John Lovell

B&B at Gatwick was okay apart from the noisy American woman that seemed to think shouting to her mother from outside my door at 6.30 am was not being antisocial. The woman that ran the place had two dogs, a Lab and a huge 3 year old Dogue de Bordeaux (French Mastiff) who had the loveliest face and dead soppy to boot. I felt sorry for the Lab which must be constantly in the shadow of attention.

Gatwick was horrendous. I checked in in about two minutes flat, must be a record. The queue for security on the other hand was reminiscent of trying to get into Wimbledon without a ticket, it snaked from one side of the terminal to the other and back, and continued to snake when you got through the doors and into the departure lounge where we were asked to remove our shoes and pop them on the conveyor belt to go through the x-ray machine. This is when I realised that wearing odd socks that day was probably a mistake but hopefully nobody noticed. Reunited with my footwear and after a body search (external) by the security guard, I grabbed my bag filled with its plethora of electronic devices which seemed to slip through unnoticed. All this managed to kill 45 minutes of a 4 hour wait so at least it broke up the monotony of doing circuits around the departure lounge trying to decide whether having a drink at the wrong time could mean a very uncomfortable period on the plane waiting for it to level out at 40,000 feet before the ensuing stampede to the loo of all the passengers that thought a pint of Special Brew just before leaving would settle the nerves.

The flight was okay, just okay. The seats which were advertised as having more seat pitch than any other chartered airline seemed no better than any other airline I’ve flown with, so I assume “pitch” and “room” don’t have much in common. Luckily the plane wasn’t full and the news of my odd socks seemed to have leaked out and I had a row all to myself. Lucky too for the couple in the centre row who had the misfortune to be sat next to three women in the body of one. To say she was huge was probably being flattering, and sensing an impending mid air eating disorder, the stewardess quickly moved the couple to the next row leaving room for the large lady to “spread out” which she duly did by sitting in the middle seat and flowing out into the seats either side. I’m not quite sure how that counts as a single ticket. The films were “okay” too but I don’t like watching blockbuster, big production movies on a 6” screen, the glare of the lights, the whining of the engines and the constant interruptions from the cabin crew. “cheap” flights seem to come at a price, that price being there are no freebies apart from a cup of tea. Even the headphones for the films had to be paid for. Free entertainment came in the shape of mrs three bodies who stacked her half empty third chair with a generous selection of booty from the food trolley. When she finally squeezed her way to the toilet which enveloped her for what seemed like an age, I couldn’t help wondering “how”?

My plan of getting a good window seat was hampered by an engine. Damn, do those things really need to be there? Anyway it was cloudy until the Rockies anyway but I managed a few snaps.



Terra firma. Nice. Joined another queue though immigration. The girl was fascinated that I was going to be here for a whole month, no questions about where I was staying or if I had any money or a return ticket, just annoyed that anyone could possibly find the time or be allowed to spend a whole month on vacation, and curious to know what on earth I was going to find to do. Reunited with my bag I joined another queue. This time for the Airporter bus to downtown Vancouver. The rather sketchy plan was to meet Emma outside Starbucks in front of the Pan Pacific hotel at 4.30. My new friends were from Taunton, although they were nearly my new enemies when I made the grave error of referring to Taunton as being in Devon. “Zummerzet” was scowled back at me. Well they let me live and we had a nice chat as we sat on the bus, this time in a queue of traffic. I was getting a bit worried at this point. Having known Emma as long as I have I was expecting trouble if I was a few nano seconds late and it was already 20 minutes and counting. As luck had it we both arrived at Starbucks at the same time so I was off the hook. We hung around for Gillian then piled off to the pub for a well earned pint then back to her flat for a Pizza. I like Pizza.

The flat is actually the top two floors of a house on the North shore of Vancouver and is nice enough. The view from the window (if a little obscured by trees and electricity cables) is of the downtown skyline, kind of Hong Kong meets New York:



The road is very busy (and noisy) so unfortunately the cat is only allowed to give passing lunches a meaningful stare as they fly past the balcony. Not that he needs to have more to eat as he’s getting to be as wide as he is tall and picking him up from the ground with my back is a risky business.

Luckily it was the weekend so we could all go play tourist. On Saturday we drove to Whistler for the day. Very cosmopolitan and full of young beautiful people, and shockingly for this part of the world, topless sunbathers at the lake. Luckily I will be going back there again on my own to make a study of this phenomenon! Maybe tomorrow, haven’t decided yet.




Next day we drove to Harrison hot spring to see the sandcastle competition. Very hot day. Harrison was lovely and the sandcastles were also impressive:




Monday was my first trip into town on my own, so I had to get a grip on the bus system, where to catch it, where to get off, where to catch it again, where to get off again, and which way around to insert the ticket in the machine without giving up the gaff that yes, you are a stupid tourist. Well it all went well apart from the ticket bit. Never mind, I suppose I am a tourist, and at times pretty stupid. I had a great day though, walked absolutely miles, had a boat ride and got chatted up on the strength of my Tate gallery St Ives T-Shirt, although I had to admit to being a fraud in the end and explain that the shirt was a present and I’d in truth never been near the place.



I do know why Emma moved back here though, it really is beautiful apart from being way bigger and more crowded than the last time I was here. The traffic is horrible and they’re building everywhere and there are SO many people living here. It makes you wonder where it’s all going, but then I never seem to be able to go on holiday and not find some depressing side to something, it’s just my cheerful Virgo disposition!



I walked right around English bay, not far from where Emma used to live, then back around to the main sea front area which is all unrecognisable from the last time, but they’ve done a nice job. Lots of boats and marinas:




Yesterday (Tuesday) was all about walking and sun. I walked until I could walk no more, and got burnt to a crisp. I get so annoyed with myself when I get sunburnt, it just hadn’t even crossed my mind but today I have Panda eyes… that would be one of those rare bright pink Panda’s with white bits around the eyes. I started off walking around the shops but ended up at the beach. This is that rare time when retail therapy isn’t that interesting to me even thought I did buy a wireless router yesterday so I could stop illegally using a neighbour’s wireless connection. Anyway, the beach was lovely and there were no computers in sight.




So Today I’m going to take it easy, get on a bus up to Grouse Mountain, catch the gondola to the top and have some lunch, but that’s another story…