From Across the Pond

After visiting Canada with the British Merchant Navy, this husband and father decided to move his family here 45 years ago, a decision he's never regretted

We left England and flew into Montreal in January 1973. Our family of four included me and my wife, Elizabeth, our two teenage boys, Kevin and James, as well as our two dachshunds, Trudi and Bindi. I had visited Halifax and Montreal during my service with the British Merchant Navy and informed my family that if we could make it through a Canadian winter, we'd have a good chance of making a new life for ourselves. Hence our choice of arriving in January!

We started our Canadian adventure to a cacophony of barking from our dogs, who had spotted us going through Customs at the airport—no surprise, we sailed right through!

Leaving the terminal, our two boys began walking with difficulty. The suede coats they wore had frozen stiff in the -20°C temperatures. We hailed a cab, but found we actually needed two to accom- modate all of our luggage and the kennels. The two cab drivers gave us a tour of downtown Montreal (with their meters off) before depositing us at our hotel.

EARLY DAYS

Our last night in England had been spent at a hotel near Manchester Airport. Breakfast in an English hotel is quiet, with only the rustle of newspapers and the occasional mutter of “Pass the marmalade, if you please” to disturb the diners. When we came down to breakfast at the hotel in Montreal, we were amazed at the lively, almost carnivallike atmosphere in the coffee shop!

Our intention was to become self-employed by purchasing and operating a small pleasure-craft marina. To this end, we had pre-booked a train journey through to Saint John, N.B., where we had arranged with an agent to view several properties.

A person with whom I had worked in England had immigrated to Canada and I had last heard from him when he was based in Montreal. I telephoned the company and was told by his manager that he'd been relocated to Vancouver. In the same conversation, the manager ended up offering me a position with the company in Montreal! He thought I was mad to risk starting a business from scratch in a place I’d never been to before. I was adamant in my quest, however, and politely refused his offer. From top: Kevin, Elizabeth, James and Brian (on couch) with friends prior to leaving for Canada; the family home in Pointe-claire, Que.; Bindi and Trudi; a recent photo of Kevin, Brian, Andrew (Brian and Elizabeth's youngest grandson), Elizabeth, and Justin (their eldest grandson.)

Our train journey from Montreal to Moncton was delightful, but a problem arose when we transferred to the Dayliner train that would take us to Saint John. Dogs weren’t supposed to travel on this train. The friendly guard took pity on us, however, and made an exception.

We were less than thrilled at the prospective properties available for purchase. That night we decided our goal had been overly risky, so the following day I placed a call to the Montreal company, and asked if the job offer was still open. Fortunately for us it was, so we rented a car and drove back to Montreal, unwilling to risk having problems with getting our dogs back on the train.

The vehicle we rented was a station wagon—it seemed huge! Its cavernous interior took both travel kennels and our suitcases with room to spare, and we set off on the drive back to Montreal. We drove through snow, floods and torrential rain at times. I was proud of my navigational skills, picked up while serving in the BritishMerchant Navy, as we didn’t get lost once. There was no GPS in those days.

Upon our arrival back in Montreal, after meeting with my new employer, we checked into a hotel close to my new job, rented a vehicle and went house hunting.

We quickly found a modest townhouse for rent. The next challenge was to make it a home. My new boss suggested we go to a large department store down the highway, where we chose the bare essentials of furniture. As there were no ceiling lights in our new home, we bought several large table lamps that we decided to take with us, rather than have them delivered. The two boys sat in the back of our rented car nursing those two lamps all the way home.

When the rest of our purchases arrived, we were surprised that much of it was flatpacked, something we’d never seen in England. I spent quite a time protesting to the delivery crew that we’d ordered furniture—not cardboard boxes. The driver and his mate spoke little English and my schoolboy French made for a somewhat hilarious discussion.

I soon started my new job, learning the ropes as a field service technician. One of my first assignments was to deliver and install a large compressor to a paper mill in Cornwall, Ont. I set off from Montreal in a blinding snowstorm. The heavy compressor sat in the back of a ¾-ton pickup truck that kept the vehicle firmly on the road. I’d been driving for an hour or so when I spied a barrier across the road. I climbed out of the truck, pushed the barrier aside, then carried on. The snow was getting deep, but the truck stayed glued to the road. When I reached Cornwall, I was advised that I’d driven over a road closed by the police!

LATER LIFE

We stayed in Montreal until 1979 and enjoyed every moment. The warmth and conviviality of Quebecers still brings fond memories of our initial start to our life in Canada. I travelled extensively for my employer, and everywhere I went I was met with kindness.

We moved to Ontario in 1979, where I took a position with Westinghouse Electric Company. I then became a self-employed consultant, finally retiring in 1998. Although I travelled across most of Canada and the United States, and saw parts of the world in my service at sea in my early days, to us, where we live now in Grimsby Ont., is the best place in the world! ■