On 4 funerals and a wedding

Sorry, but I couldn't resist using that title for this post, even if it isn't particularly accurate. The funerals, or should I say deaths, are those of Tessa (my third cousin previously mentioned here), her mother Mary (my second cousin, once removed), the Honourable Lord Kemp Davidson (first cousin by marriage, once removed) and the wife of my cousin Jimmy Loathian (I believe he is my first cousin, once removed). The wedding was that of my brother Philip.

I went to a memorial event for Tessa in Toronto the day before the Tour de l'Île. It was held at the house in Toronto of her brother-in-law, Mike Macmillan, former part-owner of Alliance Atlantis. It was a fairly, casual affair in which I think for the first time it was definitively explained to me what the precise blood relationship was between Tessa and myself. I had long known we were cousins, but to which degree, was something I was vague on. I was set straight by Tessa's mother Mary, who was very definitely with it, if unfortunately obviously on the down slope of the cancer that would soon claim her.

This brings me to the second death and only actual funeral I attended, along with a large number of other people. My cousin Mary had a lot of friends. She was an almost terrifyingly brilliant woman married to a roughly equally intelligent South African, called Han. I say roughly as I am truly not sure who was the smarter of the pair and at a certain level it mattered to them. Like many very intelligent people both Mary and her husband were relatively high-strung, Mary especially so. To spend time with them, was to be subjected to near constant bickering between the two. One person (I forget who*) referred to Mary and Han with backhanded affection as the "Bickersons". Lest a reader assume I speak ill of the dead, in my personal experience, the bickering was generally of a fairly light-hearted nature and was underscored by their genuine love for each other. It was just that each viewed life as a debate to be won.

The service was very appropriate and captured Mary very well. The photograph of Mary on the programme absolutely captured her spirit and her intellect. As we left the church, Han was very evidently shaken by the event. I am glad to say that I gave him a hug.

At service, another relative (I forget how she comes into the picture) told my mother and me about the other two deaths that had taken place within the family in the last few weeks in the United Kingdom. To be honest, I am not sure that I ever met Jimmy Lothian's wife and if I did, I was 9. I think I have heard significantly more about Jimmy Lothian than I have talked to him. However, I had met Kemp Davidson on a certain number of occasions and spent a significant amount of time with his son, Donald.

Kemp was a Scottish judge, so on two occasions when I was visiting the United Kingdom, I put down his name as a reference on my landing card, on the grounds that I would have less (if any) trouble with British immigration control if I mentioned "Lord Davidson". ;-) I was doing some historical research during one of these trips into four figures of the Scottish Enlightenment of whom at least two and more likely three were involved in various ways in the legal profession in Edinburgh where Kemp lived and worked. I had supper one night with Kemp, his wife (also called Mary) and their son Donald (some form of Scottish lawyer). It was a weeknight so all of us were in our working clothes. For Kemp this was a smart suit, something equally smart, but slightly more casual for Mary and a three-piece suit for Donald. I felt rather scruffy in the sweater I had been wearing the archives. However, it was really fascinating to see that they knew about the people I was researching, and even had a copy of one the books written by one of the people I was researching printed while he was still alive!

Unfortunately, Kemp was suffering from Parkinson's at that supper. Because of that disease, he would later fall and break his neck, leaving him paralyzed. His wife was almost excessively devoted to looking after him throughout his illness. The only good that I can see from his death is that she may have the opportunity to live for herself.

One of the sadder things about his death is that it was only after it happened that I have understood what a fantastic person he was in his professional life. I wish I could have praised him to his face for the contributions he made towards justice in Scotland, no rare thing for a lawyer. (Sorry, I had to include a lawyer joke.) There are some obits on the web, here, here, here and here. Oh, and also here.

One wedding

I am afraid I left my camera in North Hatley, so no pictures for the time being. There are some up here.

My brother Philip married Dominique on Saturday in the presence of a select group of friends and relations. Very select in fact, from our side, the only relative who wasn't of the immediate family was my second cousin Katherine, and that was because she has become BFF with Eowyn. The weather was fair enough, but not great. We were able to hold the ceremony, officiated by my father on the lawn in front of Robin Hill. The highlights of the secular ceremony was Désirée toddling out to be picked up just as Philip was talking about "raising children". Philip gave a mid-length speech about the different types of love, theatrically tossing the pages of the speech over his shoulder as he went through it. At one (planned**) point he abandoned reasoned discourse to say: "The important thing is that I love Dominique", threw the rest of his papers in the air. A gust of wind caught them and some of them over some tall trees and to the far, lakeside corner of the croquet lawn!!! I don't think there could have been a better auspice!

* I have since been told it was Mike Macmillan.

