Category Archives: Emigrating with Weasels

Posts that refer mainly to how my family and I are coping with emigrating to a different continent.

Changing my mind about camping

Camping was rarely fun for me. My parents would take us on camping holidays when my brother and I were small, and it was fun to be on holiday, it was fun to visit new places (or old favourite places, like FlamingoLand, or Market Harborough) but living in a tent is not one of my go to choices. Scout camp every year was an adventure, and a chance to do some great outdoorsy stuff, but returning home was always a great relief. Food! Electric kettle! Comfortable bed! Yay!

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The morning is my least favourite time on camps.

When we came to Canada, we discovered camping was a different animal out here. For one thing, campsites are different. As a kid, I wouldn’t be surprised when we parked the VW in a field, and filled our kettle and pots from a standpipe at the gate. There might have been a toilet block somewhere nearby. But here in Canada we have beautifully maintained individual plots, with a tent pad, a firepit and a picnic bench. There’s always at least pit toilets on a site, often a shower block, and the staff patrol the site several times a day, cleaning, restocking and offering firewood for sale, as well as checking who’s paid for their site and so on.

So this year, when Mrs Dim said she’d booked a campsite for her birthday/Mother’s Day weekend, I grumbled and complained because I always do, but I didn’t dread it. She’d picked Nairn Falls because we’ve been there before, and she loves the fact that the sites with the river behind them have their own white noise generator (the river) to drown out any sound from other campers. This was the first weekend the site was open, so it wasn’t that busy and we arrived on a Friday afternoon that was beautifully sunny.

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It didn’t take long to get the car unpacked and the site set up – it’s the same tent we’ve had these past nine years, and we’ve got a system for putting it up*.

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Since it was now almost teatime, Tiny Weasel and I figured sitting and reading was the best thing to do, but Mrs Dim had a brief commune with nature, and then said we should check out the walk to the lake.

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It turned out to be a little more of a hike than we’d thought, and it was a good thing that Tiny Weasel had grabbed a bottle of water on her way out of the site, but it was worth the walk.

Then we had food, and a well-earned rest.

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The next day we decided to tackle a bigger hike, and drove out to a start point that was along 8km of potholed track. But the opening view was encouraging:

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The terrain was occasionally broken up with fallen trees that will be cleared later in the season, but other than that it wasn’t hard going. Once more, we were heading for a lake.

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Which we had no trouble finding.

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Though it did take us a while to leave. Along the way we had talked of all manner of things, made great and wondrous plans, and revised the plot of a new play (Mrs Dim is an excellent sounding board for plays, and this one is almost entirely down to her invention.)

We even met a local having a snack.

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We spent the afternoon and early evening in Whistler, before returning to the campsite for one more evening round the firepit. Clearing up the next morning was nearly as efficient as setting up had been, and before long, there was just Mrs Dim and Tiny Weasel on the site, saying farewell to the view.

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Camping is still grubby and occasionally uncomfortable, and I don’t sleep well. But it’s also good family time, a great break from the digital world we’re so obsessed with, and a chance to listen.

 

*Argue, argue, argue, huff, argue, tent.

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Rhododendron Days, Burnaby

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We came to Canada, in part, for a particular way of life. Part of that is the community events, and Burnaby is big on community events. This week it was the Rhododendron Days at Deer Lake.

We’ve been a few times before, and it’s one of Mrs Dim’s happy places. This year the weather was excellent and all the blooms were out on time.

Rhododendron Days isn’t just about the pretty blossoms, of course. There are plant sales, competitions, craft stalls and lots of information displays. There was a stall displaying the eco-sculptures that the City of Burnaby have all around the city, giving people a chance to help plant up the next sculptures.

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There was live music and kids’ activities (yes, I tried some of them. No, I won’t be posting my excellent pastel drawing of Mrs Dim doing a drawing of Eldest Weasel and her boyfriend…). There was even an appearance by the Burnaby Public Library Outreach vehicle, with the pop-up library!

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It was, in short, an enjoyable time in beautiful surroundings, and there were a lot of people enjoying it. It was good to be there.

