Friday 14 December 2012

Memories of my Father's Musings...


After Jack received his mother’s letter, he felt homesick.  She had evoked awareness in him that he was not actually immortal.  He had no idea why as she hadn’t been morbid in her correspondence, in fact she’d hardly said anything unusual at all.  Only to take care and to watch out for those German guns, which all the lads joked about, yet he suddenly recalled his uncle, his mother’s brother who'd been killed in the first war.  He’d been his age, just twenty and he had never come home.  Jack was lost in thought, his parent’s house in Glasgow, the smell of his father’s pipe, his mother’s bland cooking and her occasional soft hugs for all three of her boys.  The house was always strictly quiet, with too many rules and curfews, his father demanded it, being a sea captain saying he needed the peace, but this frustrated Jack, he wanted noise, action!  He wondered now, where his older brother, Bob was and regretted that he hadn’t asked after him in his last letter.  He only knew he was in the navy, nothing more.  Frank, his younger brother was safe at home, working at the local post office and ladding about with girls two and three years older than him.  He smiled to himself thinking about it. Lucky bugger.

“Jack”, his mate Alistair was calling.  “We’re away shortly, we need to run through the route and do some engine checks.”  Alistair was tall, blond and over twenty-five.  Jack continued to stare out the window of the runway office that overlooked the windswept tarmac.  Spitfires, Hurricanes and Mustangs grouped in order of reconnaissance missions.  He thought of them as dream machines, anything and all became possible when he was flying one of them. It was like running with wild horses, flying with albatrosses, dancing through hillside glens with ancestral highlanders, and it was so bloody blue and beautiful up there past the grey clouds of Britain, arousing a feeling of paradise. The drone of the flying engines was a song wild in his heart. Yet, just now without knowing why, he trembled.  Not that he ever felt particularly brave, on the contrary he realized he didn’t feel much of anything before, only that it was all fabulous fun, on the wing through the wild blue yonder, pubbing it at night with the lads, all an exciting adventure.  Even the flights over enemy territory were merry jaunts, he never ever thought, What if?  So why was he thinking this now?

“Jack, what’s up mate?  Are you coming or what?"   Alistair stepped closer.  "Did you receive bad news from home?”  
Jack looked up and felt re-assured, “Och no Ali, everything is grand.  Just day dreamin, let’s away then.”  And he smiled trying to force his trepidation back down his throat.

Jack leaned back on the throttle and an exhilaration prickled through his bloodstream as the hum of airplane engines and wheels lightly kissing tarmac in the impossible attempt to take to the air.  The first time Jack soloed, he didn’t think it would happen, the Spitfire ran like a spotted leopard giving chase to some prey through grassy fields, how could this beast take flight?  But then the ghosts of ancient highlander's pipes started up and the rhythmic tempo of Celtic drum, the aircraft lifted towards grey scattered clouds and dull hilly ground, teetering on the wings of wayward Gaelic fairies.  Jack thrilled as the un-seen voices elevated him into another world, a world of dazzling blue light.  He expected to see Zeus snoozing amongst the shining velvet clouds and below lay the world of mortals and their war seemed inconsequential, he was not a part of this, he was a flying god in an ethereal machine above them all.  On that first solo flight, he laughed, he smiled like a madman, tumbling and tossing over the earth like a barn swallow on a midsummer’s evening above geometric farms, he’d found his rapture and refused to return to the mundane again.

So why now, on this day, months later, did fear crawl into his bloodstream like an invisible serpent stealing his joy for no apparent reason?

 

Wednesday 24 October 2012

My Reluctant Visit to The Mormon Church


Here’s a funny story about my Reluctant Visit to the Mormon Church!   (Apologies to Donny Osmond!)
 
