adventure – OldPlaidCamper

Station to (service) station

We don’t travel by train all that often, and when we do, we think “why haven’t we done this for a while? It’s such fun!”

We went from Quebec City down to Montreal a couple of weeks ago (perhaps I’ll write about why we went in a separate post) and opted to take the train. Why the train? Why not! Also, lovely though Quebec as a province is, have you ever driven one of the two highways north or south of the river, Quebec to Montreal? Not ugly or dreary, but, to my mind, one of the most boring stretches of road to drive. There’s a train for that journey? Sold!

Not hugely interesting (most boring photo ever? Just wait…)

I don’t say that about the MTL- QC road being a challenge to me lightly – after all, I’ve driven the M5. If you’re ever on the M5 and find yourself thinking “time for a rest stop?” please don’t stop at Taunton Deane service station. There are never, ever, any good reasons, and that includes running out of petrol or needing a bathroom. What about Bridgwater services as an alternative to TD on the M5, OPC? Fair question, and sure, at least Bridgwater service station isn’t Taunton Deane. I guess it’s up to you – Bridgwater or Taunton Deane? Hemlock or arsenic? You decide! M5 services… shudder… (with a tip of the hat and a very close second place awarded to a certain pre-glasnost Soviet style service station found on the M6. If you know where, then you know where and you know to do all you can to avoid stopping. The M6 one is pretty grim, but the patrons at least appear to be alive, unlike the pod people encountered near Taunton Deane. Another shudder…)

Back to the not-so-bad-now-I-think-about-it road between Quebec City and Montreal. It’s not as though the road is particularly problematic. It’s not completely straight and flat, there are large fields, wooded stretches, glimpses of river, and an occasional spire reaching above the trees and towering over small settlements. We’ve never been unduly delayed due to construction. There are ample gas and coffee stops, and, on a sunny day, some of the outdoor rest areas are delightful, pleasant enough to stop and enjoy a picnic. As we sometimes have. Yet the road itself, to me, well goodness, it’s such a boring drive. (On boring, this tedious piece seems to be rather long on roads and such, rather than trains. For a post titled “Station to (service) station” could we get back to trains and stuff? I’ll try – sorry about that!)

Anyway, it was fun to take the train, knowing I could enjoy feeling drowsy without having to stop for a coffee. In fact, if you’d like a coffee, there was service at your seat! Same for a croissant. Or a selection of (slightly dubious looking but not Taunton Deane levels of dubious looking) sandwiches. Yeah, the train sandwiches did trigger M5 flashbacks, so I passed on those…

The departure station in Quebec City is not too shabby. Station? No, it’s a palace! The Gare du Palais – what a gem! Not all railway stations are created equal… I accept that there are plenty of wonderful, even grand and central(!) railway stations all over the world, but for a small city, the Gare du Palais is grand enough.

When I was a teen, and pretending to grow up, I’d sometimes travel from Reading to London Paddington on the train. It was a reasonably quick journey and always exciting to be headed to the big city. Paddington Station is a mighty terminus! Reading Station (it might be different now) is/was an important junction on the rail network, but could never be described as a palace. Or mighty.

My most memorable British Rail station has to be Stockport. My parents lived near Stockport for a few years, and I’d travel up by train from London Euston. Even if the UK was experiencing a heatwave, even if it was the sunniest day in the northwest of England since records began, I can assure you Stockport railway station would be the coldest place on the planet. Freezing in winter, and even colder in summer. Penguins shiver at the mere mention of Stockport station. I always had a wonderful time in and around Manchester and Stockport, but it often seemed quite cold. And it always seemed colder than anywhere else near Manchester on the platform of Stockport railway station. Manchester Piccadilly? Balmy! Cheadle Hulme? Tropical! Alderley Edge? Break out the sunblock! But Stockport? Brrr! I’d rather summer on north Baffin Island…(I’ve not been to Baffin, and I understand it gets coldish there, but not Stockport station cold…)

