Betty’s home from home

26 03 2016

Some considerable time ago, Mrs E read in a magazine – unfortunately which specific one is lost to the mists of time – about a place called Clayburn Tea Shop. Not too surprisingly this tea shop is in Clayburn, not much more than a small collection of homes just outside Abbotsford in BC’s Fraser Valley. The long weekend (and the absence of son and heir at a week-long training camp) gave us an excuse for a small road trip, and off we went in search of said “cup of tea shop”, nominally to check out their tea and sticky buns. We knew nothing about it except a vague memory from Mrs E that it was worth a visit (allegedly) and it was in Clayburn. As I mentioned, Clayburn is little more than a hamlet, and my Garmin denied such a place even existed. It did however admit to Clayburn Road’s existence, so off we went, adventure in the air and the prospect of a new tea shop in the offing.

Needless to say, Clayburn Road turned out to be one of those annoying roads that stops and starts as it makes its way across the map. Cartographers in BC were so unimaginative and would keep re-using the same road name if it was roughly in line with some other stretch of road, even if there was no way to get from hither to thither.

Having successfully navigated to Garmin’s admitted location of Clayburn Road, we discovered that this particular part of it was only a few hundred metres long. Thankfully I am Old School enough to also travel with paper maps and a quick shufti gave us a much more likely length of Clayburn Road to target, and we were off again. Ten minutes later, we were parking opposite the tea shop. It was also once the general store, and its unassuming frontage hides a deep building going back from the main (I use the word loosely) road.

Clayburn Tea Shop

Clayburn Tea Shop

Take a Google street view look yourself here.

As we crossed the road and got closer, I was surprised – in a good way – to read on the window that they sold tea from Taylors of Harrogate. Now if you’re not from God’s Own County, the magnitude of this discovery would mean nothing. Taylors you see is the brand of tea from Betty’s of Harrogate.

If you still need convincing about Brewtopia or the Hanging Gardens of Put’kettleon, check out the TV ad…

And sure enough, like walking into Mr Benn’s changing room, Alice’s rabbit hole or some other magical portal… we found ourselves transported to Harrogate. Here was a pioneer version of Betty’s Tea Shop.

Betty's of Harrogate

Betty’s of Harrogate

The young ladies serving weren’t wearing the Victorian black and white of Betty’s, but apart from that and a few “New World substitutions” in the furniture and decor, we could definitely have been in a transported version of Betty’s!

There were shelves of Farrah’s toffees (also hailing from Harrogate), Black Jacks and other tooth-rotting glories in a sweet shop section next to the café/restaurant and a proper “general store” with yummy comestibles to peruse later, towards the back of the shop. Suddenly weak at the knees, we found a table and were brought a menu of unbelievable goodies…

Le Menu

Le Menu

Having hunted high and low on a recent trip to the UK to get Ploughman’s Lunch, here it was on the outskirts of Abbotsford! They even had Cornish Pasties and Melton Mowbray pork pies! The puddings were like blasts of memory with things like Sticky Toffee Pudding and scones with Devonshire cream.

Naturally I had a pot of Yorkshire tea – they wouldn’t serve a gallon bucket as was my preference. I did manage to squeeze 4 cups out of it nevertheless. I did indeed opt for the Ploughman’s Lunch and was a little disappointed that it contained neither an apple nor any pork pie. It did have three different slabs of cheese and I have to say the inclusion of genuine Branston Pickle and the Hayward’s pickled onion made up for it. The scone and cream – with local raspberry jam – was warm and a nice closure to the experience.

Bill paid, we perused the rest of the store and ended up buying a packet of Frazzles, a packet of Twiglets, some Elkes Malted Milk biscuits, a Curly Wurly and a Milkybar. Maybe I grew up, or perhaps they all shrank in translation… but I’m sure they were a lot bigger when I was a kid.

Grins a-plenty we left the little café and 10 minutes later had also seen what the rest of the hamlet had to offer. It’s a bit of a trek out there from White Rock, but we’ll definitely be back to sample some more of their Yorkshire treats.

And yes – it’s definitely bigger on the inside.

 





Eliza’s young sister Tay is all grown up… and racist

24 03 2016

Yesterday, Microsoft’s launched an AI experiment on Twitter, called Tay. The bot would instantly respond to your questions, pictures and chatter, no matter how inane and learn to converse on the fly using “public data that’s been anonymised”.

Source: Tay, Microsoft’s social AI for millennials, turns racist within 24 hours | Alphr

Back when I was a student we learnt about Turing’s Test for AIs – basically whether or not a human could tell they were conversing with a real human or a machine. Ex Machina is a neat film based on the premise – as well as a keen allegory about the way men (still) treat women. Eliza was a relatively simple programme written back in 1966 to respond to key words in the offered conversation and gave a pretty realistic response. It (pre-Gleick) demonstrated how chaotic “realistic” language is and that we can be fooled by pretty simplistic patterns that APPEAR real.