When my son, Tyler was about ten years old he had a classmate called Elias who belonged to the Mormon church and invited Tye to have a look round . The church was about ½ hour drive from our house, so when he asked me to drive him I actually declined. Somehow, I wasn’t so keen on the idea. Derek, (my husband) of course wouldn’t drive him as he’s a die hard Atheist!   However, Tye being a loyal friend, felt he should oblige Elias by taking a tour.  So I decided I was being silly and I drove him to the Church of Latter Day Saints on Wilkinson Road in Victoria, BC for 7:00 p.m. 
We were greeted at the door by two boys of about 17 years old.  I explained to them that we were here to meet Elias and to take a tour of the church.  Yes, they said, that’s why we are here and they were expecting us!  “My name is Elder Hoffman”, one of them said and shook my hand. “Nice to meet you Elder!”  I said. 
The other one came forward and said, “My name is Elder Jones”.  “Oh!” I replied, laughing, “You both have the same name!”  (No laughter from the Elder brothers) “We’re Elders of the Church Ma’am!”  Yikes, I thought! 
While we were waiting for Elias, Elder Hoffman asked me where we lived.  I told him Willis Point.  “Where’s that?”  he asked.  “Do you know where Durrance Lake is? 
”NO, he said.  “How about Butchart Gardens?”  “No”, he said.  “Actually Ma’am we’re both from Utah.”  I’m thinking, why the hell is he asking me where I live then!?
Anyway, Elias shows up and I explain to the boys that I have to pick up my daughter just down the road and I’ll be back in 5 – 10 min. They say fine and away I go, leaving Tye with the two Elder boys surrounded by paintings of children being visited by angels. (I wasn’t creeped yet!)
 
 
I return in about 6 minutes and park in the car park where mine is the only car.  (When I had left there were about 4 cars there) and walk up to the front door. 
Guess What?  The doors are locked!  I knock and peer through the glass….nothing….I walk round the large modern building trying every door.…all are locked!  I return to the front door and knock loudly….within a few seconds a girl of about 11 years old opens the door for me. 
I ask her, “Where is everybody?” 
“I don’t know”, she replies.  I begin to walk down the long hallway, the girl skipping along behind me.  I open doors to offices, to a huge, impressive gym and to a room with a large ceramic hot tub of some kind, but it’s like in an amphitheatre. What goes on here? I’m beginning to think the worst. 
Again, I ask the girl, “Is anyone here?” 
“I don’t know”, she replies. This girl is beginning to bug me.  “Well where is Tye, Elias and the Elder boys?” 
“I don’t know”, she says, then she disappears down the hallway. 
“Tye, Elias!”  I begin calling and I am starting to feel paniciky!!! 
“What the F  is going on here?” I actually said this out loud…but there was no noise, no answer…only silence.
I am trying to calm down, I re-trace my steps as they echo throughout the quiet modern building. Every wall has the appropriate number of paintings, not too crowded or over decorated but large & colourful enough to stop you in your tracks!  Ethereal Eerie Individuals with looks of heavenly joy on their faces! 
How many wives?
 
All sorts of visions are dancing through my head, not very spiritual at all….
I’m imagining Tye has been drugged and dragged off to Utah to become a MORMON….they might have him tied up & gagged in the basement!
 
This is the MORMON FORTRESS in UTAH!  I'd never find him in Here!
 
I decide I’m losing it…while I’m still calling their names in a frantic state…I go outside the building again in the hopes that they have all gone out to the parking lot to meet me! 
BUT There’s no one there………….and now I’m locked out of the building again!
I’m just about to cross the street, knock on someone’s door and ask them to call the police, when a man drives up in a car.  I watch him get out of his car, then take out a key, go down some hidden stairs to unlock a basement door!
I practically knock him over with a barrage of questions, “Where’s my son?, What have you done with him?  I want him out here now!” 
“Hey Lady, we don’t bite here you know, calm down!!” 
“Well, I want my son now Please!”
He tells me they are probably in the hidden chapel, which is upstairs.
"What?  I didn’t see any upstairs!”
“That’s because its hidden.” He replies and makes a telephone call to the chapel. 
Why the hell is a chapel hidden? 
I grab the receiver and one of the Elder boys replies and I say, “I want Tye outside the building right now.”
Within minutes Tyler and I are sitting in the car. 
“Is something wrong Mum?” he asks.  I take deep breaths and decide on a large glass of Merlot as soon as I reach home.  “No no, nothing except I couldn’t get into the building and I was worried about you that’s all. 
On the way home, he chatters about his tour…it was all a bit much for a first church experience.  Worse, though was that he was told, "Tyler, you could wash away all your sins and use our gymnasium anytime."
I said, "Tye, you're ten years old, you don't have any sins."  And then he says to me, “I think if I decide to become religious, I’ll just do it at home."
SIGH!
Thankfully, he took up guitar instead.
 