Chilly here, but warmer than Stockport railway station

Let’s warm up! To Europe, and let’s take the train! Our favourite railway journey – I may have mentioned this before, but if I can’t remember, then why would you? – was an overnight rail and ferry and then rail again trip from London Victoria to La Rochelle. We’d sent our bicycles on ahead the week before – so very trusting – and after a mostly sleepless Saturday night, and a bleary-eyed Sunday lunchtime to mid-afternoon wait (nothing, and I mean nothing, was open in Poitiers on a sunny June Sunday back in the 80s) we caught the the onward train to La Rochelle. Happy to have arrived, and clutching our little cardboard ticket stubs that proved we’d been foolish enough to post our bikes to who knew where, we set off in search of the luggage office in La Rochelle station. Well, to our great surprise and relief, there was such an office – and it was open! Our bikes were there, intact and ready for a week of cycling and camping adventures. (I’ve definitely written about the cycling and camping before, so to your great relief, I won’t go on about that again!)

“You know, if neither of you want to drive? I’ve seen PC at the wheel, so how hard can it be?”

Well, although this post appears to have been about travel, we seem to have gone nowhere in particular! Before we completely run out of road or go off the rails, here’s one more thing to share. I’ll leave you with a favourite somewhat railway adjacent track. Track, hehehe… (Oh, enough rattling on, PC – worse than a rickety carriage on old sleepers. Time for you to be shunted into a quiet siding. Off you go!)

Almost forgot the music: I travel – Simple Minds. It reminds me of all the times in the 1980s and into the early 90s when I could have but never did travel a lot more by train in Europe, and particularly to the newly opening Eastern European places. This song (and much of the entire album if you’ve the interest and stamina) reflects that period. Cue my moody and not at all pretentious European look to camera – in black and white, on slightly scratchy film stock please…

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

The prison incident (with spring greens and sky blues)

We were wandering around the old town the other day, the day of the eclipse, not that that was primarily why we were out. It was the first properly warm and sunny day of the year, with bright blue skies up above, and shirtsleeve temperatures down below. A sunny day? Well off we go! Yeah, yeah, lovely and all, PlaidCamper, but the title is “The prison incident” – so come on, spill!

I’d tell you an eclipse tale if we had one, but being just outside the zone of totalitarianism, we weren’t going to get full darkness. No, it was the zone of partial socialism for us, and it worked well enough. Eerie twilight fell, the birds went silent, a breeze picked up, temperatures dropped briefly, and a few minutes later it was over. Special, but nothing like the amazing scenes my brother sent from his zone of totality. Uh-huh, ok, but the prison incident?!

Eerie eclipse twilight – in real time it was darker than this image shows

So no, we were not on the Plains of Abraham for the eclipse, but for a day to wander under the blue sky and in the almost greens. The plains are beginning to look a touch less brown and slightly more green. Hooray!

Greens are good – but they do have to be the right greens. The right greens, PlaidCamper? Yes, the right greens! Let’s tell a story and let’s call it “The Prison Incident!” It’ll come with a cinema style warning. Some scenes may upset readers/viewers of a sensitive nature. This is not for the faint of heart. Cue the movie trailer voiceover tone: In a world where brutal institutionalism is the norm, there comes a young hero wearing NHS spectacles and a slightly grubby school uniform. This is a tale of one man fighting injustice, taking on the system, unyielding in his belief that— Nope, no, cut, cut, cut, can’t do it! It’s not that exciting. It’s not even set in a prison. You still here?!

Shall we just tell the story? Try again? Ok. There’s no arguing that greens are generally good for you, unless you’re (sometimes sensibly) an obstinate six or seven year old. Picture the boy, a schoolchild recently arrived at his new institution, and sitting alone in a dining hall. In front of him a plate of untouched and slowly congealing “greens” – what sort of green vegetable they might have been six hours earlier (for that, surely, was when they first went into the boiling water?) is simply impossible to tell.

Aiming to tell a tale – who’s in the line of fire?

