Pina colada

I first became aware of the name through a cheesy early 80’s song by Rupert Holmes. Although formally entitled “escape” it has become known as the “pina colada” song. Telling a mini story a young man asks a girl “ do you like pina colada”. Essentially he doesn’t realise she does until a sudden circumstance makes him realise. At the time I had a vague idea that this was an exotic cocktail but that was about the extent of my knowledge.

In 1980 I had moved to work for Unichema at Bromborough only for them to close their development unit and for me to become redundant. I was very bitter about this as I thought I had been recruited under false pretences although looking back the recruitment took so long that it was more incompetence than malevolence.

In any event I was job hunting. Middle aged with a young family and in a poor jobs market I was fairly desperate. I answered an advertisement in a British newspaper for a job in Canada with a small company owned by a second generation British man. I had an interview with him in Leeds. He very sensibly said I had to visit Canada and the plant to be properly informed. He offered a deal by which if I went to Canada at my own expense he would then pay all my expenses once there.

We decided Annette should go also so leaving the children with Grandparents off we went. My prospective employer had planned things carefully and installed us in a Holiday Inn in the Montreal suburb of Longeuil. This was about 50 miles north of his plant at St Jean but just at the terminus of the underground railway into Montreal which made access to the city easy.

We very quickly realised that we were in Quebec province at the height of their nationalistic fervour which was translated into strong language nationalism. Quebec is largely French speaking; my qualifications would only be recognised if I passed an French exam and our children would have go to a French speaking school. As a result the company were having great difficulty recruiting. English speakers from elsewhere who were put off by the French language demands.

We were very well treated. The head of R&D made sure his wife facilitated Annette getting around so that she was either ferried or loaned a bicycle for independent travel. Although in a sense I was being interviewed by others at the company  it was more a case of introducing myself as they were obviously keen to recruit me.

I was concerned about housing but the owner offered a loan and said it would be easy to arrange mortgage finance as I would have a good job. I verified this was indeed the case although interest rates were high.

Although we had breakfast meetings in the North American way we also were entertained. I recall going to a football match ( American style of course ). I was most impressed by the seller of nuts who stayed in aisles but threw unerringly direct to his customers.

Our hotel had a rooftop bar. One evening during our visit I had a pina colada there. The bar was quite exotic in an American way with piano player and service by a waitress in a slit skirt. It’s a cocktail of rum, coconut milk and pineapple juice over ice with a wedge of pineapple. Refreshing but nothing to rave about. At least my curiosity was assuaged.

At the weekend during our stay I hired a car. One day we went north into the Lawrentian mountains. It is true that developed Canada is a fairly thin strip against the American border. Only about a 100 miles north of Montreal we were on dirt roads. In our research before going we were much impressed by a book which commented “ Canadians spend their lives preparing for winter, enduring winter and recovering from winter” We went in June when the weather was warm and humid but at every turn there was evidence of winter from the car heater posts to massive basements to houses and to golf courses becoming ski trails.

Nowhere is this more obvious than in Montreal city where whole malls are underground away from winter weather. It is possible to walk for many hundreds of yards by underground shops and cafes.

We were so welcomed it was hard to say no to the job. I rather chickened out and did it by phone when we had returned. I do sometimes think how very different our lives would have been. Looking back now as a grandparent myself I realise how devastating it would have been for my parents for their son and grandchildren to be an Atlantic away. On the whole I have no regrets but sometimes I can’t help but wonder….