A return to Montréal

So here we are. I'm sitting in my temporary room at the, uh, Hotel Pierce by Simplissimo. I change rooms later on because I made a mistake because of the dates, all these time zones and things. So I, I'm in this room until eleven, and then I have to hopefully move to my new room later on. 

Well, that was an interesting twenty-four hours. Taxi came for me yesterday morning at eight and I had a fascinating conversation with Haruman, the driver, who was originally from Pakistan. We had discussions about the current state of affairs in the world, in particular the Middle East, and the effect of a certain American president. It was fascinating, and I learned a lot about him and his life in Pakistan, in particular his love of dogs.. It was half an hour well spent. 

Then into the airport, the normal breakfast at Starbucks, and then hanging about, which seems to be the order of the day for most of traveling these days, hanging about for the next event.

 The flight to London went uneventfully. It, took off on time at about five past eleven. Got to London early, about twelve, and then, as is my wont, made my way to the Five Swans, I think it's called. Five something. It's Five Rivers. The Five Rivers at, um, Wetherspoon's at Heathrow, where I had, unusually for me, a burger and chips. I don't normally have burger, but it was probably the cheapest thing on the menu and a pint of... Now, what was it? A pint of, oh, dear me. Crikey. It was Titanic White Star. That's it, Titanic White Star. And when the guy brought it to me, he said, "That goes down well." I said, "Yes, I know." And it did. So I took as long as I, I could feasibly to actually eat my beef burger and chips.

 The meal was punctuated by assistants from Wetherspoon's asking how the meal was. It was fine.

 I then decided to explore. It's the only way to pass the time, because I couldn't sit there for six hours. So, um, I, I eventually found somewhere I could sit down, sat for a while, then moved to somewhere else I could sit down, and then moved to somewhere else where I could sit down. There was a lot of sitting down. I didn't bother going in the shops until just before leaving, purchasing a bar of chocolate and some mints. 

And then I thought, "Well, where is this flight gonna go from? From which part of the terminal will it depart?"  It seemed-- the clues seemed to suggest that it was from Terminal Five C, which you reach by a shuttle tube thing. No, not the kind of shuttle tube where you get into a, a tube and into a capsule and are shot along a tube, but into a tube train. So I did that and got to Terminal C. The only thing is I still had to wait to find out which gate I had to go to. So I sat down at the one nearest to where I boarded the last time I went to Canada. I sat there for a while and then decided to move just to explore a little bit and see if there are any other clues about where the flight might depart from. Then a group of ladies, walked past me, very jolly ladies, all speaking, um, a kind of French that I recognized. They were speaking Québécois. So I followed them and ended up right back where I'd started, in Terminal Five C.

 The boarding went very well. I was following behind a guy, who gave me the impression that he'd just arrived at Heathrow from somewhere slightly warmer because he was wearing shorts and had a rucksack and, um, he looked like a real traveler. And it turned out that I was actually sitting next to him on the aircraft. He was called Peter, and he had just returned from three months in India, and he was telling me that he likes to spend that amount of time in India every year. He, he was from Ottawa. We had some interesting conversations on the flight. 

When the pilot spoke to us, he said that it would be a swift flight. It would be round about six hours as opposed to the six and a half, seven that one can expect. We must have had a tailwind, I believe. And then, we took off, and after a while, we were given some wine to drink, and the attendant, flight attendant said, "I'll just leave two with you rather than just the one little bottle. You can have some more if you want later." Nice.   

And then, uh, it was, "What do we do next?"  The screen was in front of me. What shall I watch? I looked at the films and I thought, "Well, hmm," I wasn't sure. And there was one which I, I hesitate to say out loud. It was called Fackham Hall, which was clearly going to be a comedy. I decided I would watch that, but first I listened to some music. I put on an hour of blues, classic blues music, which passed some of the time very well. And it was strange because I was snoozing off, trying to at least. I always find it very difficult to get any, any kind of sleep on an aircraft. We had taken off to the east and wheeled round and headed for South Wales, and then Southern Ireland, and then across the Atlantic. So I,  was half listening to music and half snoozing. When I opened my eyes and everything was dark, the lights were off in the aircraft, and I thought, "Well, that's, that's really strange." Because normally you tend to be able to watch the sunset as you're going across the Atlantic.  But it just got dark very quickly. I found it very puzzling. I took a couple of quite attractive photographs - this is going to sound absolutely stupid when I tell you what it was later. Um, but the, the wing and the engine, that I was sitting right next to were bathed in a purple light, and I couldn't understand it. It was beautiful, but never mind. Took a couple of photos. 

