IIO called in after deadly police-involved shooting in South Surrey – NEWS 1130

18 07 2015

What should have been an uneventful amble with the dog to the library to return some books this morning turned out to be quite shocking.

The entire library/RCMP detatchment building was closed off, including a block of the busy 152nd St.

It turns out there had been a police shooting at about 2:30am, which would probably explain the helicopters that have been patrolling the skies of normally sleepy White Rock/South Surrey all morning too.

IIO called in after deadly police-involved shooting in South Surrey – NEWS 1130.

The lady flagger positioned by the library was happily shuttling residents’ library books to the return silo. Details of the shooting are still sketchy, but no doubt will develop as the day goes on.

News 1130: Police incident in White Rock/South Surrey

News 1130: Police incident in White Rock/South Surrey





Oh Canada… you ARE silly.

24 01 2015

So I live in Surrey, BC.

It’s just an address, but hereabouts people like to be more specific and say SOUTH Surrey to differentiate it from NORMAL Surrey. The reputation of drugs and associated crime being a little too ungenteel for some. Compared to the UK, even deepest, darkest Newton (area of Surrey) is as safe as houses, but all things are relative and it is comparatively bad by BC standards. White Rock is a separate little city, just a few blocks big, carved out of the very south of South Surrey… and they therefore get the best bit of the beach. If they’d been born separately and merged together over the space of a millennium or so, White Rock and South Surrey would be called a conurbation. But this is North America and the paint is still drying on even the oldest “heritage homes”, so they’re not.

White Rock itself has changed quite dramatically in the 14 years we’ve lived here. Lots of development – some of it vertical (the city limit of 4 storeys – intended to protect the ocean views for all – seems to be negotiable if you are a developer with deep enough pockets… or an interesting photo collection, I suppose). When we first arrived, it was like Little England. Every other person was either an elderly war bride or a recent UK immigrant. Far from the case now, but that genteel aspiration lives on, and by and large White Rock/South Surrey is  a twee seaside town. I was frankly a little disappointed all those years ago. We’d emigrated to the other side of the world and accidentally arrived back in England. The largest difference was realising that we’d also travelled back in time to the late 70s! BC has a disproportionately powerful union culture, but it’s also very polite and friendly.

Recently though there have been a couple of troublesome events. Not least the attempted abduction of a 9 year old girl from the local school playground (not during school session, but even so…).

The latest though? A bank robbery. Yup – a real life bank robbery. At the HSBC (though I currently have little sympathy for that particular brand). Best part though? The disguise was a ludicrously obvious false beard. Did I mention that this occurred about 4 blocks from the RCMP police station? a 750m, 8 minute walk according to Google. Oh dear…

Bank robber with fake beard sought by RCMP in White Rock, B.C. – British Columbia – CBC News.

CBC: White Rock robbery

Google Map’s suggestion of the 8 minute walk the police might have taken…

Google Maps: 750 from bank to RCMP station.

Google Maps: 750m from bank to RCMP station.

EDIT: It seems the police now have some suspects.





On the lack of climbing starfish

13 09 2014

Today was a near perfect day, weather-wise. Not too hot, clear sky, gentle breeze. The sort of day people get married on.

I went for a walk down to the White Rock pier. Years ago, I used to walk there almost daily. Now it’s a rare visit. I didn’t see a single person I knew. Very odd, given that I’ve lived in this town for almost exactly 13 years now. Gone are the days when I used to meet many people I knew, despite being a relative newcomer. The town has grown. Its demographics have changed a lot in that period. I feel like a tourist or transient visitor to the beach area now. The pier is always a special walk though. You cross the train track, which can trap you on the pier for several minutes if a freight train should happen to pass whilst you’re on the structure. But the end of the pier ends at a breakwater, built to shelter some boat moorings. It’s a great place for the kids to fish for bullheads or crabs, and brave/stupid pier-jumpers leap off in an effort to test the adhesion of their bathing attire.

The best bit though, is looking for the starfish. Pacific north-west starfish come in many hues of orange/red/purple. They’re fascinating to watch as they spread-eagle themselves and climb the wooden supports or the rocks of the breakwater. At low tide a few are totally exposed, but most find cool sun-hides under the rocks, or in the deep shade of the pier’s wooden members.

