The Great Outdoors – by Daddy

As you already know from reading these pages, both Grace and Patrick are fascinated with nature. Our regular walks to the park via the creek trail which runs at the back of our house feel more and more like they were planned by David Attenborough as a new documentary rather than a means to get to the swings. What should be a 5 minute walk can often take half an hour due to the many stops we are obliged to make in order to examine interesting fauna, flora and insect life along the way. Not that I am complaining of course, those of you who know me will be aware that I would much rather be outdoors than indoors and I am delighted that the kids are showing such an interest in their surroundings rather than wanting to sit in front of a wi-box station thing playing video games. Ever since Tara first told me she was pregnant over 4 years ago, I have been excited at the prospect of one day going camping with my kids and so I have been growing increasingly excited for the last few months as Grace has been showing an interest in tents and camping in general. This started when Tara pitched our tent in the living room about four months ago in order to show Grace and Patrick what it looked like. There is something quite strange and quite wonderful to come home from an average day at work to find your wife and kids ‘literally’ camped out by the sofa!

 

As Grace is now a big 4, she and I decided that a celebratory expedition was in order, After all if it’s appropriate for Johnson to traverse Africa in honour of Queen Victoria’s birthday then Grace’s birthday,  we felt, should be marked in a similar fashion. Admittedly traversing Africa seemed a bit ambitious and also a bit far from Canada so we decided to plan something closer to home, much closer to home actually, for our inaugural expedition, Grace and I decided that we would set out to conquer the farthest reaches of the back garden.

 

The trip started with a visit to the equipment store, which is a grand way of saying we went into the basement and cracked open the stacker box containing all of my camping stuff. Some of the stuff in that box like my lantern and stove dates back from teenagerdom when I used to go camping every weekend and it was nothing short of magical to see Grace’s eyes light up with wonder at all the interesting gadgets and paraphernalia that Daddy has accumulated over the years. Of course you don’t take everything on every trip; the required equipment of each individual expedition has to be carefully considered. My equipment list was as follows, Tent, Sleeping bag, Thermal mat, stove, food supplies, water, and my trusty Swiss army knife. Grace took her winnie the pooh sleeping bag, Catherine the doll, A stuffed pink Pig (dressed as a ballerina), her new camping lantern with bird sound effect and the bumper book of Disney tales.

 

We decided that it would take us two days to fully explore all of the back garden and so elected to begin by securing a base camp mid way between the house and the flower bed. It was decided that Patrick would accompany us to base camp as support, before Grace and I would move forward. Almost immediately the adventure was faced with peril. No sooner had we left the civilisation of the kitchen and abseiled down the steps from the deck at the back of the house than it started to rain. To my shame I suggested that we may wish to abandon the trip and return to the house, but thankfully my team was made of sterner stuff than me. “No way Daddy” was Grace’s reply to my wimpish suggestion, while Patrick showed the true metal of his adventurous spirit by letting out what can only be described as a primal scream before running headlong into the now rain soaked grass fists flying as he went.  Thankfully the rain never became truly heavy and the tent went up in no time thus establishing a solid base from which to explore. The first thing Patrick and Grace wanted to explore was the tent itself and so it was largely left to Daddy to set up the beds and prepare lunch. Once we had eaten, it was decided that the team would split, Grace, Catherine (the doll) and I would form an advance party with the object of charting the surrounding area while Patrick would remain at base camp in order to launch any necessary rescue missions. In order to be at peak physical preparedness for any such mission Patrick decided that he would conserve his energy by taking a little nap and so returned to the house. After a brief planning session Grace and I decided that we should extend the expedition beyond the boundaries of the back yard in an attempt to investigate the legend of the dinosaur park. Specialist transport equipment would be needed to cover the distances involved and so Grace thought this would be an excellent opportunity to test out her new bike. I am overjoyed to report that Grace took less than 10 minutes to master both the peddling and braking of her new ‘big girl bike’ and the dinosaur park was ‘discovered’ in record time. After thoroughly exploring the playground, we headed back to base Camp where our expedition hit on its first real obstacle. During the time that Base camp had been left unmanned it was attacked by the local wildlife ‘Canine Boxerorious’ otherwise known as ‘Rosie’. It seems that the empty Kit-Kat wrapper left inside the tent had been too much for the stupid dog to cope with and not content with having once eaten a bunch of grapes that nearly killed it the dog decided to try and finish the job by eating through the tent. Understandably Grace was pretty upset as she figured that this would bring a premature end to our adventure, but I was determined to show her what the real spirit of camping is all about and so a hasty and temporary repair was fashioned and we were back in business.

