A Mitford Gathering

Several years ago, daughter Terry and I both read the Mitford books - a series by Jan Karon.  

We thoroughly enjoyed the books and encouraged many of our friends to read them.

The books deal with the life of a pastor, aged sixty-ish, living in a small American town and involve the lives of his old buddies, congregation and delightful next door neighbour - Cynthia.

The first line of the first book "At Home in Mitford" draws you in... 'He left the coffee-scented warmth of the Main Street Grill and stood for a moment under the green awning'.

Among the inhabitants of Mitford are many 'characters'. There is Mayor Esther Cunningham and her famous Orange Marmalade Cake.  

There are Miss Rose and her husband Uncle Billy.  Rose is extremely eccentric, dressing in cast-off clothes she finds in dumpsters and usually adding her deceased brother's war medals and decrepit army jacket to her ensembles.

Terry and I decided to host an afternoon tea with a Mitford theme, inviting friends who had read the series.  

One such friend loaned us an "Uncle Billy" in the form of a stuffed mannequin whom we dressed according to his description in the books.  Rose was my own creation - all I had was a styrofoam wig stand and a grey wig.  I built a body out of pillows including legs (pantyhose stuffed with tissue paper), old unlaced running shoes and used some of Ken's war medals to complete Rose's appearance.  As long as she remained seated, she was okay!

We made Esther Cunningham's famous Orange Marmalade Cake from the recipe that appeared in one of the books.  We all enjoyed tea and cake as we listened to a selection of readings from various books in the series.  Uncle Billy and Miss Rose, seated prominently by the fireplace, silently presided over the festivities. 

The gathering was a great success and we fortunately have a few photos of the event to treasure.

Writing this story has jogged my memory, reinforced by reading various notes from the guests of that afternoon tea. "Thank you for lending me such a delightful book with a pastor who attracts every woman in his parish, from the youngest to the oldest.  He is reminiscent of the bachelor 'Father Tim' that you find in old English villages - it was just priceless".  Another friend penned "As warm and fuzzy as hot chocolate on a cold day".

Now I can hardly wait to curl up and enjoy reading the Mitford series all over again!

GUESS WHO'S COMING TO DINNER?

Over the years, Ken and I have had some fascinating experiences.

One day sometime in the 1960's, Ken called me from work (the Post Office), saying "Guess who's coming to dinner?"  He had spent the afternoon giving a tour of the Victoria Post Office to a Postal Training Officer from Los Angeles, and had now invited this fellow, his wife and their daughter, to join us for supper. My dear husband explained that our guest was a Negro and would I please explain his colour to the kids. (Remember, this was the 1960's and Victoria was not a very cosmopolitan city).

Jesse, Myrtle and their daughter Pearl were delightful guests.  Jesse was as black as the ace of spades, Myrtle was a light brown. Pearl was a gorgeous caramel blend of the two.  She looked twenty-one, even though she was only fifteen. We thoroughly enjoyed their company.

Jesse and Myrtle took us out for drinks at the Bengal Room to show their appreciation. We met them at the Empress, where they were staying (a far cry from the time when, it is said, Rochester was turned away from that hotel when he was touring with Jack Benny).

Young Pearl (later to become a model) asked for coca cola while we adults enjoyed Harvey Wallbangers (all the rage at the time).   Because she asked for a drink, the alert waiter inquired as to her age.  When she responded "fifteen" she was asked to take her cola to a table in the hall, as she was under age and could not remain in the lounge.

A few years later, we stayed with the Robinsons on one of our trips down South.  They had a lovely home complete with a swimming pool - in the shape of California!  Jesse was a very popular guy who mingled with politicians and movie stars. Marilyn Monroe was a guest at one of his pool parties.  

Jesse was extremely proud of the many Christmas cards he had received over the years from various Presidents of the United States and other dignitaries and had them prominently displayed under a glass cover.  He attended all of the Olympic games, sometimes in capacity of a committee member.

