We Drove The Chevy To The Levee, But It Wasn't Dry

New Year's Day; Sandra & Jay, my wife, Jean, and I set out early in the morning for Victoria. We were off to take in the Lieutenant-Governor's Levee; a first for us since our arrival on Vancouver Island. And yes, we did drive the Chevy (van) to the Levee. Some thought that it would be a rather quiet affair, but you have to remember that, in keeping with the frugal British culture, anything that is free is guaranteed to be popular with the locals.

For the benefit of anyone not from Canada, the Levee is an ancient and honourable tradition stretching back more than 350 years to France. Upon waking, the French King, would often receive guests in his antechamber. [The word Levee comes from the French word 'Lever', which means 'to rise'.] The tradition was adopted by the British monarch at some point after that, and the first recorded New Year's Day Levee in Canada was held in New France in 1646. Likewise, British Fur Traders carried on the tradition in the Colonies, when the Factor, [the head of the local trading post], or the commander of a military fort, would host a New Year's Levee for local residents. With the advent of Confederation in 1867 the Governor-General and the various Lieutenant-Governors, as official representatives of the Crown, carried on the tradition. The first Levee in British Columbia was held in 1872.

Meanwhile, by the time that we had stashed the vehicle in a remote corner of the estate and hiked up the hill to Government House, we found that the line-up extended out the door, down the steps and was rapidly growing. So we hustled into the queue, and, after a short wait, were ushered into the house, where there was another line waiting to be introduced to the new Lieutenant-Governor and his wife. We passed the time noting the general condition of the Official Residence, (a little tattered and shop worn, but not abused), commenting on the quality of the cleaning, (distinctly dusty and with the ceiling tiles badly in need of a good scrub - no doubt showing the lack of funding provided for such purposes), and speculating on whether or not the Levee was dry. (Not the song; the event.)

We were introduced to the The Honours as 'Mr & Mrs Rollins of Sidney'. I certainly give credit to the Lieutenant-Governor for not asking whether I was from Australia or Nova Scotia, which is an all-too common reaction in my recent experience. Following a little polite small-talk we then adjourned to the Banquet Hall, which was all decked out for the occasion in Christmas Decorations and lights.

Good form in such occasions dictates a quick scan of the room for the presence of friends, neighbours, acquaintances, former Parole Officers, the local Good Will store manager, or anyone else that you are obligated to acknowledge. This reveal led the usual assortment of military types sporting uniform dress complete with medals, smartly dressed businessmen in suits and ties, and older widows dressed as though they were off to a local fundraiser, or perhaps to take in High Tea with the bridge club. Also present was a surprizingly eclectic collection of odds and sods who appeared to have wandered in from a not-too-successful scavenger hunt, or perhaps from the latest effort to find 'Father' after he had wandered off in his bathrobe and left the cat food simmering in the brew basket of the Mr Coffee machine.

A couple of people present made an instant and vivid impression on me. One was a lady wearing what appeared to be a badly wrinkled, bright yellow bathing cap adorned with her complete collection of Cracker Jack prizes. The second was an elderly man who was dressed in white tennis shorts, white socks and white running shoes. This stuck us as rather odd attire, since a chilling wind was blowing in from the ocean at the time. This same chap had attracted our notice when we were first walking up to Government House; he was being escorted by a security guard to a private entrance located at one side of the house. Then, a few minutes later, he wandered back down the driveway, still attired in his white shorts, which revealed perhaps the skinniest, whitest and most un-cordinated set of legs on the Island. We had concluded that the elderly man must have been a neighbour, who had probably turned up to make a donation to the local Food Bank Drive. But now he was back, and had obviously slipped back in though the private entrance to be found happily meandering around the hall in his tennis shorts. My theory is that he was 'Father', and this explained how all of the other miscreants had also managed to end up in the hall with him.

Meanwhile, the scan complete, and no immediate networking obligations identified, the next priority for the experienced cocktail party cognesenti is to scout out the refreshment tables in support of sustenance, (or, as we call it in the trade, The Goodies). In this case the quest revealed a generous supply of hot beverages, coffee & tea, and a number of trays laden with cookies, biscuits and sweets. On the other side of the room were two large punch bowls; one for abstainers, and a second one [with a large crowd loitering in front] that served a mildly alcoholic refreshment. One could not help but notice that the aide serving the alcoholic punch was a large, alert and obviously keen military type (probably with the Military Police). He took took great care to make eye contact with each person to whom he handed a glass. No doubt he was mentally scanning his list of the Interpol Most Wanted, while also internalizing your distinguishing features for future purposes.

Having left home early that morning, my immediate priority was fresh black coffee, and a sampling of the sweets. Thus loaded up, one then seeks an advantageous spot on which to encamp for the duration. Fortunately, at just this point in time the crowd became distracted by the sudden appearance of a Scottish pipe band playing on the overlooking balcony at the far end of the hall. Spotting a gap on the railing on the upper balcony, I made for it under the comforting strains of Rule Britannia being played on the bagpipes, and was rewarded with a commanding view of the main hall below. Meanwhile, following the departure of the pipe band, an impromptu performance of traditional native entertainment spontaneously broke out at the back of the hall below. This offered the opportunity to slip into the spot just vacated by the pipers. [The new Lieutenant-Governor, The Honourable Steven Point, is an aboriginal and it was apparent that many of his extended family and friends from the reserve had taken the occasion to celebrate his appointment. If you are familiar with his language you can address him by his more familiar name - Xwĕ lī qwĕl tĕl]. By the time that I had inveigled myself into a commanding position on the balcony railing I noted that the group on the main floor below was busy offering an off-key rendition of that old time native favourite, Rodger Miller's 'King of the Road' and that the singsong was rapidly deteriorating into a dispirited duet.

