A Crazy Idea

By Chris Wells

In 1974 I had the privilege of becoming the head foreman of a Junior Ranger camp in northern Ontario. I started to write just about that but was finding that the story leading up to the event was just as interesting. So, I included the tale of how I got to be in that situation.
We had only been it Canada for four years. When I was twenty-four I had moved from England with my wife Eileen and baby daughter Lisa. So some of the crazy things we went through are worth recording. By the same author "A Crazy Idea Too!"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chris Wells
• Release date: Apr 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370937868

Chris Wells

Born and raised in England, Chris came to Canada in 1969 and lives with his wife Rosalie on Vancouver Island.

Book preview

Acknowledgments

Peter Parry

For the final polish and counsel

Lisa Free

For her memories, input and encouragement.

Eileen Wells

For her positive comments

plus

The People

Who initially suggested that I do this. And,

Especially Rosalie

For her inspiration, support and helping to guide me through this process.

For more info http://abnd.ca

Email [e-mail]

Intro

In 1974 I had the privilege of becoming the head foreman of a Junior Ranger camp in northern Ontario. I started to write just about that, but was finding that the story leading up to the event was just as interesting. So, I included the tale of how I got to be in that situation.

We had only been it Canada for four years. When I was twenty four I had moved from England with my wife Eileen and baby daughter Lisa. So some of the crazy things we went through are worth recording.

After the events in this book, we finally made it to British Columbia, had one more daughter Lorraine, and lived there for about eleven years. One day I was visiting my brothers in Ontario when I was given a job opportunity. I talked it over with Eileen and we decided to move back. After five years, having realised what a mistake we had made we came back again and settled on Vancouver Island.

Eileen and I split up shortly after, and I eventually met and married a lovely lady named Rosalie, originally from the prairies. We've had a lot of fun over the years and when she retired in 2015 we decided to make a once in a lifetime trip to Europe.

Several friends suggested that I write a blog as we went along. I hadn’t done anything like that before, but as I was somewhat computer savvy, I thought I’d give it a try. It seemed to go down well because I think my Crazy British sense of humour was appreciated.

When we got back, I kept hearing write a book, write a book. Well, as I’m something of an introvert I was very reluctant. But the idea kept nagging at me and, with a lot of encouragement from Rosalie; I decided to give it a try.

I’m not the sort of person who can make up a story so I had to think of something that I had experienced. The obvious choice was the story of the Junior Rangers.

Another obstacle I faced was that I had not written anything for years and having forgotten all my punctuation and grammar, I had to go onto the internet to download some software programs to help me.

I also had Rosalie as my personal editor, which was a journey in itself. In the beginning, I didn't want to burden her with having to read everything over and over, so I'd finish a chapter, print it out and have her correct it for me. As we went along she got more and more enthusiastic. We did have some issues. I tell the story in English English and she corrects in Canadian English.

We had some very interesting discussions about this and came to an amicable way of doing things. I deferred to her mostly as my grammar is atrocious. Eventually, I made a game of it. I was determined that she wasn't going to find one mistake in any chapter. I never did achieve my goal, but my mistakes became less.

I've added some photos to make things more interesting. They have been lying around in photo albums for over forty years, so some are faded and out-of-focus. I cleaned them up a bit, but graphics is not one of my strong points.

Growing Up

I was born near Canterbury England but grew up in the ancient City of Rochester which is the nearest crossing of the River Medway between Dover and London. It was a Roman town (Durobrivae) and part of the original Roman walls can still be seen. The Vikings rowed up the Medway trying to attack Rochester but we brave Men of Kent beat them back. Later, William the Conquer's sons built the castle, it still stands today, one of the best preserved Norman castles in England.

There is a cathedral built on the site of an Old Saxon church. I spent many happy hours playing around the castle and cathedral since we only lived a few hundred yards away.

We were a hard-up family, my three brothers left home early to join the navy to get away from our abusive father. That left my Mum and me, at age eight; I was the youngest by seven years.

Me, at about six years old. Mum had to buy this school photo as I had scribbled all over the back of it on the way home. We were living in the tent at that time

I was about three years old when my father bought a double decker bus. His business was growing watercress which is very popular in England. The idea was to convert the bus to an RV and take the family to the west of England, looking for likely spots to grow watercress. We never did go but lived in the bus for some time after.

The bus was parked in Rochester close to the river. There were all sorts of merchant ships moored in the river at that point as they couldn't go any further upstream because the bridge was in the way. They were mostly foreign ships. I once remember my dad talking to two sailors from one of them. They had a suitcase full of cigarettes. He must have bought them as I remember him stashing them in a cupboard under the counter.

I had a pet duck for a while but it mysteriously disappeared just before Christmas. I also broke my toe while playing on some paving slabs and had to walk with a cast for a few weeks.

I don't know what became of the bus but it stayed with my dad for a long time. I saw it often as a teenager but lost track of it after that.

When I was six, my father took us out to the fruit orchards to pick fruit; mostly cherries, apples, pears and plums. After we finished with the fruit we went on to the hop gardens to pick hops. While doing this we lived in two tents a fourteen foot ridge tent and a large bell tent.

While we were fruit picking I had to go to a different school. I got there on the local bus, as we didn't have school buses in those days. I was six at the time. Often I would spend the bus fare on candy and have to walk home.

After my dad left we had some hard times. However, my Mum always managed to provide for us both. Once in