He showed us the personal gym he had in his home, saying that he wouldn't dare jog around his neighborhood.  In fact, his property was surrounded by a chain link fence and boasted two guard dogs.

Ken and I ventured out into the neighborhood to buy some wine and beer at the local liquor store.  It felt odd to be the only non-blacks.  Later on we drove to a shopping area where we hoped to buy Jesse a book by Irving Wallace ('The Man') a work of fiction about the first black president of the United States. (who knew???).  The clerk at the store laughed at us and said "people around here don't read much, you'll have to find a proper bookstore".  Everyone was very helpful and friendly but we still uncomfortable in a sea of black faces - it gave us a greater understanding of how blacks feel in the reverse situation.

While we stayed with Jesse and Myrtle, we saw the famous Watts Towers. 

These amazing structures are constructed from steel rebar, a type of concrete, wrapped with wire mesh and embedded with pieces of porcelain, glass, tile and decorated with things like bottles, ceramic tiles, sea shells, figurines, mirrors, and even milk of magnesia bottles.

One morning our hosts asked what we would like for breakfast?  We said we had heard so much about 'grits' that we would like to try some.  Myrtle, who was a much admired school teacher, cooked up a batch for us, even though she said that they never ate 'the stuff'.  (Grits are coarsely ground corn kernels).  Myrtle was always casually attired around the home, often in a Cassius Clay t-shirt and slacks.

On our last evening with the Robinsons, an old auntie, who lived with them, decorated the dining table in grand style, with a pink tablecloth, pink napkins in the wine glasses. Everything looked perfect.  

Jesse came to the table wearing a violent orange-coloured jumpsuit.  Jokingly, I said "Jesse, you are clashing with Auntie's decor".  His face lit up with glee, and off he went, returning shortly, clad in a pure white jumpsuit. We all had a good laugh.

Auntie said grace over us at her prettily decorated table, saying "God go with you on your journey home, but if anything should happen, remember, it's not God's fault!"

Sadly, both Jesse and Myrtle have left us but we fondly remember them and the lessons they taught us.

AWAY AND HOME AGAIN - TRAVELS ON THE CONTINENT

Continental memories - once in Monaco, Ken and I sauntered along the harbour, blissfully unaware that a film crew was filming the famous racing car driver, Jackie Stewart, and Ken and I were in the way!  The whole sequence had to be redone - allowing us to capture it on our video camera!

Once, leaving Rome by train, we were headed for Bari to catch the ferry for Dubrovnik.  Our compartment companion was a priest.  He treated us to an espresso and on our arrival at Bari, leapt from the train, hailed a taxi, helped unload/load our luggage and paid the taxi fare.  Then with a wave and "God bless you!" he was gone.  These are experiences one never forgets.

In Dubrovnik we were housed with a delightful couple.  Like us, they had built their own home with a loan from a bank. Each morning, the host shook our hands and gave us some sort of alcoholic drink to start the day.  One of his daughters spoke English, which was very helpful.  We loved our time there and enjoyed many walks through the walled city taking in the view of the beautiful Adriatic Sea over the red-tiled rooftops.  

Yugoslavian food was fantastic and a concert under the stars one evening made our stay in this city perfect.

Oh the memories we have - including a night in Spain spent nightclubbing (those were the days!) and acting as chaperons for one of the young waitresses at our lovely hotel.

Traveling is wonderful. Ken and I have a wealth of memories, bolstered now by re-reading the detailed diaries we kept of every trip.  It is almost like enjoying the journeys all over again, but from the comfort of home, and as we all know - there is nothing like being home in your own bed!!

AWAY AND HOME AGAIN - TRAVELS IN BRITAIN

On one of our seven trips to England, we stayed with a very nice couple Ken met through research for his book, 'Dear Mum'.  The husband of this couple served as a seaman on the H.M.S. Ramillies during WWII. They lived in a three storey Victorian home with NO central heating.

