A view from Montreal Airport

Hello folks. I'm sorry to have been so hopeless about writing again, but frankly the holiday was lovely and the Conference busy, so there never seemed to be time to write this. Two days ago I left Vancouver for a final two days in Montreal.

Shock 1: the flight was almost five hours!
Shock 2: it is a three hour time difference.

All this should help with the jet lag; I'm almost half way home, right? I met a friend and we went to stay at his cousin's place on a lake outside Montreal. The Lake is memorably called Lac Bob.  Blackadder instantly came to mind.

It was fabulous. The sun shone. The leaves are beginning to turn and the colours were awesome. The wind rippled the surface of the lake. The only sign of other human beings were the curls of smoke from the chimneys of other cabins. You could touch the silence. We meandered to farm shops, bought beef and vegetables and fruit and wine. Returning to the cabin, we cooked on a combination of the cooker and the barbecue. The meat was the best I have ever tasted by quite a long way.

Today, we returned to Montreal, went to an Exhibition about the Samurai and another on the Etruscans, both fascinating, empty, beautifully described. Then my friend dropped me at the airport: at my own request, I was three hours early. We said fond farewells, hoped that we would be able to meet on one side of the pond or the other within the year, waved goodbye.

Things went fairly rapidly downhill after that. The flight was delayed; by 'at least' an hour and a quarter. As I speak, we are still in the lounge. They are now quoting an hour and forty minutes. Our scheduled arrival at Heathrow at 0920 is now being quoted as 1030. I can feel all the benefit from the trip leeching away by the second. We are all tired. It is a tribute to the Canadians that there have been no frayed tempers.

But, do you want to know the worst of it? I was due to pick up Molly Cat before 12.00. This is now not going to happen. I hope Linda lets me pick her up later, but thanks to the time difference, I won't know till I land. I can't bear the thought of the whole weekend without her.

A View from Vancouver

I arrived in Vancouver on Saturday. It is a looooooong way from England - a nine and a half hour flight. I don't like aeroplanes. I don't like long flights. I was stressed, and exhausted. But my brother and his wife were there to meet me and it was lovely to see them. Thanks to the time difference, it was still light, although we had left London at 5p.m.  We walked out of the airport past a tank of jellyfish; why, I asked myself?

Everybody told me how beautifulVancouver is. Frankly, it isn't. So far, it seems to me little different from anywhere else. But the scenery is awesome, wonderful, amazing. Yesterday we went to the Aquarium: I enjoyed it all, but the Belluga whales and the dolphins were a particular pleasure.

Today we went to Deep Cove Bay. It is beautiful. The trees drop down to the water's edge, the sea was calm, like a millpond, the colours are amazing. I have been so lucky with the weather - there has been almost unbroken sunshine.

But for me, the highlight was last night. At about 8, the dog went mad. We peered outside. Walking across the deck was a raccoon. I had never seen one. I was so excited. I am now hoping for something bigger.

Return to the Piano

I have a piano. A rather beautiful, if not very good, piano. I love that piano, but I don't play it very often. For years, I have gone back to it intermittently and have been able to play my favourite old pieces with little trouble and less distinction. It worked, for me at least, and I tried to ensure that I did not disturb anybody else.

This became a far bigger problem when I moved into a flat four years ago. I was horribly conscious that the noise travelled throughout the building and that my not very musical offerings could well be annoying my neighbours. I found myself playing less and less. Recently, however, I returned to it on a rainy, thundery evening, when there was so much noise outside that I felt that it was unlikely I would annoy anybody.

Alas. What I had completely failed to factor in to the equation was the reality of ageing, stiffening fingers. Where before I was able to pick up where I left off, now my fingers refused to cooperate. My brain still knew what to do, but my fingers did not seem able to do the things I was expecting. I was devastated. My immediate response was that I would never play again. Now, some days later, I am taking a different view. I have decided that I shall return to practising, albeit during the day and not for too long.

So, if you live in my building, I apologise for the awful noise to which you might be subjected, but I do not want to abandon all hope yet. If it gets too much for you, come and tell me. I hope it is not too awful.

Why Doesn't the Technology Work?

So, today I was doing a second induction day for our new registrars. Last night, I carefully went through my presentation, added some slides, removed others. I was really quite pleased with it. I ensured it was saved in the Cloud so that I could access it from anywhere - I have learned that encrypted sticks are not happy with Apple and I am not happy with anything else.

