, but it cannot help but feel strange!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Stranger still, perhaps, is that Susan's new passport is her first Canadian one! Having been born in Lancashire, yet lived in Canada as a Canadian citizen for most of her life, without any particular profound reason for it she has always held a passport of the country of her birth. This has proven to be a good thing for so many reasons, especially in that when we met and fell in love a UK passport made it SO much easier for us to be together. While I could not without a great deal of red tape hoop-jumping difficulty move to Canada to be with Susan, she could very easily move to the UK to be with me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">So, we two are now fully-fledged Canadians in every way we can be, and very proud of that fact. Having gone through everything that has befallen us since we got together, this feels like a greatly significant milestone in our life's journey together. </span> <br />
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-39132712247888216402017-10-29T12:50:00.000-07:002017-10-29T13:12:23.148-07:00Gord 'n' Gordon<div abp="30">
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<span abp="1157" style="font-family: "georgia";">The Tragically Hip was a big enough band that I had heard of them in the UK, but they never had any hit albums or singles. I had listened to them over there, but the Hip's music did nothing for me, and I was not a fan of the dude's voice. Since moving to Canada the band obviously became <em abp="1158">much</em> more visible to me, obviously especially in my workplace, where I sell their CDs (and now recently reissued vinyl) pretty much every week. As a 'new' Canadian keen to learn as much as I can about the history and culture of my country I have tried listening to lots of music that means a great deal to Canadians, and to this end I have heard plenty that were new names to me that I now love - Lighthouse, Five Man Electrical Band, David Francey and lots more - and I have heard even more that, although I appreciate their cultural significance, is really not my bag, such as Spirit of the West and, indeed, The Tragically Hip. I have tried, but they are simply not for me. However, as the "most Canadian of all Canadian bands"' I can understand the great love for the latter, especially via my friend Justin Rutledge, who grew up listening to the Hip and loves them so much he released an entire album of their songs, entitled <em abp="1159">Daredevil</em>.</span></div>
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<span abp="1165" style="font-family: "georgia";">Just as, for example, I can appreciate Marilyn Manson as a valid rock star and find him a fascinating, intelligent human being while his music leaves me cold, when it comes to the Hip's Gord Downie I am fully aware of Downie the activist and his amazing philanthropic, environmental and humanitarian work, especially in respect of First Nations people. Downie looked beyond the generally speaking happy-go-lucky Canadian outlook and natural wonderland that Canada is viewed as around the world and, to quote CBC, he was "...<em abp="1166">inspired by headlines, history books, personal experiences...to paint a picture of a country that was equally fascinating and flawed. Downie's Canada was anything but perfect, but in his attempt to honestly capture it over a 30-year career he taught a nation how to confront its darkest moments and dare to not repeat them</em>."</span></div>
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<span abp="1171" style="font-family: "georgia";">That is the Gord Downie I love: musician or otherwise, it matters not, but a man working tirelessly and bravely to do good and effect change in this world, and to inspire others to follow suit. As this world seems to be spiralling out of control in so many ways, as our humanity seems to be further eroded day-on-day, we need many, many more like Gord Downie to step up to the plate and teach us how to learn from the mistakes we have made and continue to make. So, when such an important figure should be taken from us at just 53 - almost four years younger than I - it is heartbreaking. Feeling the country's grief - seeing our Prime Minister in tears on live national television - really affected me, as this is the first death of its kind that I have experienced as a new Canadian. When Leonard Cohen passed - at the grand old age of 82, remember - it seemed to be greeted with a reverent quietude, rather than the outpouring of national sadness that followed Downie's passing. I felt it, too, vicariously as someone who feels more Canadian by the week, yet not as a fan of his music. In my way, then, I will miss him as much as the most hardcore Tragically Hip fan, but for entirely different reasons.</span></div>
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<span abp="1177" style="font-family: "georgia";">And in the same week, I learned of the death of my youth-hood friend, Gordon. He actually passed in 2014, but the news somehow did not reach me, and I found out completely by accident just a week ago. This came as a huge shock. Gordon played a big role in what I guess should be termed my formative years, as in fact did his brother, James, and his wonderful parents. Gordon is the first person I got stoned with - while listening to Jethro Tull in his bedroom, I seem to recall - and it was with Gordon that I queued overnight to bag tickets for the very same band at Birmingham Odeon. That remains the only occasion that I have done that, and that it was with Gordon makes it very special. We also saw Black Sabbath together at least once, but perhaps more times than that (it was a <em abp="1178">long</em> time ago). As you shall read, this fact is important.</span></div>
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<span abp="1184" style="font-family: "georgia";">Gordon was a BIG man - probably 6'5" and 25o pounds - and I felt like a Hobbit in his considerable physical presence. One enduring memory of this man-mountain that I treasure was following him as he thundered at top speed down a Birmingham Odeon aisle, towards a startled-looking security guy, swatting him away like a paper doll in our (successful) efforts to reach the mosh pit. (Don't worry, security guy was fine and, like his colleagues at that show, in a pretty futile role.)</span></div>
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<span abp="1188" style="font-family: "georgia";">We hung out together for many years, getting into all kinds of scrapes and drinking way too much at our local boozer. They were heady, often wild days when we thought we could take on the world and frequently tried to, but despite our 'spirited shenanigans' we never really overstepped the mark into <em abp="1238">total</em> idiocy. We just had a lot of fun, as young people tend do.</span></div>
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<span abp="1194" style="font-family: "georgia";">We kind of lost touch when Gordon joined the Royal Navy and I moved to Brighton, but reconnected many years later, sporadically emailing and reminiscing therein. I also lost touch with his beautiful, spiritually-inclined brother, last seeing either of them something like sixteen years ago, I would guess, but again later reconnecting with him by email. Pointed there after thinking about the obscure prog-rock band Druid, it was by dropping in on James' pagan rock band Druidspear's website last week that I learned of Gordon's death from a beautifully written, heartrending statement on the homepage. My blood turned to ice for a time when I read the words, "<em abp="1195">I have been asked to deal with loss on a frequent basis. The greatest loss being that of my brother Gordon who passed away in 2014</em>."</span></div>
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<span abp="1200" style="font-family: "georgia";">It took me several days of introspective grief before I could summon the strength to email James, and his reply shattered my heart. Gordon passed of cancer - such a colossal, foul presence in my life - and I also heard from James of his own awful health issues and the passing of his and Gordon's gorgeous mother. This has all hit me very hard, and since this sad discovery my mind has been a projection screen for a non-stop reel of my adventures in youth with Gordon and James, some excerpts making me cry and others making me laugh. The biggest laugh of all, a bittersweet piece of news to receive if ever there was one, came from the conclusion of James' extraordinary email, in telling me that at Gordon's funeral his coffin slipped through the curtains to the strains of Black Sabbath's <em abp="1201">Fairies Wear Boots</em>! That is about the most 'Gordon way' he could have left us all, and I love him all the more for it.</span></div>
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<span abp="1213" style="font-family: "georgia";">Every time I hear that song, which will be plenty more times before my own day to go comes, I will think of my dear friend, and smile like the Cheshire cat. And the beautiful big bastard will know it, too. </span></div>
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-72391504949264230232017-09-26T15:51:00.001-07:002017-09-26T15:51:56.957-07:00There Goes Summer<div abp="30">
<span abp="31" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Although there are still three months of the year left, during which anything can happen, when I reminisce about 2017 in years to come it will be all about the summer. These summer months have been the busiest and best in living memory, almost a blur, and whatever happens for the remainder of 2017, and however wet and bleak the Fall and Winter are, we have absorbed enough energy from the events of the hot season to carry us through.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Bookended by two great music festivals (with one meh one in between), Summer 2017 was a season we grabbed by the scruff of the neck and truly made the most of. We visited several places for the first time since moving to Vancouver Island, including the Port Renfrew area on our wedding anniversary, where we saw a mama bear and cub on Botanical Beach. Far from anything manmade, in their natural habitat with the ocean as a backdrop, it was a marvellous natural scene that moved Susan to tears. Similarly, at Stamp River Provincial Park we saw salmon leaping up the waterfall there, in their extraordinary, hardwired determination to reach their spawning grounds. It is impossible for us puny humans to comprehend the strength and fortitude required to complete this Herculean task, in the last act of their species before they die. Imagine trying to hurl yourself <em>up</em> Niagara Falls. All we could do was watch in awe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">In Summer 2017 we made new friends, lost others to death and relocation, and received visits from others we have known for decades. We saw lots of live music, attended BBQs and parties, threw an epic block party of our own - truly one of the best days of my life - and in a world becoming crazier and seemingly closer to Armageddon every day, our community of dear friends closed ranks to look out for each other, to enjoy the good times as long as they are destined to last.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">It has been a summer to remember. Now it is in the rear view mirror we will start to hunker down for what, we are told, will be a bad winter. Whatever. It will be what it will be and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Bring on the rain, bring on the snow and bring on walking to and from work in the dark. I will keep upbeat during the miserable weather by thinking about those bears, those salmon, my friends, and all the talented, wonderful people I know, folks that inspire me while the world goes to hell in a hand basket. And I will look forward to Summer 2018 in the hope it can deliver even a fraction of the magic of its predecessor. </span> </div>
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-87683639855108695982017-08-27T16:05:00.000-07:002017-08-27T16:05:11.751-07:00Classically Speaking<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Classical music is becoming an increasingly big deal for me. I've listened to it since I was a small boy, rifling through my parents' extremely random, small selection of LPs, immersing myself in such as Gustav Holst's "The Planets." On and off my whole life I've dipped back in for a time, mainly the extremely obvious 'popular' classics, then drifted away from it to continue my rock 'n' roll life's journey. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">However, with Susan also having a deep appreciation for the genre, it has become a permanent feature of our listening pleasure, and over the last couple of years we've been listening to it more and more, exploring composers and works new to us. Having previously gone about our individual morning routines without a soundtrack, this year we've started playing music over breakfast and when getting ready for work. It's usually instrumental, sometimes jazz, but more often than not classical. It's a great way to start the day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This newfound and prolonged rediscovery has led to us, when thrift shopping, looking out for great or interesting classical CDs to add to our rapidly burgeoning collection, now numbering in the hundreds. And at work I'll look out for interesting stuff, sometimes guided by regular customers and classical music authorities, Bert and Murray. My appetite for all music has always been vociferous, but getting stuck into a genre that spans centuries, with hundreds of versions of everything, is a unique challenge presenting many great rewards.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Naturally, this has crossed over to our social life, and this year the two most powerful live concert experiences I've had have been classical concerts. At the end of Orff's "Carmina Burana" at the Royal Theatre in Victoria, I was so moved by the power of that extraordinary piece - incredibly performed by the Victoria Symphony, under the direction of Maestra Tania Miller, and the Victoria Choral Society - that I was shaking, with tears running down my cheeks. It's a <i><b>massive</b></i> piece, and to hear it live is akin to standing in a full force gale, trying to keep upright. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then two weekends ago we experienced a great double-header of classical awesomeness, firstly with Susan's Aunty May at Maffeo-Sutton Park for the annual free "Symphony by the Sea" concert with the Vancouver Island Symphony, under the direction of Calvin Dyck. This concert traditionally presents the very well known variety of classical and light classical music, this year including movie themes. Nonetheless, sitting in the sunshine with a picnic, listening to a full orchestra doing their grandiose thing, is one great way to spend a few hours.