The kitchen was cosy - this was where they spent the majority of their time.  The parlour 'boasted' a miniscule fireplace doing its very best to warm the frigid room.  While our hosts puttered about in the cosy kitchen making meal preparations, we 'guests' froze in the parlour and couldn't believe it when the husband called out to us to please let him know if we got too warm!!  When it was time to say good night, we climbed many stairs to the third floor and our icy bedroom. We wasted no time in hopping into bed but were delighted to find that our thoughtful hosts had turned on the electric blanket!

Once when we were visiting Wales, we found ourselves in Cardiff, blissfully unaware there was a conference underway in the city.  We searched in vain for accommodation and were relieved to finally locate a bed and breakfast.  The owner, a blowsy bottled blond trying desperately to look 30, sashayed her high-heeled way ahead of us up a steep flight of stairs, saying she could 'squeeze' us into a little room. The beds were extremely narrow with mattresses like cardboard but we survived to laugh about it all.

We enjoyed many wonderful hikes around the British countryside 

and were undaunted by the occasional 'stile' which separated farmers' fields.

Another time in Exeter we found a bed and breakfast and then went out to look for a meal.  We located a pub but they did not serve meals.  The publican directed us to a 'Wimpy's (McDonalds) type establishment where we purchased a so-called hamburger and chips which we carried back to the pub.  While we were seated in front of a cosy fire, another couple arrived in search of a meal - so we shared our bountiful chips with them. When we finally returned to our lodgings and climbed into bed, we discovered a lovely hot stone pig (hot water bottle) nestled under the sheets.  

On another visit to England we stayed with our old dears, Nellie and Edna, about whom I have previously written in this blog (see 'Innocents Abroad').  Nellie and Edna were the 'salt of the earth'.  These elderly sisters had never married and were extremely innocent.  One morning Ken entered the bathroom only to be engulfed in steam from which Edna emerged, swaddled in a dressing gown.  'Oh, Kenneth!' she tittered and fled past him.  On another occasion Ken was soaking in the bathtub when Edna suddenly entered the bathroom, a plumber in tow, and asked if Ken would mind if the man took a look at the sink taps?

Just a few of our many fond memories of touring around Britain.

AWAY AND HOME AGAIN - THE HIGH SEAS

Ken and I traveled a great deal when we were somewhat younger. One of our most interesting adventures was a cruise through the Panama Canal on the cruise ship 'Oriana'.

When we left Vancouver, all was fine: fond farewells, laughter, streamers and whistles.  However, the passage to San Francisco was rough and I awoke feeling nauseated. I approached the dining room with trepidation, only to be greeted by the Captain, smacking his lips over a large plate of kippers! (For some reason  we were chosen to sit at the Captain's table, along with Googie Withers, a well-known old time British movie star, who usually floated in at the last minute, draped in a voluminous caftan). Well, I caught one whiff of those kippers and made a hasty exit.  A conveniently placed large potted plant received some extra 'nourishment' that morning.

We had delightful waiters (from Goa) and our particular waiter insisted on spooning brown sugar onto Ken's porridge each morning, a service that made Ken feel so uncomfortable that he finally explained to the fellow that he would rather do it himself.

We spent three weeks on the Oriana, waited upon as though we were all movie stars.  We didn't have to worry about where we were going to sleep, what we were going to eat, transportation or luggage.  Each morning a cup of tea and the ship's newspaper (complete with Canadian hockey scores as requested by Ken) were delivered to our stateroom.

This was our first experience with cruising, but not our last!

SOMETIMES STATISTICS ARE VITAL

I usually ignore requests to complete surveys but when the Bureau of Vital Statistics phoned us, I decided to cooperate!

What an interesting half hour it turned out to be.  As it happened, Ken and I had just finished lunch and were enjoying a cup of tea.  The fellow on our speaker phone had a clear, melodious voice as well as a charming manner.  Of the two of us seniors, I was chosen to participate.  All the questions were to do with health and welfare.  I happen to be blessed with extremely good genes and health and possess a keen sense of humor.  The fact that I am coming up 90 and take no drugs seemed to really amaze the interviewer.  