 
 
 

Tuesday 21 August 2012

GOING BATTY!

Going Batty



I’ve dealt with my fair share of creepy crawlies over the years, living in the Caribbean, the UK and the West Coast.      
In the Caribbean, there are huge flying cockroaches, giant hairy spiders, colourful unidentifiable bugs, Mona Boa Snakes and Scorpions!  Even Bats, but they were well-behaved.
Scorpions; horrid lobster-insect like things that hide under stones, in cupboards and sometimes in your shorts, and I’ve been stung three times!  A Friend of mine gave me a Scorpion necklace as a sort of Purple Heart of survival.  Ugh!  I can barely look at it, let alone wear the damned thing, but for some reason I keep it.



On the West Coast, Vancouver Island, slimy fat black slugs attack precious flowers, Randy Deer eat the foliage and of course early mornings there are bear and cougar sightings to be wary of.
With all this creature experience, I thought I’d be immune to Ontario’s Wildlife, imagining the odd bold squirrel attacking the dog or cute foraging raccoons or roosting aggresive crows.  I was ready for anything Ontario felt like throwing at me, yet surprisingly this was not the case. 


Vancouver Island Buck


SLIMY SLugs - Ugh!
















BATS!  I’ve discovered I’m terrified of them!  Yes, people keep telling me, they’re harmless.  Watching them whoop and dive amongst the high tree tops, looking like Soaring Stingrays of the Sky, gulping down ounces and digesting mouthfuls of insects, yes how lovely, how useful! 

My first night home after my trip to England, my sister and I spent the evening making a delicious pasta dinner, chatting about our weeks apart and drinking copious amounts of Pino Grigio.  We said our goodnights near midnight and went to sleep.
At around 2 a.m. I awoke to a rustling sound in my curtain then a kerplop and suspicious scuffling sound.  I thought I was dreaming but decided to turn on the light…..bloody hell… a BAT whirling round my ceiling!  It’s sonar sense obviously intact, as it managed to avoid getting chopped in two by the rotating blades of the ceiling fan.  I let out a shriek as it zoomed over my side of the bed.  I crawled to the door and turned the light on in the kitchen, Bloody Hell it followed me, I imagined it cackling (effects of the wine I expect) while it sailed and soared around my kitchen.  “Help!”  I cried.
My sister shouted from her bedroom downstairs, “Are you okay?”
“No!”  I wailed.
“Oh my God, what’s wrong?”  She told me later that she imagined an intruder in the house or I’d received a phone call with terrible news!
“It’s a BAT! And It’s Huge!”
“What?”  She raced up the stairs to find me teetering on the top step, trying to throw a sheet over the fantastic fleeting nightmare of a thing.  She collapsed into a heap of hysterical laughter.
“It’s not funny!”  I shouted.  “What are we going to do?”  I was nearly crying.
My sister could hardly speak she was laughing so hard.  “I don’t know.  Just come and sleep downstairs.”
“NO!”  I was horrified.  “We have to get it outside, otherwise it’ll be here all night!!” 
While we argued on how to catch and remove it, the bat in a wink of a drunken eye rocketed out of sight. 
“Where the Hell has it gone?”
“Look the window is open, it’s flown away.” My sister told me and so relieved and slowly we went back to sleep.