Here’s a photo from 2008 when I was privileged to go on a yacht with a friend to the local “Gulf Islands”. You see what I mean about the hues and splendour of their graceful forms?

Bundle!

Anyway, today there were none. Not one. Not even a boring grey/green one. Nothing. Pondering this lack of starfish, I realised I’d not seen any on my recent amazing trip to Haida Gwaii either. The sea in White Rock looked a little murkier than I remembered in previous years. A little more green and weedy. The sea at Haida Gwaii though was pristine. I doubted it was pollution causing the lack of starfish.

So then I walked back up the steep Oxford Street and checked the web. The web never lies, right? OK – so it does quite a lot really, so I made sure to check a reputable site… like the CBC. It seems there’s some mystery illness decimating starfish in the PNW. All the way from Alaska to Mexico. Whatever it is, it’s simply dissolving them: they turn to goo, and float off as fish food nibbles… Ebola for starfish!

CBC: Sea star wasting away

The whole story can be found on the CBC web site here.
Seems the scientists aren’t too concerned due the rapid rate of their breeding, but even so – it’s sad to not see one starfish climbing up, in all its glory.





White Rock woman holds ‘Lying Cheating Sale’ to sell all her husband’s stuff while he’s ‘gone with his floozie’ (Via The Province)

28 03 2013

Via The ProvinceWhite Rock woman holds ‘Lying Cheating Sale’ to sell all her husband’s stuff while he’s ‘gone with his floozie’.

Source: Province – Bargain-hunters at the Lying Cheating Sale look over the goods on Saturday in White Rock.
Photograph by: Nick Procaylo , PNG

Ouch!

They say “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”

Well – William Congreve did, anyway!

Let this be a salutary lesson to all cheating men to make sure they keep their favourite fishing rod with them at all times.

Just in case…

 

Sorry, no, it’s not funny.

Really it isn’t.

At all.





H2O – solid and liquid

12 01 2013

Busy day.

Began early (for a weekend at least) with a trip up one of the local “North Shore Mountains” – Seymour. Mrs E and a colleague joined me for a return visit to Dog Mountain via snow shoes. It’s a route I’d travelled a couple of weeks ago, but the intervening time had delivered quite a bit more snow, and the pretty sharp ups and downs were now much less daunting, requiring no hands in cold snow to steady my course. It was a lovely day, and despite hovering around -4 Celsius, the exercise kept things very pleasant. Almost at Dog Mountain we bumped into another colleague who had just left there with his girlfriend – the trails were busy with many people enjoying the pleasant day and spectacular views of Grouse and the city.

Later, Number 2 offspring joined me for a walk to White rock pier to catch the sunset and fool around with long exposures down by the beach. Here’s a few of the more choice results. I really enjoyed the “classic” trick of smoothing out the sea’s ripples into a milky smooth average over several seconds. Dusk was the perfect time to allow long exposures without losing colour.





Of Feta and Pennies

25 12 2012

I really struggle with Christmas.

I used to be able to “go with the flow” when the kids were smaller, yet, ironically, longer in name. Back then they were kiddies, kidlings, sprogletts or other things longer and more intricate than mere kids. Now they’re proto-adults though, the mystique has evaporated. They’re just as materialistic now as their peers – lost to the tidal wave of marketing and consumerism we wallow in, in the West.

But every now and then, I see little peeks of the great human beings they really are (despite my hand in their parenting!). The things they unexpectedly do that bucks the accepted trend of “me, me, me”. Like First-born the devout vegetarian being more than happy to take on turkey-cooking duties to give her mum a break. (I have a sneaky suspicion that her 4-month stint in Switzerland has brought her back from the Dark Side… she ate bacon yesterday!) Like second-born giving me a hug. Rare, unexpected, but so very obviously heartfelt. And third-born. Well… at least he’s not making more mess just now while he plays his festive gave of Shoot-em-up.