All his questions re illnesses were answered with a firm 'no' - did I have asthma, high blood pressure, heart trouble, diabetes, etc.? I had to admit I have arthritis in both knees, a 'dowagers hump' and an ileostomy. Could I see and hear well? 'yes' What kind of food did we eat? What kind of activities? 

One question was regarding my ethnic background.  I replied that both my parents were British but that I was born in an Indian village on the Naas River in northern BC and my paternal grandfather was the first 'white' missionary in that area.  That information intrigued the interviewer because he was himself familiar with the territory.

He asked if Ken or I took street drugs (!) which brought an emphatic 'no' and a laugh.  Then the crucial inquiry - did we drink alcohol? I answered truthfully that we had one, or maybe two glasses of wine every afternoon.  Well, we had a laugh over that and then, me being me, I said "I thought you were going to ask how many times a week we have sex" Well, the young man thought that was hilarious and we finished the interview on a very warm note.

I told him one of my activities is writing a blog.  Bless his heart, he wanted to know how he could read my blog as he felt it would be entertaining!

The interview made our day and seemed to make his day, too. It wasn't the usual run-of-the-mill survey.

It just shows how an ordinary day can have an unexpected bright moment.

Shelbourne Plaza - Part Two

I well remember the objections when a liquor store was proposed.  A petition was circulated by angry and apprehensive neighboring families, who envisioned drunks opening bottles in front of the premises.  Evidently the petition was successful and the liquor store was put on the back burner for a few years.  In its place sprung up the Club Soho, where, if one obtained a permit, liquor could be consumed on the premises.  

On February 29, 1964, a reunion was held at the Soho (located roughly where the Bank of Nova Scotia now stands). It was a gala affair, reuniting the old Cadboro Bay gang that used to gather together in the late 1930s.  More than 200 people turned out, some from afar, and danced to the tunes of the 1940s, played by the Mayfair orchestra.

Club Soho folded and Cablevision moved into the premises on June 3, 1967.  A disastrous fire occurred in February 1968 destroying all but a few files.  Before the firemen had finished cleaning up, cable was back on the air, from the basement of John Foss' home at the corner of Kingsberry and Richmond, utilizing parts scrounged from maintenance trucks.  Within ten months of the fire, they set up business in their new location.

The Bank of Nova Scotia has been with the Plaza since 1961, and, after the Cablevision fire, the bank expanded in that direction.  In later years, when Jennings Florist relocated to the Cedar Hill Mall, the bank spread its wings once again and absorbed that section.

In 1974 the long awaited liquor store, like the last piece of a jig-saw puzzle, dropped into place.  Many will recall that it filled the space that once was a convenient shortcut through to Poplar Street.

Louis Copens, the jeweler, has expanded his premises and now has a dazzling display of fancy clocks and sparkling glassware as well as his jewelery.  He mentioned that the cost of becoming engaged to your chosen one has tripled. His shop has experienced a couple of break-ins and one smash and grab.

A family business that has survived these many years is the A & L Bakery.  I asked Lyle and Rose Sauter where the name of the bakery originated.  Lyle said his original partner was Alf Harris, so they just took the first letters of their two names.  Many years ago he used to operate a bakery in Barkerville called the Goldfield.  When he opened the A & L in 1960, bread was 16 cents a loaf - the same loaf today is 73 cents.  Donuts used to be 50 cents a dozen, now they are $3 a dozen.

Teenagers who worked for them now have teenagers of their own.  The Sauter children all worked in the bakery over the years and one son, Rick, is a permanent staff member. Another son, Lawrence, works part-time for his parents while attending Camosun College.

The original operator of the barber shop was Harvey Bolton. Since then, Vic Wilk who ran it for eight years, has retired and his two sons have taken over the reins.

The fish and chip restaurant has had several owners and is now managed by Scotsman Dave Gray and his wife Sandra. It is a very popular spot and frequented faithfully by the other merchants.

Peg's Delicatessen and Tom's House of Pizza have been with us for many years.

