Category Archives: Stories of a Life

Stories of a Life | COVID-19 | Division in the Time of a Pandemic

August 21, 2021Stories of a LifeRaymond Tomlin

Anti vaxxer rally

COVID has proved a trying and divisive experience for many among us.

One of my neighbours is a young mother with a two-year-old son. Happily married, her only source of concern is the welfare of her son during the current, extending COVID-19 pandemic. My neighbour’s concern for her son, shared by many in the housing co-operative in which we live, is that her neighbour is an intransigent woman who refuses to be vaccinated.
My neighbour’s very best friend in the world is a woman she has known since the two of them attended kindergarten together some two-plus decades ago, she herself a young mother, but with three young children all under the age of 12. Just like my neighbour, she too is happily married.
My young neighbour and her husband are fully vaccinated, her son not.

My neighbour’s best friend is not vaccinated, nor will she consent to be vaccinated, and neither will she allow her three young children to be vaccinated, stating she doesn’t trust that the vaccine is safe. This woman’s loving and devoted husband, on the other hand, is fully vaccinated and a strong vaccine advocate, and has stated to his wife that he wants to ensure when a COVID-19 vaccine becomes available for those under age 12, his three children will be vaccinated — over which a marital dispute has arisen.
My neighbour has told her best friend that in the interest of the safety of her toddler son that she will not visit in the home of her cherished friend, and neither will she invite her friend to visit in her home, that she is free to believe as she wishes, but my neighbour will not put her son in any jeopardy that might compromise his health. My neighbour has told her friend they can get together outside, at a park, socially safe distanced.

My neighbour is concerned that a lifelong friendship may be coming to an end, and her friend’s marriage may be in trouble resultant from the vaccination dispute, about which my neighbour feels quite some despair.

Me, I have a friend, a person who I’ve known for a quarter century, who lives in the Kits neighbourhood, and is both a prominent member of the community and a rabid anti-vaxxer, who believes the vaccine to be poison, and states to me that I am a “sheep”. This “friend” attends anti-vaxxer rallies, and despite being a member of the fourth estate to whom I have provided contact information in order that he might ask Dr. Henry directly, during her press briefings, that she address his concerns, has not done so.
As is the case with my neighbour, I too fear that a cherished friendship of some long duration and mutual respect is drawing to an untimely but necessary close, that his refusal to be vaccinated compromises not only his own health, but the health of everyone with whom he comes into contact.

A friend of mine was telling me the other day that one of her closest friends has not left her home since the COVID-19 pandemic was declared in March 2020. Neither will she allow anyone to visit her, nor ever gone out into her backyard, but rather has fearfully kept herself a prisoner in her own home.
I, too, have a sustaining friend of some longstanding, someone who I’ve known for more than a quarter of a century, a person I’d worked with closely for a dozen years during my employment at the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation (CMHC), dating back to 1996 — but, who since the pandemic was declared more than seventeen months ago, has not left his home, a spacious condominium located nearby Vancouver City Hall, a place he’s owned — with the mortgage paid off more than a decade ago — since the commencement of his employment with CMHC in 1979.

All of my friend’s meals are ordered in, all purchases of any other goods or wants are ordered on line, and delivered to him, and left outside his door. Despite the fact my friend owns a new hybrid vehicle, and has a substantial pension, for almost 18 months he has refused to leave his apartment. For much of the first year of the pandemic, I set about to call him weekly, then (at his insistence) bi-weekly, then every three weeks and, finally, once a month. When I asked him how he was doing, he almost invariably replied, “I’m doing fine. I don’t need anyone, or feel the need for you to call me.”
I would ask him about his contact with his brother, or those in his social circle, and he would tell me that he had cut off all contact with family and friends. Finally, a year in, with little or no contact with the outside world, he told me emphatically that he no longer wanted me to call. I had encouraged him to mask up, and go for a drive in his new Toyota Prius hybrid, just to get out of the house, and see the world around him, an idea he told me that he thought was ridiculous. As of this writing, I’ve not spoken with him in months, and I find now that I’ve given up on him — not out of a lack of compassion, but in recognition of the fact that I am unable to provide support and succour to someone who doesn’t want the caring I proffer.
Another friend of mine was talking with me the other day about an acquaintance of hers who has steadfastly avoided learning anything about the pandemic, that although this person is well educated and otherwise well informed, that this acquaintance of hers studiously avoids reading or listening to anything to do with the current pandemic, whether it be information on the vaccines, or the current state of COVID-19 infection in our province, in Canada, or elsewhere — remaining utterly uninformed.
Once again, I too have a friend with whom I’ve worked with in the Coalition of Progressive Electors and the NDP for the past quarter century. This man — a year younger than me, as is my now former friend above — is a hale fellow well met, and well-liked by a broad cross-section of our mutual friends, and continues to this day to work full time in his chosen profession.
From Day One of the declaration of the pandemic, my friend has believed that COVID is a hoax, and has ignored it, stating that whatever is going on around him that causes people to wear masks has no direct impact on his life — that he will carry on with his life as normal. My friend has gone out of his way not to watch or listen to the news, and has therefore never watched or heard an Adrian Dix-Dr. Bonnie Henry press conference (in fact, does not know, or could care less, as to who Dr. Henry might be, and her role in keeping COVID-19 at bay in British Columbia, over the past 18 months). My friend last autumn even booked a non-refundable ticket to Cuba in order that he might enjoy a Christmas vacation in tropical climes — despite my advising him that the opportunity to travel to Cuba was probably not going to be possible, an idea my friend pooh-poohed.