Under the watchful eye of two grim faced prison guards, oops, I mean school dinner supervisors, the young prisoner was quietly sobbing as he waited for his mother to arrive. He’d eaten the creamed potatoes without vomiting. He’d even kept down the browned mince and gravy, including the gristly bits that couldn’t be chewed into full submission. But the greens? Greys? No, no way, he just couldn’t do it.

He had watched his new friends clear most of what was on their plates – how?! – and be allowed outside. The hall had emptied. It was now just him, the guards, and the plate. He could hear playtime laughter coming from the yard. He tried again, lifting a fork of greens but, oh boy, the smell, the look. No, he genuinely couldn’t. Still the guards insisted. He wasn’t going to leave the table until he finished his food. His mother had been called! Did he want to disappoint her? Eat your greens, child! Stand off. Stalemate. Congealed plate.

His mother arrived, believing her child had been misbehaving. Not beyond the bounds of possibility – he wasn’t a difficult child, but trouble could find him, as it could with any young one. And, like any young one, he was sometimes curious to see where trouble might lead him, explore the boundaries and find out how far he could step past them. But this wasn’t one of those times.

So yes, his mother arrived, quite prepared to chastise her boy for any wrong doing, and encourage him to behave as expected. Yet when she saw what was happening, she was incensed. The guards did not understand her anger. She’d been called in to help wrangle the new inmate. The issue was the inmate refusing to eat as instructed, could she not see that? The mother asked the guards to look closely at the untouched heap of greens. Would either of them care to eat what was on the plate? The guards looked a bit uncomfortable. Well, erm, actually, no.

To be clear, the inmate’s mother was a very firm believer in not wasting food, and she didn’t entertain food fussiness or fads. If she’d cooked something, you were going to eat it, end of. However, she was also consistent with if she’d taken the time to cook and present a meal, then it should and would be edible, appealing and nutritious. Edible, appealing and nutritious. All three, always. Anyway, back to the prison scene.

The prison governor was summoned to sort out the ugly situation and to placate the angry mother. Those two guards were in her line of fire, not somewhere you wanted to be. It did not look like ending well. But wait! The governor turned out to be an actual reasonable person, and saw to it that reason won the day. He listened to the mother, heard about edible, appealing and nutritious. He looked at the plate of uneaten greens. Edible, appealing and nutritious? Well, given the evidence, that was that.

(An aside in a post and story and week full of asides – the head teacher of the school in question was a genuinely splendid man. He was close to retirement, and did so deservedly a year or two later. I hear he encouraged the young prisoner in this tale to read, read, and then read some more. Don’t know a word? Sound it out, give it a go! Look it up in a dictionary! And he didn’t laugh when fatigue was sounded out as fat-ee-goo. The young prisoner in this story still looks back fondly, smiling when he remembers that wonderfully inspiring and gentle man…)

Empty, and seemingly almost endless! Almost like a story by…

The old governor assured both the angry mother and the young prisoner that never again would an inmate be forced to eat something he could not keep down. He listened to the young prisoner say he had tried, sir, he really had, but all that happened was retching and gagging. (Would you believe the inmate was in fact quite fat-ee-goo-ed as a result of all the retching?)

Happily, the now smiling young inmate was released into the yard to join his peers. He continued to eat school dinners, and the menu continued to include, from time to time, creamed potatoes, mince and greens. The difference was that students were able to politely decline a serving of something they did not wish to eat. Phew! He was forever grateful to his mother, for what she did as described above, and also for the many other ways in which she is a great mother.

Still here! These bars! Any chance of escape?

