Interview with Esmé of esmesalon.com

Hi Esmé, your fame for sharing, promoting and blogging has preceded you, so who better to interview? It’s common knowledge that we are either leaders or followers, and I come firmly in the latter category, so am the ideal person to start the inquisition. Oops, I mean interview… I promise it will be painless.

I’m delighted to welcome you here today so I can nose around. I have, suitably laced your coffee – as you like it – so let’s make a start.

Where were you born and how long did you live there?

Hi Joy, before I start to answer your questions, please may I take this opportunity to thank you for your generosity, lovely coffee with a dash of …. and your awesome company.

OK, I was born in a then small village called Bellville, close to Cape Town in South Africa. We lived in a coastal village called Somerset West, Cape Province in South Africa for 40 years before we left with our family and immigrated to Vancouver, Canada.

Do you have any special memories of the early years and when you started school? And what were your favourite subjects?

I started school and must admit that was never my favourite pass time. I would rather have stayed out and about on the sport grounds and participated in all type of sport activities. I played, netball, hockey, did all kinds of track events as long jump and high jump to name a few.

I was never a great school achiever, but made do and passed all my grades. In high school my best subjects were “Home Economics”

Home economics, domestic science or home science is a field of study that deals with the relationship between individuals, families, communities, and the environment in which they live. Home economics courses are offered internationally and across multiple educational levels.

Typing and yes I started to type on one of these (Picture right), then after my school education and Pittman Shorthand (Shorthand means writing by hand using various symbols to write quickly) I went to a Technical College and graduated as an Office Secretary (that’s what we were called back in those days).

 
Then, while working at various departments at the University of Stellenbosch, I gradually started to work on a computer with a floppy disk (for those that does not know what this means: It is a magnetic storage medium for computer systems) as well as a Teletype machine with a ticker tape – WOW, I am giving away my age with all this information.

What sort of child/teenager were you?

I was a very quiet and reserved child and teenager. Keeping to myself, never part of the crowd, doing my own thing alone. Never then, and not even now, a party animal. If I had to go to a party, I always ended up as the ‘wallflower’ and keeping myself company until enough time passed in order for me to be excused and leave for home. Not very exciting, but that’s me – as I am one of those extremely introverted personality type and conservative specimens.

Were you a practical child or a dreamer?

Being an introvert and doing my own thing, I tended to be a dreamer, but when I had to I could be practical and get things done. The reason for thing being I usually had to figure it out for myself as I did not do the crowd and team thing well.

Have you always been good at organizing and taking charge?

Yes, I have always been very methodical, and organized, but not taking charge of anything in a group. Remember, I said “INTROVERT”.

What genre do you prefer to read?

As a child I did not read books as you would think, so no specific genre, unless you call ‘Cooking and baking” a genre.

Did you have aspirations to write when younger?

Write, me? No, never. The introvert in me will never be able to put pen to paper, or fingers to a modern electric typewriter to write a novel.

What is your favourite way of relaxing?

In the kitchen, cooking and baking up a storm for my family and friends.

Favourite hobby?

It may be rather obvious, but I love cooking and baking, and then something not known to many, I love to do pin pricking and create hand stitched greetings cards.

Who do you admire?

My mentor and previous Boss, CHAIRMAN EMERITUS of the company and retired. He is a true gentlemen and a mensch, a person of integrity and honour. I have learned so much from him during my tenure at his company. Although he has retired, I am in a fortunate position to still meet with him as he is a friend and not only my former Boss.

If you won a million tomorrow, what would you do with it?

Without a doubt in my mind, help our children to pay off their debts and get a good footing in life to continue and make an even bigger success as what they have done to date. After that, take a sabbatical from work and do a yearlong travel and see the world.

What are your top hates / loves?

My biggest pet peeves:

People who talk while their mouth is full of food.
People constantly on their mobile phone while in company and/or while you talk to them.
Rude and inconsiderate people.

Loves:

My husband, soulmate and best friend and then our children and grandkids.
The beach at sunset, breeze in the hair, waves lapping at the shore.
A nice hot cup of coffee is the cure to almost anything.

If you could pass another/change a law, what would it be?

Equal Rights.

Name three things for a bucket list…

Visit Thailand
A trip to the Maldives
See the Northern Lights in Yukon

Has your life turned out the way you thought it would?

