Farewell to Vancouver, and the West

Hilary McNaughton and I, Edgemont Village. Photo credit: Jonathan Morissette

Some sort of melancholic poem might be appropriate here, but I’ve been too busy to prepare one.

Tomorrow morning, I am to wake at 4:30am in order to cross town to the airport, get through whatever kind of security screening they feel inclined to subject me to, and board my 8:30am flight. Stopping in Edmonton en route, I should reach Gatwick Airport, outside London, around 3:40am on Thursday (GMT).

I am not the only one heading off during this space of time. As I understand it, Neal is in the air right now on his way to China. In the next few days, Kerrie and Nolan will be leaving for Ghana. I wish all of them the very best, and a safe journey.

Meeting with people during the past few days, as well as speaking with them and corresponding, has been highly gratifying. Meeting Jonathan, Emerson, Hilary, and Nick at various times today was likewise very welcome. Speaking to Meghan, Viktoria, Sarah, et all was certainly also appreciated. By far the biggest negative aspect of going to Oxford will be the breadth of separation created between my family, friends, and I. Undoubtedly, the two years will provide at least a few new ones. With luck, I’ll have the chance to introduce them to people who come visit me in Oxford.

I really should have cleared the contents of my cell phone after calling everyone to say goodbye, but, alas, Meghan Mathieson can testify to the quality of my memory. If I missed you, it’s probably because I didn’t have a copy of your phone number archived somewhere in my GMail folders.

In any case, I still have a few little bits of packing to do, which I’d like to deal with before it gets late. It’s impressive how all the bits and bobs that I’ve spent so long sorting and packing will probably amount to very little once I actually get to Oxford. I will not, for instance, have the slightest thing with which to decorate my room. All such concerns really ought to be pushed aside for the moment, however. When next I write, I shall still be your faithful blogging correspondent: now with a United Kingdom posting.

6 thoughts on “Farewell to Vancouver, and the West”

  1. by my calaulations, you should be at the airport now, and hopefully security has troubled you so little that you’re already sitting down with a coffee and reading material to await departure. Bon voyage! Vancouver and the West won’t be the same in your absence.

  2. I can’t help but quip that Oxford is still whole heartedly “The West”, and that I don’t think you’ll have left behind any of the metaphysical ground on which we so comfortably rest.

  3. I hope you’ve had a relaxing journey and have arrived safely. Vancouver may be far away, but Oslo is just 90 minutes from Stanstead airport. If you don’t visit, I will!

  4. The Crawl
    Spirit of the West

    Well we’re good old boys, we come from the North Shore
    Drinkers and carousers the likes you’ve never seen
    And this night by God! We drank ‘til there was no more
    From the Troller to the Raven with all stops in between.

    It all began one afternoon on the shores of Ambleside
    We were sittin’ there quite peacefully with the rising of he tide
    When an idea it came to mind for to usher in the Fall
    So we all agreed next Friday night we’d go out on the crawl


    We planned to have a gay old time, the cash we did not spare
    We left all the cars at home and paid the taxi fare
    I got out to Horseshoe Bay a little after five
    From a table in the corner I heard familiar voices rise


    Spirits they ran high that night old stories we did share
    Of the days when we were younger men and never had a care
    The beer flowed like a river and we drank the keg near dry
    So we drained down all our glasses and were thirsty bye and bye


    Park Royal Hotel, The Rusty Gull, Square-Rigger and Queens Cross
    We’d started out with eight good boys but half had gotten lost
    For you’ll never keep the lads together when their eyes began to rove
    So there was just the three of us that made it to Deep Cove


    We arrived out at The Raven just in time for the last call
    The final destination of this the first annual crawl
    We dug deep into our pockets there was no money to be found
    Nine miles home and for walking we are bound

    (chorus – repeat)

    -This song is written about North Vancouver, and some of the pubs contained therein.

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