This morning was a bit of a nightmare. A couple of important phone calls delayed me. I always cut it fine [waking early is not my strong suit] so the delay meant I was late. I rang through, said I would be there soon. Everything seemed against me - the traffic was terrible. Eventually I arrived. The registrars were kind - they did not complain. I plugged my MacBook Air into the overhead projector. Nothing. The screen remained resolutely blank. I pushed buttons at random: nothing changed. I waggled the wires: nothing changed. I thought calming thoughts: nothing changed. Eventually, I took a deep breath, disconnected everything, and started again. Miraculously, something appeared on the screen. We were in business.

The basic presentation went well, but please can somebody explain to me why, when I tried to project a website, the computer resolutely projected something that was not on my screen at all? I am genuinely interested. Please, what did I do wrong? Why did the technology not work? I really tried. I know I'm a technological idiot, but I didn't think that it was that complicated. PLEASE HELP.

A Very Cross Cat

Last week, I had to leave Molly alone overnight. I did not wish to do so, but it was unavoidable. I was leaving home at 3.30 on Thursday and anticipated returning by about 7 on the Friday, so I left her three separate timed meals in automatic feeders, arranged for my cleaner to pop in on the Friday morning and a friend to check on her on Friday afternoon. Surely, she would be alright?

I returned home at about 7.15. Molly did not meet me at the door. I went looking for her. She was seated on the back of the sofa. I went across, tried to pet her. She snorted and stalked off. I found her favourite toy; she ignored it. I threw away the food and gave her fresh; it was disdained. Now, I had had a very difficult day: we had buried a dear friend who had died at the far too young age of forty. I had had enough. If she was going to ignore me, two could play at that game. I took a glass of wine and a book on to the terrace and settled on the lounger.

Molly soon came out. She stalked around, then tried to climb the enclosing cat netting. The message was clear: I'm getting out of this place. By this time, I was starting to laugh. It was so pointed and silly. By my side, I had a table. Suddenly, Molly jumped up. I thought she had come to make up.  Not a bit of it. She glared at me, her eyes enormous pools of disapproval and anger, walked across to the other side of the table and sat down with her back to me. It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. She did not make friends again until the following morning. Cats! I ask you?!

The Stuck Drawer

Getting ready for work this morning, I left the underwear drawer open a crack while I was pottering about. I was in and out of the bathroom, dressing, applying make-up, as one does. Finally, I decided I had taken everything I needed out of it. I shoved it shut: only it would not shut.

This is an old chest of drawers; the drawers do, sometimes, stick. I gave it another shove, hard this time. Still, it would not shut. I opened it further and reached in, but could find no obstruction. I tried again. This happened two or three times. Finally, I tried to open the drawer underneath, to see if there was something there. It was as I was struggling with the second drawer that I saw the underwear move. Disbelieving, I watched as Molly Cat disentangled herself from the contents of the drawer and slid out. The expression on her face can only be described as withering. I apologised profusely, between laughs, but she was not the least bit pacified. She stalked away and did not return for at least twenty minutes. 

I shall be more careful with that drawer in future.

Molly Cat Comes Home

Yesterday morning, I picked up Molly Cat from the Cattery. To be honest, I had been in text touch with the Cattery owner at least four times during my week in Malta to ensure that Molly was fine. I was assured that she had settled in well, was enjoying her cuddles, and following 'Aunty Linda' around at every opportunity. To say I was jealous would be over-stating the case, but I was bemused - she never did that with me. However, I was also relieved that she seemed happy and wasn't pining.

I arrived to pick her up at about 11 on a lovely sunny morning. Obviously, I had brought the sunshine with me, since the weather had been reportedly atrocious. Linda assured me that Molly had been happy, that she loved being cuddled, that she liked her treats. She sounded like a different cat. When we went to fetch her, she looked less than thrilled to see me. However, we got her into the carrier and I set off for home.

In the past, Molly had lain quietly in the carrier, almost asleep. Not this time. She was cross. She moaned and yowled. She made the same noise at me that she normally reserves for the pigeons on the terrace. She got more and more distressed. I almost turned the car around. Suddenly, I remembered that she liked music. I turned from Radio 4 to Radio 3 and she calmed down almost instantly. I heaved a sigh of relief.

Arriving home, she set off to explore again, as if re-discovering the place. Mindful of what Linda had said, I decided that I would give her the opportunity to come and be cuddled so, as I was sorting out my suitcase, I sat on the bed. Fairly soon she joined me. She did, indeed, enjoy a long cuddle. 'Right', I thought, 'it's the opportunity that she's been missing; less computer and more reading on the bed or the recliner'. So later, once the chores were completed, I took my book and settled on the recliner on 'Molly's' terrace. To my complete amazement, she soon joined me, sitting half between my legs and half on my stomach, only complaining when I stopped patting her with my free hand in order to turn a page. My new cat is a total delight. I suspect I may be doing more reading and less computer work in the forthcoming weeks.