2nd Night
Midnight, the Bat returns which means Horror Of Horrors the blessed bloody bat must have slept somewhere in the house during the daylight hours.  Again, my shrieking returns, and again my sister is laughing at me.  But this time, I take a huge brave breath and seize the golden opportunity when it lands on the window ledge and I lunge at it with a plastic bag and grasp it firmly, run downstairs and set the bag on the front lawn where it crawls creepily out of the crackling plastic, relieved to be released it into the dark night.
The next day, I install homemade screens on the only two windows without screens.  Problem solved….? Or so I thought.

Several Weeks Later. 
Naturally I thought my Bat intrusions had stopped. It had been weeks and I prided myself on how clever I’d been fixing and installing the screens all on my own, what a clever Girl!  HA! How I bragged, but Pride cometh before a Fall.  It’s a sad ironic story where The Bat & I would be forced to an unhappy dual. 
Please read no further should you be a follower of Gandhi or The Dalai Lama and I sincerely apologise to all living creatures no matter how ugly.

This is the next day, Bat hanging from outdoor fireplace.

The couch is a very comfy place and I’d been blissfully sleeping there for the past four nights, due to visiting friends and cousins.  But, my first night in my own bed was not so happy.  I sprawled out marvelling in the mounds of available mattress space and soon was soundly asleep.  Jango my ancient doggie, whimpered slightly around the BAT Hour which I’ve discovered is at precisely 2 a.m. 
“What Jango?”  I sat up and felt a slight whoosh.  “No, it can’t be" I said aloud as I cowered back behind a pillow and shakily turned on the side lamp.  Yes, ha ha, I’m back
I grabbed my pillow and hid underneath, trembling for an escape, I slunk out the bedroom door. It’s rubbery wings and furry flying body followed me once again, I felt it anticipated my moves.  “How can this be?”  I shrieked in terror.
I switched on the kitchen light and the entire scenario began to replay itself with the creature from the depths of hell, laughing and diving above me.  It was bigger and uglier than before and when it landed on the window ledge, it’s little demon like face grinned and barred its fangs.

photo from internet - too freaked to take my own photo
Again I shrieked and wondered what the sleeping neighbours might think, it was then I transformed into a different persona and morphed into a revengeful someone I didn’t recognize. 

There was no way in Hell, I was going to let this thing live in my house.  It was either Me or the BAT and now it was my fangs that were showing.  I grabbed a broom and yes, I’m sorry to say, I swung it like a baseball bat as it dodged like a boxer around me, after three strikes, I hit it.  Bang, the thing rolled landing by Jango’s front paws.  He gave me a sad look, one that said, “What have you done?” 
The wild gleam in my eye soften slightly and a tremendous guilt swept through me as the almighty Bat lay crumpled in a heap and I dithered over to investigate. 
“Eeks!” The creature conned me as it took off in flight once more. 
Well, I’m sad to say, that the killer in me possessed my body once more and that was that for the BAT. 
The next night, I kept all the windows closed, perplexed as to how the sinister beings entered the house.  I didn’t relish a repeat encounter and I certainly did not enjoy this new murderous side of myself.  The next day I realized there was a small gap between the window and the screen and I read online about Bat roosting season and how they sought out places to hibernate.  Again the guilt washed over me, until I read this in the local paper! 

Rabid bat found in Perth County
A bat captured in South Easthope on Aug. 3 has tested positive for rabies.
This is the second animal in Perth County to test positive for rabies in 2012.
Earlier this summer a stray cat tested positive in the Mornington Ward; however, this is the first bat to test positive for rabies since August 2009.
Bats are very active this time of year as they prepare to hibernate.
“Bats are a concern because they can expose a person to rabies,” says Kate Beath, public health inspector. “We want residents to be prepared if they come across one in their home.”
People may become infected with rabies when bitten or scratched by a rabid bat, or when a rabid bat’s saliva comes into contact with broken skin or moist tissues of the mouth, nose or eyes.
If left untreated, rabies is fatal in humans.
“It’s important to take the right steps when you have a bat in the house,” says Beath. “Ultimately, if you see a bat, try to stay away from it.”