The straw that broke the camel’s proverbial back occurred when were enjoying a mid-afternoon coffee at our neighbourhood Starbucks, sitting outside in the cool air, and socially distanced. As it was just after 3pm, I picked up my iPhone to read the latest British Columbia COVID figures — which that day established a new record for infections & deaths (10 deaths in the previous 24 hours in Vancouver alone). I advised my friend of the latest provincial COVID results, to which information in reply he snapped back at me, “What do I care? How’s that information relevant to me?”
I advised my friend that the deaths covered a range of ages, that each person was a person of value, a father or mother, a sister or brother, aunt of uncle, a neighbour, friend or colleague of someone resident in our community, and because Vancouver is in essence a village, a small town, that given the theory of seven degrees of separation, it is likely that he knows someone who knew, or was close to the, then, more than 1,500 British Columbians who had succumbed to the coronavirus — and that, at any rate, any early or untimely death is a tragedy, for each of us and for the community. Scowling at me, he got up and walked away.
We have not spoken since.
All of us have sacrificed over the past year, some more than others. Health care providers, teachers, and public health officials have put their needs aside for the sake of their communities, the country, and the entire world, really. People have lost their jobs, and in Canada more than 27,000 Canadians have lost their lives. The toll of this pandemic is staggering.

The COVID-19 pandemic has reshaped our personal relationships in unprecedented ways, forcing us to live closer together with some people and further apart from others, with social distancing measures isolating us from our friends and wider communities. Socializing with others is a fundamental human need, the strain of the COVID-19 pandemic on relationships laid bare for many of us this last eighteen months.
Abundant research suggests that supportive relationships can help relieve harmful stress, with physical and mental benefits that include resistance to viruses. Yet our year and a half ride on the coronacoaster has frayed many of our relationships, and in some cases destroyed the bonds that in simpler times might have helped carry us through.
Many of us have lost some friends for good, but the overall quality of our friendships with others has improved. As a friend stated to me recently, “If you’re supposedly my friend,” she averred, “and you don’t accept my wishes about safety, then you’re really not my friend.”

“Good health depends not only on the closeness of our ties but also on their nature,” says Henry Stanford, a neuroscientist at the University of Western Ontario, his recent study suggesting that “ambivalent relationships, those combining affection and hostility — like so many family ties — create chronic stress that can ultimately damage health. This sometimes gets lost when we talk about social isolation. It’s not as if we just need to make people more engaged with others. We also have to pay more attention to the negativity in some relationships.”

The pandemic’s toll on many of our friendships goes deeper than mere political polarization —&#32the confusion of a mask with support for ‘big government’, for instance. It’s more about discovering personality differences between you and your relatives and friends, including different levels of risk-tolerance and what might seem like irrational optimism on one side vs. hysterical alarmism on the other. At a time when many of us are losing sleep, picturing ourselves or someone we love gasping for air in a crowded emergency room, these differences are painfully relevant.
Because of the pandemic, the way we communicate and relate to one another has changed. Some relationships disintegrated because of close proximity, or the lack thereof. As we enter the fourth wave of the pandemic, and a cooler and more isolating autumn and winter seasons are on the near horizon, for many of us the pandemic is far from over. The good part of the pandemic, though, is that while we have “lost” some friends, and our relationship with some members of our family has become strained, our relationships with others has both been clarified and strengthened, as we have come to realize that we share beliefs in common and an approach to life that serves not just our own interests, but the interests of all.

