Anyhow; my fieldcraft must be on the wane because all I heard and saw was wildlife disappearing into the distance. Must have been breathing too hard, or that scented shower gel was a mistake. The sun is periodically shining. Ommm. The world is as it should be. Well, at least our little enclave is.
Neighbours have developed this great new way of Quail hunting. Wait for Quail to settle in the shrubbery in your front yard. Send stupid house pet of a dog bounding out through side door. Quail will spook, and a couple of them will perform Kamikaze-like collisions with the nearest solid surface, to wit, neighbours house. Walk round front yard, pick up brace of dead Quail, prepare and cook for supper, or throw into freezer. The saving in ammunition is considerable, and there's no breaking your teeth on shot. Sigh. Life is so hard.
Well, Mrs S and I have come to a decision; we're moving. Not very far, just a mile or so into a bigger place with an even more spectacular view and bigger front yard. When all bills are taken into account we'll only be looking at a CDN$400 increase in monthly expenditure, so that's not too bad. We're earning more now to cover that. New place has three big bedrooms, big kitchen, great front room and dining room, a Wood burning stove, solar heated swimming pool, and room for visitors to come and stay. The view from the front window is amazing, a one hundred and twenty degree plus vista of forests, Islands and sea. We already know the neighbour folk, and apart from next doors oversized puppy, a German Shepherd sized old 'Yaller Dawg' whose slightly overenthusiastic greetings freak my own slightly more restrained English born mutt out, there are no issues we know of. The neighbours have already offered trailers and willing hands to help us get settled in, so no need to hire a professional removals gang, just buy in a couple of cases of beer and a large freezer pack of steaks. The rest, as they say, will be history.
Mrs S will be in England over Christmas and so will miss the trauma of moving. She is leaving all the logistics to me; Internet, phone, postbox, bank detail changes, and keeping immigration up to date with our new address. Nothing onerous. I propose to have a nice quiet time and treat myself to a boxed set of DVD's and a computer game or two to help the time pass while she's away. I will pine a little of course, but that is all to the good. Me, the Dog, the view and some snow; that will be my Christmas this year. Add a little Jamesons and my soul will restore itself. Not that I'll be on my own, neighbours will see to that. I will share my extensive knowledge of Single Malts, and they will teach me the rules and acceptable mores of Ice Hockey. We'll sink some beers, barbecue a few steaks on the new side porch, and it's a big covered porch. Fair trade.
Have put off applying for a gun licence while this business over the long gun registry runs it's course. At present, all guns have to be registered and listed, which makes it difficult for me to take up invitations to go hunting at the moment because of all the bureaucracy involved in sorting out permits. You feel a bit of an idiot stalking without armament or a decent camera. However, all this will change. Mrs S will be bringing back the grip and riser section of my old Hoyt competition bow from the UK in January. and I'll buy new bow limbs, arrows, and strings from Bucky's down in Duncan and get a full years hunting licence some time in February. Springtime will be spent at la chasse and stocking up the freezer. Good 'ere, innit?
Today is also Remembrance day, a National holiday. Offices and many shops are shut. There will be the usual parades and services, and I will ponder my own forbears part in the upheavals of that time.
It took a Canadian to write that.
As an aside; In Flanders Fields inspired this much lesser known work from an American.
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