Page 238 - Michael Frost-Voyages to Maturity-23531.indd

be. I liked the office environment, inasmuch as there were friendly and capable
people with whom to work, but it was unvaried, the train journey was too tedious,
and times at home began only late in the evening. I also cared little for ‘living for
the weekend’; in short, it was more fun to be at sea!

But change was on the way. Firstly, I arranged for a room to occupy during
the week (in grotty Eltham, near Bob Hope’s birthplace, but less than 30 minutes
from the office by train) and Judith had arranged to obtain information from two
B.C. Universities (UBC and Simon Fraser) that painted a very different picture
from that of UCCA respecting admission policies; in short, my qualifications
seemed satisfactory, but if upon investigation proved inadequate (who, over in
BC, had heard of a Foreign-Going 1st mates ticket?) deficiencies could easily be
made up at local colleges. As soon as I could come over, I could immediately
apply, and SFU operated all year-round (in other words, everything didn’t close
down for the summer). The die, for me, was cast.

My parents were, of course, less than wholly enthusiastic about this
scheme, but, as I had chosen my parents with the greatest of care, accepted
the inevitable (and that was how it was beginning to look; after all, I had
already been away from home for 7 years) with good grace – this was how the
Empire was created, after all!

Meanwhile, I had to have an interview at Canada House (my interviewer, of
course, had no idea what a nautical inspector did) which, I think, lasted about
three minutes, but I made sure that I went to as many operas as possible (I never
need to see ‘La Traviata’ again) and to all the plays that caught my fancy (though
the G.B. Shaw and Noel Coward canon I would thereafter never miss) as I thought
Vancouver to be a cultural desert. I was actually wrong in this regard, but the
‘colonies’ were the ‘colonies’!

In beginning to prepare for a major transition in life, I was, of course, fortunate
in my nationality, my choice of destination, and the fact that I was relatively
accustomed to foreign parts, though I had already decided that Vancouver was a
city easy to embrace. The cost of getting to Vancouver was ninety-nine pounds,
ship and train included, and all I had to do was ensure that, in the event of the
failure of the relationship, I would be able to stay or return. I had so often left
for foreign parts, however, that to actually leave in November was no big deal; I
caught the train to Liverpool, where I joined Empress of England for the five-day
crossing. The stabilisers were faulty, and as the weather was unfavourable, usually
the dining saloon was half-empty. I was in steerage (or tourist) class with three
other young fellows, but this was not a social trip; all were ‘drawing our bows at a
venture’ and probably equally nervous about what awaited us.

Montreal was inviting enough … until one stepped off the ship. It has to be

237