And then  I turned to Fackham Hall, and it was difficult not to laugh out loud, I have to say. It was real kind of British, coarse, crude humor. Um, lots of double entendre, lots of absolutely silly, almost slapstick comedy. I can't really tell you who, who, who played the parts, but if you ever get the chance to watch it, If  you like a laugh, a sort of schoolboy laugh, then that's the one for you. 

I was still puzzled by this purple light that seemed to be glowing outside. And I couldn't work out whether this purple light was a fixture on the aircraft. It seemed that  were flying almost directly at it. Um, never mind. I sort of ignored it for a little while. And then we were given our, our meal, a three-course meal,  served on a tray which was probably about, oh, what, fifteen inches by ten. So there's not a lot of space for your main course, your starter salad and a dessert, and all the cutlery and a serviette and a glass for your wine, of course. I'd consumed almost half of one of the small bottles, and I decided to leave the last one. I've still got it. It's here in the room, so I might consume that at some point.  The food was fine. I had a butter chicken, which came highly recommended by the flight attendant who seemed to be pushing that one above all else. I guess that one was the one they had the most of. 

I  finished that  and then I glanced across the other side of the aircraft because there seemed to be a light on over there. Uh, whereas everything else seemed to be in reasonable darkness. There were people working on laptops. There were people sort of snoozing. But there was this one window which was really bright. You could actually see out of it. You couldn't see anything because we were flying about forty-three thousand feet or something crazy.  But it was bright. And I thought, "Well, this is bizarre." And it turned out it was a feature of a new technology which I hadn't experienced before, which controls the amount of light that comes through the window. And I thought, "Oh, maybe that's the moon then. Maybe I'm looking at the moon, and this kind of purple haze," to kind of phrase, "is, is, is causing the moon to actually look purple." But then I thought, "Well, it's the wrong shape for the time of month," because  it was a new moon when I set off, or the night before at least. And here it was, a full moon kind of shape, and, and it... right ahead of us.  

It wasn't till later, I was talking to Peter next door when we were almost approaching the coast of Labrador and, and Newfoundland, when it suddenly dawned on me, and to both of us really, that this wasn't the moon, it was the sun. And that window on the other side revealed that it was still daylight outside, and that's what I expected, to actually land in daylight.  So this magnificent technology allows the crew to dim the windows so people don't put the, pull the blinds down. No blinds to pull down. It does it by some means of physics. I asked the flight attendant when she was giving us our last snack of  the flight about it. I said, "What? So you can actually alter this yourself, this one?" 

She says, "Yes, but they're locked, so you can't."

 "All right." I said, "But what about that one over there where the, the light is coming in?.." 

"Oh, that one's broken. It doesn't work." 

 "Ah, right. Okay." 

So I, I learned something new, and by that time they'd started to reduce the dimming quotia, quo... What, what? Dimming quotient. Would that be the right term? The dimming quotient.  

We began a kind of slow descent as we came over the St. Lawrence up by Gaspesie and then we gradually lost height into the clouds and then below the clouds, and we could see the sun then, as it was truly revealed as its self. We landed, I think it was about half past seven, which was actually about an hour early.  That was quite good actually, because I had this vague thought in my mind that when I arrived at my accommodation, if it wasn't too late, I might try to make it to the open mic at Benelux Verdun, where I've been before - not to perform, just to go and watch and try and book a slot for next Wednesday. So it was good that we arrived early because, first of all, there was the journey from the aircraft to the airport terminal. No, there wasn't. I'm making that up. Uh, we just, we had a long walk up from the aircraft up to the terminal building through a tunnel, and then we had to go through the passport control, which I guess is very similar to the one which is now being introduced into Europe. The last time I was there last year, they had this system where you scan your passport, you have your photograph taken, and it remembers you from the last time you were there providing your e-visa thing is still valid. 

And then another long queue to go through the actual immigration control, where officials check the little chitty that you've been given by the machine, and if you qualify, you, they let you straight through. If not, then you have to go and speak to an immigration officer.