All the Gaps have been fixed now and so I hope this is the end of my BAT Adventures, but I still wake up at 2 a.m. in a panic dreaming of the Beat of Black Wings in my bedroom.

Now I am going to end my story with a pastoral photo of some lovely cows to soothe my soul, taken around October last year near Stratford Ontario.


Moo! Moo!



Sunday 15 July 2012

How to Renovate a Kitchen by yourself on an Extreme Budget!

My Jimi Hendrix Clock in my Kitchen

I have two kitchens in my house! 

And so in preparation for renting out the downstairs, the kitchen desperately needed updating. 

However, after our main kitchen reno, (see link)…  the conversion of our attic, (still need to write about) the stripping of the stairs and many other upgrades like boring replacement of plumbing and wiring, there was literally no money left for another kitchen reno.

http://www.suzannefitz.blogspot.ca/2012/02/how-to-renovate-kitchen-yourself-or-wtf.html.

So, time to get creative on an extreme minimal budget, which is actually quite fun!  And I barely required my live in Handy Man!  I could practically do this reno all on my own! (I know, I know, don't laugh, Lori!)

The downstairs kitchen is a good size and perfectly functional, unlike the upstairs one used to be. 

Lots of Floral



Lots of panelling

But, each time I entered the kitchen I felt like I was twelve years old (meaning 1972) and any minute the Brady Bunch would be showing up for Egg Salad sandwiches and I'd have to wear an apron!  My mother actually liked the downstairs kitchen as it was covered in flowery wall paper framed with a very fruity border.  So without having a great deal to work with, the first thing that had to go was the pretty flowered wallpaper.  Sorry Mother!
As you can see, scraping off this paper was fairly simple but it left behind one of its layers that was quite annoying and required some spray called, DIF FAST-ACTING Wallpaper Stripper, it's about $7 a bottle, which I purchased at Canadian Tire.  It worked like magic and I was able to scrape off easily.


Luckily the border of strange fruit came off without any trouble at all and I was glad to say goodbye and shove it all into a garbage bag. 

I contemplated the melamine cabinets, which are very sturdy, easy to use and with large deep shelves, however, they are somewhat boring and have no character whatsoever, for some reason they were all the rage in the seventies.  About ten years ago, in Victoria, BC I had decided to paint these same type of cabinets and although I read on a Reno Diva’s website how to exactly go about it….the paint chipped in time which was discouraging.  Melamine is heavy and non-porous and refuses to accept a change in colour and so they chipped with every wee knock or tap, it was most regrettable especially when the paint was expensive and the hours spent sanding, painting, etc….BLargh! 
So, not wanting to make the same mistake again, and without the cash to replace, I decided to make the walls and surrounding area as funky as possible to make up for the lack of Interestingness about the cupboards.

And, I thought about my Very Colourful Jimi Hendrix Clock and so I decided to match the hues from this clock.  (Oh dear....)

The girl at the paint store cringed, "Are you sure about this?" when I showed her the colour combination and I wondered if I was doing the right thing…but you know, it’s just a kitchen and I loved the clock so I decided, Why Not?  Also, it kind of matched the odd fruit tile on the back splash, (sadly all fruit couldn’t be eliminated )
But as the paint went on, the three hellishly different colours were oh my……were they beginning to look hideous?  Like the kitchen I had previously criticized?   Crikey!  At this point my Handyman wouldn't even enter the kitchen.  "I don't know Suze...looks like you'll have to hand out vomit bags to whoever dares go in there." 
"Really?  You mean that?"  panic ....panic
Then when I painted the 70’s wood panelling in red with a purple stripe, I thought, oh no,  even poor Jimi will be rolling in his grave! 