Second-born shared an interesting little dish with us in that never-never time between “normal lunchtime” and “Christmas lunchtime” which can be any time up to and including 6pm, on past experience. This is created by taking  slabs of Feta cheese and baking them in olive oil in the oven for 8-10minutes, then pouring a little honey on the top and grilling them for a little while to brown slightly. Eat when hot (It’s perfect for removing the roof of your mouth before the real meal begins…) with some crackers. Très yummy.

So you may recall I mentioned a local wag leaving pennies around on the park benches yesterday. I was out in the Christmas Day snow this morning, walking the dog again. I have no idea of their motivation for placing them, but today I felt a little saddened that about half of the pennies were no longer there. Then I remembered that one potential motivation was to place them there for some poor soul to whom a mere penny or two might make a difference. If that really was the motivation, then it was totally fine for the pennies to be gone. That indeed was potentially the point. Ignoring my more base instinct that some thieving sod had simply run off with them, I chose to add the few pennies in my own pocket to the missing slots as I negotiated the pathways of our little park, occasionally engaging other people in brief exchanges of potentially sincere goodwill as I did so.

It just seemed appropriate.

Us weirdos need to support each other. Even if we don’t know why. Just because it’s different. A stand against homogeneity. And especially because ultimately, it’s Quite Irrelevant.

The clatter of serving spoons on pans and dishes is beckoning me to the annual festival of gluttony. I wish you all a healthy New Year, and commend “The Random Act of Kindness” to you. Smile at a stranger. Put a tin of food in the food bank. Whatever you feel like. Something that makes a positive difference to someone else. Unexpected. And ideally anonymous.

Bugger Christmas – we should do it every day.





Lest we forget

11 11 2012

As a long time scout, I remember dutifully attending Remembrance Sunday services in the UK as a kid, and being told off for sniggering as The Last Post was rendered almost unrecognisable by some poor kid with lips frozen to his bugle.

When we moved to Canada, I was slightly taken aback with how much more respect is paid here in BC. It was almost as if the UK was apologetic for having to remember. The only attendees at the cenotaph in the UK would be the scouts and guides and maybe the local city Councillors. Maybe a couple of parents, but certainly not a big thing.

Here in White Rock, the entire town turns out to watch. The ceremony is on the 11th – no matter what day of the week it falls. Not on the nearest Sunday as in the UK. The parade includes the local air and sea cadets, the RCMP, the fire service and representatives from all the various scout and guide groups in the town. There’s even a fly-past from the local flying club, and it’s definitely “a big thing”. It never fails to leave me feeling humbled.

WWII started as a European thing. Britain couldn’t NOT get involved. But Canada? Canada could very definitely have kept itself to itself and let things on the other side of the world play out. The US in fact did just that for about three years. I read a review of a Canadian TV series called “Bomb Girls” about munitions workers in WWII. Apparently US viewers were confused because Pearl Harbor was the big story item in the last episode of the first series. It would seem that some US viewers had no idea the war had been raging for years before then.

Thankfully they did enter though – Britain (even with the amazing support of its dwindling empire) was on its last legs. They were showing “The Battle of Britain” film on TV this afternoon. There’s a classic line from Sir Lawrence Olivier as Air Chief Marshal Sir Hugh Dowding, when he’s being pressed to verify the astonishing figures of the number of bombers being downed by the struggling RAF in October 1940:

“I’m not very interested in propaganda. If we’re right, they’ll give up. If we are wrong, they’ll be in London in a week!.” Incidentally there were 112 Canadian pilots helping in the Battle of Britain… as well at 7 Americans. Despite the US still being neutral at that point. They were all part of “the few” referred to in Churchill’s famous speech.

It’s usually a cool day. Rainy often. Occasionally windy – I remember one year the wreaths were continually blowing over. But today it snowed. Only a little, but enough to remind people of the discomforts weather can bring.

I have been to Flanders. To Ieper/Ypres (depending on whether you’re a Flemish or French speaking Belgian). I’ve seen the Menin Gate and been astonished at the thousands of carved names. Then astonished afresh to learn that this seemingly endless register of lives lost records only the brave souls whose final resting place is not known. I have seen the traffic stopped at 8pm – every day since 1918 except briefly during WWII – and heard the Last Post played by the local Fire Service and the second stanza of Ode of Remembrance read.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them








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