There’s no real point to this tale – maybe, at a stretch, the notion that things don’t always have to be difficult, and small changes won’t cause the sky to fall in? I was prompted to write it after I walked past the open window of a nearby house the other day. Out wafted the cooking scents of browning mince and boiled greens. Scout was slightly perturbed by my gagging and retching. We barely made it home…

Aside after aside this week, so let’s have another. Unlike fresh greens, watching or reading too much daily news isn’t good for me, so I think I’ll be cutting back again. It’s hard to balance trying to be informed with maintaining some optimism in the face of what is reported… Anyway, what is it that ails people like Sunak or Johnson, or Putin, or the mango hued man and all their supporters? Othering people, bombing civilians, denying climate change, denying elections, gerrymandering, telling verifiable lies – to what end? Wanting more money, more power, more attention, as if the flaunting of wealth and power is a measure of success? Really? That’s what you want?! Goodness! Alright, that’s the last of the asides for this week.

We’ve been all over the place in this one, haven’t we? It wasn’t a straight line, but there you have it – the prison incident! Could it be an almost true story?! And yes, there are far, far worse things happening daily out in our present day real world, but wouldn’t it be nice if a plate of inedible greens was the (not particularly) worst thing ever to happen to a child, any child? (Most) of us have had it pretty easy, haven’t we?

Strangely, somewhat inexplicably given what happened, in the more than half a century since the prison incident, the now not so young ex-inmate has always enjoyed eating his greens, with an odd over-fondness (as far as his other half is concerned) for most greens – kale, chard, broccoli, sprouts, spinach, string beans, mange-tout, avocado and all.

Time to finish up – easier to finish this up than that old plate, let me tell you. Yes, we had an enjoyable old town day earlier this week, with a few spring greens and wonderful sky blues!

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

PS Do you want to hear the one about school dinner semolina pudding? Thought not – I’d be retching too…

“Another story? Make it stop – I surrender!”

Spring Break!

Yup, we’ve been spring breakers, if by that, we are taking a break from spring. Or spring is taking a break – or yet to arrive – in Quebec!

I do like to say how much I like snow, so at the risk of sounding as if he doth protest too much, we’ve had plenty of snow and I doth like it!

We – I – was delighted to see the latest large dump of snow stick around this time. For most of March it has snowed on and off and melted almost as fast as it fell. This made walking in the woods somewhat challenging, with a thin topping of slush over another thin layer of ice, with a large layer of mud lurking underneath. Sounds like a spring break drinks order at a dubious beach bar.

My Dad would have liked that. He used to drink whiskey and coke (yuck), always ordering it in a tall glass, lots of ice. I thought of him enjoying that slushy delight a few times when my foot post holed into the muck. Raised a smile as I wondered if my feet would stay dry…

So no spring break style weather for us, but at least the last round of snow fell through a colder patch. It stuck around on top of ground that was more frozen, making travel into the woods much easier. Hard to say who was happiest, me or Scout? Probably Scout by a nose!

If you’re on a spring break, I hope it’s going great for you, whatever the weather. Maybe order yourself a glass of something good? Tall glass, lots of ice?

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

“Yeah, yeah, yeah – whatever! Let’s go – I think I can hear the sea!”

Spring forward!

Let’s do that!

We spent an enjoyable weekend celebrating a friend’s 60th birthday. Some of us are slightly older, some of us (me) are much younger, but we mostly all agreed we’d hardly changed from the vibrant young things we all were last week, or last century.

Celebrating something, and why not? How about still being here?!

It’s likely we have fewer springs and summers ahead than we’ve already enjoyed, so each one left to us is one to look forward to but not rush. With that in mind, we’ve been planning a few spring and summer camping trips. Unbelievably, at least for someone who likes to pretend he knows a bit about camping and being outdoors, I don’t think I’ve slept in a tent since autumn 2022. Goodness!

Part of the preparation – it’s getting to mud season here, no more skiing or snowshoeing so we might as well look ahead and be prepared – is checking out what equipment we have and what state it is in. We’ve had to acquire a new tent – our palatial green one seems to have gone missing. Hopefully it’s getting well used out on the wilder parts of the west coast of Vancouver Island!

I do have and absolutely love my “work” tent, a tiny one person camping miracle perfect for backpacking and carrying onto small boats, but not one for two people and a dog. So a new tent it is.

