A Day in the Life of

                       If you are reading this, Dear Reader, the chances are that you have been locked down somewhere in the World. Wherever you are you will be at a stage in the pandemic process which is different from what it was a few short months ago. We have all seen the innovative ways in which people have coped with their isolation. We have all heard stories of how people have dealt with the stress of it all. Here in the Northern Hemisphere, on the second day of summer, the lockdown has been our Spring season, a short three months in the history of the world. Wherever you live, you will have had to do things differently, adapt and adopt, move to a different beat, proceed along a different path. I had a moment last week when I thought that I would like to relive a day that meant so much to me in my life.

       Our wedding day was memorable, of course. The day our daughter won the 100 km Cotswold Way Ultra Race was fantastic. I was present on the first occasion but was only able to follow the second electronically. Both Irene and Alison will forgive me for not choosing those special days.

    The University of British Columbia (UBC) is a beautiful campus. It sits on a western promontory of the city surrounded by the forested endowment lands which boast biking and walking trails aplenty. Spectacular views of the North Shore Mountains and Vancouver Island to the west are around every corner. There is a wonderful air of youthful learning, traditional buildings and a feeling of people moving towards fulfilling futures. Back in the 1990s and the early 2000s, Collingwood School Senior Rugby Team used to take up residence there, along with other schools, for the annual provincial rugby championships. For the last 30 or so years, David Speirs as Head Coach, with his long time offsider, Roger Hatch (Emeritus Professor of Rugby), Ian Kennedy, Peter Brampton, Scott Rickard and Tom Larisch, have coaxed, cajoled and coached students to many provincial rugby championships. Collingwood School has been champions of the province, gold medalists on numerous occasions. I have been privileged to have been a witness to so many of these games.

   In the years 2004, 2005, 2006, I hope I will be forgiven because a large focus of my attention was on Carson Graham Eagles, the rugby team where our son, Grant, played. In 2004 and 2005, there had been two semi-final losses to Shawnigan Lake School but two bronze medals in the 3^rd place play-offs. Tom Larisch, then at Carson now at Collingwood, had taken a group of physically strong boys and molded them into a character outfit that had become a spirited team. The year 2006 was the graduating year for so many of those students, including our son.

Thunderbird Stadium at UBC is a lovely venue. It has a large stand on one side of the ground and a fenced in open grassy bank opposite. The semi-finals were always played there. Irene and I watched the semi-final against Oak Bay with  philosophical hope. A controversial refereeing decision allowed The Eagles to scrape a victory by 14-12. The final would be on the Saturday.

The day came. Irene and I took our seats at Thunderbird. We watched the teams come out for the warm-up, watched the teams retreat to the changing room for their final preparations, watched the teams come out to begin the game. At that point I announced to my surprised wife that I could not watch from there. I stood up and moved to the back of the stadium where I could pace back and forth, walking away the stresses and strains of the game. From there I groaned at every penalty conceded, shut my eyes at every Carson kick at goal, anguished at every Shawnigan advance, held my heart in my mouth at every yard of progress. Every blade of grass, every inch of territory, every back and forth was fought over with grit and determination. It was not a spectacular game, it was not free flowing entertainment, it was all about a means to an end. Carson Graham were in the lead at half-time.

With 5 minutes remaining in the game, the Eagles were 18-5 ahead. It was a lead that looked unassailable  but I have never been able to count my chickens I am afraid. I resisted the urge to walk from the top of the stand down to the touchline to congratulate the coaches. Too much could still happen, falling at the last hurdle was still possible. With 2 minutes to go, however, I edged slowly down. EventuallyI found myself standing next to Ramsay, one of the CG coaches. He was still engrossed in the final seconds. Suddenly I felt his hand in mine and we were shaking and smiling as the last moments of a famous and unlikely victory were being eked out. The final whistle went. Dog piles of players and coaches, back slapping and hooting and a gold medal with which to leave the school. Irene and I stayed for the medal presentations. We then drove back to the North Shore.

We were sat in the back garden having a cup of tea when suddenly Grant arrived still in his rugby gear, sweaty and muddy but with his gold medal around his neck. A friend had given him a ride home. I had inadvertently taken his truck keys home with me. I needed to make the tedious drive back over the bridge, through the traffic of the city and back out to UBC so he could pick up his truck. He settled into the passenger seat.  There was, Dear Reader, a companionable silence, an unspoken joy, a relaxed physical exhaustion. There was little conversation. There were occasional looks across at each other, smiling silent understandings, a deep, profound synchronicity of feeling. It was and is an awkward traffic filled drive on a Saturday evening, on a sunny twilight in late Spring. It was a long drive but, to me and him, it was far, far too short. It was Saturday, June 3^rd 2006.

“And I am sometimes proud and sometimes meek,

And sometimes I remember days of old

When fellowship seemed not so far to seek,

And all the world and I seemed much less cold,

And at the rainbow’s foot lay surely gold,

And hope felt strong, and life itself not weak.”    Christina Georgina Rossetti