Was it too late to change the colours?  But it had already cost so much in paint! So I forged on and painted the window and door frames in Purple too!  (no way was I stripping again)



It was so loud, I had to wear sunglasses.  My mother hissed, “What have you done to that lovely kitchen?”
"I know!"  I cried, "What have I done?"

But you know, it’s now grown on me and I love it!  My original plan was to make this kitchen as Funky and Fruitless as possible and I think it worked.  Not everyone agrees with me and I am totally prepared for the horrifying reaction to my kitchen.  All it cost, was the price of three gallons of paint, (each a different colour), lots of family labour, a new laminate floor, which was on sale, $300, completely necessary, we ripped up the linoleum stained green roll, and that was all.  I hope you love it too!  What do you think?







THANK-YOU JIMI!!




Wednesday 4 July 2012

Craggy Cliffs & Clovelly - Trip to England Part 2


When at last, the sun came out, the cragginess (or crankiness) and coughs seem to subside.  But no matter what the weather, Cornwall, (the English Riviera) and the neighbouring Devon are spectacular counties in England and after living in British Columbia, Canada that is saying something.
Newquay
As I hacked into the wind, on a walk from to the village of Kilkhampton (lovingly known as Kilk) I thought on how lucky I was, despite my Cornish Cough, It was a Tuesday morning and I strolled past fat ponies in a fluorescent green valley, controversial yet silent wind turbines, an ancient church complete with graveyard, and a ginger cat.

Ginger Cat with Turbine in distance

Kilkhampton Church
Kilk Churchyard

The Post Mistress was obviously glad of the plexi-glass divide when I croaked out my request of international stamps, then turned my back on her to choke and cough digging into my bag for the cash and packet of fisherman’s friends.
“Alright love?”
I nodded, mid-hack.
“Is this a 20 pence coin?”
“Yes, love, you sure you’re alright?”
I nodded again, unable to string two words together and I uncontrollably went into a coughing fit and hurried out the door.
“The poor dear, she’s from Canada you know, Elsie.”  I heard her say upon my exit.

The next day, we took a trip to the village of Clovelly, which actually is in Devon but very close by.
Clovelly is a historic fishing village, and there is an entrance fee, but well-worth the cost, the reason being that the care, maintenance and upkeep to keep it in the style of the mid 19th century, involves traditional materials and craftmanship.
The Red Door is where the Life Boat is kept, the seas can get very rough here
Time stands still in Clovelly, and there are no vehicles allowed.  The last time I was in Clovelly I was twelve years old and my sister and I rode sad and tired looking donkeys down the cobbled streets. (Somewhere there is a photo, must find, I'm sure we doned bell-bottoms.) Its incredible to me now, that we survived because of  the slope of this road, and the slippiness!  I’m not exaggerating, if you are not wearing serious walking shoes, don’t even try walking down the hill to the harbour. I was wearing comfy boots with a slight heel, but wished I'd worn flats.  The only thing that has changed in Clovelly is that the donkeys are no longer used for rides or the carting of goods and materials up and down the cobbles, and it’s no wonder.  Today they use sleighs, the donkeys, however are still a part of life at Clovelly.  Like this donkey here who is posing purposely in place where his not so distant ancestors used to tow an actual Real Cart. Looks like this donkey is here purely for aesthetic purposes, I’m not sure what the others do, but they look very pretty.


Still looking a wee bit sad
Here's an example of the steepness and it's like this all the way, so I would be terrified to ride donkeys now with their slippery hoofs, maybe they used to have rubber shoes, I'm not sure.


Luckily there were many places to stop for Tea and Yummies.


And the locals were friendly, this one joined us for a piece of homemade doughnut.



There are many beautiful homes, hotels, restaurants and craft shops.  The Harbour itself is beautiful and almost looks warm enough to take a dip.  But in May, I didn't think I would try it.