For this coming season, we’ll be front country camping in sites accessible by truck. It’ll be sometimes somewhat remote, but not the remote remoteness we enjoyed on the coast. My brother has a new tiny teardrop trailer, and we’ll be meeting up somewhere twelve hours north of him and twelve hours west of us, to test out his new rig. I don’t think he’s done too much camping in the past, so I did mention there’ll be at least three (and maybe as many as five) mosquitoes where we’re headed. There, now he can’t complain about not knowing…

Find us here – twelve hours north and twelve hours west – you know the place!

So do your worst, mud season, we’ll get through whatever you throw at us the next few weeks – late season snow or rain or late season snow and rain – because we’re almost prepared to spring forward and land right side up, ready for the big outdoors! Boing! Squelch! Smile! Why, we’re hardly any older than the last time we were hardly any older…

Let’s wait a few more weeks. No need to rush…

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Sunshine

The on and then off winter continues, with recent days being bright, cold and sunny after a limited snowfall.

On falls, I had one myself recently, and I wish I could report it was dramatic, high tension, and high speed stuff. Sadly, it wasn’t. I was stood (almost) still on skis on a slight upslope, didn’t compensate enough and fell backward! Ouch! Was what I didn’t say. I won’t repeat that here…

Before the fall! (What slope, OldPlaidCamper?)

One sprained wrist later, I’m easing off both skiing and typing, so a brief post this week, and possibly next week as well, until both the dented ego and the sore wrist are restored.

If you tilt the camera, there’s quite a steep slope?

In the meantime, we’ll be enjoying the last remnants of winter this coming weekend with sedate and low risk walks in the woods. Looking ahead, I see another thaw in the forecast and very little snow. How and when will I get back on that horse— I mean skis?! No snow woe? Good thing I have a sunny disposition…

Thanks for reading and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Hidden dangers

Hidden dangers? Sounds exciting – they could be anywhere and everywhere. Goodness, let’s explore this some more – follow me into PlaidCamper dangerous daydream territory…

I’ve rarely found outdoor places to be overly intimidating, preferring instead to enjoy and be amazed by the beauty of the natural world, at least as I’ve experienced it. I’m sure if I was ever truly lost in the woods, or really caught outside in an immediately life threatening situation, then I’d certainly feel trepidation, and be afraid. I don’t leave home unprepared, but perhaps I’m getting complacent? I should snap out of it, because maybe it’s not so safe out there…

Mostly though, I’ve been outdoors in relative safety, often due to the company of more experienced fellow travellers, people who’ve taught me, as necessary, how to safely navigate the genuinely wild and remote places we’ve found ourselves. I count myself very fortunate to have been taught and trained by so many tremendous individuals.

A touch sinister? Follow me, it’ll be fine!

But what about those hidden or unexpected dangers? Do you ever wonder how you’d truly fare if you found yourself in a serious and dangerous wild situation? I think about this quite often, although I don’t go out of my way to seek danger. It’s just… suppose danger finds you? There’s always something lurking in the woods, isn’t there?

Recently, I’ve noticed that sometimes I’ll wander along and daydream, somewhat inattentive, almost complacent because I’m walking in woods mere minutes from our current home. I’ve yet to see bear or wolf tracks, so it’s all good – isn’t it?

Calm down, imagination – just shapes in the snow, they aren’t creatures…

A little while back, I fell behind Mrs. PC and Scout, mostly because I’d been dawdling, stopping to take a photograph or to look at a particular tree up close. Distracted, I stepped off the trail in a spot a bit more overgrown than the surrounding area. It was heavily blanketed by recent snow and my snowshoe went down and then down some more.

Struggling to extract myself, something on the far side of the nearest tree positively exploded into motion, up, off and away. You should have seen me jump up, out and back on the trail, heart hammering. In this place I’ve never seen tracks for anything larger than a deer or another person, so I’ll assume it was a deer. I didn’t see what it was – too busy waiting for my overactive imagination (everything ran through my mind, so many possibilities – fortunately, nothing ran out of my undershorts) and my pulse to calm down…

Yup, deeper snow – anything over the edge?