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The following evening we went to the Port Theatre for a free concert by the astonishing National Youth Orchestra, performing as part of the Canada 150 celebrations. Oh my, what a night this was. We sat in the 5th row downstairs, feeling the full, colossal power of this remarkable group of young musicians. The first half had me absolutely enraptured, as one of my very favourite pieces - Modest Mussorgsky's majestic "Pictures at an Exhibition" - nearly brought the house down, provoking a five-minute standing ovation. And this was just part one. Part two, after a much needed interval just to calm down, brought Sergei Prokofiev's Symphony No. 1 in D Major (Op. 25), and Richard Strauss' epic "Death and Transfiguration," so after that we left the theatre euphoric and exhausted.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There is absolutely <i>nothing</i> in a live music scenario to match the enormous power of an orchestra. What it must be like to be part of that, I just don't know, and cannot imagine. When watching Canada's finest young musicians play, I spent time watching individuals - their expressions, attention to the conductor and so forth - and, though I may be reading too much into this based on my own emotional response to the music, I swear I saw one female violinist struggling to hold back tears during "The Great Gate of Kiev," the enormous, soul-stirring climax to "Pictures at an Exhibition." It seems only natural to react in such a way, as it seems for all the world a melody sent from another planet, such is its remarkable power to move the listener.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, as you do, we've started checking out the classical concerts taking place in Victoria in the first half of next year! There are many concerts we fancy, particularly a performance from the Tallis Scholars at Alix Goolden Hall; an evening of the fantastic Tania Miller (whose feet left the ground several times during "Carmina Burana") conducting Rachmaninoff; Verdi's "Requiem" and, oh yes indeed, "The Planets." There is no way I can miss that one, it being something of a portal to this world of music for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There is a reason classical music is still listened to hundreds of years since it was composed. It is immortal and timeless, emotionally rewarding, and always will be. And right now, we just cannot get enough of it. </span>Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-906170264036036982017-07-22T15:34:00.002-07:002017-07-22T15:34:36.505-07:00And, All Well and Good, I Aim to Bow Out in the Same Manner<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This has been quite a week, a veritable rollercoaster of emotions with euphoric highs and crushingly sad lows. Of the latter state of being we experienced another death this week, that of a beloved customer of my workplace. There is little more I can say about it other than what you can read below. Offering to post a tribute on the store's Facebook page, I have been attempting since Tuesday to compose something in my head, and set about the task today when I could have quiet, uninterrupted time to do so. All I can hope is that it serves this lovely man well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>"Hello everyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
have something we wish to share with you all, so thanks for taking a few
minutes out of your day to read this.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>
</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>This has been a sad week in the music world with a number of
notable deaths:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Linkin Park’s Chester
Bennington; Streetheart’s Kenny Shields; Christopher Wong Won (Fresh Kid Ice)
of 2 Live Crew; Tuxedomoon’s Peter “Principle” Dachert; South African musician
Ray Phiri; Canadian reggae artist Wayne McGhie and the French singer Barbara
Weldens have all left us in the last few days.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>
</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>However, we have also experienced a significant loss at the
store with the passing of a popular long-term customer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was such a lovely man, so we feel
compelled to share a little of his story by way of a tribute, but particularly
concerning the remarkable and inspiring way he faced death, and lived his final
months.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>
</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>For over 25 years DAVID HALL shopped at Fascinating
Rhythm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A self-confessed music (and
comic books/graphic novels) nerd, David’s taste was very wide, so as a weekly
customer he amassed an enormous CD collection from us alone over that quarter-century.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He really knew his stuff, too, and in
particular was a real authority on African music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since we started stocking them in depth David
must have bought hundreds of CDs in this genre, as well as mountains of other
international sounds, soul, rock, blues, folk and…well, you get the
picture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was, by any measure, a music
fanatic, and as is the case with certain customers we could order esoteric
titles in so-called specialist genres with full confidence that David would
either buy or investigate them!<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>
</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>As you will read later, of poignant significance to this
story is that David was an avid concert and music festival attendee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would often see him out and about, checking
out bands or artists that he either already knew and liked, but also those that
simply piqued his interest or we had recommended, then buying CDs at the show
or picking them up from us at a later date. <o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>
</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>A couple of years ago, noticing a dramatic weight loss in
him, we inquired as to David’s health, and he informed us that he was battling
an aggressive cancer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were obviously
shocked and concerned, wishing him every strength for his fight, and asked him
to keep us as updated as possible, if he could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Several months later he told us he had been declared cancer-free, which
naturally delighted us and came as a huge relief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, as cancer can and unfortunately so
frequently does, it returned with a vengeance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not yet aware of this, upon inquiring how he was feeling when he paid us
a visit one day, he informed us it had returned, but that this time other than
very risky surgery there was nothing any doctor could do to help him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was somewhere around the turn of the
year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>
</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Incredibly, David delivered this news as if he were
discussing the weather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Casually, making
no great deal of it, he said simply that we all have to go sometime, and as he
now knew his time was on the horizon he had starting laying plans for
everything he wanted to do with the rest of his life, however long that turned
out to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most important, he said, was
to return to his favourite place on earth, New Orleans, to once again attend
the Jazz & Heritage Festival, taking place this year between April 28<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>
and May 7<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so off he
went to that spectacular event, to witness performances by such as Stevie
Wonder, Earth, Wind & Fire, Alabama Shakes and many more.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>
</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>As his health grew considerably more fragile, David’s
attitude became ‘a day at a time,’ but without a single ounce of
self-pity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was seemingly more about
what he could achieve in any given day than looking down the line with dread to
what was coming.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>
</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>And then, get this, after just the week prior having been
given 24 hours to live, David somehow summoned the strength to head to the
Comox Valley with a good pal to attend all three days of the Vancouver Island
MusicFest last weekend, one avowed intention being to see one of his all-time
favourites, Emmylou Harris, one last time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Back from the festival, presumably having checked everything off his
list, David quietly slipped away on Tuesday.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>
</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Store owner Steve and I (Dave) visited David at his
Ladysmith home during his last three weeks on earth, drawing incredible
inspiration from the matter-of-fact, Zen-like way he was, at least outwardly,
facing the end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was sat under a
parasol on his terrace at the edge of a pretty forest, listening to his favourite
music, reading graphic novels, just chilling in the sunshine, all peaceful and
full of smiles. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We knew he loved his
beer, so my wife Susan and I took him over a couple of bottles of our favourite
IPA (Fat Tug, if you’re curious) to share with David; it transpired he had not
tasted that one before, and loved it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
had such a good time, chatting about music and life and all manner of things
that organically arose in conversation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He wanted to know more about my own cancer history (I’m a three-time
survivor) and his eyes filled with tears as I related my tale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have no words for how moved and humbled I
was, and remain, that a man in David’s situation should cry for me like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we left, Susan - who had met David at
gigs, but barely knew him – was beside herself, saying, “Wow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What an incredible man.”</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>We had planned to pay him a visit again this
weekend, but alas.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>
</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>We have so many wonderful customers, and down the
two-and-a-half decades he shopped with us David was one of those that Steve and,
in my ten years at the store, I, also, grew very fond of.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a highly intelligent, gentle, sweet,
private man, full of wit, wisdom and knowledge from a life well-lived,
including time spent teaching in West Africa and Northern China.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will miss him a great deal, and I
personally will miss how he liked to push my buttons with banter about The
Black Keys and Dan Auerbach; he was a big fan, but I’m not so struck!<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>
</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>So, that’s David Hall, part of the store’s little world for
25 years, and claimed by cancer at just 62.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thank you for reading about him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We hope, like us, you can draw something of inspiration to you from his
story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Susan said, he really was an
incredible man.<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>
</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>R.I.P. David."<o:p></o:p></em></span></div>
Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-37569083042685525752017-06-13T16:26:00.001-07:002017-06-13T16:26:12.129-07:00Much ado...<div abp="30">
<span abp="31" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We humans are absolutely ridiculous creatures. Besides the obviously terrible, evil ways we can behave towards each other, not forgetting towards other species', we can behave in simply <strong abp="227"><em abp="228">stupid</em></strong> ways that defy belief.</span></div>
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<span abp="31" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
<div abp="30">
<span abp="31" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Although it appears on a great many other news sites, a few days ago I read a report on the BBC website about a ludicrous global craze - or 'scourge' as it has been termed - that is so damn stupid all I could do was shake my head. In the wake of utter nonsense like planking and pouring quarts of milk over ourselves - you know, for a laugh - we now have 'manspreading' to concern ourselves with. Even the word itself is preposterous.</span></div>
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<span abp="31" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span abp="31" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Rather than me blathering on further about it, getting myself all riled up over nothing, here's the report for your amusement/fury/disbelief: Delete as applicable.</span></div>
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<em abp="229"><span abp="230" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"Transport chiefs in the Spanish capital, Madrid, have launched a campaign discouraging 'manspreading' - men encroaching on other seats by sitting with their legs wide apart.</span></em></div>
<div abp="231" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; border: 0px currentColor; color: #404040; font-family: Helmet, Freesans, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.375; margin: 23px 0px 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<em abp="232"><span abp="233" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Bus operator EMT is putting up new signs showing a seated male figure, legs akimbo, next to a big red cross. </span></em><em abp="234"><span abp="235" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A similar campaign is planned for the city's Metro system. </span></em><em abp="236"><span abp="237" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The move follows an online petition by a women's campaign group, which garnered more than 12,000 signatures. Ma</span></em><em abp="238"><span abp="239" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">nspreading - which was accepted as a word in the online Oxford dictionary two years ago - is already discouraged in some other cities around the world.</span></em></div>
