Solar Moments

Thunder, rolling around the sky, and lightning, a few streaks, just as I took off for the airport.

Once more, the house seems quiet. I look at the picture on the mantelpiece and realise that with all the pace and excitement of the past two weeks, I haven't thanked Crisp-e, so thanks mate! It's brilliant, and the frame - superb.

Alex and I caught an hour of sunshine this afternoon and were able to walk through one of the autumn programmes. The pond was bristling with frogs, sitting or hanging in the water like amphibious solar cells, soaking up the last of the rays.

Whilst the greater stability in southern Iraq allows Britain to withdraw ever more troops from Basra, my son's friend Stuart prepares for his second tour of duty there. Austen says he seems unconcerned and I remember how impatient he was to see active duty the first time.

The Canadian dollar is just two cents away from parity with the US dollar, great for shopping in the States, less fun for a number of industries up here.

The most horribly disappointing of today's news stories is that of the Archbishop of Canterbury trying to bully other churches in the Anglican communion, into not appointing any more openly gay bishops, nor in publicly blessing same-sex couples.
I have never been so ashamed of the Church of England. This isn't what Christianity is about and maybe Dr. Williams needs to open his heart up and listen to the message and spirit of his own faith.

Well, Sleepy is in the air, and if all has gone according to plan, she should be very mellow right now. Anxious to use up all of her herbal treats before leaving, and equally anxious to be able to manage the nine hour flight plus two hours at the airport without nicotine, she ate the last of it, with an expected kick-in time of shortly before departure.
And God bless you woman for finishing the Amaretto, I thought I'd never get rid of that from our drinks cupboard.

To Canadian Karen - sleep well chuck, hope you're feeling well soon.

Ten Mile Diet

Sunday's rain has left us cooler. Even those of us who couldn't get any cooler. It's cool, and yet sunny. Fab.

So....the ten mile diet. A lot of people around here are doing this for a month.

Let's pretend you don't know what it is, or that you've misread and think it's sex in a space rocket or some such.
The ten mile diet means you only eat things that can be obtained from a source within a ten mile radius of where you live.

My colleague was accompanying someone today who was on this kick, and he's a green one is Peter.
But it soon became clear to my environmentally aware co-worker that the ten mile diet involved a LOT of driving to find local sources of food, in fact, it may be that having the whole population driving two miles to the supermarket once a week, and having the groceries shipped to the store from Washington and California, may turn out to be not so different from individuals driving all over the place to get the local stuff.
Local food for thought.

Tomorrow Sleepy will be on her way back to Sleepy mansions, so we've been out this evening and shared the Elvis Platter at the Memphis Blues restaurant on Commercial Drive. That's a lot of meat. Afterwards, we made a side trip to Dairy Queen for puds. Now, all that is left for us to do is slowly digest it all and fart.
Perfectly splendid.

Resonant Lines

....'They bring the slanting summer rain to tap the chestnut boughs again...' John Betjeman : Before the Anaesthetic.

At last, it has arrived. Soft, slanting, late, summer rain. Fresh, cool air.

We went to Steveston in the rain and were easily able to find a parking space. We looked at T-shirts and books and ate gelato.
We saw a dog that looked like a wolf, or a half wolf and a husky. It had starey blue eyes, and you couldn't stop looking at it, until we'd finished our gelato.

I love the rain, how it changes the world, it quenches the thirsty ground, fills the pond and washes the dusty city. It patters on the skylight, dulls the sounds outside. It clothes us, covers us, creates a barrier, a vapour shield that keeps the others out and our own thoughts in.
Divine rain.

'...And watched the morning sunlight pass, through richly stain'd Victorian glass...' (ibid)
I can just picture those rays illuminating the tiled hallway of a house which in the winter would be draughty.

A propos of nothing, I dreamt of eagles last night, bald eagles, flying not as single birds, nor in pairs, but in a group, accompanied by a juvenile with tawny gold feathers. They were flying low, they circled, and I could see their white heads clearly.
There is some meaning in it, but I don't know what...yet.

Another quote that has been used here today, and is oft used, and makes a good mental image, when Macbeth's servant enters the room as Macbeth is obsessing about how he will be killed,

'The devil damn thee black thou cream-faced loon,
Where got'st thou that goose look?'

Good question.

Crime and Mispunishment

Here at Schloß Schnee, there has been discussion about certain news items.