The Microsfot experiment is a whole new level of sophistication and attempted to learn from the input what “normal” looks like. Inevitably, in a week where Boaty McBoatface is the Internet’s suggestion for the name of a new research vessel, Tay learnt that “being an arsehole” is the new normal on the Internet! Within 24 hours it allegedly spouted pro-Hitler twaddle and Microsoft took their new toy home to give it a good spanking and teach it some proper manners. We await it’s return…





Late to the celebration of Ms Earley

13 03 2016

So, as I mentioned elsewhere, I recently read an edition of Canada’s History that highlighted some of Canada’s great women. 20? 30? Let’s try closer to HALF THE POPULATION! OK – that would be quite a thick magazine, I suppose.

Anyway, though the 20 that were featured in the magazine had been selected by a group of themselves relatively well known Canadian women, there seemed to be a skewed representation towards authors. Not that they were any less remarkable for that. They opened up the Canadian literary scene to more earthy examinations of inner city issues, feminism (of course) and simply great story telling. One or two I’d heard of. One or two I’d even read – such as Margaret Laurence’s The Stone Angel.

Of the 20 that were featured though, my “favourite” – if that’s even a valid concept in this context – was Mary Two-Axe Earley. The accompanying illustration was an interpretation of a CP/Toronto Star photograph on the magazine’s website, and she looked like anyone’s kindly nanna. But what a force!

Canada’s History: Mary Two-Axe Earley

As I read about her life I was struck by how Canadian history – even relatively recent history – was completely unknown in the UK. Things we might reasonably expect and take for granted have been hard fought for by strong women such as Two-Axe Earley. The world – and in this case Canada in particular – is undeniably a better place for the things women like her have achieved.

Born as a Canadian Mohawk on 4th October 1911, she moved to the US and married an Irish/American engineer – Edward Earley – and had a brace of litte ‘uns. Because Edward was non-Aboriginal, she fell foul of the 1876 Indian Act and lost all her rights along with her Indian status. As well as the loss of the right to live on the land she was brought up on, she couldn’t vote in the reserve’s elections or even be buried in its cemetery. None of this concerned her at the time. She was living in Brooklyn and was very much in love. Then…

A friend of hers died in 1966 and she discovered that her friend had been ordered off her own reserve for marrying a Mohawk from a different reserve. No such penalty was suffered by men, and she was pretty sure the stress had contributed to her friend’s death. Written in the Victorian era, the Indian Act simply reflected the prevalent view at the time that women were basically possessions of their husbands.

Enraged into action, Two-Axe Earley founded Equal Right for Indian Women, which later became Indian Rights for Indian Women. The Royal Commission on the Status of Women in Canada was established in 1967 and gave a platform to present the case. The commission duly recommended that the relevant clauses of the Indian Act be repealed such that First Nations men and women should have the same rights with respect to property and marriage as any other Canadian. So naturally not a lot happened.

It wasn’t until the 1982 Canadian Charter of Human Rights and Freedoms though that her campaign really got the teeth it needed. In 1985 the government finally amended the Indian Act so that it reflected the equality provision in the Charter. As well as returning rights to women who had previously lost them through the archaic clauses in the act and “marrying out”, there were two generations of children from those unions that were now eligible for status. More than 15,000 women were affected by this decision!

When she finally died in 1996, Mary Two-Axe Earley was laid to rest in the cemetery near her birthplace, Kahnawake. A right she had fought long and hard to gain.

If you’d like to learn more about this remarkable lady, check out her bio at Windspeaker.





Ancient & Modern

13 03 2016

As I may have mentioned – though potentially not to you – Mrs E and I marked our 6th wedding anniversary the other week. After 24 years married. The smarter amongst you will figure out how those facts are not mutually exclusive. We went to stay on the west coast of Vancouver Island, at a place called Wickaninnish Inn – a lovely place to go Storm Watching.

Chesterman Beach, Vancouver Island

Anyway, to pass the time on the ferry, I bought a copy of “Canada’s History”. This used to go by the name of “The Beaver” and was originally the Hudson’s Bay Company’s internal magazine. It’s well known for being brimful of Asha Canadiana. This particular edition was celebrating 20 great Canadian women and that was what caught my eye and lured me to part with the $8 required for the privilege to read it.

The very back cover though was also of interest. As is the norm, it was a full page advert. In this case for the Toronto-Dominion Bank . It was advertising the TD Gallery of Inuit Art in Toronto. The image they’d chosen to use was of “Young man with MP3 player” by Pitseolak Qimirpik, a Cape Dorset artist.