** When I retrieved some the papers from the far end of the lawn, there was nothing relative to his speech on them, hence, this was a planned gesture.

On the sometimes twisted paths of bike accessories

My parents have a Dodge minivan and a Toyota Corolla. The former can be bought from the dealer with a trailer hitch, whilst the latter cannot. As the easiest type of bike rack to install is the trailer hitch type, that was the type they had. As a result, the two of them were going to bike events in the minivan which got about half the gas mileage as the Corolla. During the high gas prices of last summer, I was inspired to change this by getting them a hitch for the Corolla. Together with two of my siblings, I got them an after-market trailer hitch for Christmas. They have used it considerably since, thus easily saving in gas the amount of money the hitch cost.

Yesterday, my father arrived from Montreal in the minivan, to hear how Alice and Stephen (the two siblings who had pitched in for the hitch) had towed the Thomas F. Meagher, a Tanzer 16 sailboat across town that afternoon. It took a few minutes before the penny dropped and I realised that they had done the towing with the Corolla using the hitch as an actual trailer hitch!

Anyway, it looks like tomorrow will actually be fairly nice for Philip (my other brother) and Dominique's wedding. I guess the old French-Canadian superstition of hanging a rosary on the washing line to insure good weather has worked.

On moving in Montreal, by bike

In addition to being (or possibly because it was) Canada Day yesterday, it was Moving Day in Montreal. As has been documented in many places, there is a distinct tendency amongst Montrealers to move on or about the 1st of July. Not that I have ever moved on the first of July or anywhere close to it.

However, the fact of the July 1st move probably led the CBC to feature this article about a cycle mover in Montreal. As in he moves your stuff by bike.

In addition, I discovered on Tuesday that are specialized bike trailers for hauling your dog around. I was in a bike store and saw a couple and their seeing-eye dog (a black lab) shopping for one. I gathered it was the woman who was visually impaired and it was the man who did the steering on what I guessed was their tandem bike.

On the last few weekends

The day after the New Brunswick trip, I went on the Défi Métropolitain. It was in the same general area (Châteauguay) as the first Défi I went on in 2005, if I am not mistaken. The weather was less clement than the first time featuring some showers in the morning as well strong winds for most of the day.

To reduce crowding, this year the Défi Métropolitain experimented with having people do the course in two directions. Those persons going for the 100 km did it counter-clockwise, whereas the 75, 125 and 150 km people went clockwise. Given that I was a bit short on sleep owing to the train from New Brunswick the day before, I opted for the 100 km. This resulted in me having a smug feeling when I passed the bulk of the clockwise people, I was wheeing along with the wind at my back whilst they were struggling into the wind.In one of the small towns I went through, there was a place that sold cement decorations (statues, etc.) for you garden. It also advertised gift certificates for the same. (JWIW only not very often.)However, I would advise against the purchase of said gift certificates, as the place was going out of business.
(Note the windblown trees in the background.)

I mentionned earlier that I had been short on sleep. One case in point was the fact that the day before I had thought I had booked the rental of a car from the same place I had last rented a car. However, I hadn't, which was mildly embrassing, yet oddly fortuitous as the place I had rented the car from issued me not only with a Nissan Versa hatchback which was very easy to load Leonardo into, but they issued me a bright red Nissan Versa!!!
The following weekend saw the Tour de l'Île. It went off more or less smoothly. My 25th anniversary jersey was much admired. I also got to pretend I was trying out a penny farthing
It was really too small for my legs.

Margo's Louise turned up in Québec relatively unexpectedly. At relatively short notice, she, my Mother and myself organised ourselves into the Défi de Lanaudière. It had been hot and muggy in Montreal and for three nights running I had failed to catch much sleep. As well, the weather on Saturday was gray and wet. Consequently, I opted for the 100 km version, the same as my mother. Louise on the other hand, did 130+ km. The exact distance is uncertain owing to a glitch with Louise's bike computer.

She also informed me that not only had Margo and Chris had decided that I needed a softshell jacket for biking but that they were prepared to provide very significant funding towards the purchase of the same. After a certain amount of research, shopping with Louise's patient assistance, I ended up getting a "volcano" (red) Gamma LT Jacket from Arc'Teryx.
Here I am modelling it in my condo. Picture by Louise. Thank you, thank you Margo and Chris and thank you Louise for putting up with my shopping habits.

More biking pictures here.

On a surprising source of bike tools

Some time ago, I stumbled across a surprising source for Allen keys for bikes. I am the proud owner of a number of pieces of furniture (mostly bookcases) from Ikea. Most of these came with with Allen keys, which I kept in my pack rat-ish manner. However, I only realized a few months ago that these Allen keys fit the "common" bicycle hex bolt, as used to attach many accessories onto bikes.