Once I’d steadied myself and caught up with Mrs. PC and Scout, (my outdoor cool and nonchalance restored, acting like I’d never been, you know, even slightly startled) it was back to daydreaming, asking how I’d cope in a dangerous or unexpected situation?

Seems like being taught and actually learning might be two different things. As for what might really get me out there? Well, why worry about a bear when a deer combined with an overactive imagination might do for me. How would I really cope? Hmm…

PlaidCamper caught daydreaming – I’ll say I had a wake up call! Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

The silver trees

It’s been an on and off sort of winter, and speaking for myself, I prefer a steady seasonally appropriate winter rather than a surprise thaw followed by a freeze followed by a thaw. Mud season can wait! Those lumpy with slush to ice sidewalks can wait! It’s a thaw point for me.

We did get into the local woods fairly recently, a decent snowfall providing some fun snowshoe conditions. We plodded and Scout scampered – I really do think snow is her favourite substance (or second favourite, just behind anything a dog can safely eat. Or unsafely. Fortunately, not too many incidents like that…)

We’ve heard a bit more bird song on our recent outings, and last week a woodpecker flew across the path ahead of us, landed high and crept up and down a tree trunk looking for good things. A red head! Was it a pileated woodpecker? I honestly don’t know, but it was lovely to see.

The silver bark, green needles and a light dusting of early morning snow made what could have been a monochrome morning somewhat brighter than that. It was cold, but not so cold we couldn’t stop and sit to enjoy the quiet and a dusty muesli-style bar. Sort of healthy, but maybe go back to carrying chocolate? Just a (sensible) thought…

No amazing glass trees, and no graceful gliding, but the silvers and greens and our steady snowshoe plodding after a fresh fall worked a different sort of wonder for us! The latest thaw is behind us, and I believe both more snow and appropriately steady seasonal temperatures are in the forecast…

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Kick and glide

That’s the idea when xc skiing, isn’t it? Kick and glide! Yup, we got out for our first xc skiing trip this winter. Our first time on skis for many years, and, just like riding a bike, it’s perfectly possible to fall off.

Not that either of us did, but only because we were sensible enough to stop when we found ourselves tiring. I’m often told I’m tiring…

Muscle memory, or the memory of once having leg muscles went some way towards keeping us on track. We went to the flattest part of the Plains of Abraham to test ourselves. It wasn’t too much of a trial, the morning being bright, the sky shining blue, and the sun bouncing off brilliant white snow. A crisp and sharp winter morning where it feels so good to be alive.

On brilliant, I’m happy to share that I invented a new “kick and glide” technique that isn’t in any of the instruction manuals or guides to xc skiing. It involved a complicated and (un)coordinated set of movements likely missing both a kick and a glide, and yet it still somehow propelled me forward. Remarkable!

She knew her stuff! Unlike a certain someone else…

I suspect the gradual lowering of my centre of gravity in recent years, certainly those years since our last ski trip, coupled with a possibly stylish and rakish into-the-wind lean (mostly the first stage of the ever present possibility of a fall – never happened) was what provoked gasps of amazement from our fellow skiers. I think they were gasps, might have been curses, but I couldn’t be too sure, as I didn’t dare break my concentration…

Anyway, having survived this first outing, and managing almost an hour of high speed circuits, we’re looking forward to getting out there again soon. We might even take on a gentle downhill or two, and then see how we do on the uphill parts! Kick and glide, huff and puff, and how about coffee and cake after?

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Be careful what you wish for…

…the universe might be listening!

A short post this week, because if we take even a ten minute break from snow shovelling, it’s like we never even tried. Who was it complaining about no snow? Hmm…

“I remember this stuff – it’s snow, isn’t it?!”

Before the heavy snow arrived Tuesday overnight and all day Wednesday, we had enjoyed a couple of lighter snowfalls. Scout and I went out to play in the woods, happy to be there in less muddy and more wintry conditions.

