O Canada!

On the 23 July 2006, Natasha and I stepped on to Canadian soils as immigrants. This word conjures up many passions amongst people these days, unfortunately, but we have white skin, English names and a UK passport. So I guess in the eyes of those who question the being attached to this label, that made us ok.

My connection with Canada is not particularly long, but I first decided to travel to Canada in the year 1991 where  I applied for a teaching exchange. The following year I departed the shores of England, with my sister Claire, husband Richard and nephew Matthew waving me off from Gatwick airport. During that memorable and action packed year I decided then that one day I would like to live and work in this wonderful open country.

Irony abounds from then on, as in 2006 – as landed immigrants - Natasha and I unintentionally stayed for a wonderful three years in the same town as I lived in as an exchange teacher, then single, with few boundaries to keep me in tow. Port Hardy and its people will forever be a part of me. So on this day of 8^th May 2012, with my nephew Matthew coming to stay next weekend, Natasha and I completed our journey and became Canadian citizens. We jumped through the required political hoops, paid hard earned money and eventually passed the written test, with Natasha scoring her only acceptable score of 100%, me 96%. Quite a day, for sitting here typing reflecting on the 20 years worth of journey surrounding Canada, I am staring at the piece of paper given to us as we first pushed our baggage past the immigration officials back in the summer of 2006. The paper is worth writing about, because without it we would have got nowhere at all. No replacements given, no copies, a complete one off. Yet we needed it at every part of our citizenship journey, and presenting it today to the immigration official was quite a moment. For the paper is old fashioned, carbon copy, largely illegible and cradled like a newborn baby. In today's world of ‘paperless desks’ this was a stark reminder of the importance of the printed form. But I digress.

So, now Natasha and I are fully fledged Canadian citizens. Still fiercely proud English people, but on June 26^th we will, amusingly, have to swear allegiance to the Queen, something that not many of us have ever had to do, despite our nationality. I’m not anti monarch, but pretty non-plussed by the whole favoured few malarkey, but it will indeed be a proud moment for both of us.

It’s been a funny week too, as a buddy of mine, Kevin back in the UK, was part of a world record ultra running event, successfully completed by his mate John who ran a staggering 425 miles in under 7 days (www.championrun.org.uk/). I thought of his plight as I raced locally on Sunday, coming in a quite unplanned second in a 10km trail run. It was a real Kootenay experience, as just prior to the start we were told that the 10km distance was probably nearer 12km, the ‘nice climb’ was actually a pretty brutal 300m+ crawl, and so on. It was, in all reality, an excellent route.

On top of resigning from the vet work, I have been pounding away at the bathroom, ready for our guests this weekend. I finished the tiling today, grouting tomorrow, work Thursday, toilet fitting Friday, hopefully sink Saturday. The bed and breakfast is slow this year, but people are coming which is handy for a meager income. The bees are ok, put back by a cold spring. Will see what golden nectar they produce later in the summer.  My health is under question, following a minor blackout some weeks back. Apparently I have an abnormally low heart beat, but according to Peter nothing to worry about: It's because I’m fit. I'll let the medics be the judge of that one, but reassuring nonetheless.

So on that positive note, I will stop. Life is good, I will now sing ‘O Canada’ with feeling, if not gusto. I will treasure my carbon copy confirmation of permanent residence as a memento of what was. But I do eagerly await our dreadful Prime Minister call an election – for now we can vote. Not as hard earned at the womens suffrage movement, but a journey nonetheless.

Tim