Stories of a Life | Megan’s Boxing Day Specials | 1990s Edition

December 26, 2020Stories of a LifeRaymond Tomlin

For me, the 1990s are notable for the preparatory chess-like approach that a teenage Megan Jessica Tomlin put into preparing for what was, for her, a signal event in her life: the post-Christmas Boxing Day extravaganza where a hard earned dollar might best be put to salutary advantage, one dollar equalling as many as ten, and the acquisition of notable high fashion a necessary goal for a young woman who wished to be seen as presenting herself well to the world, not just as a Marxist feminist presence and young woman of substance, but as a woman of fashion meant to turn heads.
Yes, dear and constant reader, Boxing Days throughout the 1990s were a delight of immense proportion not just for this callow writer, but for the aforementioned Ms. Tomlin, whose Boxing Days unfolded as follows …

Each Boxing Day at 4 a.m. Megan and I would leave home, to attend at a Denny’s Restaurant, where we might enjoy a breakfast repast, as Megan informed this writer of her plans for the morning, through until noon day. With the required information in hand (and committed to memory), Megan and yours truly set about to acquire garments & clothing of not simply the most sophisticated fashion, but of the most careful design & construction.
Having enjoyed our breakfast at the Denny’s Restaurant, nearest to the retail establishment first on Megan’s list, within which retailer’s premises was contained a particular good, the first good of the day Megan felt must henceforth become a part of her wardrobe, the two of us — father led by daughter — would proceed to the store chosen as the first stop of the day for my acquisition-inclined teenage daughter, waiting patiently in line while the (most often young, and surprisingly, too, often quite churlish) retail staff prepared to throw open their doors to the maddening crowd of eager, mostly young shoppers — accompanied most often by their weary mothers.
At precisely 6 a.m.

At which point, those Doc Martens Megan had her eye on would, as she jostled through the store, making a bee line for the shoes of her choice, and then to the cashier to check out, in order that we might proceed to the “next” retail establishment on Megan’s well-crafted list of winter fashions.
Perhaps now would be the appropriate time to provide a bit of background.

Each Boxing Day, for some weeks leading up to that auspicious day on the retail calendar, Megan would set about to ensure that on Christmas Day a sum of monies totalling exactly $1,000 in cash would find itself into her most deserving possession. Megan’s indulgent grandmother, aunt, uncle, mother, mother’s partner, father, mother’s best friend, cousins, her boyfriend, and her mother’s partner’s children would present different denominations of bills, whether they be tens, twenties or fifties, the sum then of $1,000 in cash in Megan’s hands by late on Christmas Day evening.
To know Megan is to know that Megan is not to be refused.
Of course, one wishes to please Megan, as well — that is a prime directive.

For this writer, to be in the presence of this young, focused, giddily happy young woman for a period of eight consecutive glee-filled and joyous hours, where Megan was kind and thoughtful, generous in her thoughts, focused and political our conversation on how one might best going about changing the world, to share this young woman’s sense of joy and appreciation was, for this writer, throughout the entirety of the 1990s, a most looked forward to event & stretch of hours each year, on the post-Christmas Day calendar.

The final location at which to attend was, for Megan, almost a second home through most of the 1990s, and the single store Megan and I most often visited during the course of the decade was the Aritzia store, in the Oakridge mall. I don’t think there was a time when we were together when Megan and I did not travel to the Oakridge Aritzia store, if only to browse.
Those times are now part of Megan’s and my past, fondly remembered by me as Megan’s last breath of innocence, a time before almost a dozen years at university — or just at the start — a time before a marriage that would take place years later, in her late twenties, before her children were born, and before Megan began inexorably to feel the weight of the world, and the myriad responsibilities of adulthood, on her capable shoulders.