 So then it's down to the baggage retrieval area. It wasn't too long, and I have to say I'm very pleased that I had placed identifying marks on my two items of checked luggage. On my small little cabin case that I normally carry in the cabin, I had put a nice orange fluorescent strip on one side, and then a yellow fluorescent strip on the bottom, so I can recognize it. And on my suitcase I have the resplendent sticker representing the Groyne, uh, the Sandancer sticker, So after a, a ten-minute, fifteen-minute wait, retrieved the bags and then out through a perfunctory glance at this little document that you were given by the machine, handing it to the guy at the exit. 

Now for a taxi. I tried to do some research whilst I was still on the flight about comparison in price between Uber and the normal regular airport taxis, and it turned out in actual fact that the Uber was probably going to be about twenty dollars more expensive. So I joined the queue for the Bonjour taxis, which are a fixed rate into the city, and it was quite a queue. I think it must have been all told about a hundred meters long 'cause it snaked backwards and forwards. It took about half an hour to get through that area. And the taxi ride was perfect, uneventful. We arrived at my hotel and the taxi driver kindly helped me across the road with one suitcase, the big one. I had codes to enter the outdoor entrance door, the inner door and  another code entry to go up in the lift to the second floor, which we would call the first floor. Then a different code to get into my room. 

7⁷By that time, I think it was quarter past nine here.So that means it was quarter past two. Is that right? Five hours difference, yeah. Quarter past two back in England. And I had a decision to make. Should I crash out? Because I felt like crashing straight on the bed. Or should I make the effort to go to Benelux Verdun? I decided on the latter, so I went to the nearest metro station, which is Guy Concordia, which is just 50 metres down the street. Sorted a 10-journey ticket, and then travelled three or four stops along the green line to D'Eglise, around the corner into Wellington Street and thence to Benelux.

 Music was in full flow. A guy playing guitar and singing. I recognised the guy, Steph,but who organises the open mic stuff. He was standing outside having a smoke. I went straight in, went to the bar and looked at the list of beers on the wall. There were quite a few familiar names, some not so familiar. But I decided to opt for probably one of the less strong beers. They are, to use the phrase, craft ales. It's not draft real ale, it's draft keg. But I really couldn't care less in those situations. So I opted for an interesting beer at about 4.2%. And it is, and I'm not sure how letterly it's going to actually cope with this, this beer. It is called "Ouate de Phoque". Now, those Francophiles, those French speakers amongst you will know that a 'phoque' is a seal. So a clever and slightly naughty play on words, Ouate de Phoque.. So I ordered one of those. It always takes me by surprise when I get the price. I think it was just over $10, which works out to something around about £6, I guess, in English money. But I shouldn't really be surprised. That's the kind of price you pay in large cities. And it's very nice. So I sat down at the tables and consumed some Ouate de Phoque, watched the music. And then the first guy finished. Another duo got up. And that was interesting. They did two or three songs with a kind of a Spanish flavour, almost flamenco flavour. One guy playing the kind of guitar, the fiddly bits. And the other one playing guitar and singing. They were good. And then Steph got up and said, right, now we've got the last act for the evening. It was all in French, but I could understand him. And so one of the co-hosts for the evening, I've forgotten his name now, got up and did two or three songs. And he was good too.. Very professional. And then he said, right, that's it. Good night, everyone. Have a great time. And everybody clapped. Clapped the bar staff, clapped the performers, clapped Steph. Everybody got the clap. I mean, everybody clapped. And so I thought, right, now's the time to approach him and try and book a slot for next Wednesday. He recognized me from last year and said, oh, how nice it was to see me back again. I asked about a slot for next week. 

And he said, "Oh no!"  

"Ouate de Phoque? ' I thought.

He told me that next week's session has been cancelled because of a hockey match. I'm saying hockey match because you wouldn't dare put the word ice in front of it in Quebec because everybody knows exactly what you mean if you say hockey. It's got nothing to do with running around on the field with a ball and hockey sticks. It's all to do with ice hockey and the team in Montreal, the Montreal Canadiens . They are in what we would call, I guess, the playoffs for the final rounds of games. And they're contesting this playoff series with the Tampa Bay Lightning. And there is a match scheduled for next Wednesday. I  think it's in Tampa Bay,  not in Montreal. And so everybody will want to watch this game on TV. And everybody will be wanting to watch this game somewhere where they can drink beer and watch TV. So they're either going to celebrate or drown their sorrows. We know the feeling in the northeast of England.