There is no denying the skill of the guy, and you can see more of his work at Dorset Fine Arts. The thing that made me pause though was not only the display of traditional carving skill, but the contemporary subject matter. Here was a very contemporary subject (spliff, earbuds and all), but portrayed in a very ancient way. Not with a digital image or some fancy PhotoShop work, but with time, care and skill… in a 17 inch high piece of serpentine with antler and wire. It inspired me to want to learn more. Not just of the work of Qimirpik himself, but of his culture and motivation.

pitseolakqimirpikcopy

Source: Dorset Fine Arts PITSEOLAK QIMIRPIK – YOUING MAN WITH MP3 PLAYER, 2010





What Lithuanian Police Officers Do On International Women’s Day

9 03 2016

My son declared a few years ago that he wanted to be a member of the RCMP. He’s preparing himself well, physically training and applying for opportunities to help build up his résumé for when he leaves school. Though he’s not spent a lot of time with him since we emigrated from the UK, his granddad was a policeman there too.

When I asked him what was motivating him, he said he wanted to help his community and keep people safe. I smiled when I saw this article in Bored Panda about the Lithuanian Police on International Women’s Day. Some think it’s a nice gesture, others that it merely underlines the patriarchy.

Isn’t the fact that we even have an International Women’s Day an indication that we’ve still got a long way to go? Personally, I think it’s a lovely thing – it underlines to women that the police have a positive, protective role (no matter what their gender), and that at the end of the day… hey, it’s a free flower!

For the last couple of years, Lithuanian officers have been pulling women over for the most beautiful reason during International Women’s Day. Instead of giving ladies a ticket, they hand them flowers to celebrate the occasion.

Source: What Lithuanian Police Officers Do On International Women’s Day | Bored Panda





Government-sponsored Syrian refugees struggle to adjust to Canadian life – The Current , CBC Radio

7 03 2016

An interesting programme on CBC’s The Current this morning. Worth 20 minutes of your life to listen to the stream (click through below to listen). It illustrates the different experience for privately sponsored and government sponsored families in the Vancouver area.

Round about 17:40 you’ll hear one of the thousands of volunteers talking about their motivation to help.

Source: Government-sponsored Syrian refugees struggle to adjust to Canadian life – Home | The Current with Anna Maria Tremonti | CBC Radio





Receiving an Education

5 03 2016

I don’t consider myself an activist. Not in the way we normally pigeon-hole people at least. I’ve never felt the need to chain myself to railings (though they’re rare in the Lower Mainland) or throw myself under a racehorse for example. I’ve never even attended a rally or listened to a soap-box speaker. There are some things I feel very strongly about though. Education; women’s rights; recycling; human dignity. To name a few. A few things strike me as fundamental to who we are as a species if we claim to be superior to fungus in any way at all.

I do act on my convictions though. I donate money and time to causes I support. Scouts; young entrepreneurs; amputees; it’s an eclectic mix of course, as am I. Most recently I volunteered to the Immigrant Services Society of BC. They came into being to help BC support the large influx of refugees from Idi Amin’s, er, aberration back in 1968. Since then they have developed processes and services to help newcomers integrate and assimilate into Canadian life. All immigrants, not just refugees. However the recent Syrian situation has caused a spike in calls for their services and they put out a call for extra volunteers. I am humbled to say that BC responded well and now there’s a “better” problem in processing so many volunteers.

I’ve already had my orientation session and fulfilled the Police Criminal Record Check to make sure I’m not a danger to these vulnerable families. The government sponsored refugees are the main target for the help and they were selected as the most needy from the refugee camps around Syria’s borders. That was an important factor for me. I am open to helping anyone that needs it, but a refugee is very distinct from a migrant in my view. ISSofBC agrees and even had a slide on the differences between the two, in terms of attitudes, needs and expectations.

The next phase of training was this last week and involved a 2.5 hour session on cultural sensitivity. I always maintain that no matter how bad a training session is there’s always something to be learnt. It may not be what was intended, and indeed it may actually be about oneself, but I always try to be open to learning opportunities. Last Thursday turned out to be quite educational. Firstly there were the “expected” learnings. We were taught some generalities of Arab culture so we could avoid unnecessary irritation due to differences with “normal” Canadian expectation. One in particular was regarding time. In the west, if we arrange to meet someone at say 9am, we tend to expect them to turn up around then – unavoidable accidents aside. It seems that with our new mentees we should be prepared for some, er, fluidity in the concept of time. The phrase “God willing” should be interpreted as “maybe, possibly, if the wind is in the right direction and nothing more interesting turns up”, it seems. OK – that’s me expanding what was actually said, but “Tomorrow, if God wills it” should not be interpreted as “Yup, tomorrow for sure”. They say forewarned is forearmed, and now I know not to think I’m being snubbed or ignored. I’ll be particularly alert around things like doctor or school appointments. The flip side of this is that if you are in conversation, you are the most important thing. They miss those meetings because of the respect they have for the person they’re already with.