The Pipeline and broken promises

 

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There’s probably a lot I don’t know about the situation with the Kinder-Morgan pipeline that’s in contention here in Burnaby. I’m not a businessperson, an activist, or a member of the government (federal or local). But to be honest, this doesn’t seem like a very complex issue.

Alberta want to export a bunch of oil products (I hear the word “bitumin” bandied around a lot. Says the Britannica Mining website: “Bitumen, dense, highly viscous, petroleum-based hydrocarbon that is found in deposits such as oil sands and pitch lakes (natural bitumen) or is obtained as a residue of the distillation of crude oil (refined bitumen).“) and to do that, they, or rather Kinder Morgan, have to expand the existing pipeline that carries oil products across BC to the sea.

The point where the pipeline meets the sea is a beautiful area. It would be irreparably damaged by a rupture in the pipeline. How likely is such a thing? Well, here’s the point: If I said “We have a WW2 era bomb here. It’s got a timing mechanism that’s probably faulty. It probably won’t explode. We’re gonna put it in your basement, right here under your living room. Where your kids play. The bomb almost certainly won’t go off. But if it does, I promise, we’ll clean up the mess.”

Would you be reassured? It doesn’t matter how unlikely that explosion is, what matters is that the “clean up” will be too late. So it is with the pipeline. Clean up will be mitigating the disaster, not preventing it.

So that’s one thing. This is a huge ecological disaster that’s waiting to happen. It HAS happened elsewhere. We don’t want it to happen here.

Here’s the other thing. Since the arrival of Europeans in Canada, the First Nations have been abused in horrific ways. For over a century they have been victimised and degraded. The disgrace that was the Residential Schools only closed in the last thirty years (the last one in BC closed in 1996). We have hounded and villified and tortured the original inhabitants of this land, and just very recently, we have started to acknowledge our guilt. We have started to apologise and try and make reparation. Pierre Trudeau, father of the current Prime Minister, was declared an honorary member of the Haida Gwaii in 1976. Most of British Columbia is unceded territory, meaning it still belongs to the First Nations, who believe they are to be the stewards of the land. We acknowledge this fact at the start of almost every public and school meeting, thanking the local First Nations for their forebearance and generosity in allowing us to be here.

And yet… They do not want the pipeline expansion. They have said so, loudly, and in many forums. Despite this, Justin Trudeau feels it is in the best interests of the whole nation to continue with the project. That says to me that we honour our debt to the First Nations right up until the moment it gets in the way of making a profit, and that makes me feel sick.

Alberta says they need the income from the pipeline to fund essential education and medical services for the population of Alberta. I understand that it’s important for the province to generate income to look after the people who live there. I’m sorry that the Albertans have to go through BC to get their oil products out there, but I’m not willing to sacrifice the environment of the BC coast, or the promise we have made to the First Nations, for the sake of Alberta. If the federal government really feels this is an issue they should get involved with, I suggest they should be helping Alberta redirect their energy industry towards the growing solar market, and away from dead-end technology like oil deposits. Oil is finite. We’re already reduced to horrific technologies like fracking to try and extract oil deposits that were considered financially inaccessible not so long ago, but now there is more demand and less availability. It’s time to get out of oil before it’s too late.

I lived in South Wales for several years, and while that was lovely, it was hard to travel through North Wales and see the effect that dependence on the coal industry had on small villages and towns. Whatever the rights and wrongs of the Thatcher-era pit closures (and I’m sure there were both) those communities suffered because they had one central industry and nothing else was put into place when that industry shut down. The same thing is going to happen to areas dependent on oil production – it’s inevitable, because there is no new oil being made. Now is the time to make the changes.

I’m disappointed in Justin Trudeau. I realise running the country is harder than my job, ad that there’s a lot of pressure to put money into the economy, but it also matters that we honour the promises we have made to the First Nations.

The Bold Viking Quest

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It was Tiny Weasel’s birthday this week, and she had very specific plans for her celebration. We would get together on Family Day, dress as Vikings and hike through the woods playing a specially created D&D adventure. And then have a picnic.