 I was devastated. I thought, oh, dear me. Here am I. I've come all this way to play in an open mic on Wednesday the 29th of April. And it's been cancelled. And Steph was so apologetic., "If I'd known you were coming, I would have kept the slot for you, and you could have come on, uh, at the end."

Never mind . So I finished my, "Ouate de Phoque?" And it seemed pretty appropriate at this time. 

Then made my way back on the Metro again, um, to Guy- Concordia, and then from thence to the hotel. It's a very pleasant kind of room I'm in temporarily. It's actually got a sort of separate bedroom and, and whatnot. I could actually live in it probably. I did get permission to stay here till my other room's ready because normally I would have to check out at eleven and check in again at three. So it's gonna be interesting to see what happens.

 But at this moment, I'm having a cup of coffee and a bit of chocolate. I have to decide what to do next. I may go out and look for some food, or I may not go out and look for some food. I might just stay here and eat more chocolate and perhaps have another cup of coffee. Um, I have to say, this is the first time I've actually dictated a blog into my phone using the Letterly app. So I'm fascinated to see if it's worked. If it hasn't, I'll be absolutely devastated because I can't imagine having to say this all over again or writing it all over again. Anyway, I shall attempt to translate this into a blog, blog and post it, and I hope someone reads it. I might actually add some photographs to it as well. Okay. Farewell for now. Au revoir.

Montréal 2025 7 - Too busy to blog?

Apologies, dear reader for the apparent break down in communications over the last week. It not as if I haven't done anything, but the cumulative effects of travelling and several nights out in succession took its toll, with a head cold and a bit of a cough to complicate matters. Basically, for a few days I spent most of the day resting and then emerging from my bed to go out in the evening, and my smartphone told me that my energy levels were low and I needed to rest. So I did! But I've still got to tell you about a wonderful Steve Hill gig, Elisapie's show, two more "Elles" shows, another open mic evening st Benelux Verdun and a visit to a Blues Club.

I also got my travel dates confused, so instead of starting my journey home tonight at 22.05, it will be tomorrow (Saturday 12th), which means arriving back in Newcastle  on Sunday afternoon. Getting  to the Mid-Boldon Club on Sunday evening may be a challenge too far.

Meanwhile, here are a few images to whet your appetite.

Montreal 2025 - 6 Open Mic night at Benelux Verdun

 Wednesday 2nd April dawned...

Just as well, or the blog would just stop there, wouldn't it?

Clearly!  Clear off!

As I was about to continue,  Wednesday 2nd April dawned too early for me. Despite being fairly well shattered by the journey, the wandering about the city and the excitement of the show the previous evening, I still woke up at 4.00 a.m. My internal clock is clearly not yet adjusted properly. I forced myself to rest until until 6.00 a.m and then roused myself from my very comfortable bed. Ablutions completed, breakfast consumed, I turned my attention to my Spark Go. This miniscule amplifier was due to help me perform a couple of songs at the Open Mic at Benelux Verdun  later that evening, but various attempts to link it with the Spark app on my phone had failed miserably the previous day. In fact , it failed to produce any sound at all, even when simply connected to my guitar. Bolleaux!, I had thought. Now, on Wednesday morning I decided to apply the final solution - a factory reset! Oh no, not the dreaded factory reset? Yes the factory reset! As it turned out, it worked!

Having applied my technical genius to solve this problem, I went out and bought some tissues because I seemed to be developing a head cold, and wandered about for a while, returning to my apartment for a swift lunch and a siesta. The Open Mic was due to commence at 7.30 and Tico Pavisian, head brewer at Benelux had advised me to get there early. So I took the Metro from Guy-Concordia to De l'Église and did the short walk from the station, through familiar streets to Benelux. There are two branches of Benelux , one on Sherbrooke West near Place des Arts, and the other on Wellington Street in Verdun. My last visits to Benelux Verdun were in August 2023, with temperature in the 30 degrees C range. Wednesday was a bit different, with snow forecast. I arrived about 7.00 and was delighted to see that Frida was available behind the bar. Ah, Frida... such happy memories of those hot days and evenings, holding you carefully, just consuming all of you, or at least as much of you as I could, without falling over. For those worrying that this blog may be changing in character, I have to inform you that Frida is a 5% biere blanche, with a hint of raspberry. I was worried that Frida might not be around because it wasn't summer, but there she was, in all her glory! Having ordered a pint I made my way to a table just in front of the performance area, and claimed a seat. 