Stories of a Life | The Frosty, Tear-Filled Christmas of 1994

December 25, 2020Stories of a LifeRaymond Tomlin

Christmas 1994 is one of my favourite Christmases ever. Not because it was an especially happy one, but because it’s become a memorable one.
From the late 1980s through the mid-1990s, one of my employments was as a restaurant critic, publishing in various community newspapers and magazines across the Metro Vancouver region. In 1994, one of my editors suggested I write a column on the best shepherd’s pie in town, which allowed me to travel to the Expo Saskatchewan Pavilion restaurant in West Vancouver, as well as a number of other establishments across the Lower Mainland, including a restaurant in my Kitsilano neighbourhood, which served a warming and delicious shepherd’s pie dinner for only $4.95 — at the time, this was the best deal in town for shepherd’s pie.
This was a deli-style restaurant. Martha, the young woman behind the counter, was a UBC student, I was to learn, in her final year at the University of British Columbia who, as she took my order, and then delivered my shepherd’s pie dinner, proceeded to flirt with me like mad. Long story short, I asked her out, we began dating, and all seemed right with the world. This was the early autumn of 1994. I learned that she grew up in Nova Scotia, but had decided to attend UBC, as she had often travelled to British Columbia with her parents when she was growing up.
As Christmas approached, we made arrangements to spend Christmas Day together. I would make Christmas dinner, while she would supply the baking. On Christmas Eve, I picked her up from work and drove towards her home on East 18th Avenue and Ontario Street, just off Main Street.
As I was driving, I mentioned to her that my friends Michael Klassen and Stacey Fruin were having a Christmas Eve party at their home on Columbia Street near 18th, just a few short blocks from her home, and asked Martha if we might make an appearance at Michael and Stacey’s home to wish them a happy Christmas. “I’d rather not,” Martha said, although we did end up attending the party, if only briefly.
We stayed only 15 minutes at Michael and Stacey’s, Martha was social and seemed to enjoy herself, but remembering her “I’d rather not” and the agreement we made that we’d attend the party for only a few minutes, after 15 minutes we wished Michael and Stacey a merry Christmas, and we were off. As we were walking towards the car, Martha turned to me to say that she needed some fresh air, and would walk the three blocks to her home, stating, “I’d better get started on the baking when I get home, as well.” As we parted, I told her I’d call her at 8 a.m. Christmas Day.
We hugged and kissed good-bye, I made sure that she was safe walking down East 18th Avenue, and headed back home to my Kitsilano neighbourhood, snuggling up in bed with a good book, and a cup of herbal tea on the night stand to sip on. By midnight, I was fast asleep.

At 6 a.m. the phone rang; it was Martha, who told me the following …

“I’m in Hope. I’ve decided to spend Christmas Day with my university friend who lives in Penticton. My bus is about to leave. I’ve got to go.”

At this point, as I was rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I was now fitfully awake, and a little awestruck at this unexpected turn of events.
Several months in, the relationship with Martha was a romantic and loving one. Although she maintained her shared residence in Mount Pleasant, more often than not she slept at my place, just a couple of blocks down the street from where she worked, and relatively close to UBC.
At 6:30 a.m. my children called to wish me a merry Christmas, and told me how much they were looking forward to seeing me on Boxing Day.
At 7 a.m. I got up, showered and made myself some breakfast, taking a few more calls from friends wishing me a merry Christmas, after which I went for a walk throughout and across my Kitsilano neighbourhood.
This was a bitterly and bitingly cold Christmas Day, with a smattering of snow on the ground, but mostly a great deal of frost. The skies were azure blue and clear with nary a cloud to be found, the sun was out, the streets deserted. The headphones over my ears effectively acted as earmuffs, as I listened to some of my favourite music on my bulky Sony Walkman.

When I arrived back home, I began making preparations for dinner, and at 1 p.m. decided that I wanted to make my way down to Locarno Beach, along Spanish Banks, and then head out for a drive around the west side of my most beloved city. At the beach, the grass and then the sand was crunchy beneath my feet, my gloves serving to keep my hands warm, my scarf keeping my face safe from the biting cold off the waters of the Inlet.

Casa Mia, as seen from the road, along SW Marine Drive, in Vancouver

Back in the car, with the heater on, I warmed up, took my coat, scarf and gloves off, headed towards UBC, and then down southwest Marine Drive, adjacent to the Musqueam lands as I headed towards Granville Street.
Rickie Lee Jones’ EP The Girl at Her Volcano was the soundtrack for the drive. As I was passing by the multi-million dollar homes on the south side of Marine Drive, Rickie Lee’s song Rainbow Sleeves began to play on the speakers in the car, and I started to cry, the first time I’d cried — other than at the movies, in a darkened theatre — in 16 years, since Cathy and I had begun the first tentative steps toward our separation over Christmas 1977, continuing my lamentation during the entire time the song played.

