And yes, life does indeed take some curious turns. As we waited airside for boarding, Adrian checked his voicemail. Bad idea. Distressed messages from Jackie re. Ben’s condition – in hospital with ‘pneumonia’ and “very poorly”. We’d breakfasted at Rosanda’s Village Café “Chez Eric”. (called after the goldfish in the aquarium) We did a midnight foray of the house to find the dogs, but uncovered a dark secret – the cellar is given over to a model train set.
Stan took us to the airport before catching his own plane to Stockholm to meet Maggie. For a man who is a lay preacher, the deputy church warden, and a retired member of the Canadian diplomatic service, he is remarkably insouciant: he was most concerned about his ‘plants’ – 4 cannabis shrubs he’s convinced will be BC Bud, allegedly a great smoke. I suggested ‘Wakefield Weed’, which was greeted with some marketing interest.
The flight was uneventful, despite having to buy the food and booze, but the hotel disappointing, as we’re in a basement room with bars on the windows. I had planned a distracting walk however, round Stanley Park, taking dinner at The Fish House (top end splurge in LP) and a stroll along the famed seawall. All three elements exceeded our expectations. The young waiter Jordan was very knowledgeable about wines, although a graphics student at the Uni, and the food was excellent (four sorts of wild salmon and Dungeness crab). Half of the city chills out on the ‘Malécon’ of Vancouver of an evening – wild, good-natured, street performers. Lovely. Then we set about unpicking our Bear trails excursion – insurance company, flights, Jackie, hospital, Alan @ Beartrails, Ruth Todd for ‘phone numbers on BT’ – Adrian was amazing – logical, methodical, pragmatic…after he decided we had to “curtail”.