Alana & I definitely want to return to Clovelly

Ahh, A donkey blog! 
 http://www.clovellydonkeys.blogspot.ca/


Monday 25 June 2012

A not so Lonely Summer's Eve in Stratford


There is nothing that compares to a summer evening walk to lift the spirits and assuage a lonely heartsick soul. sob..sob...(Violins Please!)



After a family gathering in the UK and living in cramped quarters, (I even had bruises)  I relished in the thought of finally being on my own!  But now after a few weeks, I find I’m missing my family so much that it has taken me for a loop, fancy that!...Especially missing, my Best Friend with Benefits ......(my husband). 

A few of my New friends had invited me out to the Stratford Blues Festival, and yet I had declined, I was behind with a few Website projects, and decided to stay home and work.  However, after dinner with my senior doggie companion, Jango (whose always asleep when not eating,) and after I’d knocked back a couple of wines, I instantly regretted it.  Silly me.  So off I went in the hollow hope of finding my friends.  My stroll began, through town towards the Avon River in my new hometown of Stratford at 9:30 p.m. on a Saturday night.  

Downie Street was alive with well-dressed tourists, peeking in windows and checking out venues and menus.  Pampered pub patrons spilled out of open air patios from Fosters, The Pour House and free flying fragrances filled the air from Downie’s gourmet burgers, mixed with Eastern spicy smells from Taj & Raja. 

Hosts of happy teens swarmed the streets, oblivious to anyone’s world but their own, freedom from the confines of classrooms and paranoid parents, who always think you'll gouge your eye out, not matter what you do? (I remember this)

The evening light so beautiful and the sky streaked with pinks, orangey blues, and an ornamental crescent moon hung on an invisible hook.  Down by the riverbank, new little cygnets were being tucked up in bed by their protective parents.  It was lovely!



So I took a few photographs and then decided I was content and thought, well I’ll just go home now.

But like a pleasant hazy dream….friends materialized…. ahh inhale...my new friends, Marie, Deb, Fred,… remember him? (Who the F is Fred?) http://www.suzannefitz.blogspot.ca/2012/03/who-f-is-infamous-fred-or-reunion-at.html         
Anyways, they had spotted me and I was quickly whisked off into the Allman Arena to the Stratford Blues Festival.  Fred insisted he could get me in for Free, so I’m not sure what happened but the next thing I knew I was inside dancing along side my cousin, Rhona, Fred and the lovely Maggie, completely absorbed in the fantastic Blues and Rock music.

Cousin with The Infamous Fred


Maggie


Dylan Wickens & The Grand Naturals

Fantastic Band - Plum Loco - John Till, BW Pawley, Wayne Brown

My only wish is that I had arrived earlier to see the many others who played before these two Sharp Rockin Bands.  And I hoped to captured a good shot of the Roller Skating Gals that were gliding about, but since I was well-refreshed with wine, these photos are only a colourful blur, except for this one. 


I’m also well pleased that the Roller gals didn’t have an extra pair of skates as my thoughts were truly turning dorky with the idea that I too, could be just as Twirly and Wonderfully graceful on Wheels as these ladies were, and for sure I would have ended up embarrassing myself.  (I sometimes forget that I’m not twenty anymore.)  There is hope however, (in the skating department, I mean) the black stockinged, (new word) skater, Lemon Zinger handed me a flyer  www.stratfordrollergirls.com explaining that Even I could be taught all about roller skating, and get an equally Awesome Name, such as Hers,  mmm....what could it be?  Cruizin Suze, comes to mind or Little Miss Muffet! 
Long long time ago, my sisters and I took great pleasure as young girls, skating in an underground parking lot to Bag Pipes!  But Ahh, that is another story.

Again, Stratford has proved that a room was filled with cheery enthusiastic Dancers, hypnotized by the strong talent of groups like, Dylan Wickens & The Grand Naturals, and this other band that I failed to get the name of, can be an uplifting experience and a refreshing jolt out of the doldrums.

Some of my Dancing Friends!
Yeager, just out of hospital

Marvelous Marie


Rosalie & Maggie


Peter Shane & Roller Gal