Rainbow Sleeves, written by Tom Waits, as interpreted by Rickie Lee Jones

You used to dream yourself away each night
To places that you’ve never been
On wings made of wishes that you whispered to yourself
Back when every night the moon and you would sweep away
To places that you knew you would never get the blues
Now whiskey gives you wings to carry each one of your dreams
And the moon does not belong to you
But I believe that your heart keeps young dreams
Well, I’ve been told to keep from ever growing old
And a heart that has been broken will be stronger when it mends
Don’t let the blues stop your singing
Darling, you only got a broken wing
Hey, you just hang on to my rainbow
Hang on to my rainbow
Hang on to my rainbow sleeves

Martha spent the whole of the holiday season in the Okanagan visiting with her friend. Upon her return home, once again employed at the delicatessen I ran across her in early January, and asked if she wanted to accompany me to a review I was going to write on Floata Restaurant, in Chinatown. “Can I bring along a friend?” she asked. “Sure, that’d be fine,” I responded.

On the first Thursday of January, on the 5th, I picked her and her friend up, along with my friend, J.B. Shayne, and we attended at the Floata Restaurant on Keefer, and proceeded to enjoy a feast. When dinner was over, Martha asked me to drive her and her friend home, not commenting on the restaurant or the food, or in any way indicating to me that she’d enjoyed herself, most of her time in the restaurant spent engaged in conversation with the friend she’d brought along to our dinner together.

After dropping the two off at their homes, J.B. and I proceeded back to his home on Arbutus Street, stopping in at Siegel’s Bagels for a hamantaschen, one of our favourite late night treats. While sitting at the table, J.B. turned to me and made the following remarks and observations …

“Tonight, we went out to a great restaurant for dinner, and I want to say how grateful I am that you invited me along. Your girlfriend — if I could call her that, although the term hardly seems to apply, given what I observed this evening, and what you’ve told me occurred on Christmas Day — utterly ignored you throughout our dinner together, neither she nor her friend thanked you for the sumptuous feast to which you treated them, was engaged in conversation with her friend the entire time we were at the restaurant, and on the way back to her home, and when she got out of the car, neither she nor her friend bothered to thank you.

Martha seems not to care for you, her conduct verging on — from what I observed, as — unkind at best, and even more, cruel, given what I know about her. Now, I realize that she is a beautiful young woman, and from what I gather quite bright, but for heaven’s sake, apart from her youth and her beauty, for the life of me, I cannot understand what you see in her, and why you are wasting your time with someone so seemingly callous in her treatment of you. Raymond, you could do so much better.”

Later, when I returned to the deli, I learned two things: 1) Martha had quit her job, and 2) the review I’d written had driven a sizable number of new customers to restaurant, causing the owners to more than double its price for the shepherd’s pie, undoing whatever good had come their way by charging a lower amount for the dinner, that had once given good value.
I never saw Martha again.
And, from that Christmas Day in 1994, outside of an occasional teary session inside a darkened cinema during an especially moving scene, I’ve not cried since. My heart is stronger. I have remained open to love, and love with all my heart, but become more protective of my own heart, more aware of the actual, rather than imagined or romantic, tenor of my various relationships, not just with women, but with all those who are in my life.

Christmas | A Guide to Spending Christmas Alone | Comfort & Joy

December 23, 2020Diversions, Food & Health, Jude and Megan, Stories of a Life, Vancouver, VanRamblingsalone, christmas, denny's, turkey dinner, vessiRaymond Tomlin

Many of us spend our lives surrounded by people. On the 25th of December, we can embrace the quiet and enjoy Christmas undisturbed.

There can be so much pressure around Christmas and other holidays — pressure to celebrate, pressure to socialize, pressure to follow traditions, pressure to eat too much and drink yourself to excess. Ultimately, there is pressure to be happy. And that’s an awful lot of pressure to lay on anyone — especially as we know that Christmas isn’t an easy time for everyone.

The purpose of today’s VanRamblings column is to help you come to terms with what will be for all of us an unusually quiet, and near — if not actual, in many cases — solitary Christmas & holiday season, following Dr. Bonnie Henry’s plea that we hunker down alone during Christmas season 2020.