Take the McCanns. There seems to be a feeding frenzy at the moment and the media are showing themselves to be like children. As the parents of the missing child have come to the realisation that they need to go home and try to get back to normality for their other children, so the Portuguese police have decided to interview them, and to do so, technically have to declare them to be suspects.

The consensus here is that they should be left alone until some conclusion is reached. If it turns out that they had anything to do with the disappearance of their child, the public will turn on them. But right now, they are being tried by the most ignorant parts of the press. And THAT, is out of order.

So, OJ Simpson, no stranger to the criminal world, has been named as a suspect in an armed robbery case. Well, well, who'd have thought. It sends a clear message to anyone that if you can get away with one capital offence, you can get away with another.

Actor Chris Langham has been gaoled for ten months for downloading child porn from the internet. Silly twat, what was he thinking? Even if he HAD been doing research for some TV role, and the court wasn't having any of that, by downloading the porn, he was helping to validate and create the market.
What a plonker.
Sad tosser.

Fly

A little fly in the ointment, but first, the ointment.

The weather continues sunny and warm and Vancouver positively sparkles with pride at her own beauty.

This afternoon, Alex and I attended a meeting at the Vancouver Museum which overlooks English Bay, Kits beach, the North Shore mountains, Stanley Park and just about everything breathtaking.
The speaker at the meeting was the Education Director for the Vancouver Olympics, which is admittedly, outside my area of interest, but I tried mightily hard to concentrate. Unfortunately, I found his voice difficult to tune into. He seemed to be speaking slightly too quietly for the size of room, he also had a very unmodulated mode of speech, and dropped the ends of his sentences. I watched him and thought that had he been speaking French or were I not a native speaker of English, I wouldn't have been able to follow.
But interesting points were raised, of course, just, for the most part, not interesting to me.

What did interest me however, was that afterwards, we were given a short tour of some of the museum's exhibits. Vancouver through the ages, well, not ages exactly, but since 1900 or so plus one in the works that will cover 'pre-contact'.
It seems that until the 1920s, Vancouverites had to drive on the left-hand side of the road. I'm sure that many think that hasn't changed.
The exhibits were well set-out however, and marvellously and enthusiastically presented to us by the museum's curator.

We were able to preview a new exhibition about women's clothing in the Belle Epoque. The clothes themselves did not interest me too much, although some of the fabrics and embroidery and lace were exquisite, but what the curator said about them did. She pointed out that this way of dressing - which we would probably quite simply refer to as Edwardian - ended abruptly with the First World War, when women were suddenly needed in the workforce. After the war, the fashion changed from the pre-war corsets and curvaceous shapes, to flat, almost shapeless and oversized styles. She gave us food for thought. What was the psychology behind this? It was as though women were trying to hide, like children, in grown-ups clothes. This era, she agreed, had done a great deal for women's emancipation.

The fly. When Kevin came home, he brought in a letter from Richmond City. Was it rewarding me for being such a fine and upstanding member of the community? No! It was an 'alleged bylaw violation'.
It seems that when Kevin unloaded me and all my props for the Richmond City Children's Festival in the place we were told to unload, and where other poor saps who were giving up their Saturday for free were also unloading, somehow the city itself hadn't been notified - presumably by itself.
They will be now, and it won't be pretty.

Ikea

'Ikea....I've just seen a shop called Ikea, and suddenly that name, will never be the same to me......'

Ikea! Ikea lives again! And I've been down and worshipped.

'Sing it loud and there's music playing, sing it soft and it's almost like praying....'

Yes of course I know it should be 'softly' and not soft.
It was apparently open yesterday, so, good omens, re-opening on my birthday.

My assistant Alex started today, so now we have a couple of weeks to practise and train for the autumn programs. I have had my office all to myself for long enough, I'm glad I was able to get him early.

I must sleep, sleep has crept up on my while I wasn't looking.

50!

I am 50 today! I can't believe it, I'm the first of friends of my school year, I'm leading the way:)

I'm going to bed now, we've toasted my birthday with Islay malt - and Marmite. Tomorrow - still my birthday, I have the day off and we are going into town.

Expect more :)

AND....more. I am going to add whenever I'm back at the house. So, I've changed the picture. Sleepy came and pointed out these two spiders in one orb web to me, and so I took a picture against the blue of the sky.