Pretty much, yes, I would say so. I have a wonderful husband; (a girl cannot ask for more). Two awesome children, now adults with families of their own. Four (2 on each side) grandkids and a job that I love and happy with.

Although we moved to Vancouver, Canada more than 22 years ago, I will not give it up for anything, as we have an incredible and awesome life here, way better than we would have had in South Africa. Do not get me wrong, we will never deny our heritage, but facts are facts and we are here and incredibly fortunate for the wonderful life we have in Vancouver Canada and this is HOME to us. We are proud to be Canadians.

Yes, we do miss it to be closer to our family from time to time, but fortunately, we can from time to time go and visit them, on the other side of the globe, when the longing gets too much.

Thank you so much, Esme. What an interesting life you’ve lead. I know you are always busy, so really appreciate your time.

You can find a wealth of recipes, fascinating interviews and masses of great blogging and social media activities on Esmé’s website: esmesalon.com

© Copyright Joy Lennick 2019

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Canadian capers – part II

If you missed part one, it’s here

Exploring further afield, we were struck by the almost comical comparison, size-wise, between the UK and Canada. Our roads were narrow and winding, theirs wide and impressive; our houses modest, many of theirs roomier, especially new-builds. And when it came to cars, ours seemed mostly ‘toy-town’. Food portions too made our eyes widen. Order a sandwich in the UK, and you received two slices of white bread with a filling, and that was it. No pickle or side salad; Canadian-style, you also received French fries and a salad. Our rationing system had been harsh! This extended to clothes. I was used to wearing a dress twice before changing. How embarrassing!

It wasn’t long before we all found jobs: husband eventually became a Driving Instructor, passing all the strict tests, while I became secretary to a Count de Salis, who had another home in Switzerland and was a friend of Charlie Chaplin‘s (I was very impressionable in those days). The company was Canadian Reinsurance and suited me just fine. Everyone was friendly, except one French Canadian girl, but she eventually forgave me for being English!!

Looking back, we made the most of every hour. Television was still a novelty, there were some excellent films to see and wonderful music to listen to. We attended a fabulous Jazz Concert featuring the Canadian Jazz Quartet Dan Vickery, played cards, went bowling, drove on wonderful WIDE highways to picnic near the many, clear lakes. The sheer size of the country was mind-boggling: the trees endless…conifer and deciduous aplenty. We journeyed past forests bursting with pines and spruces, green and splendid in their majesty. We explored nearby towns and environs, read voraciously (well, I did) and wrote dozens of cards and letters back home extolling the virtues and wonders of Canada.

We were wowed by Niagara Falls (twice), camped near a river when I heard my first rattler (but didn’t see it), I never moved so fast! Six of us hired a large tent and pitched it near Lake Penetanguishene (?) but never slept a wink as the men joked: ‘Hush… did you hear that? Could be a bear/snake or Indian…’ creeping up in the darkness, when all I saw were nervous Chipmunks.x

And then it snowed… Not snow as we knew it in England – where just an extra soupçon brings life to a sudden halt, but heavy snow and BLIZZARDS. At first, we were enchanted – the countryside was a beautiful landscape of glistening, silvery white, until getting to work was a chilly experience: ‘over-drawers’ and thick boots a must. But the street cars coped well for the most part and the snowploughs did an excellent job, except in outlying areas.

For leisure-time, our men made toboggans and we had great fun skimming down nearby hillocks. We were like pigs in mud! Then, quite suddenly, our tenure was changed by an innocent occurrence.

A guy we befriended on board ship: Tommy, was an “expectant father” when his wife was whisked into hospital, where she gave birth to a son, who – sadly – was not expected to live. He eventually returned home, naturally deeply upset, when the phone rang and an apologetic nurse explained there had been a temporary mix-up, and not only was the newly born child a girl, she was also in the best of health, once, ecstatic, he had high-tailed it to the hospital to be reunited with mother and new daughter, he called on us to share the good news and out came the shnaaps. By then, what had been a light fall of snow had become a raging blizzard, so we suggested he stay the night in our spare TV room. Apparently, not a good idea.

