One of my quests whilst I am in England is to visit the towns and villages of my ancestors and seek out any remaining distant relatives. Since I tend to call in at at least one pub in every place that I visit, I guess you could call it my ancestral home pub crawl. First stop on the tour: Beccles, Suffolk.
On Friday in Brighton I met up with Brooke, an old friend from Vernon, for a day at the coast!
Tomorrow morning I leave Belgium and head to England. In preparation, I am calmly devouring the remaining bottles of Belgian beer that I have acquired during my three weeks here. This blog post happens to be about one of them.
For those of you who don’t know, I have received a two year visa for the UK, and I will soon be spending a lot of time exploring England, and perhaps eventually working in a pub. First though, I have returned to Belgium to visit some of my favourite people and cafés, not necessarily in that order. Going forward, you can expect my blog to become in part a travel blog, complemented by the usual drink reviews.
Tonight is my last night in Vernon. Tomorrow morning I head to Vancouver, and on Thursday I fly to London, England. So naturally I am sipping on a couple of brews with my parents and cats as we spin some vinyl. Below is an interpretation of what they taste like.
Last week England played Wales in Euro 2016 at 6 AM, and so I excitedly got up early and prepared tea, bacon, eggs, and toast for the morning meal. Oh ya, that day was also my university convocation, and so my parents duly came down from the Okanagan to watch me walk across a stage for about thirty seconds. The ceremony itself wasn’t a big deal to me, but the chance to watch the match with my father and to later go for a picnic on the beach made the whole thing worthwhile. Whilst at the beach, my father and I shared a Merridale Scrumpy.
I have long had a fascination with all things from the British Isles, with those originating in England striking the deepest chord. One of those things has long been cricket; that very British of sports, queer, elusive, incomprehensible, yet indispensably appropriate if one is to understand the antics of P. G. Wodehouse’s Bertie Wooster, or the gentleman thief A. J. Raffles of E. W. Hornung fame.
And so a sport that had merely elicited British stereotypes in my mind slowly transformed from mystery into a sport that I knew and loved: first during an eight hour One Day International at the MCG in Melbourne, 2013, and more recently during the 2015 Cricket World Cup. After that I was hooked; I needed to play cricket. In the summer of 2015, the best that I could do was to practice one time with the Kelowna Cricket Club, but in the summer of 2016 I did one better!