The bicycle shop is a favorite haunt of the kids, eyeing the latest in the bicycle world, however tragedy struck our plaza on Oct 24, 1969 when Fred and Merle Owens, who originally operated this sports shop, were killed in an auto accident on the Patricia Bay Highway.

Many little businesses have come and gone over the years and in 1982 only three of the original owners remain - the jeweler, the baker and the beauty salon.

My husband and I can remember when the whole area of the plaza was occupied by the Ellis dairy farm.  

In Spring 2014, the Plaza parking lot was refurbished. Bowker Creek lies buried beneath the blacktop and only a tell-tale reinforced path known to the old-timers gives that secret away.

Shelbourne Plaza - Part One

Recently a woman phoned and asked if I had any history about the Shelbourne Plaza.

Well, it just so happens I wrote an article about the plaza in 1982 and even though thirty years have passed, I thought some of you might be interested in the history - bear in mind there have been a lot of changes since 1982....

Here is the article:

One day while mailing a letter at our local plaza, I was startled to see a sign in the window of El-Rosa Modes (ladies wear shop) which read: "The good die young - thanks to high interest and rent, closing out sale". This little business has been part of the Shelbourne Plaza since 1968 and it is very sad to witness its demise, as well as being a frightening indication of the times.  The proprietors, Mr. Swan and Mrs. Rosina Steel, regret being forced into such a situation. 

Many of their goods are manufactured right here in Victoria and include custom design work to accommodate physical disabilities. Daughters of customers have grown up and carried on their mothers' patronage. The passing years have seen slim young girls change into well rounded matrons.

Right next door is the thriving business of The Nearly New Shop, operated by Margot Currie and her daughter, Brenda. At first I thought the fact that they remain in business is because second hand goods might be more popular in the present economy, but they informed me that their lease is up for renewal in 1983, so only time will tell that story.  

The staff of The Nearly New also runs the sub post office very efficiently, with exceptional service at Christmas.  This postal service has been disrupted twice due to break-ins resulting in the entire contents of the safe being removed. 

At one time, their location was occupied by a small variety store, run by a young Dutch couple who now operate a butcher shop in Houston, Texas.

Shelbourne Plaza was the first of its kind to open in Victoria. Prior to this there were only two small grocery stores in the area - The Wooden Shoe on Cedar Hill Cross Road (where the picture framing business is now located) and Wilson's Grocery on the corner location of the present Saanich Peninsula Credit Union.

No K-Mart or Hillside Shopping Center existed. Most of our shopping was carried out in the old Safeway store located on Fort Street, where Postal station B now stands, or the other Safeway outlet on Quadra near the Fox Theatre.  If we went to town, we usually took advantage of the grocery departments at Eaton's or the Bay.

The one million dollar Shelbourne Plaza celebrated its grand opening Jan 28, 1960. The developers decided to incorporate the word 'plaza' into the name because plazas of ancient Spain were the community and shopping centres of the day.  The grand opening was well attended even though it was a cloudy day, with intermittent rain and accompanying chilly winds. 

George McIlveen was the proud manager of the Shop Easy store at the time of the opening.  Reminiscing in his attractive Irish brogue, he recalled some of the specials offered that day:  Zee bathroom tissue - 4 rolls for 49 cents, leg of pork for 57 cents per pound, two pounds of ground beef for 89 cents a pound, 8 tins of Aylmers tomato soup for 80 cents and Florida grapefruit were 6 for 49 cents.

One of the bold statements in the Colonist write-up was "When fully occupied it will be the most modern and up-to-date shopping center in Victoria."

We've sure come a long way since then, with plazas and malls scattered throughout the city.

One year, soon after the plaza was opened, our children entered a Halloween costume contest sponsored by the merchants.  The kids wore costumes that were giant replicas of playing cards.  Mummy and daddy spent many hours painstakingly constructing the costumes from large pieces of cardboard - Queen of Hearts for Terry and Jack of Diamonds for Mark. We created these costumes in the form of sandwich boards often used in advertising.  

Our kids won for 'most unusual costume' and the prize was being allowed to scoop up all the brand new pennies their hot little hands could hold.