 

A short while later a young lady, carrying a guitar case, asked if she could  join me at the table. Debra, as she informed me, was born in Egypt, and had been in Canada for about 7 years. She spoke perfect English, but no French. She told me about the very lively music scene in Cairo, where open mics were very common, and very popular. Fascinating. 

Then our host for the evening, Stéphane stepped up to the microphone and  having introduced himself proceeded to launch the evening with a couple of songs. He had told me that i was third on the list, so I slowly assembled my bits and pieces.

Next up was Eric, who sang one song to a backing track. I'll file that piece of information away for later, I thought to myself.

Then it was me. I had assumed that I was going to be third of the 'guests' but no, Stéphane had included himself in the three, so I hurriedly assemble necessary kit and did my spot.  I sang Chris Rea's "The Boss Man Cut My Chains" and Tom Waits' song "The House Where Nobody Lives", the latter a capella. I enjoyed it - the sound was good, and folk seemed to enjoy it too. Then It was Debra's turn and she sang two of her own songs, accompanying herself on electric guitar. Excellent.

Then followed a variety of singers and players, all enjoyable to watch and listen to. Ages ranged from young to old, which is always nice to see. There were self-penned songs, one about 'une rupture amoureuse' (just before you get your medical dictionaries out, that is actually a romantic breakup). A rupture amoureuse still clearly felt by the young woman who had penned it. I thought I was probably the oldest performer, until the final act of the evening. A very frail looking chap called Raymond, who got a rousing  welcome to the stage, and a similarly rousing reception when he left after belting out two jazzy melodies on the keyboard. A good night was had by all, and I hope to return next week.

It was snowing when I exited the Metro Station at Guy-Concordia, but it's only a four minute walk to my lodgings. It continued to snow for a while, but then the snow was replaced by freezing rain and then finally by normal rain. 

What's next? Another concert, this time by the wonderful Steve Hill.

 

Montreal 2025 - 5 - April 1st, a great day, no fooling!

 Anyone who has known me for more than about an hour knows how much a certain québecoise chanteuse means to me, and how she has shaped a large part of my life over the last eighteen years. Because of her I have directly and indirectly developed friendships here in Québec, in the USA, France, Russia, Ukraine, Belarus and Belgium. Many of those friends I have met and I have shared precious time together with them. Others I have not yet met face to face, but live in hope of doing so. And so one of the main reasons for my visit here in 2025 was, unsurprisingly, to see her perform on stage again. This time she was not to be performing a solo show with a trio of talented musicians, nor with a symphony orchestra nor a choir of several hundred voices, but with two other phenomenal female singers in a show entitled "Elles".

 

And today, 1st April 2025, was the day that I would be privileged to part of the audience at Théatre Manuvie, in Brossard, on the other side of the mighty St.Lawrence river, to see Luce Dufault, Lulu Hughes and Kim Richardson perform.

The rest of the day was spent in revisiting some familiar places in the city, with an almost obligatory visit to Le Place des Arts with its theatre complex, and  the Complexe Desjardins, a shopping and food mall in which I had spent many an hour on previous visits. I also did some shopping in the Easton Centre for some supportive but comfortable footwear to combat a flare up of plantar fascitis in my right foot. My only other expedition of the day, in the afternoon, was to Floraison, a small florist's shop on rue St.Catherine. No prizes for guessing what I bought there!

Having examined all of the available options for getting from my base to Brossard, and having been advised by my dear friend Louise to be aware of possible delays in the public transport system, I decided to achieve my objective by making use of the Uber service again. And so it was after a 25 minute ride, I was deposited outside Théatre Manuvie at 6.30 p.m. I checked with a member of staff about being able to leave my coat, back-pack and  brown paper wrapped collection of flowers in the cloakroom during the performance. Yes, it would be fine, but the cloakroom didn’t open until 7.10 p.m. Hmm, what do do until then... oh, look, two bar/restaurants in the theatre foyer. I chose one and having declined the opportunity to eat, was guided to a bar stool by a member of staff. What to have to drink was the next question. There was clearly no real ale on offer, and I didn't think they would have any Guiness Zero, so I opted for 20oz of Sleeman Rousse, an Canadian brewed beer, which was quite palatable.