I love the fact that we have so many different ways of greeting people now. I have a brilliant card from my friend Karen in Britain. It has things that happened in 1957, people who were born and most fascinating of all, what things cost then. A cinema ticket cost two shillings and a pound of sausages, two shillings and ninepence - two and ninepence. A Mars bar cost sixpence. A nurse earned £480 whereas a small saloon car cost £835. A black and white TV cost a princely £74. You could buy a colour one for less than that now. Thank you for that card Karen.

I have also received cards from my friend Hannah, from Kev's parents and from work, but also e-mails from Dawn and Ree and Eve, and messages on Facebook, I just love the diversity.

I've watched the French news, don't often get an opportunity to do that, and now I am waiting for phone calls from England, then we'll be going out.Later....we have had a wonderful day. I spoke to all of my children and grandchildren on the phone. Brunch at Havana on Commercial Drive (I always misremember it as being called Savannah)after which we discovered the most amazing 'Fair Trade' type shop next door, which sold very reasonably priced fabrics, clothes, crafts, household things, bric-a-brac, from around the world. 'Ten Thousand Villages' is the name of the shop, if you are on Commercial Drive, visit it!

Then over to Granville Island for more browsing and general retail therapy. We didn't find the Saki place though Gail!
When we got back, there was a card waiting for me from my friend Dawn, more Facebook messages and then some flowers arrived from my sister. Now we're going out for dinner....

Canine Gargoyles

We have numerous slim black boxes around the place. They allow us to play our music, serve as an alarm clock and a clock and as a screen-saver, telling us the news headlines from around the world.
Except that now, Kevin has set them so that my blog also scrolls across. This takes me by surprise.
I was reading about the restaurant shooting in Vancouver, then all of a sudden, something about Sleepy. It's weird, and yet, seeing my own words scrolling across a screen like that, gives them a kind of validation, as though they were being broadcast in everyone's house just like the news headlines, although of course they're not, just mine.

I've had a spiffy day. Church, then speaking to all of my sons and my daughter. Then off to White Rock for a paddle in the sea and fish and chips and mushy peas, then back to Crescent Beach - to Blackie Spit, to look at the wetlands.

There was a big sign from the City of Surrey, warning dog owners that this was an environmentally sensitive area and that dogs were not allowed. It also pointed out the areas where you could walk your poochies. AND it even added a touch of humour by putting it in dog language.
And yet......naturally, there were two people walking and generally allowing to frolic, the ugliest dogs I have ever seen in my life. They looked like black pugs with huge bat ears, small, fat, canine gargoyles.

We ignored them once, the second time, I stood up and they stopped in their tracks. Sleepy was photographing a magnificent great blue heron.
I asked them if they realised dogs were not allowed in this area, they started mouthing off. Kevin had backed me up and Sleepy was now, head over parapet, enquiring if something needed to be done.
The two told me to shut up and walked off.
We started to walk back to the car, but realised they were not far behind us. I don't believe for one moment that they didn't realise, but presumably no-one else had challenged them. Either that or someone else had and they were beginning to feel outnumbered. They had told me that the dogs weren't hurting me and I pointed out that they were, according to the sign, harming the environment.

Afterwards, we went to see Kevin's parents. A fantastic day in all. Warm sunny, nature-y, mushy peas.

Fab.

Maple Keys

A vine Maple, beginning to change to its Autumn colours, and with almost ripe keys.
Winged seed dispersal.

Today is, it seems, the birthday of three people I know, so Happy Birthday to Gail, to Frances and to my colleague Rich's baby son Adam.

I'm not sure whether yesterday ended late or started early. There was drinking, Sleepy was second to last standing, Kev came to bed at around 3, at which time the film crew at the school opposite (until 3 am, the fictional Medora High, Wisconsin) revved up their trucks and left. Goodie.

Consequently, Sleepy has felt somewhat under the weather today. We went to Richmond's 'Nibbles and Bites' - an event in the grounds of one of the community centres where local restaurants sell samples of their fare for between 2 and 3 dollars.
But the staff shortages have nibbled and bitten at the event and many establishments that were able to attend last year reported that they were unable to spare the workers this time.
Sleepy spoke to god several times without the benefit of the great white telephone.

I turned the shelved plans into retail therapy, as you do, and went and mooched around the shops.
Lovely, and not too crowded.

A wonderful article in the Guardian to honour world literacy day, had readers sending in their favourite words, and I must admit, some were great, some were new to me. But I agreed wholeheartedly with eldritch, peculiar, mellifluous, indubitably, undulate, rebarbative, the list goes on, but makes enjoyable reading.

