From the moment in March, 2020 when we heard the staggering news of COVID-19 our trajectory has been one of recalculation. The data was always changing. Indeed the outlook is no more unshaken. The perpetual fickleness – especially when added to the evaporation of every travel proposal ventilated along the way –  has naturally made us apprehensive and exhausted our enthusiasm. My instinct to “get up and go!” has instead become to “wait it out!” Patience was never my strong suit; but in this I feel the draw.

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By unanticipated stroke of genius yesterday the vision of Vancouver Island suddenly caught my eye as a temperate alternative to wintering in Florida. I consider it brilliance because it goes a long way to overcome the Canada/USA border closure; it revitalizes the opportunity to crow about our own country; the exchange rate of 30 – 45% is appreciatively avoided; we can use our Canadian credit and bank cards, travel without concern for time limits between one residence and another and generally feel what is currently minor profit from the reduced infection rate of citizens in Canada. It is as well a serendipitous collision with the erstwhile favourites sunbathing and exercise, both of which at our advanced ages should only be undertaken cautiously in any event. We would certainly retain the option to bicycle throughout the winter. And I am convinced we’d have ample opportunity to absorb sufficient Vitamin D without having to disrobe dramatically (if at all). The allure of the Gulf of Mexico or the Atlantic Ocean (and any interruptive “Red Tide”) is a deprivation easily surmounted by swimming in an Olympic pool.

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Last night we slept with most of the apartment windows open. The uncommonly arid and cool air this morning was a shock as we hastily prepared for our customary bicycle ride. The venture was however annoyingly curtailed for me when I discovered another flat tyre, the fourth in as many months. No matter. Our trusty confidant Bill Barrie, owner of Almonte Bicycle Works the “special place in the heart of cycling country to the west of Ottawa” is but a stone’s throw from our place. I spoke with Bill Barrie; he sees nothing nefarious about these latest punctures.  At some length he reviewed with me the types of tyres available (we have subsequently agreed that he will order “puncture proof” tyres for installation). I left it in his capable hands – which is to say I obscured myself from the matter and told him I awaited his call.  One other little thing, he saw no reason to get a new bike. Apparently the one I currently have (an Electra) meets his expectations.

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I have long ago accepted that for the most part I don’t know what I am talking about. It is a rude admission which day by day becomes more heightened. I have however also learned that for the most part it doesn’t matter a damn. Let’s face it my days of critical analysis and engineered documentation are over! I submit this plaintive avowal by way of introduction to the subject of spices and herbs. Be warned that my talent in the kitchen is limited. And the mundane microwave oven is not in the least lost on me!

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down-home
connected with an unpretentious way of life, especially that of rural peoples or areas;
“some good down-home cooking”

Paradoxically my introduction to the expression “down-home” was not in the least rustic though we did have some decidedly good food. The occasion arose when I attended Dalhousie Law School in Halifax, Nova Scotia. It was an extemporaneous visit to ancient friends of my late father in Port Dufferin, Nova Scotia. Eric Balcolm and his partner Earl Hubley lived there in retirement. They called their estate overlooking the Atlantic Ocean “Down Home”, proclaimed by a tastefully engraved monument at the entry to the driveway. My understanding is that when Mr. Balcolm was a Member of Parliament in the provincial legislature – and while my father was Commanding Officer of Greenwood Nova Scotia Royal Canadian Air Force Base in the Annapolis Valley – my father would arrange flights for Mr. Balcolm and his entourage when needed.

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I received an email from Daniel Arthur Laprès, Lawyer, Paris, France alerting me to an article regarding book burning.  It wasn’t a topic I am accustomed to hear and it instantly inspired a native aversion. Upon regarding the article it is apparent that the re-writing of our past is underway whether literally or notionally.

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It would be inconceivable to exceed the euphoria of this day! Brilliance and balminess don’t begin to capture the unparalleled rhapsody! Though I admit it was with a measure of reluctance that I folded my limp self off the edge of the bed this morning onto the floor, straightened upright and began the day, once I got the parts moving my level of gusto increased commensurately. I immediately showered, “abluted” and dressed. Things were in the making!

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The COVID pandemic has effectively impounded us in a glass cage whence we see everything as it was before the alerts began but from which we seemingly hear no improvement whatsoever. Indeed there is a prospect of heightened infection from the latest “variant”.  Meanwhile we’re confined within a glass cage unable to dilute or dilate our personal reflections, ambitions and erstwhile traditions.

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The conflict between Protestant and Catholic is a parade of falsehoods grounded upon wildly inexplicable causes and fabrications. Seemingly a man (or woman) was able to preserve himself (or herself) from the gallows by mere token utterance of fidelity for which naturally there was no proof whatsoever. The end game was to convince either the people of England, the King or the Pope of Rome that you swayed this way or that. Where necessary for perceived maximum benefit both sides were played contemporaneously by yet further imaginary logic. In short it was all a subterfuge designed for control of Parliament and the public coffers. The British blatantly confirmed that in the event of conflict, neither side was prepared to move and both were prepared to suffer the consequences of appearances at whatever cost.

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There is movement. Certainly there is. Yes, on the whole I would say that the hustle and bustle relate to a predominantly pleasant state of affairs. But whatever activity there is, it doesn’t achieve the intended goal at this time of year; namely, to leave. Or at least to prepare to leave.  To start packing for Florida.

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