<div abp="240" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; border: 0px currentColor; color: #404040; font-family: Helmet, Freesans, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.375; margin: 18px 0px 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span abp="248"><em abp="249"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: black;"><span abp="250" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #404040; display: inline !important; float: none; font-family: Helmet, Freesans, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span abp="251" class="Apple-converted-space"><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">EMT said in a statement </span></em></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">that</span> the aim of the new signs was to</em></span> <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>remind</em></span></span><span abp="252" class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span>male travellers "of the need to maintain civic behaviour and to respect the space of everyone on board the bus".</span></span></em></span></div>
<div abp="253" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; border: 0px currentColor; color: #404040; font-family: Helmet, Freesans, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.375; margin: 18px 0px 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span abp="254" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em abp="255">The women's group Mujeres en Lucha (Women in Struggle) said in its online petition that it was not uncommon on public transport to see women "with their legs closed and very uncomfortable because there is a man next to her invading her space".</em></span></div>
<div abp="256" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; border: 0px currentColor; color: #404040; font-family: Helmet, Freesans, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.375; margin: 18px 0px 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span abp="257" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em abp="258">It's hashtag #MadridSinManspreading (#MadridWithoutManspreading) has been widely used on social media.</em></span></div>
<div abp="259" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; border: 0px currentColor; color: #404040; font-family: Helmet, Freesans, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 1.375; margin: 18px 0px 0px; orphans: 2; padding: 0px; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span abp="260" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em abp="261">In 2014, New York's Metropolitan Transportation Authority decided to crack down on the manspreading scourge with signs on the city's Metro that read: "Dude... stop the spread, please." </em></span><span abp="263" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em abp="264">The US city of Philadelphia also launched a "Dude, it's Rude" campaign, while Seattle's transport provider put up signs showing an octopus with its tentacles draped over bordering seats."</em></span></div>
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-60782672240728641922017-05-27T10:25:00.004-07:002017-05-27T10:25:57.798-07:00What Were They Thinking?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nlMnd6Y9-Hg/WSmxoorJ6nI/AAAAAAAAQVQ/EtqXnQl7RHgpfBt4iF1qLKTssXGiUh5SACLcB/s1600/20170514_215528.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="961" data-original-width="1600" height="192" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nlMnd6Y9-Hg/WSmxoorJ6nI/AAAAAAAAQVQ/EtqXnQl7RHgpfBt4iF1qLKTssXGiUh5SACLcB/s320/20170514_215528.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As you can imagine, in my work at the music store I see a constant stream of CD and LP sleeves and packaging, day in-day out. Of course, I see a great many that are already familiar, but also a whole ton that I have not seen before. There are occasions where a sleeve design or packaging element is so impossibly bad that it stops me in my tracks. It could be a dreadful painting, poor layout, crappy font or whatever, but all I can think when I see them is that someone, or more than one person, and more often than not also the act in question, will have approved that design as the way to sell that product. In so many instances I simply cannot believe how terrible the sleeve is, and that it has been approved, making me wonder 'what were they thinking?!'</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Speaking of, just take a look at the utterly fucking useless example above. After watching a wonderful documentary about her, Susan and I have been buying and enjoying what we can find by the late jazz-blues singer, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alberta_Hunter">Alberta Hunter</a>. There isn't too much out there, especially of her really early work, so we were delighted to learn that a brand new 4 CD set of her recordings between 1921 and 1940 was to be released this month. As soon as it arrived at the store I snapped it up, eager to hear it at home. However, upon unwrapping it I was astonished, angry and amused all at once to see what you see above.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is what is revealed upon taking CD 1 from its tray. There, right in the middle, is an archive photograph of Alberta, her face <i>perfectly</i> obscured by the retaining hub. God alive, how can this have <i>ever</i> been approved?!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Picture the scene: the four disc set has been meticulously compiled after the recordings have been restored; a lovely booklet of biographical information has been researched and written, and the CD set's packaging layout has been drawn up. It is all sent to whomever at the record label and someone - <i>OBVIOUSLY A MORON</i> - looks it over and says, "Yes, that looks awesome."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Seriously, I am lost for any more words on the subject. Everything about this piece of design packaging is totally shit. It is a fact that cannot be disputed or argued against. It is a pitiful oversight blighting a historically significant collection of vintage material, and poor Alberta would be turning in her grave if she could see it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Really, WHAT WERE THEY THINKING?! </span>Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-25308403466478858752017-04-30T19:20:00.000-07:002017-04-30T19:20:09.770-07:00Gimme dat Oscar!<div abp="970" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/dr9fLAwFtSg/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/dr9fLAwFtSg?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Not that it would qualify anyway, apart from saying the word 'No!' in a preposterous, mercifully brief, live breakfast TV skit 'starring' famous British cheese-ball radio DJ, Tony Blackburn, I have never in my life acted until this year. Even then, as the video above illustrates, I hardly turned in an epic performance upon my proper debut, but bearing in mind the point of the video that doesn't really matter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">As a volunteer for the Canadian Cancer Society, I was saddened to be part of the organizing committee responsible for reluctantly deciding that 2017's Relay for Life be the last one to be held in Nanaimo. Rapidly declining participant registration and plummeting year-on-year fundraising totals forced our collective hands, so from 2018 we will look at new initiatives and fresh ideas for campaigns. So, this year we are hurling everything we've got at making the very last Relay for Life in our community as good and successful as it can be, especially in terms of promotion. For my part, this has included calling on my insanely talented filmmaking friend, Raymond Knight, to see if he would be up for making a short film for us to help promote the event. With cancer affecting his family at this time, he jumped right onboard.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">The resultant clip is pretty upbeat and fun, and we had a blast making it. The real star is 11-year-old Dexter Komen - at just five-and-a-half weeks old the youngest person <em>ever</em> to be diagnosed with the rare and aggressive rhabdomyosarcoma. He's a wonderful lad, and if the Nanaimo Relay for Life has such a thing as a poster boy, Dexter is he.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Over the course of a morning, directed by Raymond - who was ably assisted by his volunteer crew of extras - Dexter and I hammed it up at the Hub City Cinema Society in Downtown Nanaimo, fumbling our lines and corpsing repeatedly. Then, with filming done, after much skilful editing and a separate voiceover session for me, the resultant film was launched in April. I have to say I absolutely love it, as do Dexter and his lovely mom, Sonia, so we're all delighted with the end product.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">To date, although it's only received just over 70 views on YouTube, it's been watched over 7,000 times via the Nanaimo Relay for Life Facebook page. That's just great, and the more people that watch it, the more likely it is that some of them will want to participate in the final Nanaimo Relay for Life. If so, job done.</span></div>
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-55465558058107476912017-03-14T14:18:00.003-07:002017-03-14T14:18:29.141-07:00Reginald Iolanthe Morrison<div abp="136" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a abp="137" href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rXzJO7ib-Us/WMhT1uMLOyI/AAAAAAAAQU4/D9Z7SoS0ECc-HBEgVH-zLBuURQTb9ap3QCLcB/s1600/IMG_1226-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img abp="138" border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rXzJO7ib-Us/WMhT1uMLOyI/AAAAAAAAQU4/D9Z7SoS0ECc-HBEgVH-zLBuURQTb9ap3QCLcB/s320/IMG_1226-001.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span abp="168" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">That gorgeous creature - all neatly tucked in, fast asleep and impossibly cute - is our cat, Reggie...or, as my dear wife decided to fully name him when we adopted him, Reginald Iolanthe Morrison. (I had nothing - I repeat, <em>nothing</em> - to do with that.) Yesterday, this utter bundle of joy celebrated the fifth anniversary of his birth. Or rather we did, as he was obviously utterly oblivious to the fact, presumably unaware of the concept of time.</span></div>
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<span abp="168" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Anyway, I digress. Reggie is a <em>fantastic </em>critter, unlike any beastie of his species I've ever owned or encountered. His personality continues to surprise and delight, four years and forty-two weeks since we brought him home as a tiny kitten, all shaking with fear as we took over his full-time care from his foster mother. Since then it's been wonderful companionship all the way, with a great deal of hilarity as, a small piece at a time, his personality has unfolded.</span></div>
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<span abp="168" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As I type, Reggie is sprawled across the heat register in my office, totally blocking any heat from coming my way, as he warms his belly and bum. It's just one of hundreds of his lovely ways, some of which I will, in no particular order, recount here...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">He loves to be brushed, so his coat is silky and immaculate at all times. When we brush him, he'll allow his flanks, bib, legs and back to be done, before throwing himself over so his belly can be brushed. He behaves in a similar way when we return home from work, greeting us at the front door before literally <em>falling over</em>, stretching and exposing his belly for rubs. "Drop, thud and roll," Susan calls that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Our 'Mini House Lion' plays fetch. Yes, just like a dog. His favourite fetch games involve his two favourite ball toys, the Bonker Ball and the 'Wee Ball,' which started life as a pompom on one of Susan's woollen gloves. We stand in the kitchen and hurl one of these things into the bedroom, above the bed, uttering a loud, shrill "Boooooo" as we do so, whereupon he tears after it, leaping onto the bed, skidding right across it with his back legs splayed, before disappearing over the other side. Seconds later, he'll appear proudly in the kitchen with said Bonker or Wee Ball, and drop it at my or Susan's feet so we can do it again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">He loves to scrap feistily with me in what I trust is a spirited attempt to usurp me as the Alpha Male of the pride. This occurs mainly when on the rug in the lounge, or the runner in the dining room - areas we have consequently designated as Reggie's 'Combat Zones.' With regular occurrence and utter predictability, he'll roll about all cute in these zones, luring me in to rub his belly, then he'll grab hold of my arm and clasp on with his front legs, sink his teeth into my hand (which rarely hurts) and kick away at my arm with his back feet. 'Kangaroo Boy' is what we've called this ultimately futile and unfailingly amusing act of aggression. When he thinks he's got the upper hand, I'll scoop him up and cuddle him, whereupon he looks so guilty and apologetic. I just love that he does all this, as he retains a degree of wildness.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">It's easy to directly communicate with Reggie. I'll look at him intently, blinking slowly in an exaggerated manner, and he blinks right back. It should come as no great surprise that we have called this lovely feature of his behaviour 'Blinkies.' (Classic middle-aged, childless cat nuts - that's us!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">He gets 'Full Moon Fever' and can detect storms on the way long before we do. When there's a full moon or inclement weather coming in, he'll run around the house at top speed, a grey blur, howling something like a wolf in cat form, which is just another example of his frequent dog-like personality traits. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">He does so many beautiful, side-splitting things, with new tricks on a regular basis, that I could write about our nutty, gorgeous feline companion all day long. At this five-year mark we look back at how he has grown and developed, just as a parent would and does with their children, and we feel so lucky that the little blighter entered our world. He brings us so much happiness, fuzz therapy whenever we need it (which is often), and whatever the feline interpretation of unconditional love is (especially, as a Mama's Boy, for Susan). He's such a little star.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Happy Birthday, Reginald Iolanthe Morrison! </span> </div>