Hops

Small but perfectly formed hops, and growing bigger.

The calm before the storm. Next week we will start training in earnest - after my birthday. I have carefully arranged for my new assistant to start the day after my birthday.
But today WAS calm. Until, that is, I took time out to visit the Aberdeen Mall. The car park is unusually torturous at the best of times, but today, having lined up in the filter lane that ONLY GOES INTO THE MALL behind another car, we discover that the entrance to the mall is completely blocked. No signs, just barriers.
The line of traffic which included myself had no other option but to try and get back into the main lane, and as is often the practice of drivers here, we were honked at.

But lo! For once, I had the ultimate come back. I drove and Sleepy did the road rage. She opened the window and abused the fuckwitted driver right back. I'm afraid there is only one word for this, awesome.

Sleepy cooked dinner. And that too was awesome, roasted vegetables with garlic, lemon and chillies and feta, glistening with olive oil and flavoured with coriander.

Later, Canadian Karen came round and we all went to the nightmarket, but not until she'd eaten a whole chilli and almost lost her mind.
Ah, the Richmond Nightmarket. Such tackiness all at one venue, and yet there's something about the tackiness and food that you'd never actually eat, and the crowds, and the bad, bad music, and all the stalls glittering in the dark.

Waxwing

In spite of the azure sky, there was a stiff breeze, making it feel cooler. Azure sky.

Yesterday, I was having to ring up pre-schools to get their addresses, they may not be published online.
'As-ooruh Drive,' said one woman to me, 'A-Z-U-R-E.' Dear God.

Many things are due to happen on my birthday, which in case you haven't been paying attention is 11/09.
Ethopia is celebrating its Millennium.
Osama bin Laden will be releasing a message. Yes, not entirely what I was hoping for, but what can you do?

At the Nature House today, we received a strange e-mail. The writer was complaining about some trees being cut down. The e-mail quickly deteriorated into badly spelt, meaningless diatribe, including some garbage about how people could avoid being hit by falling trees by not thinking about it or some tosh. You had to wonder what sort of person goes out of their way to do something like that.
One good thing came out if it, the word 'Certifiend' - I mean it says so much, the guy himself was definitely one.

September Evening

A long day. An evening meeting meant that my day finally ended at 22.00, and how strange that from the open doorway of the Nature House I watched darkness fall earlier than I had realised. September.

The weather continues warm and sunny, we watched a Northwestern garter snake searching around in the moss, I'd never been able to observe one outside for so long. Late summer days, dragonflies, green frogs, the blueberry bushes turning red.

In the Guardian, Madeleine Bunting makes an amazingly pertinent point about the pay gap between men and women. The gap isn't narrowing, and she asks the question, why do we expect women to individually take their companies to court, it's like expecting each victim of burglary to sue the burglar.
She's right of course, those firms are breaking the law, they should be prosecuted by the State, not by women who have to prove their case.

She also goes on to talk about the blame game, women don't negotiate for more money,

"The most insidious aspect of the issue has been the "blame the victim" game. As government washes its hands and private sector companies mouth platitudes, women get the blame. It's reported that they don't ask for pay rises, they don't negotiate, they don't care about the money as much as men. But new research in the US shows that all these study findings are true for a good reason: women who are seen to be pushy and demanding are disproportionately penalised - while such behaviour in men is rewarded. The odds are stacked against women. In no other area of national life do we expect the victims to deliver justice for themselves, so why on the pay gap?"

Why indeed. I think it's way more insidious than people even realise, women don't advocate for themselves, they advocate for others, I know, I have just done it this evening.

Guests

Just a quick note to let those who are interested that BA delivered Sleepy, safe and sound and pretty much on time - although reacting badly to their on-board curry. And having got her to fly 5,000 miles, we've watched BBC Canada all evening.

Labour Day

It seems to be raining, although it started sunny and bright. This picture of Alex wasn't taken on Labour Day, but rather about three weeks ago, but it's a picture I love, so I thought I'd share it.

Ree alerted me to the story about the first woman Beefeater - I must say, I thought they'd had one some time ago, but it appears not. So I looked it up on the Guardian's website and Moira Cameron looks very much to me like the Duchess of York. And see, that would seem like a good bit of employment recycling. Fergie, no longer on the Royal A-List, could nonetheless turn her hand to a spot of royal-related Beefeating.