We’re fairly new to D&D, having picked up the Starter Set at Christmas, so the campaign I wrote is very basic. It doesn’t actually follow the path we took through the woods of Belcarra to Jugg Island, so you could use it on any walk from about 30 mins to an hour and a half.

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Dressing as Vikings is essential, however. We had a bard, three fighters and a Cleric, but we couldn’t get the cleric to give up her battleaxe.

Since we are beginners, we played a very simple version of the combat rules, taking along a D20 and a D8. Since we were also outside in the woods, we carried each die in a tin with a clear lid, so you could “roll” the dice without losing them. (And, it turned out, you could jiggle the tin until you got the number you were looking for…)

The Bard suffered terribly, being attacked by Vampire bats almost immediately, and trying to fend them off (unsuccessfully) with her Kazoo. Later she remembered her magical arrow which would have been great against the bats, but was pretty useless against Skeletons.

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The cupcakes were as important as the combat….

Since it was Family Day, we were not the only people on the trail, so there was a fair amount of explaining to do as we went along, but this is Canada. No one minded at all that we were having fun.

After defeating several horrific monsters, falling into pit traps and solving fiendish riddles (only one of which I stole from “Labyrinth”), the weary questers reached the beach and opened the treasure chest of Captain Mica (Flint having been taken, you see…)

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Even the plain clothes DM got in on this picture!

I’m sure regular D&D players could make more of the campaign, but it’s also simple enough for noobs like me to run it without too much trouble. I’ve uploaded the text to this Google Drive location as a Word Document so anyone can have a go.

We wish you happy questing, adventurers.

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The Wizard of Oz and the 8th Canaversary

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Last night we all went to see Burnaby Mountain Secondary School’s production of “The Wizard of Oz”. Primarily, we were there because Middle Weasel was in the booth, working as Sound Tech for the show. It’s been a little surprising but very rewarding to see how she has thrown herself into the production, and the long hours she has put in with the rest of the cast and crew – all of which paid off last night in a great show to a packed Michael J Fox Theatre.

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Photo by Jennifer Gauthier of the Burnaby Now

But we were also there to celebrate our eighth anniversary of arriving in Canada. Famously, Dorothy finds her way back to Kansas and Auntie Em by clicking her heels and reciting “There’s no place like home!”. When we told people we were moving to Canada, they were often worried that we would miss “home”, but years of RAF life had meant we were used to the idea of home being each other, not the building we lived in. When Dorothy has her revelation about home, she’s not misty-eyed about the farmhouse or the fields of corn, it’s her aunt, uncle and the farmhands that she thinks of. Her journey through Oz gives her experience of all kinds of things – danger, excitement, friendship, adulation and wonder, but all of this only serves to show her how much she had back at home.* Eight years in Canada have changed many things, but we still eat evening meals together more often than not, we still take time to hear about one another’s day, and even if we moan about it, we’ll gather for a family meeting to discuss major issues.

There was an element, that day at Heathrow, of “We’re off to see the Wizard!” We didn’t know, really, what we were going to find in Canada, only that we hoped it would be good for all of us. Like Dorothy, we’ve made plenty of new friends on the journey, and we’ve found out that there really is no place like home, whatever you believe your home to be.

*It doesn’t, of course, offer any solution to the problem she actually ran away from in the first place – Mrs Gulch using her corrupt influence over the Sheriff to get a legal order to euthanize Toto. Lucky for Dorothy, when she gets back she finds out Mrs Gulch has been struck by a falling telegraph pole and has broken her leg! Hooray! A senior citizen living by herself has suffered a terrible injury! What a relief!

Buy “The Great Canadian Adventure” ebook on:

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.ca

Escaping to Fan Expo Vancouver

There’s little doubt that 2016 has been a grim year. We’ve lost folk heroes, rock stars, and a little bit of belief in the fundamental goodness of regular folks. But yesterday we set aside our fears and doubts, and dressed up as someone else for a day. We went to Fan Expo Vancouver 2016.