Easter of 1961 brought another promotional stunt, this time in the form of the Easter Bunny who arrived by helicopter on the blacktopped parking area.

Our Shop-Easy was the first store in the district to begin evening hours. The manager at the time, Robin May, recalls one particular night when he had closed up shop and driven home.  He no sooner reached his abode when he received a call from the police to say his store was on fire.  Having just left the premises, he found this hard to believe.  He checked with the fire department and discovered the fire brigade was already on the job.

He rushed back to the store, where clouds of smoke, firemen and equipment greeted him.  It turned out to be a case of where there's smoke, there isn't necessarily fire.  Someone had been burning rubbish in the incinerator at the back of the building and some nearby boxes were smoldering.  The smoke seeped into the store. A passerby saw the smoke and assumed the worst.  Unfortunately the firemen found it necessary to break one of the heavy glass doors to gain entry to the store before the actual source of the smoke was established.

There were professional offices in the Plaza, as well.  When mild-mannered Dr. Pepper, the optometrist, was adjacent to Dr. Piper, I was often reminded of the tongue twister "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers".

Next door to the Shop Easy there was a hobby shop run by Terry Walls, who later moved to Harbour Square.

Many will remember when the drugstore was owned by Martin Doan.

Margo Beauty Salon began its days in the other half of the current drugstore but later moved to its present location in a separate building near the Plaza.  When the salon first opened, the cost of an average permanent wave was $12.50, by 1982 that cost has risen to $45.00.  

The other half of this small building (now occupied by Harvey's) originally housed the Tasty-Freeze which had previously been isolated by at the front of the parking lot. Back in those days the Shop-Easy had a machine which produced and provided the hamburgers for the Tasty-Freeze.

Many people will recall when the hardware store was owned and run by Sleggs and boasted a small lumber supply.  The hardware store has always been run by friendly, helpful people and the present family is no exception to this rule.

Who could possibly forget Isobel Dempster who so ably ran the Plaza Paint Pot! The individual attention she gave to matching wallpaper and paint was something to behold.

Margaret White, who used to manage the Merry Mart variety store, says that one Halloween they had such an inviting display in their window it was just too much temptation for some youngsters.  They hurled a rock through the window and grabbed as much candy as their hands could hold. They were in the process of calmly dividing their loot when the police arrived.

There was a small pet corner which housed goldfish, hamsters, etc. presided over by the lone male on the premises, a young man named Melvin Falk.  He used to fondly refer to all the female staff as his six mothers. He was devoted to his duties and I understand that after completing a course in ichthyology (study of fish) he was employed by the Manitoba government.

Often Margaret received a phone call from an anxious mother informing her that a little person was on his way to the store clutching some money which was to be spent on a birthday card and present.  Would she keep an eye out for him? Margaret not only helped the youngster select a present but often called the mother back to say 'mission accomplished' and assure her that the little shopper was en route home again with 'so much' change in hand.

One of the girls on staff was mother to a baby usually looked after by grandma.  Occasionally grandma took a break and went into town, leaving the baby in a buggy at the back of the store.  The girls took turns keeping an eye on the precious bundle until the rejuvenated grandmother returned. These are but two examples of the folksy, friendly atmosphere in that little store.

The War of the Roses

Many years ago I wrote an article about growing roses:

For years we have had a running battle with the creatures that attack our roses.

In the beginning all was peaceful as we sat back with a cool drink in hand, appreciating the lovely display of blossoms on our rose arbor, far from the busy traffic of Shelbourne Street. Then trouble began.  Various bugs insidiously invaded our new haven.

We purchased the necessary rose spray which we very carefully mixed - so many ounces to so many gallons, sprayed copiously and all was well.  Or so it seemed.

The following year an army of little green looper worms attacked and we were thoroughly disheartened. Finally we found the proper ammunition to deal with them and managed, we thought, to finish them off.