Ikea Allen key on the left, multi-Allen key set of on the right

It is not that I lacked a decent folding Allen key set (pictured above), but that I frequently forget which is the commonly-used size of key. Also, the Ikea Allen key is less bulky, can be used more easily in some of the tighter corners of a bike and its shape allows it be rapidly cranked if necessary. Finally, you can use it to tighten the bolts on the multi-Allen key set.

The Ikea Allen isn't in my tool bag as a replacement for the multi-Allen, but as a complement. At the price in dollars (nil), weight (minimal) and volume (negligible), it works very well.

On something I forgot to mention

There was one notable event that I forgot to mention in my last post. On the train coming back from New Brunswick, the parents and I had sat down for supper in the dining car taking three out of four seats in one booth. A few minutes later, the waitress seated a woman of about fifty in the remaining seat. Her name was Suzanne and she was from Ottawa. She had been in Nova Scotia for the Cabot Trail relay race. As such, she understood us very well as well as our just completed jaunt. Mummy commented that Via Rail could hardly have picked a better table mate for us!

On the New Brunswick trip

We were all feeling very excited, even before we got on the train to Bathurst. It had been 19 years since I last traveled by sleeping car and it was even longer for the parents. Unlike me, they got on in Drummondville. They brought with them a bottle of bubbly which we drank in the confines of my compartment in accordance with Via Rail regulations. That only served to make us more excited. I don't know about the parents, but I failed to sleep very well. I woke up around Causapscal, before the sun had risen and watched the Matapédia canyon go by in the false dawn light. I was struck by the contrast between the hard green of the evergreen trees. This photo doesn't do justice to the scene. I later fell asleep again and had a very strange dream set in the dream version of the Restigouche river area. It nearly had me convinced that it was reality until my sister Alice became part of the dream. Around Campbellton, I knocked on the partition between the parents' compartment and my own to rouse them in time for breakfast. Mummy asked me if my choice of a Mactaggart tartan flannel shirt (from LL Bean) was in honour of going through Campbellton, New Brunswick. (My maternal grandfather was a Mactaggart from Campbeltown, Scotland.) It wasn't. I shan't elaborate on the first few days biking, except to provide a pictures of the rail bed we were biking on for part of the way between Bathurst and Grande-Anse. Also to say the guidebook to the New Brunswick trail leaves much to be desired, particularly with regards to cartography. It wasn't too bad as the roads of New Brunswick are remarkably cyclist-friendly. I took the following image because of the moose sign, but it also shows the lovely wide and smooth paved shoulders that were more often present than not.New Brunswick drivers were extreme courteous to us. They generally gave us very generous amounts of space as they passed. It became almost tiresome to acknowledge their courtesy with a wave. We attracted a certain amount of friendly curiosity, partly because we were a bit out of season, as well as admiration, particularly, but not exclusively on account of the parents "advanced" age. The weather was generally sunny but quite cool. I generally biked in my merino jersey and my cycling jacket. One person I talked to commented that the sea hadn't warmed up yet. Nonetheless, one day I managed to ride in my official 25th anniversary of the Tour de l'Île biking jersey. However, you should note that I am wearing my cycling tights as well. That day, (Sunday, May 24th) also saw the most rain that we saw during the trip. (It also rained a bit on the last day.) I don't think my parents really understood the character of New Brunswick beforehand. It is, in my not-so-humble opinion, something a blue-collar province. Fine cuisine wasn't much in evidence, much to my parents' chagrin. There was some evidence of culture shock, particularly in my mother. One could almost re-write the Monty Python diatribe against package tours in Spain to fit my parents. "Food mostly fried. You can't get a proper cappuccino, can you now..." ;-) However, there were some fun bits. I added three birds to my list: American bitterns, bobolinks and common eiders. Here I am pointing out the eiders in my bird book to Pappy. If I am not mistaken we are in Cap-Lumière. I am not sure where we were for this shot, but I have included it as it is a nice family shot. More shots are available here and here. When I arrived at the station in Moncton well before the parents, there were a pair of young women from Toronto loading their bikes at the start of a trip that would eventually take them to Halifax. They had arrived on the train from Montreal (which had been rather late) and were about to head off towards P.E.I. Having just come from Shediac and having had a first-hand experience last summer on how difficult it was to find the right road out of Moncton (Dieppe if you want to be technical) I volunteered my expertise and showed them the exact road on their map. In return, they gave me a cardboard box to put my excess bags into. That way, I could put all the gear "Not wanted on voyage" into it and put it as checked luggage. They also admired my front, lowrider racks. They didn't have them, (one of their bikes was a mountain bike with front suspension) but evidently thought that they were a good idea.