This was quickly followed by a single instrumental number played at half speed by the Navy Band, (The Navy evidently does everything at half-speed when pressed) and then the Official Party was piped in to the familiar strains of The Maple Leaf Forever. Following a spirited O Canada, the Lieutenant-Governor read out his message, outlining his hopes for his five-year term. Unfortunately, during the course of his speech, the Lieutenant-Governor was forced to deal with the rather awkward word 'sesquicentennial' no fewer than five times, thanks to an unforgiving and insensitive speech writer. [For the benefit of the curious among you, this means one-and-a-half centuries. This year marks 150 years since the founding of British Columbia.] However, His Honour made light of this difficult phrase, indicating that it sounded like 'Sasquatch' to him.

Next, a Government Minister made a de rigour semi-political speech, and the whole thing was closed out with everyone singing God Save The Queen. Then it was time for a last pass at the Refreshment Tables and we were soon on our way out of the Hall and on to other things. There were Parting Gifts, consisting of a high-quality rubber balloon and sticker celebrating 150 years as a colony. There had also been mi nature flags similarly inscribed, but these had evidently been quite popular so there were none left by the time we got there. (I kept waiting for Junior to put down his little flag somewhere, but he was still clutching it firmly in his hand when we left.)

By now it was past noon, so we headed down to The Union Club, which is located in the heart of downtown Victoria, right across the street from The Empress Hotel. There we discovered that the dining room was quite crowded as there was a special buffet being served. Our fall-back plan was to head for the lounge located across from the main entrance. Striding past the potted plants and the gentlemen reading newspapers in large, overstuffed chairs, (sometimes it is hard to tell the difference between the two), we discovered to our disappointment that the lounge was closed for the season. As a consequence, we headed out to find a suitable nearby restaurant for our brunch.

This turned out to be Smitty's Pancake House, where the food was good and the service attentive. Thus, we had a good time, except for the unfortunate incident with the manager concerning the overbilling of the GST, which subsequently resulted in Jay writing the Better Business Bureau, and me penning a damning note to the Editor of the Victoria Times Colonist newspaper, (which the locals refer to affectionately as the Times Communist).

The next destination on our busy agenda was supposed to be a short trip to Elk Lake on the northern edge of town, in order to witness that most strident of New Year's Day traditions - the Polar Bear Swim. However, as it turned out, our route took us right past The Future Shop, and we were unable to resist participating in one of the newest of Canadian traditions; the Boxing Week Sale. Thus distracted, we missed the entire Polar Bear Swim. Not that this was particularly distressing, for, the truth be told, the Vancouver Island version of the so-called Polar Bear Swim is without doubt the most diluted dip in Canada. You see, the locals brave the elements wearing little more than a tea cozy in relative comfort in this remote corner of the county; sheltered in a relatively warm lake and insulated from frigid arctic blasts by temperatures that can easily reach double digits centigrade. (so can The Dip in Saskatchewan and many other parts of the nation, only there the temperatures are in the negative range!). In Victoria's version of the Polar Bear Plunge there is not be a drop of ice to be seen anywhere but in picnic coolers chilling suitable post-plunge beverages. And the breath you see in the air is actually from the last dregs of a pathetic tobacco addict furiously sucking back a final haul before 'quitting for good'.

Meanwhile, well satisfied with our personal contribution to the growth of the local economy, we then headed to the movie theatre to take in an afternoon matinee. Unfortunately, once there we realized that several hundred other people had reached a similar conclusion. As a result, we headed back to Sidney to screen a vintage Doris Day classic on DVD and have supper. New Year's Day drew to an end with a resolve to take in Sidney's New Year's Day Levee, which is held in the City Hall, just down the street from our home. Check in next year for a full account of these proceedings.

Sidney Snaps

1. Every town has them; the obsessive Christmas house decorator. This one is on the edge of Victoria, and looks complete except for the conspicuous lack of snow!







2. The aftermath of the annual Salmon Run on the bed of Goldstream Creek. Eagles flock for the feast from as far as California. Now you know why the locals call it Carcass Creek!














3. The newest technological threat to Scooterville! This Segway is ripping up Beacon Avenue, scattering pedestrians and threatening the domination of the scooter. This is soon to be a must-have gadget for the Senior Set.


4. A photo of Jay and me last summer during our hunt for the 49th parallel. You may not realize it, but Victoria lies south of the Canada / USA border. So we began our search for the 49th parallel while driving on the Trans-Canada from Victoria to Naniamo. With the help of Jay's GPS we finally located the border. The 49th parallel lies in the north end of Ladysmith, just beyond the Tim Horton's parking lot on the west side of the highway.


Douglas A.
Out Sidney Way
Saying - Happy New Year!