 

Patrick and Tara joined us at base camp for dinner, the highlight of which was the toasted marshmallows. Then with bed time approaching Grace and I said goodnight to Patrick and Mummy and set about making ourselves comfortable in our tent. Now it’s fair to say that what I expected was for Grace to have her story and then tell me that she wanted to go to bed in the house. In fact, after several story’s from the Disney book and a chat about all that had happened that day, Grace turned off her lantern and settled herself down to sleep. I had to chastise myself for doubting that she would be prepared to stay in the tent all night. In the event, she was asleep in no time and didn’t wake up until 7:00am the next morning. So there was me thinking that Grace might not be ready for ‘proper’ camping and yet I am ashamed to admit that it was me that had to call Tara from the house at 9:00pm in order to ask her to bring out my lap top and a drink. Grace was even a little disappointed that I had not planned suitably by bringing breakfast out with us, ensuring that we had to return to the house early the next morning ‘But that’s the end of our adventure Daddy” she reprimanded. Next time we camp I may have to hunt a deer for breakfast to make up for it, or alternatively we could go to the coffee shop at the bottom of the road I suppose. Either way we will be going camping again very soon.

Snow joke in a Mini

Hardly a week goes by here without a local making a complementary remark to me about my car. It seems that Canadians find the idea of an Englishman driving a Mini a charming concept. It clearly resonates with some quaint view of all things English being miniature i.e. me and the mini. ‘Cute’ is the description most often attributed to the car which I must confess doesn’t sit all that comfortably with me and I can’t help thinking that people might be mistaking me for a hairdresser. I would prefer ‘sporty’ or ‘aggressive’ but I have to concede to their point when comparing the dimensions of the car to the majority of cruise liners that pass for personal transport on Canadian roads…and don’t even get me started about the road going mammoths south of the border. Still I am very fond of the car and both Grace and Patrick love to ride in it and it is a nice change for Tara from driving her bus. I also take a smug sense of satisfaction knowing that its fuel consumption is measured in mile to the gallon and not gallons to the mile like most of the 4 wheel drive monsters around me. Quite often a Canadian will compliment my choice of ‘cute’ car, make a remark about us both being English; which seemingly makes it even more ‘cutesy’ and then after an almost indiscernible pause will ask knowingly “How do you find it in the winter”? Until this week, I had found this a little odd “Fine” I would reply I never have any problems in winter. After yesterday I will be changing my response to “about as practical as barbed wire underpants”.  I will spare you all the minor details of how I managed to get my car stuck not once, but twice in snow drifts yesterday and will limit my description to the following facts.

 The floor pan of a mini is about 14 cm off the ground

Toronto received 40cm of snow fall in the last 48 hours (most of which fell on the roads I use on my way to work)

After 40 cm of snow fall it takes me 1 hr and 50 minutes to get the mini from our garage to the end of our driveway (it takes Tara 10 seconds in her car 3 seconds of which is spent waiting for the 4 wheel drive to engage)

Getting stuck in a snow drift outside your house on your way to work reminds you just how friendly Canadians are, as all the neighbours come out with shovels to help you out.

Getting stuck in a snow drift outside your house on your way home from work reminds you just how much Canadians like a good laugh as all the neighbours come out to make fun of you.

It is actually possible to get both front wheels off of the ground if you hit a snow bank at 15mph and it takes over an hour to dig the snow out from underneath the car.

In conclusion. Cute is not the first word that springs to my mind when knee deep in snow with the hazard lights on.