 I had also collected my ticket from La Billeterie and there it sits in its little envelope in the picture to the right. Sleemans Rousse is also visible, as is a red rose. Now the red rose wasn't for Luce, neither was the other red rose that you can't see, But when I was buying a bouquet for her, at Floraison, on rue St.Catherine, (you remember?) I though it would be rather impolite not to offer Lulu and Kim something too.

So, having consumed one 20oz of Sleeman Rousse without the clock ticking round to 7.10,  I had a 10oz measure of the same. and so it came to pass that at precisely 7.10 p.m. I presented my self at the vestiaire to deposit the aforementioned accoutrements. I explained to the young lady that Madame Dufault would be expecting me to visit backstage after the performance, and she tucked away the flowers and back-pack, and hat, coat and scarf, for the measly price of 3$. Then I made my way into the auditorium.

 

It was a pleasant auditorium, with plenty of space between the rows. Those of you with razor-sharp eyesight will see that I was in Row G, Seat 8 - a very good seat.

The theatre filled up slowly, but by the appointed time for the curtain to rise, it was full, apart from two seats to my right.

Here follows an important warning for all readers: there will be an unusually large concentration of superlatives in the next few paragraphs!

The curtain rose, revealing the six musicians in the band. There were three familiar faces from Luce's previous concerts, Ti-Basse on keyboard, Carl Surprenant on bass and Jean 'Johnny' Garneau, musical director and lead guitar. There were also a drummer, trumpet-player and saxophone player, and I promise I will have their names for the  next time I report on "Elles". Next time, I hear you say? Oh yes, the next time!!

Then the ladies arrived on stage, one at a time, and the magic began. Now each of these wonderful ladies have instantly recognisable, amazing voices, but when they sang together it was the most incredible sound!  The kind of sound that induces tears to emerge from the corners of your eyes and a smile to crease your face. A sound bath in which you bathe in wonderment.  All dressed in black, as seen in the photo above, they looked as good as they sounded. There was a joy about the performance that will long rest in me - they shared the joy of performing together and they shared little moments of  mutual support and encouragement between themselves, The repertoire was so varied - there were songs from each of their back catalogues, but there also unexpected delights, from many genres of music. We enjoyed songs by Peter Gabriel, Janis Joplin and so many others.  And there were stories to preface the songs, like the one in which Kim recounted an unforgettable encounter with a certain very well known performer, when she was singing in a bar as a 17 year-old.  Having seen this gentleman sitting there,  she actually had the courage to ask him to sing with her. The gentleman’s name?  Stevie Wonder!!

The band backing the ladies was phenomenal too, and you could see the sheer enjoyment as they performed their duties to the highest level. Jean Garneau on electric guitar was super, and as he mentioned to me afterwards, that was the first time I had seen him play an electric guitar apart from a lapsteel. 

In a particularly poignant moment for me the ladies, seated on stools, sang Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now".  The very first time I saw Luce perform live, was only a few short months after the death of my wife, Jean. At  the end of that show, as her encore, Luce dedicated that song to Jean and me.  A moment that will be with me for ever. This new show will be there too...

 The show came to a close, but for me there was more than an Uber ride back to the city. I went back to the cloakroom, where the young lady handed back all of my belongings, and I asked her the best way to get backstage. She replied that she would contact someone and spoke into the microphone at her lapel. shortly afterwards another young lady came to me and told me that there was to be no access backstage tonight. This has happened to me before, but politely stated in my  best possible French that Madame Dufault was expecting me there. She didn't look convinced but lead me through to the front of the auditorium, and told me to wait there whilst she sought further direction. At that moment a familiar person emerged and came to shake my hand - it was Jean-Marie, Luce's husband, and also tour director. The young lady then returned with two other ladies who had clearly been given the go-ahead for a backstage visit, and together we negotiated a maze of staircases and corridors until we came to the loges, the dressing rooms. On the way we bumped into Johnny Garneau, who  exclaimed, "Robin! That's the first time you have seen me play electric guitar!" Luce was there, in the shared area of the loges, ready to greet me with a big hug. I shared with her my delight at the show, and then presented her with the bouquet and explained that I had a rose for each of the other ladies. She called in Lulu, and then a few moments later Kim arrived, just before leaving. She was being very careful with her voice, not wishing to test its endurance further. What a privilege to meet them both. Luce and Jean-Marie know me quite well, offering a choice of beers, and with Lulu enjoying a glass of wine with Luce and I, we enjoyed a chat. I had also brought something in my bag for Jean-Marie, and he seemed delighted with my choice of a 12 year old malt whisky. 

