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!!

Montreal 2025 - a new adventure commences!

Leaving my home at 3.30 a.m. isn't the easiest thing to do. First you have to wake up at 2.30 a.m., a feat in itself. Then the strangely unsettled hounds have to be allowed in the back garden to do what they normally do at 7.30 a.m. This having been accomplished without any canine commotion, more personal needs were attended to and a small, organic banana formed the first breakfast of the day. This was washed down with an energising shot of pulverised root ginger, with a tang of lemon juice. That, according to the label on the bottle, would set up my digestive system for the day. We'll see.
Final items were added to both hold and cabin baggage and the phone checked to verify that my Uber taxi was on its way to collect me. 

It still amuses me that I can watch the progress being made by the driver as he heads toward me.  Leaving the house is a difficult operation with four bits of luggage and two dogs intent on accompanying me. I sidled out and assembled the bags at the front gate.  

Loki the Magnificent, the five year old black labradoodle immediately appeared at the landing window, parting the vertical blinds with his head, with front paws on the window sill. In this pose he resembles the figure seen lumbering though a forest in North America  - our own Big Foot! Fleur makes herself known with the beginnings of a howl. At which point the blinds are moved further aside and my granddaughter Lucy appears, both to wave me off and to nullify the canine kerfuffle. The Uber taxi arrives five minutes late, having stopped for fuel at a petrol station a mile away  - information gathered from the tracking device in the car.

Baggage loaded, we left at 03.36 on the first stage of a journey which will take some 20 hours to complete.  Polite conversation ensued, and having discussed my final destination with the driver, I was slightly concerned that he thought it was now summer in Québec. Fortunately his sat-nav was sufficiently efficient to guide us to Newcastle International Airport, where we arrived at 04.01 - that's pretty good going!

Having checked in two bags I made my way to the security and hand baggage check. Newcastle Airport is blessed with the latest scanning technology, which allows  bags to be scanned without removing electronic devices etc. My guitar was another matter, however. Because it was fractionally too long to fit into the tray provided it had to be taken for personal examination and testing for explosive material. The nearest it has come to explosive material is when I played the accompaniment to "Damn Your Eyes" and unintentionally get faster and faster. Nevertheless it took careful examination by the agent, and a secondary examination by a supervisor before my Steinberg Spirit was returned to me. Tip: don't carry a spare set of guitar strings in the guitar case. Someone might think  you're going to garotte your fellow passengers!

[The photo above shows that Newcastle International Airport has moved to vertical,  rocket type take off for all aircraft. Either that or I couldn't rotate the image.]

Boarding the aircraft was painless, but the whole loading process was painfully slow. The aircraft was absolutely full, and everybody seemed to be carrying bags which were just within, or just over the limits for hand baggage. What of my guitar, I hear you say? Well, using all my charm, or grovelling shamelessly,  I asked if it could be carried in "the wardrobe".  Whether it was the charm or the base grovelling I don't know, but it worked!
The flight to London took just on 45 minutes, and we arrived at the stand at 07.20. Heathrow is a big airport, and sometimes it seems to take as long to taxi to the terminal as it does to fly there from Newcastle. Having duly collected my guitar on the way off, I made my way to the Flight Connection  area, which obviates the need to go through passport and security checks again. It hasn't always been so.
Knowing that I had a 10½ hour wait in Heathrow (I know, bad planning!) I had reserved a six hour slot in a premium lounge so made my way there, only to find an apologetic notice stating that, unfortunately,  the gentleman's toilets were not in operation! Shocking! You spend a pretty penny for luxury, then you can't spend a penny when you get there!
So, nature's needs having been satisfied, I returned to the Plaza Premium Lounge, and was guided to a vacant armchair by a member of staff. Lounge access also provides for 'free' food, so I decided to break my healthy breakfast routine and have some scrambled eggs  with fried tomatoes, a sausage and two pieces of bacon. Sadly the coffee machine was not operating at the time (!!) so I was unable to minimise the taste of the foulest breakfast I've had for a long while. Everything was stone cold, the sausage virtually tasteless and the bacon tough as tough could be.  It's going to be a long six hours in here, but on the bright side Wetherspoons is only 50 metres away!
More later...