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-25892680320838980862017-02-12T17:57:00.000-08:002017-02-12T17:57:55.024-08:00The Wisdom of Robyn<div abp="53" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a abp="54" href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NhqP8CHpfWc/WKEJ_g-cJ8I/AAAAAAAAQUk/CTP9o8NW4pQU8kM8d2lj5nPCqgC-ugpywCLcB/s1600/robyn_hitchcock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img abp="55" border="0" height="179" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NhqP8CHpfWc/WKEJ_g-cJ8I/AAAAAAAAQUk/CTP9o8NW4pQU8kM8d2lj5nPCqgC-ugpywCLcB/s320/robyn_hitchcock.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span abp="90" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Susan and I are big fans of the veteran English psychedelic pop singer-songwriter, Robyn Hitchcock, currently resident in Nashville. Since 1972 Hitchcock has kept us hugely entertained with his wonderful, frequently whimsical and surreal songs, and he never really drops the ball with album after album of consistently good material. Live, between songs he tells the strangest, tripped out stories that seem to be improvised on the spot, and they are usually hilarious. The odd sense of humour he employs in his songwriting and stage banter is clearly displayed in his Twitter feed, with random 'nonsense' pronouncements such as:</span></div>
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<span abp="90" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>"Music is really good fun, and some musicians even play golf. Our cat is going to sneeze. It's not long 'til Easter. I like mint chocolate."</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Or...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><em>"If we were more evolved we would sorvkng dfhi cgui wotdb until we zoefmu forever."</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Delightful and silly, but of late Hitchcock has felt compelled to join the billions of right-thinking individuals around the world with a stream of powerful statements about and against Donald Trump and his insane 'executive orders.' He has just about nailed it with the following quotes, with which I will conclude this brief post.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><em>"Either we will eventually become extinct and be replaced by cats with articulated thumbs, who have evolved the way apes slowly evolved into us, or we will become empathic and mildly telepathic. People like Donald Trump won't happen because biologically no human will be born with that lack of empathy."</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">This next one is an open letter to Trump, published on certain music blogs the day after the inauguration. It is, in my opinion, very powerful, beautifully measured, and absolutely right on:</span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">"Yesterday the whole thinking, feeling world gave the thumbs down to Donald Trump and everything he stands for.</span></em> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>What does he stand for - or stand against, more importantly?</em></span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">He's against every single gain we've made as a species in the last sixty years: in racial equality, in gender parity, in sexual tolerance, in environmental awareness, and in welfare, just to start the list. Less than a day into his presidency, he has begun to nullify and marginalize all that so many have fought for in these areas since the Civil Rights movement.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">But you can't marginalize the melting ice caps, Donald, and you can't nullify people's feelings when they get sick and starve. You can't steal a woman's body from her, or steamroller someone's sexuality. No matter hard you legislate.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Your supporters are mostly either so wealthy that they feel immune to life and death, or so misinformed that they think losing their health care will somehow help them. Or they just can't face a female president, for reasons of their own. We don't understand them, and they don't understand us, frankly. You're presiding over the United States now - a nation with a greater divide than the Rockies ever were. </span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">You're not alone. Your greedy, vainglorious, vindictive nature finds its echo in Britain, Russia and other lands. But you will never find the admiration you lack, or the respect you crave, by alienating every empathic soul on earth. And right now you're doing just that; you may relish it, but it's not making you happy, is it?</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Yesterday my old friends marched in London, my partner marched in Washington DC, and my Nashville friends and I marched here in Tennessee. I'm proud of them all, and proud to be among them. There was no violence - just a bunch of us across the social dial celebrating what we believe in, and celebrating each other.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Georgia;">You must believe in something - other than the lustre of your own gold, and hurting those who disagree with you - or am I missing the point, Donald?"</span></em><span abp="90" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span> </div>
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-44011933809382297822017-01-20T07:43:00.003-08:002017-01-20T07:43:41.431-08:00Inauguration Day<div abp="136" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a abp="137" href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ORkUxMU3tLk/WIIv-6Yia9I/AAAAAAAAQUM/XliYFzRr5akxl6QWeDUN0KZRTDt8Za2agCLcB/s1600/fullsizerender1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img abp="138" border="0" height="297" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ORkUxMU3tLk/WIIv-6Yia9I/AAAAAAAAQUM/XliYFzRr5akxl6QWeDUN0KZRTDt8Za2agCLcB/s320/fullsizerender1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> (Thanks are due to Sherri Israels.)</span></div>
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-85413210167046279232016-12-20T11:49:00.002-08:002016-12-20T12:00:15.955-08:00Starting Again<div abp="45">
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<span abp="46" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In some respects it is impossible to comprehend, but today - December 20th, 2016 - marks ten years since Susan and I landed in Nanaimo to start a new life in our forties. Ten years!</span></div>
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<span abp="46" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Looking back over this decade we have crammed in a lot of living, doing the thing we do, and considering the state we arrived in, we have come an incredibly long way. Six weeks prior to our arrival we lost our Brighton home to fire, an understandably traumatic event that considerably expedited our original plans to move here. The fire started in the apartment above ours when the moronic son of the woman that lived there fell asleep drunk, dropped a lit cigarette, then woke up and went out. How can that even happen? How can someone wake up to presumably find the place <em abp="1171"><strong abp="1172">on fire</strong></em>, then <em abp="1173"><strong abp="1174">go out</strong></em>? We have never been given answers to how everything unfolded, and will never receive any, but it is what happened.</span></div>
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<span abp="1179" style="font-family: "georgia";">Consequently, we had no choice but to up sticks and head over here, a moved sanctioned by Canada House when Susan was approved as my sponsor...the day after the fire! Remaining in ultra-expensive Brighton and starting over there simply was not an option. Susan desperately wanted to come home; we had somewhere to temporarily stay - with Susan's ever-supportive parents - and it felt like my time in Brighton, just short of twenty years, had run its course. Besides, my mother - never a fan of Britain - urged me to get of the 'shithole' if any opportunity to do so ever arose, so hey, mum, I did it, and with an incredible woman I wish you could have met, but alas...</span></div>
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<span abp="1185" style="font-family: "georgia";">Our exit from the UK was a six-week blur of goodbyes, packing, planning, fretting, paying off debts and other outstanding expenses, and a ton of other things on our to-do list. I could go into the chaotic events that transpired in the wake of the fire, but I would rather not recall them, especially such as witnessing Susan burst into tears upon the sight of any passing fire truck. Let's just say it was a highly emotional, crazy, frazzled and hectic time that, even if paid handsomely to re-enact it, I would politely decline for the sake of my mental health.</span></div>
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<span abp="1191" style="font-family: "georgia";">The day of departure was one of the most stressful days of our lives. As we were leaving just before Christmas, Gatwick Airport was absolutely crammed to the rafters with travellers, all about as nerve-fried as each other, eager to get the fuck on planes and get out of there. For us, leaving our beloved cat Eddie in the hands of the live cargo department was awful. He was thirteen years-old, not in great health, and we genuinely wondered if he would survive the flight.</span></div>
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<span abp="1197" style="font-family: "georgia";">After having bid an emotional farewell to our dear friend Shaun, who had kindly driven us to the airport, and his two lovely daughters, we joined the masses moving like molasses through the terminal, firstly to ask where we needed to take Eddie (which proved to be somewhere so far away we had to get a taxi to and from it), then to check in and join the endless queue to get to the departure lounges. It was absolute hell, and so slow-movingly busy we thought we would miss our flight. Then when we finally did get on the plane we couldn't even sit together.</span></div>
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<span abp="1203" style="font-family: "georgia";">What seemed like an eternity later we landed in Vancouver, where after a right rigmarole and rip-off scenario we collected our freaking-out cat, then were scooped up by Susan's friends Carol and Ariane, whisked off to the Tsawwassen ferry terminal at high speed, only to be the very last passengers (and cat) aboard. It was madness, and not at all how I had ever envisaged arriving in my new country. It was freezing cold, but because we had an animal with us we had to huddle in a particular area on an outside deck. The journey to the Duke Point terminal was only two hours, but it felt like two days.</span></div>
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<span abp="1209" style="font-family: "georgia";">Collected by Susan's parents at this end, we were taken 'home' to begin our new life. I could relate the events and emotions of the first few weeks and months, but will resist. I will say that it was a period of unexpectedly enormous adjustment that brought with it high emotion, a great deal of uncertainty, and not a little fear...</span></div>
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<span abp="1215" style="font-family: "georgia";">...but it all worked out in the end.</span></div>
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<span abp="1221" style="font-family: "georgia";">As I type I am in my office in our dream home, a beautiful and large house, the basement of which was once a noted recording studio. It feels very, very right living inside these walls. We continue to make it our own in terms of adornments and upgrades, and in truth I have never felt happier living anywhere than I do in this wonderful dwelling. Our condo - bought in 2007, and lived in for five happy years - was great, but way too small for our needs and desires.</span></div>
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<span abp="1227" style="font-family: "georgia";">We both have work, as well as a wonderful cat, Reggie; a community of fantastic friends that took time to find, and are generally very happy with our situation. Like anyone we have our problems and situations to deal with, but we live each day as if it's our last, making the very best of our time together and deal with the crap as it comes along.</span></div>
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<span abp="1233" style="font-family: "georgia";">We have absolutely no regrets. Moving here, albeit with forced hands at the time, was one of the best decisions we have ever made. Susan <em abp="1234">needs</em> to be here, near her family, while perversely conveniently I have no one left, so we have that support network as well, without whom we would have truly struggled. We are so very lucky in that respect.</span></div>
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<span abp="1240" style="font-family: "georgia";">A suitcase each, $1,000 between us, and a cat in a basket: that's what we arrived here with ten years ago today. Now, an extraordinary decade later, in all but wealth we are millionaires.</span></div>
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-25571020825558360862016-11-27T13:29:00.001-08:002016-11-27T13:43:52.903-08:00She Gave the People What They Wanted<div abp="1337" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a abp="1338" href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1nR3Qpcn_eQ/WDs0dGw3ZHI/AAAAAAAAQTw/1ZvNDUboQPk_RiKJyBp9w4_fqNw--vH2QCLcB/s1600/3513-sharonjones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img abp="1339" border="0" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1nR3Qpcn_eQ/WDs0dGw3ZHI/AAAAAAAAQTw/1ZvNDUboQPk_RiKJyBp9w4_fqNw--vH2QCLcB/s320/3513-sharonjones.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span abp="6" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Of the deaths from the music world that have shocked us all this year, the one that has affected Susan and I the most, genuinely reducing us to tears, was the passing of 'soul revival' powerhouse Sharon Jones. I may have grown up with and possess twenty-odd CDs by David Bowie, or have been such a huge Prince fan that I once flew from my workplace in Belfast to London to see him perform, then caught the next redeye flight back to Belfast, so was naturally shaken when both died this year, but it is the death of Sharon Jones at just 60 years-old that has upset me the most.</span></div>
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<span abp="1172" style="font-family: "georgia";">On April 4th, 2014, we travelled down to Victoria to see Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings perform at Alix Goolden Hall. It was the first of two back-to-back shows for us that weekend - with the mighty, reconvened Neutral Milk Hotel in Vancouver the following evening - and what proved to be the most powerful live music double whammy either of us had ever experienced. Sharon and her kickass funk-soul outfit were simply world class, and considering I have been fortunate to see the ilk of James Brown, George Clinton, Etta James and Marvin Gaye, it was hands down pretty much the best soul show I've ever seen. The band were absolutely smokin' on all cylinders and Sharon danced like a thing demented, singing her ass off all night. It was fantastic, and everyone in the venue that night would agree.</span></div>