Some of the biggest adjustments for the newcomers are in the smallest things. We were told 95% of Syrians smoke. Now I’m quite sure that the percentage is not scientifically arrived at, but it’s indicative of the issue. When trying to find new homes for the refugees after their 2 week stay in the welcoming apartments, there’s a form (inevitably) to be filled in. One question is “Do you smoke?” They are told “If we tick YES you may be waiting 6-9 months for an apartment. If we tick NO you will have a new home within 2-3 weeks. Now… which one shall we tick?” Adjustments are needed on all sides, it seems.

The part I’m dreading though is where my personal views clash with the cultural expectations of the newcomers. I’m not religious, and have no stronger negative views around Islam than I do around Christianity. The west is far too arrogant in that regard. Check out the Dutch social experiment by “Dit Is Normaal” for an illustration of that.

However, it is true that we have SOCIAL and CULTURAL expectations that may be very different to a newcomer’s and it’s always better to avoid unnecessary conflict and distrust. We don’t all need to agree about everything even within our own society, but offence is best performed deliberately rather than accidentally! 🙂 The learnings here ranged from confirmation of assumption (“under no circumstance should a male mentor touch a female in the family – even to shake hands”) to the less expected (“do not offer ANY advice about females in the family. ESPECIALLY with regards to education or employment”.) It seems that the father is not just head of the family, as might already be anticipated, but is the sole arbiter of the lives of the female members. Even offering advice about higher education opportunities of any male children can be seen as unwelcome interference. This area is going to be the most challenging for myself personally. I have strong views about women’s rights and education more generally. Cultural sensitivity is one thing. Oppression is another. It will be a real test of my mentoring and inter-personal skills. A learning opportunity yet to come.

One of the other volunteers was himself a middle eastern immigrant – there are many Persians in Vancouver – and made the point that all immigrants must follow the law of the land, no matter what their “old country” expected. This was a complete non-issue when I myself immigrated. Canada’s laws and social norms are almost entirely the same as in the UK. But as indicated at the start… I learnt a few unexpected things at the end of the session. About myself and my own sensitivities as an “outsider” – despite my blue passport.

After 90 minutes of lecture about various aspects of integration and sensitivity we were split into groups of 4 and given some case studies to talk about and present. My group was given an example of a Cambodian lady with a long name that was hard for westerners to pronounce. We were asked to consider how we might discuss any concerns with this hypothetical lady.  I mentioned my experience in Taiwan where it was common for Chinese people to adopt English Christian names to help smooth business dealings with westerners. I’d found it notable because many of the names were “old” such as Ernest or Arthur, or just very unusual such as Forest, Ferry or Tiger. One lady in my group gave an example of a Chinese friend who had chosen an Anglicised name to help herself integrate. (The common thread being they’d all chosen these names themselves – the group agreed it should not be an expectation.) She’d then married a Canadian and now was known as Agnes McDougal or something.

This was all just unremarkable chit chat until the lady in the group concluded with “she ended up with such an English name!” From nowhere, my “lizard brain” felt the need to gently jibe “Actually – that’s Scottish”. I was surprised – even shocked – at myself. I consider myself pretty well integrated… and might even have said assimilated up until then, yet here I was still sensitive to subtleties of UK geography that few outside the islands know or care about. I resisted continuing with the lecture on the differences between Britain and England, but it was a not entirely pleasant reminder of the prejudices and assumptions I myself would be bringing to any interaction with Syrian refugees.

Muttering internally to myself about being more observant of my internal compass and not to get unnecessarily bent out of shape, I got the double whammy when a member of the group then suggested that our spokesperson should be “the guy with the accent”. Plainly I was – after 15 years – still not quite acceptable as a Canadian. The irony being that the suggestion came from a young Chinese-heritage lad.

Still smarting from this uncomfortable self learning I had one final jolt as I left the room. Because of the case studies, we were all largely sat in different chairs to the ones we’d sat in through the earlier sessions. We were now at the end of 2.5 hours “learning” about cultural sensitivity. I wandered back to my original chair to collect my belongings and quietly asked the lady sat there if she’d mind me disturbing her to collect my coat and jumper. “Jumper?!” she exclaimed a little too loudly, as she moved. I felt quite small for a moment. After sitting through the same sensitivity training as I had, this lady – quite accidentally and without malice I’m sure – mocked my use of a common English word not typically used in North America. I had just received a timely reminder that feeling “other” is a way more subtle and nuanced situation that how you look, or even the language you speak. Offence and sensitivities can be caused in such casual accidental ways… even after being trained on how not to do it!

I left feeling more educated than I expected, and slightly more self-aware of my own limitations.

Game on!