There was the chance to say hello to Jean Sebastian Fournier (Ti-Basse) and Jean Garneau again, and then it was basically kicking out time. Jean-Marie led me to the exit, which proved to be at the rear of the theatre, and having contacted an Uber to pick me up in 2 minutes, I didn't have a clue where I was in relation to the pick up spot. So that was Uber 1 - Robin 0. I wandered about until I found an identifiable location - a Subway shop, and called again. In two minutes Yves arrived and at 11.34 p.m I was back at Pierce Hotel by Simplissimo.

What an evening! 

Plans for the 2nd April included an Open Mic at a Brasserie ( the word 'brasserie' is an essential element of vocabulary - look it up!)

 

 

 

 

 

Montréal 2025 4 - arriving in the city.

 It's Thursday 3rd April, and I'm about to describe the events of Tuesday 1st April. I will try to catch up, but when you're busy doing things it tends to get a bit difficult.

Excuses, excuses. Come on man, get a grip!

Oh no, he's back! Newish readers of this blog will not have come across this, this commentator who pops up from time to time to add.. yes, to add comments. I'll try to ignore him and he might go away.

 No chance! Come on, so what happened when you arrived at Montreal Airport, or YUL, as we in the know call it? 

Nothing really out of the ordinary, actually. The passport checks and completion of an online questionnaire on one of the automated machines worked quite well, especially with the help of a friendly member of staff. Then the brief live interrogation by immigration officers.

How brief?

Immigration Officer: Why have you come here?

Me: On holiday.

Immigration Officer: How long are you staying?

Me: Eleven days.

Immigration Officer stands aside and lets me pass.

It was brief, then!

That's what I said! 

After that there was the tense wait at the baggage carousel, hoping that both bags would arrive safely. The tense wait became tenser as my large suitcase appeared on the carousel, but there was no sign of the smaller bag. After what seemed like an eternity (about 10 minutes) I spotted a flash of bright yellow tape on a bag which was coming round resting at the top of the carousel, balance on three other suitcases. It was a delicate operation to recover it without ending up on the carousel, but recover it I did. Then a swift trolley push through the final security check and non-existent customs check, out into the public area of the airport arrivals section, where lots of people were gathered to greet whoever the had gathered to meet. For me it was straight to the point designated for Uber pickups. Ten minutes later I was in the taxi and twenty minutes after that I stepped out of the taxi in rue Maisonneuve Ouest, at 16500. I crossed the road with all bags, entered the pin code on the outer door, then the same pin code for the second door, and then the same pin code to operate the lift up to the second floor, or deuxième étage, as the voice in the lift said. Then to my room. Another code had to be entered on the keypad to gain access - no key or key card here!  This code has nine digits! Enough said! Having entered my studio-apartment, I was very impressed - everything looks news and shiny, very shiny. 

 Bear in mind, dear reader, that although it was just after 9.30 p.m.on 31st March in Montreal, my mind and body was telling me that it was 02.30 a.m on 1st April. So I went to bed.

 

 

 

Montréal 2025 3 - An Unexpected Journey

 I wrote this on Monday evening, and I'm just starting to catch up on things. Read on, dear reader.

Well, things didn't turn out as expected. Things changed. Going through final pre-boarding checks at Gate B38 the boarding pass reader flashed a worrying shade of red when I placed my boarding pass on it. Eek! I was politely invited to have the pass and my passport examined by a British Airways member of staff. "Well sir, I can tell you that your seat has been upgraded to Business Class. That's nice isn't it?"

Nice? It's a xxxxxxx miracle! Clutching my newly issued boarding pass I made my way down the ramp to the waiting Boeing 787, and was asked to turn left rather than right. At first I thought I might be sitting on the flight deck with the crew, not realising that there was a large cabin with individual seats there. Forgive my naivety.

I'm writing this at 00.36 British Summer Time, so that's a mere 22 hours since I rose from my bed. We're about 25 minutes from Montréal and should land on time at 20.15 local time. For the moment I'm going to rest my typing thumb and start again later, or even tomorrow morning. Je suis épuisé!

