COLUMN: The routine returns, a few weeks late

It’s good to be back in the saddle … a place I probably should have been for the past six weeks instead of flirting with political ambition.

It’s good to be back in the saddle … a place I probably should have been for the past six weeks instead of flirting with political ambition. This is the first autumn in I don’t know how long that I haven’t been in the northern Cariboo following ungulates of various order. When I say ‘in the saddle’ I truly do mean in a saddle, on a horse, chasing cows.

But instead I spent the latter part of October and most of November chasing votes, to which it appears I was particularly unsuited. I did not have an ‘internet presence’ … no website, and thus those who don’t read the newspaper had no idea who I was.

Such was my folly.

But when I look at the numbers that came out of this past election, the result wasn’t about anything that most assumed would turn the tide.

The water referendum, other than failing massively, did not factor into the decisions made by the one-third or so who actually voted. Neither did Plan A, the Heat contract, escalating taxes or anything else. If they had, none of the incumbent councillors would have been returned to office, yet they all did. Even Mayor George Peary lost by fewer than 50 votes a poll.

This election was not a massive rejection of the way our city is being run. In fact, save the mayor’s defeat, it was mostly an affirmation that everyone seems to be happy with the way it is.

I find that hard to believe, but then I wasn’t elected, so at this point I’m not going any further on the subject.

Actually over the past few days, following that major windstorm we all experienced, I’ve been busy putting to great use all the election signs I collected up.

The wind ripped the canvas roof off my woodshed. It now has a new covering made of my smiling face, perforated many times by roofing nails. Better than darts, launched by others perhaps.

I also know the world has returned to normal when, beside the coffee pot this morning was a ‘to-do’ list: rake the leaves, clean out the gutters, tidy the garage . . . the usual stuff I am commanded to do when time permits, and I can no longer avoid the home-based suggestions that putting off the inevitable is no longer acceptable, despite my thoughts of other more desirable activities.

Neglecting to look at the calendar, I had intended to escape for a few days into the wilderness, and last week a buddy suggested it might be a good time to take off into the mountains for a couple of days. I regretfully reminded him that the hills were now blanketed rather deeply in snow, which not only makes travel into the boonies a tad difficult, but camping downright uncomfortable.

And if I needed other reminders of the time of year, Christmas carols now dominate the airwaves on the truck radio and Shaw’s ‘fireplace’ on the TV makes the point that the world is a different place anywhere outside the low portions of the Fraser Valley.

But despite the warm sun shining as I write this, a nasty northeaster is but a weather system away and even here in the banana belt, winter will come upon us soon enough.

Then, perhaps, a get-away will occur, but it won’t be in the truck and it certainly won’t be to anywhere snow might fall.