There is a story in our local rags about an arsonist who has set fire to children's playground equipment. That's a pretty mean and pointless thing to do, not to mention that it pollutes horribly. But what makes no sense at all to me is the headline in both papers that declares that an arsonist has spoilt the return to school.
Pulease. It's the return to school that spoils the return to school. Going back to school isn't fun, it's a trial, a bummer, it means the summer's over and both scholar and teacher have to engage once more in that battle of wills.
It is its own nemesis.

An interesting blog in the Guardian brings up the age-old problem of tipping in restaurants. And I agree with much of what the writer says. Why do we tip waiting staff when we don't tip other service workers?
I do also prefer the automatic adding on of a service charge as they often do in France and in some restaurants in Britain or when there is a bigger group.

Here, the norm is to tip 15%, as opposed to 10% in Europe. Although eating out is still much cheaper here than in the UK, and far more part of people's normal activity, when you see the prices on the menu, you need to realise that the real cost is almost 30% more. Prices here don't include taxes and if you add on the tip, it's nowhere near where you started.
The writer also mentions that in Japan, it is considered insulting to tip.
One commentator asks why what people tip should be dictated by the prices in the restaurant, and that is also a good question. Do the servers in expensive restaurants work harder than those in more moderately priced establishments? I think probably the opposite is true.

Another problem in British restaurants, which seems to be so easily solved here, is the apparent impossibility of producing separate bills. I have only ever twice had that situation here, once when we didn't mention that we wanted separate bills until the end, and then we'd all had the same thing anyway, so it was hardly a problem. Another time, the establishment bizarrely said that they wouldn't do separate bills for parties of more than six, but it was printed on their menu so that everyone knew.

Labour Day is nearly over.
And as ever when someone is coming here, the oddness of knowing that when I go to bed, Sleepy will be leaving Portsmouth to come here, when I wake up, her plane will have been in the air for two hours.
Time slippage.

Cottaging

Well, well, well. So the French are to smile more are they? They are to welcome foreigners instead of treating them like something that got stuck to the bottom of the national shoe huh? Lordy, Lordy.
To be fair, I have worked with a goodly number of French colleagues and like any other nation they were good, bad, or indifferent. But one thing I will say. I worked with one on whom I soon learnt to never turn my back when I could see those gnashers smiling.

What to make of Senator Larry Craig's fall from grace. The thing for me was that it so echoed the crap we used to get from the Tory party when they were in power. They would always be spouting off about who we should or shouldn't be shagging and then constantly getting caught with their trousers down. I for one don't give a damn that he was soliciting in a public toilet. He's not my senator after all, and as long as it's all between consenting adults, well frankly, the more nookie most people get the better.
No, it really is that 'voting against Gay rights' thing that rankles. I mean it's almost, almost too cliched to be true.

It would be nice to think he'd now embrace his inner homo and make things better for everyone, but probably all that will happen is that his fellow Repugnicants will simply jump up and down pointing and screaming,
'J'accuse!'

Still, if there's one good thing to come out of this, it's that the good burghers of North America now know the real meaning of the word 'cottaging', up until now I have lost a fair few mouthfuls of hot liquid as quite staid people have told me they were going cottaging for the weekend.

Ah, the shops are full of their autumn collections. I love this time of year, when the bright colours of the summer, give way to the earth tones of the autumn. I went to look for a present for my niece and instead got caught in the gravity well of Old Navy.
In my wardrobe I have about twelve black jumpers, and I nearly acquired another, but at the last moment swerved and chose the wine red.

The body of Christ tasted sweet this morning, more like a bun than a bread roll. I couldn't help wondering if that was allowed. One more reason for the consistency of the wafer, but then again, maybe the changing flavour is good too.

Salmon

An Inuit, we are told, has several words for snow, although Dr. Stephen Pinker claims to have debunked this as a myth.
Whatever, let's just say they do, since I love snow and I would like to think that somewhere there is a society who differentiates between various forms of it.
Sasha Aikhenvald in any case, makes a completely different case.

Digredio.

Likewise, if you tell a Brit you had curry last night, they'll expect you to be more specific. Saying you had curry is like saying you had meat or vegetables.

And to Canadians in this part of the country, the same is true for salmon. I'm still slightly bemused by this, but then I haven't grown up with it. When I was very young, salmon came in tins and was generally served up in sandwiches between slices of processed white bread and accompanied by the crunch of cucumber.