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<span abp="1178" style="font-family: "georgia";">One significant factor making Sharon's hi-octane performance so extraordinary was that she was just four months removed from debilitating chemotherapy treatment, as she had been battling the usually fatal pancreatic cancer. I've had chemotherapy and can tell anyone that has not that it utterly kicks your ass. For months after my treatment I had zero energy, some days barely able to put one foot in front of another, so full recovery from what is effectively being poisoned is slow and difficult.</span></div>
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<span abp="1184" style="font-family: "georgia";">Not for Sharon, it seems! She danced so hard all night that all I could do, understanding what she had been through, was marvel at her superhuman stamina and shake my head in disbelief at her commitment to putting on the best show she possibly could. Most admirable of all that she was not in the slightest a vain woman, so even though having lost all her hair during chemo she refused to wear a wig or disguise it in any way, so her head was covered in a light fuzz as her hair began to reappear. To my mind, this made her all the more beautiful and impressive a human being, but it is important to note what a tough, tough lady this was. It is not just anyone that can conquer pancreatic cancer, but then not everyone has the grit to work as a corrections officer at the notorious Riker's Island facility in New York, or as a guard on armoured Wells Fargo cash trucks. Sharon did. </span></div>
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<span abp="1190" style="font-family: "georgia";">After the show, compelled to soak in some of her inspirational energy, we decided to go hang out in the merchandise area of the Alix Goolden Hall where it is common in our experience for visiting musicians to meet fans to sign stuff and pose for photos. It was, as you would expect, busy with excited fans wanting to meet this remarkable woman, and we were as anticipatory as anyone present. Out came Sharon from a side door, only to be mobbed, respectfully I might add, by a gaggle of adoring fans. We just stood back and watched in awe as she worked and controlled the room, aware that a lot of folks wanted a piece of her after an exhausting night's work. She visibly made note of everyone, including us, that were patiently waiting to say hello, gesturing that she'd be with them 'in a minute.' As she made her way towards us, she signed something for a couple, then span round to greet us.</span></div>
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<span abp="1196" style="font-family: "georgia";">Sharon was (I will find it difficult for a time to refer to her in the past tense) a tiny woman, but muscularly built like a pitbull terrier. She also had the most beautiful imaginable smile, and exuded warmth and compassion. She also commanded the room with such authority that when she was talking to someone, everyone waiting stood back to await their turn, giving space to show her and the recipients of her attention the respect they and the situation demanded. I don't think I've ever seen that before.</span></div>
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<span abp="1202" style="font-family: "georgia";">So, it was our turn. We both reached out to hug her, and overcome with emotion I clumsily called her 'sister' when telling her I was a three-time cancer survivor, and that I found her an inspiration considering the hell she had recently been through. Sharon answered by saying that she hoped to God she wouldn't have to go through such a nightmare as I had endured, hugging me again and tenderly touching my face with her left hand. It was truly one of the most profound moments of my life, a huge deal for me that is scorched into my memory and will remain there vividly until my own time is up.</span></div>
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<span abp="1208" style="font-family: "georgia";">Susan's turn then came, with more hugs and beaming smiles from both, then with trembling hands I took a couple of photos of these two women I love, but then we had to withdraw to let others bask in Sharon's humanity. Dazed, we made our way back to the car, barely able to articulate to each other our feelings about the show and meeting its incredible star.</span></div>
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<span abp="1214" style="font-family: "georgia";">When the November 13th death of Leon Russell was announced, I said out loud to my boss Steve that I hoped against hope that I was wrong, but bet that Sharon Jones would be next. I just felt it. Five days later, she was dead, and like so many millions of fans of one of the greatest soul singers of all time - who broke through so late in life to give hope to those who might feel their chance has gone - I was heartbroken.</span></div>
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<span abp="1220" style="font-family: "georgia";">When it was reported back in September last year that Sharon's cancer had returned, I thought it would only be a matter of time. And so it was, but she fought to the bitter end with all she had, and exited this world with grace, singing gospel songs with her band around her hospital bed, before a second stroke in the space of days silenced her amazing voice forever.</span></div>
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<span abp="1226" style="font-family: "georgia";">There's not much else I can say, but there will always be Sharon's great albums, legendary live performances, and personally speaking the precious few minutes we spent in her beautiful company. If anyone reading is unfamiliar with her brilliance, just watch this mindblowing, fan-shot video (hence the shakiness), filmed at Stade de France in Paris on June 30th, 2011. Sharon and the Dap-Kings were opening for Prince at his request, and holy moly what a show that must have been. There they are, sharing the stage, two musical giants that have both left us in this strange, stressful year. It is one of the most exciting live music videos I have ever seen, and you will know I've seen quite a few.</span></div>
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<span abp="1232" style="font-family: "georgia";">Thank you Sharon, thank you Prince, for everything you gave me during your lifetimes, and will continue to give me during mine.</span></div>
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-91196742262658917112016-10-25T08:40:00.000-07:002016-10-25T09:03:04.455-07:00Are You Lost in the World Like Moby and Me?<div abp="1796" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span abp="1478" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I just watched this gorgeous video for the first time less than half an hour ago, and in doing so felt both smug and an odd kind of relief. I talk on a tediously regular basis about the insane technological obsession our species is gripped by, but feel ever more isolated from the world in doing so.</span></div>
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<span abp="1484" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not that it bothers either of us in the least, it sometimes feels like Susan and I are the last people on earth to succumb to the highly addictive spell cast upon humans by these calculatedly slinky, sexy smartphones, and we gaze in despair at more and more people glued to their devices, unplugged from their surroundings, everywhere - as in <em abp="1485">everywhere</em> - we go. </span></div>
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<span abp="1491" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In Victoria yesterday we (including our visitor Lisa, who owns a smartphone, but has barely touched it since she arrived) watched in fascination and sadness as a zombified public wandered about, cradling their phones before them, or just gawping at what was on the screen. We all talked about it, at the time and later on, aghast at what has happened and is happening since these things were invented. </span></div>
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<span abp="1496" style="font-family: "georgia";">So, a video such as the one above, for the Moby & the Void Pacific Choir song <em abp="1497">Are You Lost in the World Like Me?,</em> seems to deliver some vindication of my thoughts and feelings on the matter, but also a degree of comfort that I am not alone. Moby has always been a political animal, never shy of airing his feelings via his music, and it is clear from this beautifully animated (I am guessing deliberately) retro video (in reflection of more 'innocent' times) that he feels exactly like I do.</span></div>
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<span abp="1502" style="font-family: "georgia";">Anyway, watch the video and make up your own mind. I think it says a lot about the modern world, not just from the perspective of technological addiction, but also the pressures and intensity of modern urban life. </span> </div>
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-228018609524753162016-10-25T08:13:00.002-07:002016-10-25T09:01:44.679-07:00Kwinkydinks 2<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So, our wonderful friend Lisa is here and we are having a grand old time. But, in the wake of my "Kwinkydinks" post about the amazing coincidences that regularly come our way, with Lisa another has arrived. Noticing the tattoos on my arms, she said, "I love tattoos and have eleven. Do you have any others?" "Yes," I said, rolling up my pant legs to show her the hummingbird on my left leg, and the maple leaf on my right. Lisa looked at me, shocked, and said, "Look at this!" She took off her left sock to reveal a pretty hummingbird tattoo, and lifted her right jeans leg to reveal a scattering of leaves around her ankle. We both have hummingbirds on our left legs and leaves on our right legs...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Really, what are the odds?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">And yesterday in Victoria, in Lisa's company, everywhere we went in the city we kept running into representations - paintings, plush toys, t-shirts etc. - of one of Lisa's favourite creatures, the narwhal. Unless at this time narwhals are a 'thing,' some kind of trendy creature in popular culture for some inexplicable reason, there were just too many encounters with them yesterday for it to be extraordinary coincidence.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Hmmm...</span>Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-71673465015917899482016-10-16T18:12:00.000-07:002016-10-16T18:12:04.932-07:00Reunions<div abp="2001">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">There are many wonderful benefits to living in such a beautiful part of the world as Vancouver Island, but one we really appreciate is that people line up to visit us here! Since we landed on this rock almost a decade ago we have been fortunate to receive visitors from all over the place on a fairly regular basis, but it is particularly rewarding when folks from our old lives, especially from our/my time in England, make the effort to come see us. We know it is not a cheap passage, so we are always very grateful indeed when it happens.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">This year has been really good for visits from friends old and new, but soon and into 2017 it is about to get even better. Next weekend a lovely woman I have known for twenty years is about to drop by as part of a longer visit to Canada and the US.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I met Lisa in 1996 in unforgettable and bizarre circumstances, and although in the interim - because we have always lived in different cities (and now, countries) - we have probably only hung out a dozen or less times - she remains a quietly huge presence in my life. Because I met Lisa, the dominoes started to tumble, and my life changed enormously as a consequence.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">In 1996 I was travelling around the world for a full year, and when on the island of Java in Indonesia I was privileged to visit the astonishing city of Yogyakarta. One evening I was standing on the balcony of the hostel that was home for a time, watching smoke rising from, and a glowing orange 'dribble' of lava moving down the side of, Mt. Merapi, way off in the distance. Merapi is an extremely active, sometimes dangerous volcano in one of the most volcanic regions on earth, so although utterly mindblowing to me this was a fairly common sight to the locals. As I watched in awe, a young woman came up the stairs, said hello, and asked what I was looking at. "That!" I replied, pointing at Merapi.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">My girlfriend and I continued travelling around Java, bumping into Lisa and her then boyfriend, Tom, elsewhere, then we arranged to meet in Jakarta and see the sights of that insane city together. After Jakarta we parted ways after exchanging contact details, and vowed to reconvene when back in England. Lisa lived, and still lives, in London, but continued to travel for quite some time after we returned home in February 1997. Long story short, she eventually visited me in Brighton, bringing with her her best friend, Julie...and all these years later Julie is one of our favourite people on earth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Julie ended up moving to Brighton, and into a house with my ex-girlfriend, who I had been travelling with. Soon after that Julie's boyfriend followed her to Brighton, but - even longer story short - they eventually split up...and he and I started sharing an apartment! This was Tam, son of Elton John's guitarist, Davey Johnstone. (I know, I couldn't make this up!) And on the dominoes fell...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Anyway, I haven't seen Lisa for around 13 years, and Susan has only ever met her once, so we are thrilled for this visit, even though it will be brief. I love reunions and this one will be special. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Even better is to come in August next year when my dear old friend Shemmi, from my years in Birmingham, will be headed our way for a three day stay, with his beautiful wife Charn and their two adult children, Suresh and Zeeta, whom I have never met. I was at Shemmi and Charn's wedding 33 years ago, but have not seen Shemmi since 1989, two years after moving to Brighton. I am so excited about seeing my dear pal, who has been suffering with his health, that I feel like I could puke or weep when I think about greeting him and his family off the ferry.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Time marches on and these long-overdue reunions are the perfect illustration of that fact. It is almost unfathomable that it is so long since I was in the company of these wonderful people, just as it is that almost ten years have passed since Susan and I arrived in Nanaimo to start anew. But, all in all, these are anniversaries and events to celebrate. Life is so short and, as has happened so devastatingly to several friends of ours in recent times, it can change for the worse in an instant, so we must grasp and embrace these happy times with long-lost friends when they come along, as there is no knowing if we will ever see them, or they will see us, ever again. </span> </div>
Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-60573943153892633522016-09-27T16:13:00.002-07:002016-09-27T16:35:02.967-07:00The High Priestess of Soul<div abp="1596" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span abp="1693" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Prompted by the summer release of the 7-CD boxed set, <em abp="1694"><a abp="1797" href="http://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/22159-the-philips-years/">The Phillips Years</a></em>, a period during which she was at the absolute peak of her considerable powers, I have been revisiting the catalogue of the unique Nina Simone in a big way of late. I would actually go as far as to describe this rediscovery as bordering on obsession, as I just cannot get enough of her remarkable music to the extent that I am on a committed path to gradually picking up every album of note from the forty-odd she released.</span></div>
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<span abp="1696" style="font-family: "georgia";">It feels timely to be listening to Nina so heavily right now, and learning all about her crazy life. (Rather than ask me about her, just watch the wonderful documentary, <a abp="1801" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=moOQXZxriKY"><em abp="1991">What Happened, Miss Simone?</em></a><em abp="1804"> </em>- just released on DVD with a best of CD - to see what I mean.) </span></div>
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<span abp="1696" style="font-family: "georgia";">But what do I mean by 'timely'? Well, concerning the recent spate of totally unacceptable deaths of unarmed African-American citizens at the hands of trigger-happy cops, to be by coincidence immersing myself in the music and messages of a woman who was so deeply involved with the Civil Rights Movement that she ultimately became viewed as a black power icon can only be termed thus.</span></div>
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<span abp="1699" style="font-family: "georgia";">Initially following the non-violent doctrine of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., when - like any sane individual, of any colour - Nina had had her fill of the lynchings, police brutality (yeah, nothing has changed), segregation and abusive daily racism, she changed her tune, so to speak, to become ever more militant in line with the revolutionary Black Panthers. To this end, I wonder what the woman who was inspired to pen <em abp="1701"><a abp="1702" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mississippi_Goddam">Mississippi Goddam</a></em> would have had to say about these recent tragic events?</span></div>
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<span abp="1705" style="font-family: "georgia";">I try hard to desensitize myself from the evils of this world, but - resigned to the fact that wherever there are humans there are problems, that there always have been and always will be - I try to get on with my life as best and peacefully as I can, yet keeping myself informed. Listening to Nina Simone has stirred up my interest in the Civil Rights Movement once more, as it's a subject and period of American history I read extensively about when travelling in the US many years ago. If your interest is aroused, I would heartily recommend seeking out the book <em abp="1706"><a abp="1806" href="https://www.amazon.ca/Free-Last-Rights-Movement-People/dp/0316716324/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1475017722&sr=1-3&keywords=free+at+last%3F+civil+rights">Free at Last? The Civil Rights Movement and the People Who Made It</a></em>, by Fred Powledge, as a starting point.</span></div>
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<span abp="1809" style="font-family: "georgia";">At the end of the day, though, music is a healing force, and as much as I might consider the motivation behind the lyrics of many of her most angry songs, I am able to simply enjoy the extraordinary power of one of the most breathtaking performers the world has ever seen without getting too fired up and raising my blood pressure higher than it already is. I could have chosen any one of a ton of clips to illustrate this (especially, oh my, the incredible <em abp="1811"><a abp="1812" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vDZsABHUbQ">Sinnerman</a></em>), but the one at the top of this post will do nicely, especially for anyone who has somehow yet to experience the one-off genius that was, and always will be, Miss Nina Simone. </span></div>
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-71029228321367231302016-08-21T12:05:00.002-07:002016-08-23T08:33:55.942-07:00Pokemon Go...Away<div abp="1393" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span abp="1463" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Although not done for another week-and-a-bit, this sweaty August of 2016 has been quite a month. It has left me exhausted. So much has happened personally, professionally, domestically and internationally that I could have chosen a hundred or more topics of interest or concern to write about. Yet I keep coming back to one extraordinary image that has lodged in my mind, being the one you see above. It is a painting called "Control" by the controversial Polish 'political art satirist and philosopher,' Pawel Kuczynski, and because of it I must once again vent my spleen at the modern world.</span></div>
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<span abp="1467" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Being one who deeply appreciates satire in all its forms, therefore in the art world obviously a fan of such as Banksy, I have been aware of and interested in Kuczynski's work for some time. Yet although I love his painting style I cannot pretend to understand everything he does, but when his work is as direct as the painting above it can have quite an impact on me.</span></div>
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<span abp="1470" style="font-family: "georgia";">Because of my persistent vocal rallying against the effect that personal technologies - particularly smartphones, Androids and their ilk - are increasingly having on humankind, effectively turning us into a species of zombified slaves, I am often accused of being a luddite. But I am not a luddite: I embrace and am amazed and deeply impressed by certain technologies - especially, for example, those aimed at improved health care. Some of these things are brilliantly designed and, even if I have no desire to own one, I readily acknowledge their uses.</span></div>
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<span abp="1472" style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br /></div>
<div abp="1473">
<span abp="1474" style="font-family: "georgia";">As I say, it is the <em abp="1475">effect</em> that such as smartphones have had on human behaviour, and how we have allowed it to happen, that disturbs me. Body language has completely changed, as owners of these things wander around cradling their precious devices in their palms, like Linus' blanket, thinking for all the world they look cool, important, and too 'busy' to interact in the 'real world,' with real people. But they do not look cool - they look rather sad and pathetic in their reliance on these things to the extent they cannot bear to even put them in a pocket or bag. And walking up the street, traversing a crosswalk, socializing, <em abp="1476"><strong abp="1477">driving</strong></em>, the world - except Susan and I, it seems - is glued to its little screens, hypnotized by whatever crap it displays.</span></div>
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<span abp="1479" style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br /></div>
<div abp="1480">
<span abp="1481" style="font-family: "georgia";">We are big fans of the show <em abp="1482">Parks and Recreation</em>, and recently watched an episode in the 5th season called <em abp="1483">Sex Education</em>, in which the character Ron Swanson (played by Nick Offerman) takes the character Tom Haverford (Aziz Ansari) to a remote cabin to wean him off his Internet and device addiction. It was brilliantly written, as always with this great show, but the truth is there are millions of people that are genuinely addicted to their devices to the degree that this global problem has spawned addiction clinics specifically to deal with it. I don't know about you, but I find this astonishing.</span></div>
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<span abp="1485" style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br /></div>
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<span abp="1487" style="font-family: "georgia";">Go ahead and Google the phrase 'internet and device addiction clinics.' You will find such as the <em abp="1488">reStart Centre for Technology Sustainability,</em> whose homepage bears the legend, <em abp="1489">Connect with life, not your device</em>. Then at rehabs.com you will find a directory of the <em abp="1490">best</em> Inpatient Internet Addiction Rehab Centers, giving you a choice! There's even a Wikipedia page for 'Digital Addict,' and so it goes on and on. It is a part of modern life that is here to stay, and other than using this computer I type at for emails and work, I am delighted to possess the strength and utter lack of interest in all this crap to have not succumbed like so many millions have...</span></div>
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<span abp="1492" style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br /></div>
<div abp="1493">
<span abp="1494" style="font-family: "georgia";">...which brings me back to Kuczynski's painting. I have observed in bewildered horror at the sudden surging popularity of the 'augmented reality' 'game,' Pokémon Go. Augmented reality...think about that. "It gets people out of the house, into the fresh air, exploring their area," said one person I know who shall remain nameless, lest I embarrass him. Really? People need to find and capture fictitious, dumb creatures - that, I repeat, <em abp="1495">do not exist</em> - in order to get into the open air, enjoying their community, nature, and a healthy lifestyle? Well, I'll be damned. </span></div>
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<span abp="1497" style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br /></div>
<div abp="1498">
<span abp="1499" style="font-family: "georgia";">I read in equal parts amusement and despair at the imbecile in England who has quit his job to play Pokémon Go full-time. Have fun, dude, while those of us who have no choice sweat and toil day in, day out in order to pay the bills. And I read in horror at the deaths, car smashes, and other serious incidents that have occurred as people play this dumb game.</span></div>
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<span abp="1501" style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br /></div>
<div abp="1502">
<span abp="1503" style="font-family: "georgia";">"Control," then, is a painting that for me not only brilliantly portrays the slave-like aspects of the Pokémon Go phenomenon, but is representative of addiction to any and all technology of this nature. This is a very serious problem, one that is never likely to go away as programmers and app builders continue to devise ways of keeping the populace glued to their screens and hungry for whatever bullshit they are force-fed next. ""Ooh, an app that replaces all heads in photographs with images of turnips! Gimme!"</span></div>
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<div abp="1505">
<span abp="1506" style="font-family: "georgia";">I will not be amongst the populace in this way, content to plough my curmudgeonly furrow against this shit until my time is up. Truly, if I am the last person on Planet Earth <em abp="1507">not</em> to own a device and get sucked into this rabbit hole, that will suit me just fine.</span></div>
Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-76207154337198130232016-07-17T11:51:00.001-07:002016-07-17T11:51:03.982-07:00Plumpocalypse!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-loU3OOtiEVA/V4u4o-J4f4I/AAAAAAAAQSM/G9Hh2w9pYYsMSUaI-P6wfuYZ8XHMINNfgCLcB/s1600/IMG_0381-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-loU3OOtiEVA/V4u4o-J4f4I/AAAAAAAAQSM/G9Hh2w9pYYsMSUaI-P6wfuYZ8XHMINNfgCLcB/s320/IMG_0381-001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Each summer since we moved into the house we have gradually improved our garden in one way or another, becoming more successful at growing certain veg, and learning a whole lot as we go. This year, for example, our first attempt at growing potatoes has resulted in among the sweetest spuds I have <em>ever</em> tasted, while certain types of tomato plants that have been a hit with bountiful harvests in summers gone by have just not taken. We guess with the odd, untypical weather so far this summer that some plants are confused and decided to just give up. Who knows, but it's all part of the trial-and-error fun of cultivating an ongoing garden.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Although it takes no sewing or tending effort whatsoever on our part, one thing we have yet to cope with, however, is the harvesting of PLUMPOCALYPSE! Hanging over our yard from one neighbour is an enormous plum tree that, without warning, at any given point in late June or early July, suddenly starts shedding HUNDREDS of plums a day, landing on our yard. We are never ready for it, but when it starts we know we're in for a busy time clearing them up, as well as a mess from the ones that split open upon impact. As they have fallen, rolled a bit in dirt and dust, we have thus far been unable to salvage any of the fruit. The huge tree also sheds scores of plums outside our gate, doubling the work, but add to this our own plum tree on the perimeter of our property chucking down its fruit, and we have one hell of a lot of plums...er...<em>plum</em>meting to earth each day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">This is not remotely interesting in itself, I know, but perhaps a little more so is that this situation has had us dreaming up all manner of elaborate plans to combat the problem in future, but particularly to salvage a huge amount of perfectly good fruit that we can use and share. The latest idea is to attach a large tarpaulin to our back fence and neighbour's fence, which are at right angles to each other, using some kind of tripod or elevated thingy at the unsupported corner, allowing the plums to plop softly into its sagging centre, whereupon we can easily collect them every day, and put them to good use. No doubt other kinds of ideas will come our way, but one thing is certain and that is that this is the last summer when the fruit will go to waste. Hell, I've even diarized the installation of some contraption we eventually decide upon for early June 2017! (Colour me organized.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">And then, there is also 'Apple-ocalypse! We have Gravenstein and Transparent apple trees in our side and front yards respectively, and the latter has taken to dropping around twenty-plus apples every day, so that's another bunch of fruit we have to dispose of. In this instance, the apples are not yet ripe, and immediately bruise heavily or split from worm infestation when they hit the ground. Despite our religious spraying of our fruit trees with sulphur and lime, in order to stave off potentially overwintering bugs, we have yet to have a decent, blight-free crop of apples from this tree, so the battle continues. This year, however, for the first time, our Gravensteins are looking amazing, so if they prove to be wormless, that will be a first!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Ah, the challenges of homeownership and fruit tree stewardship! </span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> </span><br />