It's now Wednesday afternoon as I attempt to catch up. Please forgive my licence in borrowing a literary reference from J.R. Tolkien. It wasn't so much the journey that was unexpected, but the style in which it was accomplished, from the glass of champagne on arrival at my seat, to the "just a little snack" before landing at Pierre Trudeau International Airport. Once again I plead forgiveness from all of those who read this and are frequent business class flyers, and to whom this is the norm. I did previously get upgraded once on a flight from Paris to Montréal,  but this was a different experience altogether. 

A comfortable seat with room to stretch out my 1.84 m frame, and a rest for my size 46 feet was a total contrast to the cramped conditions on most flights I have taken. The food was presented well, on crockery plates, and not in  plastic or cardboard containers, and it tasted good too. The menu read like a tv advert for Marks and Spencer, you know what I mean. Allow me to quote from the menu (I took a photograph, but it appears that portrait format photos aren't liked by Blogger)

My starter was "Loch Fyne smoked salmon, hot smoked trout and poached prawn, served with a Pickled cucumber and fennel salad." My salivary glands are starting to work overtime just thinking about it.

Next came the Main Course; I chose the North Atlantic grilled cod, Bombay potatoes, five spiced broccoli, wilted spinach and a peppered tomato and coconut sauce.

For dessert I selected the Lemon meringue bar with raspberry. And very nice it was too!

I had opted for a glass of a cheeky little rose, but, and this was a shocking admission from the member of cabin staff,  they hadn't  "got the thing to take the top off." Shameful! What's the world coming to? Anyway, I had a pleasant glass of Sauvignon Blanc instead. 

I multitasked in that I ate my meal and watched a movie on the fold out screen at the same time. The film? Gladiator II. It was interesting, having paid my first visit to the Colosseum in Rome last July. There was a lot of blood and skulduggery, which went well with the peppered tomato and coconut sauce accompanying my North American cod. In fact anyone passing my seat might have thought gore had spilled out of the screen, as a not inconsiderate amount of the aforementioned sauce had been dropped on to the crisp white linen serviette.

The flight took 6 hours and 45 minutes and I always feel a frisson of excitement as the flight map first starts to display recognisable place names, places I have been fortunate to visit on previous adventures: Lake Temiscouata, Riviere du Loup, Québec City, Trois Rivières, Sherbrooke and yes, there it was  - Montréal. 

Here we are - at this point you are invited to turn your phone/computer upside down, or stand on your head. Perhaps I will have figured out how to edit the way Blogger chooses to present images before the next entry.

That's all for now, gentle reader. If you have enjoyed reading this, please add a comment. It's nice to know that  I'm not just writing this for myself. More soon - read about the landing in Montréal, first exploration of the trip in the city, and a concert which will require many superlatives to describe!

Montréal 2025 2 - Hanging about in Heathrow

It's  14.05 and that means just another 4 hours to go before the flight to Montréal. My six hours in Plaza Premium Lounge are over, and although they improved over the last couple of hours, with a slice of lemon cake and orange juice, followed at a respectable interval by a quite acceptable salad, I baulked at paying for extra hours. And so I ventured into the chaos of Terminal 5 proper. The place is heaving!  Having walked the length of the Terminal, (getting in the steps) and back,  I finally succumbed to a seat in Wetherspoons, and using my Wetherspoons app, had a pint of real ale delivered to my table. I think it was called Nick Heresy Bishop, but it has been a long day already, so I couldn't swear to it. A 4% pale ale, it was very palatable, even though, at £5.15, it wasn't the kind of Wetherspoons price that I'm familiar with. It looked a bit like this:

Shall I have another one? I believe the flight will be from the B gates, which entails a shuttle train ride from Terminal 5. That takes about 10 minutes, plus a 10 minute walk to catch the shuttle.  So let's say 30 minutes for an old guy carrying a backpack and guitar. That still leaves plenty of time for another pint, I would say. It may help me to sleep later. Readers of my past blogs may recall a kind of critic/commentator who often added his opinions when I was in full flow.  So far, nothing, so perhaps he has latched on to some other poor soul. It was at this point that I thought he may have added some acerbic comment. So far so good. OK, another pint it is - where's that app? It was "Nick Bishop Heresy", by the way. And it's now 14.48!!