Later, there was smoked salmon, salmon steaks, Scottish or Atlantic.

Here we have Chinook, Coho, Chum, Pink and Sockeye and the Sockeye, particularly, are causing great disagreement between the local First Nations bands and.....well, just about everyone else.
The local bands, the Musqueam, the Tsawassen, are allowed a certain number of fish for their 'band needs'.

Wha'ever.

Rumour has it that even when their quotas are able to be fulfilled, band members can be found flogging them off the backs of their SUVs.
Note how I managed to avoid any mention of bandwagons.

This year, numbers are too low to even feed the elders. Local fisherman are not allowed to fish them at all.
Sports fisherman have to throw them back.
It is generally agreed that that the fish need to be left alone in order to restore their numbers.
Local fishermen agree, but are miffed that First Nations bands are still allowed to fish.
First Nations agree - sort of - but say that Sports Fishermen should be banned from fishing them, which, in fact, they are, if they catch them by accident, and it's said they're not as easy to catch as other types, they have to throw them back.

And now, and now.....Americans have been annoying the Tsawassen band by fishing for Pink Salmon - of which there are plenty - and doing it in American not Canadian waters.

Pink salmon is the one apparently that ends up in tins, but it is also available, much more cheaply than other types, for cooking and to me, tastes pretty damn good.

It seems to me that the First Nations bands have rights that locals don't because they have always pushed their special relationship with nature and the circles and cycles of life. But they are making quite ridiculous statements about a fish which right now is seriously in danger of not being able to replenish its own stocks.

Sour grapes, dog in a manger.

The only good thing to come out of all this it seems to me, is the debate itself.

Sweet

Sweet. Three-day weekend with no poxy Special Events to go to, after which.... the visit from Her Royal Sleepiness. Sweet, sweet, sweet.

My office is tidy, oh boy is that sweet. Rob came in and cleared up all the remnants from the summer schools. Oh, and the film set guy came and collected the stuffed wolverine he'd left by accident.
The location assistant had told us that on the day the crew were setting up, a member of the public had come in and tried to walk off with it, but they spotted him.
Couldn't believe that.

Rained today, and after yesterday's heat, that was sweet too.

Saturn, which can be a difficult planet, but apparently for my sign brings deep, solid joy, moves into my sign on Sunday. I hope this will be sweet as promised.

My daughter has found a flat in London Bridge for the coming year, after quite a depressing search, she and her two friends have found a place they're happy with, good and very sweet. I wish them luck in it.

I have found a new assistant, and he is called Alex, like my daughter. I'm pleased to have found someone that I feel good about. The name thing has already caused problems though.
When he was coming in for interview, I said to Rob,
'Alex is coming to see me on Monday,' - look of total confusion,
'I thought she'd gone back to London, how come she's coming back already?'
'Er, no....'

And sweetest of all is that today is my son Ben's birthday, God bless him and bring him wisdom and guidance. Maybe the other way round, guidance and wisdom. Saturn will sort out the rest.

Timon of Athens

Mostly, today, we were all pooped.

I was at work at seven again to open up. Kris had been there until gone eight last night.
I was there, the location production assistant was there, the plumber who had nothing whatsoever to do with the film crew was there.....and the set department rolled up at something like ten thirty.

At lunchtime, Kris and I decided we'd go to the inappropriately named Aberdeen Mall - aka the Chinese Mall, to see the animatronic dinosaur. We arrived after midday and there was a 'show' scheduled for 13.00, so we thought we'd better eat there. We regretted that. You can eat any type of Chinese or Japanese food you like for around six dollars, but it makes you yearn for Tang's in Elmgrove. (Portsmouth).

Finally the dino did its thing. It moved its tail and head a bit and roared, however, the lead up to it was more impressive, the fountains dance to music and the music was anything even remotely connected with dinosaurs.

This evening we had tickets for Timon of Athens at Bard on the Beach. This play is not often performed so we were keen to see it. And unlike the dinosaur and general Chinese food debacle, we were not disappointed.

The set never fails to astound us, the simplicity and versatility of every part of it and the way the cast members subtly move bits of it around, a well-oiled machine.
The play was riveting, the players, the same who had performed Julius Caesar, which Kevin and I had seen with Austen, were as ever, exceptional. There's just nothing quite like it. The tent, the lights, the fluidity of costume changes, the actors so near, the constant movement on which you cannot help be focussed.
Magical. Made the whole film thing look very klunky and unpolished. But then....good Shakespeare can do that.