If you’ve read this blog at all, you’ll know we try to go every year. I always intend to dress up, and I never do. Time and again, the Weasels have outshone me with their brilliant outfits, and been photographed over and over.

This year, I was ready. Having spent only a short period of time building s Doctor Strange outfit for Halloween, I had spruced up the Shakespearean Vader suit that I built so long ago. I shortened the cloak so I didn’t trip on it. I added extra bling. I was ready.

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We didn’t rush in this year – there would be no queuing! Eldest Weasel had booked a photo shoot with her personal Doctor Who idol, Alex Kingston, and that wasn’t until mid-afternoon, so we had a leisurely drive in to downtown, and then we gathered outside the convention centre while Mrs Dim figured out how to exchange our tickets for the wristbands that would get us inside.

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Eldest Weasel’s friend came along as Kaylee from Firefly, while Eldest herself had really gone to town on improving her Time Lord Headdress.

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Middle Weasel was Quicksilver (somewhat ironic, given her tendency to avoid moving whenever possible) and Tiny Weasel was Frisk from Undertale. You know, Undertale? the Game? No, me neither.

Attending Fan Expo in costume was wildly different from going in regular clothes. For one thing, I was stopped quite often so people could take photos of or with me. For another, I couldn’t actually see very much. My breath fogged up the eyepieces after about four minutes, and Mrs Dim had to guide me through the halls. I was glad she’d chosen a white jacket for the day, as it was easy to follow the white blur. Only once did it turn out to be the WRONG white blur….

From an atmosphere of fear and hate (through the internet news and the reactions of friends and family) we found ourselves in a place of acceptance and encouragement. Fans can be sticklers for details, vocally critical of the film industry when details are altered for a movie, or when a beloved character is treated badly for plot purposes. But I heard no criticisms of any of the costumed characters at the Expo. There was open admiration, compliments, applause, and , of course, photographs. Prominently displayed in the convention centre and the nearby hotel were signboards with the “Cosplay is not consent” policy clearly laid out. Some female characters wear skimpy outfits, and those that chose to dress as those characters could have no fear that they would risk assault for that choice.

Respect. Inclusion. Honest fun. Pursuit of interests for the joy they bring, not the financial gain.

It was a delight to step into this world, and imagine the one we live in coming back to these values one day.

Halloween is coming

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Lazy summer days are great, and fresh spring mornings can be wonderful, but I have to admit that autumn is my favourite time of the year. It’s not the crunchy fallen leaves, or the tang of snow to come in the air, but one night of silliness: Halloween.

As a child in the UK in the 70’s and 80’s, Halloween was not a big deal. There would be a party on the night itself, or the weekend closest to, I guess, and there would be costumes and apple bobbing, but no trick or treating. By the time I was at Secondary school, there were Halloween discos, and rumours of trick or treating in local areas, but these were always accompanied by horror stories of razor blades in apples and so on. We knew about North American Halloween traditions, of course, because we watched movies like “ET” and saw the parades of costumed kids going about collecting sweets. None of them seemed to suffer horrific murder as a result….

In our final few years in the UK, we were on RAF stations, usually behind the wire, where a small community made for safe trick or treating. Mrs Dim came up with the idea of making a huge cauldron of soup and some hot dogs and making a gather point for adults. We could see the kids working their way up and down the road while the adults took turns supervising and eating.

By 2008, we were hosting our own Halloween party out in the world of civilians.

The kids even got to go trick or treating around the local roads (with adults in attendance, of course.)

But over here, the sheer scale of Halloween is impressive. When my writing partners from TLC came to visit in our first year, they went back with a suitcase filled with Halloween decorations that were cheap over here, but non-existant at the time in the UK. I suspect that situation has changed in the years since, but there’s no denying that people go all out for  Halloween over here.

The last two years I have been working Halloween night, and I will be again this year. It’s a quiet night in the library, even though the staff dress up and the Librarians usually have some sweets for any trick or treaters who make it in.

 

The Weasels will also be dressed up, and some will be roaming the streets in search of sweets, while others will man the Witch’s cottage, or whatever scary house we set up to trap the unwary….