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-47204649285559824552016-06-28T15:43:00.003-07:002016-06-28T15:43:27.244-07:00Loony June<div abp="169">
<span abp="170" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">June is traditionally a busy month for us, but 2016's June has been truly crazy, incident-packed, emotional, stressful, but also joyous. I was not even sure what to write about here, as I could have chosen any one of a number of diverse topics...</span></div>
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<span abp="172" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span abp="174" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I could have written about our first family crisis in quite some time, with the sudden hospitalization of Susan's lovely elderly aunt, but I have decided to keep that to ourselves, as it should be.</span></div>
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<span abp="174" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span abp="174" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Perhaps I could have penned something about my gradually increasing volunteer role with the Canadian Cancer Society, this year organizing all of the entertainment for, and acting as Stage Manager at, 2016's Relay for Life.</span></div>
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<span abp="174" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span abp="174" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Maybe I could have commented on the sickening Orlando nightclub massacre; the tiresomely predictable, mindless tribal violence at Euro 2016 or even, God help us, today's repulsive suicide bombings at Istanbul's Ataturk airport. But, no, I cannot dwell on these depressing failings and warped ideologies of humankind, if indeed those responsible in each instance are actually human beings. </span></div>
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<span abp="176" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
<div abp="177">
<span abp="178" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Or I could have reported back on last weekend's incredible Campbell Bay Music Festival on Mayne Island, and our wonderful, deepening friendship with the festival headliners, Bent Knee. In fact, yes, that's what I WILL write about!</span></div>
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</div>
<div abp="180">
<span abp="181" style="font-family: Georgia;">Bent Knee, as I see it - Susan, too - on current form are the best rock band on earth. No kidding. Their musicianship, compositional skills, invention and emotional wallop make this six-piece the most exciting band, especially live, that I have experienced in over twenty years. We've now seen them perform four times, each show utterly mind-blowing. Here they are, if you would care to take a look:</span></div>
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<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/q0kl-gQucpI/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/q0kl-gQucpI?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Being Human</em>: Just one of this astonishing band's showstoppers, remarkably one of their mellower moments, and the song they chose to open their second all-conquering Campbell Bay Music Festival headlining slot. Wow...have you ever heard a voice like that? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It is such fun and so very inspiring hanging out with Courtney, Vince, Chris, Ben, Jessica and Gavin, all of whom seem to love us as much as we love them. Their "Canadian parents" they call us, but whether parental or otherwise in nature these are friendships that will last a lifetime. To follow their career from this stage on is going to be a privilege, as surely they will be enormous before much longer. Mark my words...</span></div>
Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-78810305981594967802016-05-29T14:25:00.002-07:002016-05-29T14:29:21.980-07:00Adventures in New Musical Territories<div abp="68" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a abp="69" href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M6hq-f8XmRQ/V0tVLLEMA3I/AAAAAAAAQR4/NVoPgyrGrL4-gUUe4wTJ-WTlUTZjTbfUwCLcB/s1600/pileofcds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img abp="70" border="0" height="215" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M6hq-f8XmRQ/V0tVLLEMA3I/AAAAAAAAQR4/NVoPgyrGrL4-gUUe4wTJ-WTlUTZjTbfUwCLcB/s320/pileofcds.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Friends have ours have recently set out on what looks like a trip of several months, overland through Europe to end up in Greece, where the lady of the couple has lots of relatives she has not seen in years. We will miss them enormously, but an act of amazing kindness on their part means at least the spirit of them will remain with us until their return.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">In preparing for their adventure our friends had something of a clear-out of unwanted possessions, which included <em>hundreds</em> of CDs. We were informed that as the guy of the couple had uploaded his (ha!) 'favourite <em>30,000</em> songs' onto his iPod, he no longer had need of the physical discs. A popular strategy in these days of increasingly digitized popular culture, I know, but in this instance it is a decision that has greatly benefitted Susan and I. The last time we saw our friends, just before their departure, they handed us several bag-loads of unwanted discs, saying we could have whatever we wanted of them for ourselves, then should take the rest to the store, if indeed my boss has any need of them, for in-store credit when they return home. They added that anything we wanted could not go a better home.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">We still buy and <em>love</em> CDs, playing them every single day at home and in the car, and have no space issues (one room devoted to a music and DVD library), so were at once utterly delighted and thrilled by this sudden, unexpected, huge windfall of CDs. When we got the haul home we feverishly went through the bags, sorting them into piles:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">- Already have, so do not need</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">- Not our thing at all, so do not need</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">- Looks interesting, so let's give it a listen</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">- Do not have, and definitely or will likely want.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">So, we have been ploughing through this vast amount of music, and have already added around fifty or so CDs to our already enormous library, with at least another three hundred to consider. But what is particularly wonderful about this situation, the factor that prompted me to write about it here, is that we both find ourselves delving deep into areas of music evidently loved by our friends that we have either previously ignored (or not gotten around to exploring), never looked at in any depth, or some that are totally new to us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">There is a LOT of classical music, a LOT of artists that I had either never heard or heard of, and a LOT of music that perhaps I had deemed 'too uncool' to bother with so, in short, our ears are being opened to an array of wonderful new sounds. In the instance of the classical music that has landed in our laps I am finding much joy; I have always enjoyed it, since I was a boy, but this fresh intake has me listening to much more of it than ever before, and getting very excited about it. Even as I type I am loving a CD of Concerti for 2 Violins by Bach and Vivaldi, performed by Isaac Stern and Pinchas Zuckerman with the Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra. It is incredibly beautiful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">There is also a great deal of nostalgic music from the 20s, 30s and 40s, as well as a bunch of jazz that is, at the very least, intriguing. Susan loves jazz but I have a hot and cold relationship with it, yet having heard Paul Desmond's incredible <em>Take Ten</em> from this batch for the first time, my ears are even surprisingly opening to more of the genre.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Music is not a job or hobby for me, but a lifestyle. To have my already voracious appetite for it via the introduction of so much new stuff, or else a reminder of what I might be missing in certain areas I do not roam in often, is a source of great energy and inspiration. And that it is FREE when we are kinda pushed for cash makes it sound all the better!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Thank you, dear friends, as the gift of music will always be welcomed in the Morrison-Young household!</span><br />
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-14025567484847033792016-04-26T15:49:00.001-07:002016-05-29T13:44:55.925-07:00Old and in the Way?<div abp="192">
<span abp="193" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There are several things I could write about today, things that have happened recently that affected me this way or that.</span></div>
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<span abp="195" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span> </div>
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<span abp="197" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I could write about my sorrow at the passing of the wonderful English comedienne/actress, <a abp="312" href="http://www.theguardian.com/culture/2016/apr/24/victoria-wood-queen-comedy-warmth">Victoria Wood</a> - another claimed by the curse that is cancer - or of the shocking, sudden, and currently mysterious death of Prince, as visionary a musician as has ever lived.</span></div>
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<span abp="199" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span> </div>
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<span abp="201" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I could write about the day Prince died, when on my way to work, before that big news broke, I saw two dead North American Robins - one on the sidewalk, another in the road. They were close to each other, yet neither apparently the victim of an automobile. It was almost as if they had collided mid-air, and plummeted to the ground together, but I can never know what occurred. Then a few hundred yards further on, a black and ginger tortoiseshell cat lay dead on a grass verge, with no signs of violence or trauma, as if he'd curled up to sleep there and not woken up. I've had less morbid walks to work, for sure.</span></div>
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<span abp="203" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span> </div>
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<span abp="205" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Or I could write about my disgust at how <a abp="207" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anders_Behring_Breivik">Anders Breivik</a> - the Danish, Nazi salute-throwing, far-right maniac who in 2011 murdered 77 (mainly young) people - had the mind-bending temerity to launch a human rights abuse case against his imprisoners, claiming "inhuman treatment," one reason being that he doesn't have a window in his cell. Astonishingly and revoltingly, he won part of that case. I hope his lawyer can sleep at night. And, hey Anders, if you think that is inhuman treatment, you would certainly reassess its definition if I had a chance for a little time in your despicable, subhuman company.</span></div>
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<span abp="210" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span> </div>
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<span abp="212" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">However, I'm not going to write about any of these things, but instead will pen a few lines about what it is to be old, in rapid decline, and possibly forgotten about.</span></div>
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<span abp="214" style="font-family: "georgia";"></span> </div>
<div abp="215">
<span abp="216" style="font-family: "georgia";">Since I've worked at the store I've gotten to know and become fond of many regular customers. One gentleman, who out of respect for him and his situation I will not name, was born and bred in Nanaimo almost 89 years ago. He is a tiny and frail, yet dapper man, always immaculately turned out, and as polite, pleasant and sweet as anyone I've ever met. In short he's a total sweetheart whose visits to the store have truly brightened our days. So, when he experienced some health issues a few months back myself and my colleagues were understandably concerned. </span></div>
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<span abp="218" style="font-family: "georgia";"></span> </div>
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<span abp="220" style="font-family: "georgia";">Just a few weeks ago his health took a further dip, leading to him being rushed into a local assisted living facility by one of his sons. Possessing a massive record collection amassed over some sixty-odd years, he panicked about what to do with it, so contacted the store for help. He was deeply stressed, very confused and afraid. We did what we could, emptying his condo of as much of his vinyl as possible, but our huge inventory and subsequent space issues prevented us taking any more than we did. The store did not need any of his records, as the genres he loves do not sell for us even on CD, but the issue was more to help him than worry about such matters. Susan and I also went over to his place independently, taking one of his LP racks, a pile of 78s and some of the remaining LPs.</span></div>