‘Tis the season for attending parties galore (yes, Zoom celebrations count, too!), decking your halls — and, of course, your Christmas tree — with festive decorations, checking out all the magical light displays, and binge-watching classic holiday movies. Not to mention spending Christmas Day (and Eve!) listening to holiday songs on repeat, partaking in time-honoured traditions, and doing it all — ideally — while wearing your pyjamas.

So it’s no surprise that the prospect of spending Christmas alone — whether for the first time or the twentieth time — can feel, well, not always so merry and bright.

But here’s the thing: You’re not alone. The reality is that plenty of people spend their holidays solo. Some people have demanding work schedules that make it difficult to travel, while others might not have the money for expensive round-trip tickets, and others simply want to spend Christmas alone. That’s true in a normal year — but perhaps even more so in 2020, when many of us will be celebrating Christmas without friends or family due to the ongoing coronavirus pandemic and social distancing guidelines.

And while, yes, you’ll probably miss your mom’s legendary bread pudding, there are plenty of things you might be happy to skip, like faking your surprise (and excitement) when Aunt Sue gives you yet another gormless polyester tie, sitting through the same political debates, and having to get dressed up just to eat at your own dining room table, to name a few.

Whether by choice or circumstance, there is plenty to do on Christmas Day that you can enjoy doing alone, from catching up on the acclaimed and award-worthy Netflix or Amazon Prime TV shows you’ve heard so much about, to indulging in some much-needed self-care — like going for a walk in the neighbourhood, where you’re bound to run into friends — to starting a new tradition, whatever that may be that will provide you solace.

You don’t have to stand by and have a blue Christmas.

Which is exactly why VanRamblings has rounded up 9 simple ways to spend Christmas solo, all of which will bring joy to your world.

1. Let’s start with the obvious. Dive into a book.

Picking up a book (whether it’s a thriller, that book written by a friend of yours, or that political book you became aware of thanks to another friend), can help you escape into an entirely different reality, and one that you don’t usually have time to explore. Didn’t plan ahead? Download a reading app. iPhones and iPads have a built-in reading app, allowing you to buy books from Apple Books. Amazon, which started out as a company marketing books, has a huge library of downloadable books you can read on your Kindle App. Imagine, there you are snuggled up in bed, toasty warm, a warming beverage by your night stand and maybe a snack, as well, ready to read that book you’ve been meaning to get to. Joy indescribable!

2. Cook a feast, or have one delivered.

A friend was asking the other day, “Where could I order a great turkey dinner, and have it delivered?” The answer, in Vancouver, to that question offers you near limitless opportunities.

In 2020, all of the Denny’s Restaurant locations are offering a traditional turkey dinner for four, for only $59.99. Tender carved turkey breast, savoury stuffing, garlic red-skinned mashed potatoes, turkey gravy, cranberry sauce and your choice of broccoli or sweet petite corn. In this case, they’d like you to pick up the dinner, allowing you to reheat the dinners when you arrive home. You could have Uber or a taxi deliver it.

In 2020, Denny's is offering Christmas diiner for four, delivered, for only $59.99

Click on the graphic above to order your Denny’s turkey dinner for 4.

Holiday hours may apply so you’ll want to check your Denny’s location to confirm hours of operation. Orders can be taking over the phone. The offer is available from December 22nd through 28th, valid as take-out only. The dinner is served family style. Re-heat at home.

Denny’s a little too déclassé for you? Hey, there are alternatives out there.

You’ll want to read Miss 604 for more information on Holiday Meal Kits.
Steffani Cameron, who recently completed a 4-year worldwide adventure that she chronicled at FullNomad.com, for Christmas 2020 has written a column suggesting …

Homer Street Café and Bar has a three course dinner for two for $85 ($42.50 pp). This classic turkey dinner starts with butternut squash velouté and ends with seasonal shortbread and molasses cookies. The turkey dinner is traditional with mashed spuds, stuffing, roasted sprouts, honey-glazed carrots, and country-style giblet gravy.

The other restaurants Ms. Cameron suggests are, well let’s say, somewhat more dear, like Take out dinners from Forage, that will set you back $375.
The good folks at The Daily Hive also have a number of suggestions.

