The Graduation Gap

The Graduation Gap

We chose the Delta West Academy for our kids because the school taught from pre-school to Grade 12, and its pupils totalled a mere hundred. My boys, going through the system twenty-one months apart, had an enviable class size of 8. Within this close-knit community,...

What Price Freedom?

What Price Freedom?

Recently, I was almost kicked out of Singapore within ten minutes of arriving. It had been a long and continual sleep-interrupted journey—a sixteen-hour flight from Vancouver. Once again, I was woken up by the steward. “We are landing in twenty minutes. Please...

Taxiing Out of Ayia Napa

Taxiing Out of Ayia Napa

The scene—a warm, sunny summer Sunday afternoon, amid a chorus of homespun English accents—could have been anywhere on the coast of Cornwall or Devon. But it wasn’t. This narrow strip of ochre sand peered out at me from the far corner of the English Forces Base,...

The Trouble with Chris

The Trouble with Chris

Last week, as I spring-cleaned, I came across an essay written by my son Chris. It began: “My dad was the only dad who drove my brother and me to school every day from grades 1 to 12. He took so much pride in this because it was usually just mothers who drove their...

Never Ask Mum

Never Ask Mum

It was a mistake. Coming home one evening, I slumped into an armchair beside Mum. “Can’t go on this way. I’m so depressed. No-one at work likes me. I’m failing all my exams. How can I become an accountant when I can’t even add up? Can I go see a psychiatrist?” At that...

What Brings You Joy?

What Brings You Joy?

Since his retirement several years ago, my client John and I meet every time he’s back in town. His greeting is always the same. “Oh! I have a whole bunch of bills to pay.” “John, they’re all for the trips you make. You have no mortgage. You spend $20,000 a month...

Eye on the Prize

Eye on the Prize

On a glorious summer’s day, my quintessential London isn’t the tawdry brazenness of Piccadilly, nor the arch-celebration-of-invincibility, Trafalgar Square. It lies in the environs of Green Park tube station. Across the broad boulevard of Piccadilly, overburdened with...

Last Train to Santa Margherita Ligure

Last Train to Santa Margherita Ligure

Lou’s best friend once told him “You’re lucky your father was born before you.” Over decades, his family had accumulated a number of rinky-dink 12-suiters across Calgary. In his mid-twenties, with no ambition, Lou became a caretaker of one of those buildings. Lou...

At the End o’ Me Tether

At the End o’ Me Tether

Lulu was Flo’s mum. Flo was my English foster mum. Attending North Town Primary School—a fifteen-minute walk from home—I dropped in every Friday afternoon, to visit Lulu from the age of five to eleven. “Tell Flo I’m at the end o’ me tether.” She would say this every...

Balloon Plane Graphic White

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