Mrs. PC has been getting over a cold (she’s much better now) and was happy to have the children out from under her feet for a while. Reminded me of when I was younger, and we were sent out to play. I think the instructions were along the lines of “Look after each other, be back before dark, and don’t get arrested!” Instructions from my mother, not Mrs. PC, although my woolly hat, her scratchy voice, and Scout’s eagerness to get out the door muffled clear directions… Anyway, off we went, looking for trouble.

We scrambled up a few snowy slopes, mostly because Scout wanted to visit the troll house, throw a few snowballs, and see if they were hibernating. Trouble is her middle name. I think she also wanted to see if I’d slip over climbing the inclines to the troll house. Trouble, I tell you. When we get home, I’m telling mum…

We didn’t wake the trolls and I didn’t fall over – it was a controlled slide, Scout. We argued over what constitutes a fall, and we argued over if trolls really hibernate. On the second point, my clinching argument was asking Scout if she’d ever seen one in winter? Ha! Case closed.

The troll house – shh, they’re sleeping…

No trolls spotted, no bad falls, playing outside without supervision or needing the long arm of the law – not too bad. If we include this past weekend along with the many previous decades of playtime, speaking for all four brothers, and also for Scout, I think it’s so far so good on the not getting arrested front. That’s possibly, like a Tory setting targets you can’t miss (but still screwing everything up), a low bar? Scout made me say that. I’m telling mum.

Right, on that “what story this week?” note, let’s leave it here, get back outside, and see if we can locate the shovels to restart digging operations!

I thought we’d finished, but the universe said no…

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

The glass tree…

…and a novel idea, inspired by one of the greats. Be warned, I’m an all over the place PlaidCamper at the start of this new year – little of what follows makes any sense. Cabin fever?

Earlier this week a sprinkling of overnight snow and a bright blue sky morning created the glass tree:

Given the absence of significant snow for most of December, we were happy to see the shiny and shimmering tree! It didn’t last, but what a sight to lift the spirits. Now, as I write this, it appears we might be at the start of some proper snowfall for the next day or two.

From the office, looking out over our street – snow (and a happy snowman)

Maybe, just maybe, we’ll be heading out on xc skis next week, or even sooner? I can picture it, two confident characters gliding across pristine snowfields and under glass trees, the very essence of beautiful wintry elegance. Like, like, oh, I don’t know, two romantic yet annoyingly likeable figures in a great Russian novel?

Where did that come from?! Due to the lack of snow (have I been mentioning that?) we’ve spent more time than usual indoors. Industrious and happy to be in the kitchen, I’ve kept up with baking and eating mince pies. I have to say, they are generally easy enough to make, but my second batch was woeful. Woeful I tell you sir! I’m so terribly, terribly sorry. If I keep baking so badly, whatever will become of us?! Oh, and we have been watching the BBC adaptation (first broadcast 2016) of War and Peace.

I’ve never read the novel, and have to say, knowing nothing of the story before watching, the drama was a blast. The major real events aside, I had no idea what was going to happen, and enjoyed guessing – quite wrongly most times – what might unfold. There were quite a few coincidences and contrivances as the plot barreled along, and these were sometimes hard to accept. To get to better grips with this, I’m going to have a go at reading the novel, and also see if the characters are a bit less broad and maybe more nuanced compared to the adaptation we saw.

These were minor quibbles in the grander scheme of the overall experience. It was certainly quite the production, and must have been an expensive enterprise. The grand palaces and houses, the elaborate sets and astonishing costumes were all marvellous, and the large scale battle scenes were convincing. Far better than the usual “five men running past and then around the back of the camera to the front again through the smoke” effect some lower budgeted productions suffer from. The acting was pretty good (to be fair, there was also some capital A “Acting” from one or two, but I always enjoy that in a costume drama) across the enormous cast of characters. Highly recommended if you’ve got an hour or six to spare this winter. Fabulous entertainment!