To our dismay, they sent in reinforcements in the form of paratroopers by the hundreds, floating down on silken threads from the many oak trees on our property.  We rallied, sprayed once more and felt very confident we had overcome the hordes.

About this time, the odd black spot began appearing on the leaves, but not knowing much about roses, we ignored this situation until it was too late.  An elderly neighbor told us he had some wonderful stuff that would restore our roses to their former beauty.

We diligently applied this potion, only to find later that 'black spot' was one of the things it did NOT resolve.

We finally concluded that the mild winters of Vancouver Island are most conducive to the propagation of the insect community.  So now we have a large array of bottles and tins, all marked in metric (yet another challenge).  I cleverly located, among all the paraphernalia I keep, a little glass bottle showing clearly marked metric measurements.  This helps somewhat to dilute the intensity of Ken's wrath as he prepares to enter battle.

With all the environmental studies that have been published and the information and warning on the use of insecticides, Ken has become overly cautious when he enters combat against the enemy.  Actually he is quite a comical sight.

First he dons an old pair of jeans (which unfortunately have a zipper that insists on doing its own thing), then he puts on a equally old shirt and jacket. Next comes a face mask and then a pair of ski goggles (discarded long ago by our son, for a more superior set), a cap to protect his scalp, and finally a pair of gloves.  He is ready to engage the enemy.

The first few minutes are usually quite successful, but then the nozzle on the spray becomes clogged.  Off come the goggles and gauntlets until that situation is remedied. Back to the battleground and another interruption as the goggles steam up under the concentration of fierce battle.  This is followed by time out to throw down the gloves and pull up the errant zipper on his jeans (they do say to be very careful...).

Once, when Ken was thus attired, some teenage boys walked by and kept looking back at him as if they couldn't believe what they saw.  I couldn't resist - I had to capture it on film.

All is quiet on the western front at the moment, but I am keeping a wary eye out for interlopers.  One cannot afford to relax vigilance in The War of the Roses.

Bottlemania

It all began quite innocently, back in 1982.  We decided we were in need of some exercise, so one crisp morning we set out for a brisk walk.  We made our way along Cedar Hill Cross Road and then began the steep climb up Mayfair Drive leading to the top of Mt. Tolmie.

As we passed the deserted viewpoint parking area, what to our wondering eyes did appear but some broken glass and several empty bottles of beer.  

They were right in our path and looked very unsightly. We very carefully picked up the broken glass, placed it safely in the nearby refuse container and then retrieved the bottles, carrying them home to join our own ‘empties’.

The next time we went walking, we were more aware of our surroundings and noticed several more beer bottles enroute.  More a matter of cleaning up the environment than anything else, we tidied up as we went along, once again returning home with three or four empties.

The next week we armed ourselves with a plastic bag ‘just in case’ and discovered that without really looking, we came across quite a number of toss-aways - our bag was bulging.

What started out as a joke became serious business. Soon we were spotting a bottle or a can at quite a distance, their locations revealed by the glint of the sun or suspiciously flattened grass.

Once, my husband spotted something brown In the bushes: “There’s one” he shouted feverishly and lunged forward, startling a wild rabbit into a dash for freedom.

Sometimes we didn’t have to go far afield in our search, as unknown revellers tossed bottles on our front lawn, which bordered a public walkway.  This meant that little effort  on our part resulted in maximum profit.

One morning during breakfast I noticed as I peered out the window something glinting in the sunshine dappling the bottom lawn and told my husband I’d investigate once I had eaten.  To our utter dismay, we witnessed a little old lady, enroute to grocery shopping, stoop and pick up ‘our’ bottle.  The nerve of her!  With baited breath, we observed her movements from our kitchen window and watched as she stashed the bottle under some long grass and continued on her way. 

Just as soon as I finished breakfast I strode down to the hiding place and retrieved ‘our’ bottle.  When the lady returned later for her loot, the look of bewilderment on her face was something to behold and we imagined her saying to herself  “I could have sworn I hid a bottle under that grass!”