The next morning, our zany Latvian landlady– who we often found sitting on the stairs watching and listening to us as if we were suspect drug addicts or something, came up in a great state of anger and over-excitement shouting “You go, you go, no-one else stay here. Against rules!” And so, in another blizzard, we trudged the streets after work, in the dark, looking for yet another retreat.

We found one, and yet again, our landlady said. “I don’t allow locks on the doors!” What was it with Canadian landladies?! We later discovered why this particular woman didn’t like locks. She was riffling though our belongings. We double-checked and were proved right. What was she looking for?! We decided not to stay any longer, but before we left, the police arrived and arrested her for threatening a child with a baseball bat for hitting her only son. We certainly knew how to pick ‘em…

Roost No.4 was something else altogether and we had fun there. Friend Tommy was ‘overseer’ of a rambling rooming house in down-town Toronto. The basement was “going cheap” and apart from needing a clean and paint-up – which we soon accomplished, we moved in. We painted “Hernando’s Hideaway” over the doorway (from “The Pyjama Game” on at the time) purchased a few bits and pieces and soon made it comfortable.

A “very friendly” young lady occupied the large, ground-floor front room and I commented on how many men friends she was lucky enough to have and how clean she was… Naïve’s not the word! She vacated the premises after a short stay and two men moved in. On the third night of their tenure, we were woken up by, what sounded like a battalion of men from The Royal Mounted Police, (fortunately sans horses) and the new tenants were arrested for drug-smuggling. Oh, we did see life!

There followed a hiatus of calm and we went about our business and enjoyed life. There were countless cafes and restaurants to dine and wine in, and my company gave two fabulous parties; one in the summer on the Yacht Island on Lake Ontario, the other in the elegant house of our senior director at Christmas time, full of festive cheer. We drove to Ottawa and visited Montreal – where a cousin of my husband had moved after marrying a Canadian, calling on an Indian Reservation and meeting an educated “Chief Poking Fire,” and family. Educational and interesting.

Reading the above, you may be surprised to learn that, despite the good times and our great experiences, our feelings of homesickness grew rather than diminished. So, saying a sad farewell to the good friends we had made in Toronto, we returned to the UK. Home is where your heart is, after all. That’s not to say, once we had settled down again, that we didn’t miss Canada. We did and considered returning. But I then became pregnant with our first son and didn’t have the heart to deprive our mothers of grand-children!

Footnote: Many years later, we were lucky enough to visit Vancouver, and The Island, both of which we fell in love with. Two of our good, Irish fiends moved and settled there and were wonderful hosts. Canada is certainly a beautiful country and well worth a visit.

© Copyright Joy Lennick 2019

 

Picture credits: John Chuckman collection, Scotch Moss on Imgur, The Vintage Inn, personal collection

Canadian capers – part I

The year was 1957, and while World War II was well behind us, surely another war wouldn’t break out over the Suez Crisis, would it?! Meanwhile – with the complicated political shenanigans proceeding and hotting up – queues at the petrol pumps were creating huge problems and racked tempers for drivers in the UK, more specifically, my dear husband! As he was a “door-to-door salesman,” he really needed his van to make a living! The situation grew so serious, Canada House became a target for would-be immigrants and the queues vied with those at petrol stations.

The potted history of the situation was as follows: The catalyst for the joint British-French-Israeli attack on Egypt was the nationalization of the Suez Canal by Egypt’s Gamal Abdel Nasser in the July of 1956 but because of bad vibes between Russia and the USA and talk of a ‘nuclear’ situation, Eisenhower intervened and the troops were withdrawn. Canada was still large on my husband’s horizon, less so on mine. Here’s what happened!

‘Im indoors, having a very positive and persuasive manner, somehow or other convinced me it was a sensible and advantageous move to live in Canada, and so we joined the queue, even though I shed a few buckets-full of tears at the thought of leaving my beloved family behind. (Hardly the “Mayflower” type at the time! I changed.)

And so, with large trunk and suitcases packed, he and I, with several friends and family members in tow, and tears galore, bade goodbye at Waterloo station. ‘I’ll never see you again…’ wailed my dear, maternal grandma, my mother was beyond words… and then the tannoy system informed us that ‘Due to a dock strike in France, the “Il de France” sailing to Canada has been cancelled. Passengers due to sail on her will be transferred to “The Italia” which will be leaving in the morning and docking in New York.’ Surely an omen, I thought! Talk about an anti-climax… everyone went home, except us, and we spent the night in a flat due to be my eldest brother’s home in London when he married a few months later.