Before I finish my comments on War and Peace, I do have to mention one thing. I wasn’t going to, but honestly, it’s been haunting me. It is one of the all time great novels, PlaidCamper, and as such, full of insights into what drives humans to do the things they do – for love, honour, greed, power, revenge and so on – we’d expect you to have questions and be haunted. Well yes, all that stuff and the other things I wrote above about high production values, little expense spared, and good acting etc. But, and this might just be me, was I meant to be quite so involved with Prince Vasily’s wig? (Played by Stephen Rea – Prince Vasily, not the wig) I say wig, but was it a wig? Maybe it was his own hair? Bouffant? Coiffure? Sculpture? Creation? Hair piece? Small cat or spaniel? It was a thing of beauty, and I couldn’t stop staring at it. It captured my attention immediately and almost completely. What story? A mighty battle at Borodino, thousands of casualties and Napoleon’s army is approaching Moscow? Uh huh, sure, whatever, sounds serious, but will Prince Vasily’s wig be safe? Will it volunteer to fight the invaders? Now, bear with me, but had it volunteered, I think Vasily’s wig, acting independently of Vasily, could have ended the war. Both sets of soldiers would have been so distracted they’d have forgotten about the bloody fighting… Honestly, it’s on such small details the course of history can change. In my head, anyway.

“*Is he still going on about that wig? I think I’ll stay asleep until he stops…”*

I believe Stephen Rea was aware of the hair because he kept waggling and raising his eyebrows and smiling at me in a knowing way – he really shouldn’t break the fourth wall like that. Outplayed by a wig, perhaps Stephen was asking for help or trying to dislodge the competition? Mrs. PlaidCamper wasn’t getting the same wiggy vibe, and, if you watch the series, maybe you won’t either. I said to Mrs. PC it was hair loss (that bit works best if read in a heavy Russian accent) she couldn’t see what I could see…

Canada winter – is like Russian winter, no?

Goodness, that was a long aside, almost like a, like a, oh, I don’t know, an unlikely contrivance in a nineteenth century novel.

Where were we? Oh yes, gliding across the snowy plains. In truth, at least one of us will be absolute-ski exhausted after the first half hour and wondering where the nearest cafe is. Our plan is to tackle the flattest trails on the Plains of Abraham, so finding a cafe nearby won’t be too difficult. A very well earned hot chocolate, and if there’s a pastry, why not? With all this new snow, we’ll be needing extra pastries to maintain a sensible calorie balance. (My thumbs are already on – or is it off? – the (nonexistent) scale, like an unscrupulous merchant in a nineteenth century novel…) Are you tired of this yet? Tired, like you can get reading a long nine- Please, stop it PlaidCamper!

Almost done! I went out with Scout a little earlier, and she was thrilled to be able to dig, even if the snow wasn’t really deep enough:

“Oh. Nothing there. Somewhat shallow, PlaidCamper! Could you turn the camera away – I’ve dug the hole, might as well pee in it!”

Scout! We are out in society! If you behave like this, whatever will become of us? Consider our audience, madam! And what’s this about shallow? You certainly know how to wound a fellow…

I shall leave it here for this week, ego bruised, feeling fragile but not shattered, like a, like a, oh, I don’t know, a glass tree or an overwrought character in a – I’ll stop, you know how it goes…

Goodness, you’re still here and have a question? What about the novel idea, PlaidCamper – you mentioned it at the start? Oh, that. I’m no nineteenth century novelist (no, no, really, and thank you, you’re so very kind) but I was inspired by old LT to have a go at a short story of my own. It’s about a famous actor, his wig, a down on his luck baker and his incontinent pooch. The title? “Woe & Pees!” Yup – when the BBC drama department comes knocking, I’ll let you know.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

	Sherry Felix on Station to (service) stat…
	Miriam on Station to (service) stat…
	plaidcamper on Scout, inside out
	plaidcamper on Scout, inside out
	plaidcamper on Scout, inside out