But you reap what you sow – the next day while out on an errand, my husband kicked a bottle into hiding, thinking to retrieve it later.  But when he returned, it had mysteriously disappeared. Was the little old lady exacting her revenge?

Another beautiful morning as I worked in the garden I was astonished to see two young chaps blatantly  foraging under our forsythia bush. I called out “What do you think you are doing?” One of them threw me a carefree happy smile “Lady we’re just looking for our case of beer.  We stashed it under here last night cause we couldn’t drink it all’ Quite undeterred, they continued searching till one of them hit pay dirt. Then they sauntered away,  their precious package safely in hand. I called after them “I wish I’d known that was there!” thinking to myself that I’d be weeding more thoroughly under shrubs in the future.

Being raised during the Depression, we always find it difficult to ignore potential income. But now, at ages 89 and 93, the thought of staggering up Mt. Tolmie, retrieving bottles enroute to save a dime or two, has somehow lost its appeal... 

Close Encounters of the Best Kind - Part Two

Once we spent an unforgettable week camping on Hornby Island.  We held a treasure hunt on the beach, complete with a complicated treasure map which the kids had to decipher.  That was the year we built a little raft and they had great fun floating around the cove, keeping within wading distance of the shore.  

It was very peaceful there; Ken and I managed to read several books and witnessed some breathtaking sunsets.

Another year we made a point of visiting just about every campsite on Vancouver Island, stopping at Ivy Green, Englishman River, Qualicum Falls, Stamp Falls, Miracle Beach and Elk Falls.  

It was very enjoyable.  I never cease to admire and appreciate the wonderful camp facilities we have on the Island.

A few years later we graduated to a tiny trailer that we pulled behind our 1951 bottle green Ford.  

This time we headed for the Interior, our destination being Aiyansh, my birthplace and, at that time, the home of my sister.  Aiyansh is located 70 miles inland from Terrace and was reached by navigating a rough logging road which curved around Lava Lake.

Pulling the trailer meant more gas consumption and we found ourselves stopping quite often at service stations where the request to ‘fill her up with regular’ was often repeated by Ken. Near Clinton we ran into a storm and when the windshield wipers became futile at dispersing the sudden downpour, we decided to stop for the night.  We pulled into a lay-by and ran through the rain to our little trailer.  Once inside we lit the propane lamp and I made some nice hot cocoa.  It was fun to hear the rain pelting down on the aluminum roof and know we were all snug and set for the night.

Our son had the upper bunk and our daughter the lower.  Sometime during the night our daughter found it necessary to eliminate some of the cocoa she had earlier consumed and so took advantage of the white enamel pan we had for just such an emergency. All was deathly quiet but for the ping of our daughter’s output.  Her brother leaned nonchalantly over his top bunk and said “fill her up with regular!’

Later on this same vacation we decided to take a side trip into Barkerville. At this time in his life, our son was into archery on a small scale and everywhere we stopped, he wanted to buy arrows. We walked past  the replica of a house of ill repute of the gold rush days.  To indicate the occupants of the building, a female dummy had been strategically placed in one of the upper windows, with a tantalizing leg, complete with ruffled garter, slung casually over the window sill.  Our son, completely oblivious to the real significance of the building, saw only the sign advertising its wares, “Sporting House.”  He immediately wanted to know if he could buy some arrows there!

We eventually reached Aiyansh after a hair-raising trip on the logging road.  Our little trailer looked pretty forlorn.  The sheets of cardboard, with which we had ‘securely’ protected the windows, now dangled almost completely off the frames as a result of the bone-shaking drive over the gravel road. Everything was covered with a layer of fine dust.

But it was all worth it for the kids to explore the barn,



see the interior of a ‘real live’ log cabin, where grizzly bear skins adorned the walls, a working wood stove stood in the kitchen, water came by hand from the nearby creek, fish could be caught in the lake,



and feral kittens played in the fields.  



A camping experience they have never forgotten!

Our camping days are over now, we prefer the convenience and comfort of home, but on looking back I would not have missed those days for anything. There are many forms of close encounters but I think we had the best kind.