Shakespeare done badly just makes you want to boil your head.

On Set

An interesting day.
At seven, I opened the Nature House for the set builders to finish off, and indeed, there was a flurry of activity ..... that lasted about three-quarters of an hour. I was discovering the stop-start work pattern that everyone who has spent time on a film set already knows.

The young film-school graduate who was first on set will be the last to leave after midnight tonight, then back when I open up at seven tomorrow. When I left at 16.40 ish, he was still smiling and working hard.

And it was to him that I mentioned the spelling mistake on the side of our pavilion, disguised as an elementary school. You may have to click on the picture to see it properly.

During the morning, I had an errand to do in Steveston. This was when I discovered that sleepy and yet touristy Steveston, doesn't open until 11. I wondered why I was so easily able to find a parking spot. Not too much of a hardship to spend an hour browsing the little shops in this waterfront part of the city however, especially as there is a shop where you can buy imported British food. And by food, I mean chocolate. I had no idea there was now a praline Cadbury's flake. Well, I do now.

When the shop where I was supposed to pick up some out-of-print books finally opened, I asked the shopkeeper whether this was his normal opening time and why there was nothing on the shop front to indicate the hours.
'See, what happened is this,' he started, 'I semi-retired now, so I get lazy, used to open at nine, now I forget sometime.'

Alrighty then.
Dave's Fish and Chips still wasn't open.
The temperature had reached 27º.
When I got back to the Nature House, the set builders had blocked off our kitchen and it was lunch time and we knew there was leftover pizza in the fridge.

Two hours later though, they returned and let us in. We had just liberated some pizza when the young man with the long hours came in and asked us if we wanted to come and get food from their set truck.
The catering company seemed to be called Divine Food or something containing the word Divine, and it was a good description. Never have I seen such ambrosia come from a van that looked as though it could only supply burgers or ice-cream.

The actors arrived. Now, bearing in mind that our friend Steve is an actor, and he is thin, but looks normal, these two looked like some different species of human. Like fairy-folk. Not just thin, but scaled down. They practised saying their lines. One of them seemed to be having a lot of difficulty.
That's all I'll say.

When I was leaving work, suddenly the entire car park was full of vans, trucks, canopies, people, equipment.
Finally, what I went in at seven to start, was about to happen, ten hours later.
Interesting for a day or two.
Just, not quite my cup of tea....well, unless the price were right.

Freckles

Today we found Freckles the male Northwestern garter snake, dead in his tank. He had been previously savaged by tankmate Annie, but seemed to have pulled through. Still, this kind of thing happens among human roommates, so what can you do? Unfortunately, it really did look as though he'd been squashed, but then maybe we all look as though we've been squashed at the end...especially if we have.
A death I wouldn't wish on anyone.

There was a short Pythonesque (sic) moment.
Some children were standing around the snake tank and told me they thought the snake was dead,
'Nope, nope, he's just resting,' I said without looking,
'But he looks dead,'
'Yep, just sleeping,' then I actually looked and he did look rather limp, so I opened the tank and poked him.
I thought a line about pining for the fjords may be inappropriate as we lifted his lifeless body out.

The film crew have been working hard making our Nature House look like someone else's Nature House all day long. Tomorrow they will shoot a scene and then that'll be it. The Aliens in the title, apparently refer to Muslims, a sort of Little Mosque on the Prairie kind of thing it seems, although I still hope it's just a working title.

August is exam result month. Second Thursday is A and AS results, following Thursday GCSEs. My son Ben slid into goal by the skin of his teeth, my nephew Jeremy gained good grades and today, Kevin received the results of his Professional Engineering exams, which he had passed.

But when you are in teaching, you suffer the results of other people. You can knock yourself out trying to get the little blighters to come to the lessons and hand in their coursework, you probably face another line of opposition in the form of their parents, you may even have other departments actively working against you, most likely the drama department, but only God and you know all this and you will be judged in any case on the grades they were given by the examining board.
If you are a Head of Department, it's even worse. You will also be judged on the results of the classes taught by other staff, whether or not they have been there, whether or not you have been unable to fill a post whose timetable has been babysat by non-specialists or even non-teachers. So results time can be pretty traumatic.

The link which Artemesia sent about Hagar, the mother of Abraham's son Ishmael, is pretty damn interesting. I think there are conclusions to be drawn, but everyone may draw their own.