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<span abp="220" style="font-family: "georgia";"></span> </div>
<div abp="219">
<span abp="220" style="font-family: "georgia";">When we presumed he would be as settled into his new place as he could be under the stressful circumstances, we went to visit him unannounced. While he was delighted to see us, he was in a distressing state of confusion, constantly repeating things and mixing up facts, even when referring to them more than once in a single sentence. He was already tiny, but looked skeletal and gaunt. It was so very sad to see him this way, seemingly fading from this world, and although we have no personal experience of it, perhaps entering a state of dementia. While it may not actually be the case, it is clear that the upheaval of his move at such an age, and in rapidly failing health, has sent him on a path that he may not be physically or mentally capable of returning from. </span></div>
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<span abp="220" style="font-family: "georgia";"></span> </div>
<div abp="219">
<span abp="220" style="font-family: "georgia";">Two nights ago we were at home when the telephone rang. It was this fellow, our friend, highly confused, and adamant that one of his sons had given him our number as the way to reach him. He also said that the same son had given him my cell phone number as an alternative contact number. I tried to explain that I had left him my business card when we visited, but he simply didn't understand, insisting that he was trying to reach this son of his at our number. Talking him down seemed impossible, but I eventually managed to calm him, saying he should get some rest and try his son's actual number when he felt more refreshed in the morning. Concerned, we called the facility, but our fears for his welfare were far from allayed when we were informed that, although the facility provides rented accommodation, meals and entertainment - if either of the latter are required - their residents live entirely independently, so interfering with or intervening in personal situations is not facility policy.</span></div>
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<span abp="220" style="font-family: "georgia";"></span> </div>
<div abp="219">
<span abp="220" style="font-family: "georgia";">A while later, he called back, distressed even more, yet a little less confused concerning our phone number, but saying he could not reach his son as the number he had for him was either disconnected or, for whatever reason, just unavailable. Again, I talked him down as best I could, but did manage to gather some important information along the way. Although our friend's confused demeanour means it is understandably difficult to discern fact from fiction, it would appear that the son he is attempting to reach is in control of our friend's finances, and he needs access to some money. When I spoke to the facility's reception they confirmed that they, too, had not been able to reach the son 'for weeks,' when our friend had repeatedly asked them to try.</span></div>
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<span abp="220" style="font-family: "georgia";"></span> </div>
<div abp="219">
<span abp="220" style="font-family: "georgia";">Ever felt utterly helpless, not knowing what to do, or how to help someone in trouble? That's how this feels. We don't know if what we are being told is true, but the fact that our friend is in such a panicky state could mean that it is. Susan wonders if he has been 'dumped' at the facility, if his family has washed their hands of him and breathed a sigh of relief that they no longer have to worry about him, or care for his needs. We just don't know, but the situation just does not <em>feel</em> good.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Our first opportunity to visit him again will be tomorrow evening. I have no idea what state we will find our friend in, and how we might be able to help. Just to keep him company for a while might make him feel better, but who knows what is really going on behind the scenes. It is a worry we could do without, but whatever may be occurring - good or bad - we cannot, and will not, abandon him. He is physically very fragile, and on that evidence alone he may not have long left anyway. All we can do, I guess, is just offer him support however he might need it, and hope for the best case scenario with the family situation. We do not know them, have no contact details for them, and even if we did it may be that our friend is perfectly lucid in stating he can't reach them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">As you may imagine, all this makes me think about the future. Unless Susan and I perish together, one of us will ultimately end up alone. What will become of us when that happens? </span></div>
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5752701327162765314.post-77924354385423967962016-03-29T10:28:00.000-07:002016-04-26T19:46:30.406-07:00Kwinkydinks<div abp="663">
<span abp="664" style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">All through my life I have been subject to amazing, though sporadic coincidences, but since moving to Vancouver Island they have occurred so regularly that I am beginning to think these weird events are all some kind of cosmic dots that may be destined to ultimately join up one day!</span></div>
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<span abp="668" style="font-family: "georgia";">It is the latest of these, which I shall come to in a while, that prompted me to write about them, but I may as well start at the beginning of the Vancouver Island sequence, as there were two coincidences that kicked it all off before we even arrived. This said, I will only detail a few of the VI coincidences - 'kwinkydinks,' my dear wife sweetly calls them - as there are just so many:</span></div>
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<span abp="671" style="font-family: "georgia";">When we knew we were moving here at the tail-end of 2006, as everything had to move quickly we hurriedly set about the task of informing everyone we thought, or knew, would wish to learn of our new chapter. One of these folks, my friend Eamon, used to write for the same Brighton magazine that I did (though, for the record, is now married to an artist, has two kids, and is living in upstate New York). When we told him of our imminent departure he said we should connect with his aunty Deb, who lives in Duncan. Sure enough, without even trying, during our first summer here, via a writing commission I found myself talking to her at the music festival she co-founded. As we had so much to sort out those first few months I had made no concerted effort to contact Deb, but it is entirely possible that I could have met her without even knowing she was related to Eamon.</span></div>
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<span abp="674" style="font-family: "georgia";">When I infomed my buddy Miles we were moving to Canada, he asked where, and when I told him Nanaimo he said, "Oh, my (Canadian) wife's best friend lives there; I'll give you her contact details." As a consequence we met Adrienne, without whom we would not have met this or that person, or at least not as a direct consequence of meeting her, and so our life could have turned out very different indeed.</span></div>
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<span abp="677" style="font-family: "georgia";">More recently, at a party we met new friends in town with whom, it turned out, we shared a lot of common interests. When they were over to dinner one evening we got to talking about families. </span></div>
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<span abp="681" style="font-family: "georgia";">At this juncture I need to press pause, rewind way back in time to when I was a very young boy, being minded by my dear old nan during the school holidays, as my parents both worked full time. One (in retrospect, seemingly) fateful day nan took me into Birmingham city centre, where we went to the market, then to the cinema, which was a first for me. The movie was a rescreening of <em abp="683"><a abp="684" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Student_Prince_(film)">The Student Prince</a></em>, starring (the singing voice, but due to a contractual dispute, not the acting of) my nan's all-time favourite singer, the light opera megastar, <a abp="787" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mario_Lanza">Mario Lanza</a>. I seem to recall playing up merry hell in the cinema, to everyone's dismay running up and down the aisles out of boredom, receiving an usher's reprimand, but the image of a giant character's head, voiced by Lanza, singing away on that huge screen, has stayed with me to this day. After the film, nan - quite the drinker, bless her - took me into a pub, where she loved to play the piano (and good at it she was, too). I remember standing watching her in awe as her hands moved swiftly up and down the keyboard, and I have often wondered if this was the moment that I first responded to music in an emotional way, setting me off on a lifelong music-oriented career path.</span></div>
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<span abp="689" style="font-family: "georgia";">Anyway, nan loved Mario Lanza so much that in her will she requested that his versions of <em abp="690">Ave Maria</em> and <em abp="691">I'll Walk with God</em> be played at her funeral. My mom, nan's daughter, requested likewise, and I dutifully obliged when she passed in 1993. B</span><span abp="692" style="font-family: "georgia";">ack to the present, and there we were chatting with our new friends, James and Kris, about families. For some forgotten reason I recounted the fact that these songs were played at both funerals, and James excitedly piped up, "Mario Lanza?! That's my granduncle...my mother's uncle!!" Naturally, I thought he was pulling my plonker, but indeed it is true. Wow! Of all the people in this world I could meet, it is a man who is related to my nan's favourite singer, a performer whose music was played at both her and my mother's funerals. Truly, truly insane! What on earth must the odds be of that happening?</span></div>
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<span abp="843" style="font-family: "georgia";">Then there's another crazy kwindydink that again bridges my life in Brighton with here. Over the course of the last few years, having bumped into them at several parties thrown by mutual friends, we got to know and love Liberty and Mark. At a party of their own, we met Steve and Julie, originally from Brighton. Liberty and Mark announced plans to go travelling this spring and summer, included a couple of weeks in the UK. Both Susan and I and Steve and Julie highly recommended they visit Brighton. Subsequently we invited all four friends to dinner, at which Julie pulled some photos of Brighton from her bag, taken on their last trip back to England several years ago, and intended to arouse further interest in the town for Liberty and Mark. Julie passed the photos around and upon viewing one my hair stood on end. "Is that...?" I wondered, quickly running into the kitchen to look at the snap in better light. "Holy crap, it is!!" I blurted out, as there in a general shot of the <a abp="845" href="http://northlaine.co.uk/">North Laine</a> area of Brighton, standing in a cluster of chatting guys, was my old record store colleague, Alex! I looked and looked at the photo, actually trying to dissuade myself that it was Alex, simply disbelieving the odds that it was him, but as clear as day, there he was, unmistakeable unless he has an absolute clone in the same English seaside town. Crazy, crazy, CRAZY!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Finally, and the catalyst for this post, one concerning our new neighbours, Brendan and Celia. We have known Brendan for a while, and when we learned last year that he and his girlfriend were looking to purchase a fixer-upper house, we told him there was one for sale two doors from us. Adding to this amazing mix, the house was coincidentally formerly owned by work associates of Susan, though well before we moved into the street. The next thing we know, young Brendan and Celia have bought the house.</span></div>
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<span abp="901" style="font-family: "georgia";">Again, I need to press pause on a story, rewinding to last summer when we attended a one-day indie music festival in Chemainus. On one of the two stages we saw a performance by a good, rootsy singer-songwriter named <a abp="903" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bQf5k6MR2U">Ben Ziakin</a>. Fast forward to a few weeks ago, we were at the Queen's Hotel for the <a abp="960" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BAY_6Y-7r8s">Elliott Brood</a> show, and saw a guy in the crowd whose face was familiar. Remembering that he was that performer from Chemainus, as he was sitting with other acquaintances of ours I went over to introduce myself and tell him we had enjoyed his set at the festival.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">A couple of weeks later, Brendan and Celia told us they were taking in a mortgage-helping roommate, whom we met just the day after, in the alley behind our houses: it was Ben Ziakin! We chatted for a few minutes, welcoming him to the 'hood, but were astonished when he said, "I was told you were lovely people, and I was told right!" "Huh?" we responded. Unbelievably, and the latest remarkable kwinkydink in our life here, Ben works with Alyse...<em>who grew up in our house</em>!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">There are more stories like this. Many more. Stories such as the one about the guy that now cuts my hair being a former English Ice Hockey League legend I saw play many times, and was in awe of as a goal-scoring machine, when I watched hockey in England back in my twenties.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia";">What does it all mean? Does it, or can it mean anything at all, or are these all simply astonishing coincidences, yet by some twist of fate we are simply subject to considerably more of them than the average people? If yes, then why? Their regularity and extraordinary, random unlikeliness - especially the Mario Lanza story - make this feel more than just coincidence, and even if there is some spooky cosmic design behind these amazing alignments, how would I ever know? It is all part of life's rich pageant, I guess, and that's just fine. Long may the stars continue to line up and amaze us at how small the world really can be! </span></div>
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Captain Curmudgeonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09882226102224940112noreply@blogger.com0