The Wembley project

Recently many of the regular readers of Tara’s blog  have expressed an interest in the construction of the kid’s play yard; mostly you have wanted to know why it has taken  so long to build. In fact the build has run so far over the estimated timeline of one weekend that I will be referring to it from here on in as the Wembley project.  Like all good ideas of mine, the Wembley project started with Tara; who thought that it would be ideal to have a slide and swings in the back garden. She consulted with Grace, who ratified the plan with her trade marked response of “what a great idea” and then the confirmation of the decision to build, along with timelines and costs was rolled out to Patrick and I. Thus establishing a gender specific managerial & workers model no doubt familiar to many of the men reading this. Patrick very wisely remained silent on the issue but I agreed that it would be nice for the children to have a swing/slide of their own. With this one moment of madness I unwittingly volunteered myself to the role of chief construction officer and so the Wembley project was commissioned.  The chief planner’s (Tara) first action was to source a suitable play yard from the seemingly millions of suppliers that exist here in Canada. After extensive research it was decided that the ‘Galaxy – Triple Swing Sculptured Slide and Monkey Bar Combo’ offered outstanding value for money. Drawing upon the years of experience of working with the construction Team (me) the planning committee (Tara) carried out a thorough investigation as to the difficulty of assembling the Galaxy and was heartenned to learn from the supplier that the whole apparatus could be assembled by one person of limited construction skill in just six hours. Many of you like us will be wondering how it is possible to produce an item of this complexity which can be assembled in such a short time for half the cost of the closest competitor. The wiser amongst you will of course have guessed correctly that the man who informed
Tara of the 6 hour construction time is in fact a very big liar whose pants are probably in flames as I type (at least I hope they are). 

An order was quickly dispatched and 24 hours later a ‘Galaxy play yard’ kit was delivered to the space in the Garage which is normally occupied by my car, where it stayed for the next 3 weeks.  Eventually, I could put off the building of the yard no longer and having a weekend with a 6 hour window I decided to get stuck in. Now, I will admit to being a little apprehensive initially, but was buoyed by two things. Firstly that I am the son of an engineer who earnt his living building power stations and therefore is bound to have shed some of his construction biased genes in my direction and secondly that all the pieces in the kit were pre cut and predrilled by skilled operatives which would make it very straightforward to piece together. Sadly I now realise that I have inherited none of my dad’s technical leanings and the only person in the whole world who knows less about building play yards than I do is the idiot in charge of cutting and drilling the components of the ‘Galaxy play yard’! 

I should have known that delays in the Wembley Project were inevitable when the first hour of construction time was spent unpacking and sorting the 5 million separate pieces of which it comprises. However in my defence it is difficult to say just how much of this time was spent re-sorting the pieces after I had received ‘help’ from not only my Grace but also from the little girl next door as well.    The instructions of the ‘Galaxy play yard comprise of just “12 simple steps”. Step one for example instructs the builder to “construct the side walls of the Fort structure by securing the tower posts (8ft x 4in x 1.5in) to the cross brace floor support (2ft x 4in x 2.5in) using the 3in hex bolt and tee nut.” In reality this simple instruction translates to “Re-drill all 4 holes in the 2 pieces of wood as none of them are big enough for a 3in hex bolt. Insert tee nut using large hammer as the hole pre drilled for that is at least half an inch too shallow. Assemble as per instructions, remembering to call out a search and rescue party for the correct sized ratchet attachment as Grace has been randomly hiding the 60 pieces in your socket set while you were drilling holes. Once the two bits of wood are assembled, you will need to spend at least 20 minutes with a square getting a right angle between them as the bloke who cut them was obviously drunk at the time.” It was during one of these extended re-positioning of frame components that my temper finally over spilled my reserve and I let out an angry shout of “Useless stupid stupid thing, I can’t do it”! to which Grace, who was sitting nearby watching the construction of her new play yard replied “Yes you can daddy, you just have to try”  Humbling…..her motivational skills where further demonstrated with the many occasions on which she was heard to say “Great job” Daddy. These huge uplifts of my morale more than outweighed the many occasions on which she wandered of with vital parts or spanners or both informing me later that she couldn’t remember where they were ‘hidden’.   

Any way, to cut an even longer story short. After much under the breath cursing of wood cutters and hours spent re-drilling holes. The play yard is complete and Grace joyfully had her go of the swings yesterday. Patrick has also sampled both the slide and swings (before the grandparent keel over in shock I should point out that he was on my knee on the swing and the slide was a heavily controlled decent) both of which raised a giggle. Tara is now on a mission to find a baby swing seat, which I’m sure Grace will see the pushing potential of. Parental supervision a must I think. Was it worth all the knuckle scraping and frustration? Every bit. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat, but I might have a day off before I try my hand at building a power station.