The next morning, my dad, bless him, came all the way to Southampton to see us off. Mum couldn’t face it. We were the last on board ship, as there was a delay locating our trunk! Another omen?

I saw sense and pulled myself together. (‘If we don’t like it, we can always return,’ my other half soft-talked.) Our fellow shipmates seemed a pleasant, varied bunch; we were allocated a first class, huge cabin, and thoughts of walking down Time Square and exploring The Big Apple suddenly appealed.

Our very first, longer sea voyage (the previous short one being to the island of Jersey) proved to be most enjoyable, except for the presence of a badly scarred and obviously hostile German steward who we avoided when we could… All was fine and dandy – until we hit deeper waters and an unusual swell emptied the breakfast crowd like Houdini – my husband being among their number. Luckily I seem to have a good “sea stomach.” Soon all was tranquil again and we floated/swam in the pool; did lots of fine dining and sunned ourselves on a steady deck.

In the passenger mix, were famous British singers Teddy Johnson and Pearl Carr, who serenaded us at the last-night party with their recorded and popular “Sing Little Birdie,” which was fun, and sailing past the famous Statue of Liberty looming out of an early morning heat-haze the next day was an exciting first. “Time Square” wasn’t and disappointed, but oh the delights of shops which never closed; supermarkets (?), air conditioning (?) and so much that was different in so many ways. It was June though and NY in June can be mighty hot for a Brit! We sizzled.

Generous, distant relatives: lovely, hospitable Bill and Mary Boyle, kindly accommodated us for three, action-packed, days when we ate our first pizza and hot dog (mixed reactions), visited Coney Island (a let-down but still a breeze – and we had the bruises to prove it! ) I bought a polka-dot dress in Macy’s, and we strolled in Central Park: an oasis of calm in a noisy, teeming city. The next day, we left – adrenaline flowing – for the land of the Maple Leaf and The Rockies.

After a comfortable journey, we arrived in Toronto in a near Hurricane – some Palm trees nearly bent double – disappointed our expected friends were not there to meet us (we’d telegrammed) and we felt like a couple of refugees. Oh dear. We telephoned another contact and a most generous couple met us, fed us and put up for the night! How lucky was that. The next day was a total turn-around.

Awaking to bird-song: we were near, huge, Lake Ontario, a bountiful sun beamed down and we were brim-full of optimism. We were spoilt by the choice of apartments to let, a temporary plan, and soon found a large, immaculately clean rooming house nearby which proved to fool us! The owners were German Canadians, seeming pleasant: the wife a “House-Frau” with knobs on… There were no locks on any doors, which should have been a clue. There being two, single men on the premises, made for an uncomfortable feeling. We didn’t plan staying long, which proved prophetic.

Our “missing friends” found us, so we invited them around for a meal and a game of cards the following week. We played the wireless quietly, aware there were two children asleep downstairs. Apart from dear H divesting himself of a tie, there was no strip polka or any other raucous goings-on, and our friends left at midnight. Oh, had we blotted our copy-book. The next morning, an irate Frau said:

‘You must leave next week. We don’t allow guests in our rooms.’ So that was that.

Roost No. 2 was something else… Imagine, if you will, the house in the film “Psycho” – innocent enough in daylight – but once dusk hovered, imagination came out to play. Nevertheless, it was solid, spacious, clean and had enough rooms to share with our friends, which worked well financially. It was near Castle Loma, Toronto’s only “Castle.” Again, there were no locks on any doors (?) The owners lived on the ground floor, we shared the first and a couple rented the floor above us. (Note: ‘He’ – we never met ‘them’ – played the organ every night from 11 pm to 12 pm. A noisy fact.)

Except for having to use the huge, creepy, claustrophobic cellar where the washing machine was housed (plus mysterious objects hidden and clothed), and where the sinister, gold-toothed lodger periodically appeared – quiet as a cat, making my heart pump – the arrangement with our friends worked well. We shared the housework, cooking and costs. Life was good.

End of Canadian capers – part one. Read Part two here

© Copyright Joy Lennick 2019