As for VanRamblings, we’ll cook something simple, like a roast turkey breast in our Instant Pot, which we’ve done previously to good effect.
With dinner, we’ll serve an old family recipe for dressing (which we’ll place into a hot oven), candied parsnips and carrots, brussel sprouts, mashed turnips, mashed potatoes (both with gravy, which we’ll also stream over the turkey), a roasted yam, and lots of cranberry sauce. We’ll enjoy a fine wine with dinner, and for dessert treat ourselves to pumpkin pie, ice cream, and some chocolate treats from Purdy’s Chocolates, and shortbread cookies.

3. Watch a movie at home, or a Netflix / Amazon series.
In the evening, we’ll watch one soon-to-be-nominated / award-winning film — like Beanpole or Never Rarely Sometimes Always, and maybe catch an episode of The Crown, on Netflix, or one of the films in Steve McQueen’s Small Axe series, on Amazon Prime, like Lovers Rock or Mangrove.

Before bed, we’ll prepare an artisan loaf of bread, for baking the next morning. Why? So, on Boxing Day, we can make the best turkey sandwich in the world, with thick slices of fresh-baked bread, stuffed with turkey, dressing, lettuce, cranberry sauce, and the veggies of our choice. Yum!

VanRamblings’ remaining suggestions to make this a Merry Christmas …

4. Test out a new hot chocolate recipe.

5. Go for a walk in the neighbourhood, during the day & in the evening. When you’re out for your walk, make use of the empty streets and take photographs of the day; in the evening photograph holiday light displays.

6. Enjoy a bath in the evening, with candles lit, and quiet music playing in the background, of all of your favourite songs on Spotify, or on iTunes.

7. Connect with others virtually. If you’re spending the season alone, try connecting with loved ones, or friends, virtually. It might not be the same as face-to-face interaction, but it can certainly help to ease the pangs of loneliness. There are lots of ways to talk to folks online, including with others who may be spending Christmas alone.

Photograph taken just off Locarno Beach, the “middle beach” along Spanish Banks, in Vancouver. Photo credit: Laura Stannard.

8. Go for a drive. The other day, VanRamblings friend, Laura Stannard, went for a drive, stopping near Locarno Beach, along Spanish Banks. Is there anything more revitalizing than a calming drive alone along the beach, and on the near deserted roads of the city, all the while lost in your own thoughts, and when you get home, bliss. A perfect alone Christmas.

9. Treat yourself to a gift, or two or three you can buy online.

VanRamblings’ new marine blue 100% waterproof Vessi sneakers. Made locally.

Don’t forget to do something nice for yourself. Get yourself that gift online that you’ve been hankering for. VanRamblings has been very bad this holiday season: we bought ourselves a new iPhone 12 Pro Max ($328, plus $20 a month), which takes great photographs; we bought a new iPad Mini, traded in our old iPad Mini, and sold some tech equipment, and pretty much came out ahead. And, we treated ourselves to our fourth pair of Vessi sneakers, made locally, the only 100% waterproof shoe in the world, comfy as all get out — with great arch and heel support, it’s like walking on air — and, you can order the waterproof sneakers online.

Yes, it’s true, it can feel strange waking up alone on Christmas Day with no pressing reason to get out of bed, the hours about to stretch out in front of you. Where are the usual text messages and telephone call interruptions?

Loneliness is never too far away and this is especially true when, in the lead-up to Christmas Day, we’ve been bombarded with images of families packed around dining tables and scenes of children opening presents around a tree. But being alone at Christmas doesn’t necessarily have to be a lonely experience. Here’s a motto for a solo Christmas Day: being alone and being lonely are not the same thing. Honest, it’s true. Think about it.

When you’re on your own, you can celebrate Christmas however you decide, without having to cater to the traditions or routines of other people. (And you don’t have to feel guilty about buying yourself presents, either).

As much as we’d all love to spend time with friends and family, sometimes it just isn’t possible, and with coronavirus restrictions in place many of us will be unable to see our loved ones over the festive period.

Having total control over what you do during the Christmas season can mean a stress-free time for each of us. The holiday season should be a time of year for you to enjoy, a time for reflection and fond remembrance, as you traipse through your days leisurely, and at a pleasurable pace.

In the midst of our current, unusual pandemic holiday season, it’s easy to get caught up in thinking about all the things you ‘should’ be doing. Take the pressure off — you’re already doing really well. Pace yourself, and do things that bring you joy. Above all, be kind — most of all to yourself.