Yup, version 6. It's almost too hard to believe. But there have been five Canadian Christmas Vacation trips before (there would have been six but Helga showed up a little too close to Christmas 2015 for calm and comfort), and so this one really was the sixth. And you'd think that with a number like 6 (greatest number ever) it would have been grand -- the best ever, even. I'll let you decide for yourself...
Pemulis had recently started a new job in map making for Gerardus Mercator and his Christian, Dutch cronies and in particular he was working on a method to properly project sea monsters reported by trustworthy sailors on to the probably approximately correct (PAC) location on the map in the expanses of the Atlantic Ocean. Some glitches were cropping up, however, and despite some serious tinkering in the map-making process the sea monsters were actually in many cases showing up in even more incorrect positions than before. Unfortunate, to say the least, but if you want to discover more direct routes to plunder the best spices from unsuspecting indigenous populations, you've got to be willing to live just a little on the edge.
So with the lack of success in the sea monster project up to this date, Pemulis was naturally eagerly awaiting a break from the grind and a 3-week no-expenses-paid trip to the New World for him and his family. Finally, Dies Martis arrived and the Pemulis's made their way to the aerodrome for a something like 200 hour flight to the Dominion of Canada (the timelines here are a little confusing). The 8+ days airborne were surprisingly uneventful and you would think that spending that long traveling across timezones might help with the eventual onslaught of circadian dysrhythmia but no.
The first several days of CCV v.6 were even more uneventful than the aeroplane flight. Each day consisted primarily of staring at a wall and sulphur and pitch fumigations that were naturally administered to aid in the travel-induced sleep modifications. But by day 5 (or somewhere around there) Pemulis and Joelle were ready to leave little Helga along with her grandmother for a trip into the deep North with Pemulis's siblings and their spouses. A chariot met them bright and early according to the sundial at the north forty and they began a journey through fields of snow to a remote cabin for some serious sibling bonding.
Gin and Crokinole were naturally the primary activities for all involved and both helped lead to an evening of high spirits and few (perhaps zero) trips to the apothecary a short 90 miles down the Roman-built path. Team Pemulis was even victorious in the end following an unsuccessful and highly controversial carom attempted by his enemies (/brother and sister-in-law). After a meal of thick pottage in the dining quarters, the attendees retired to the parlour for a round of cigars and Napoleon brandy.
Shortly following their return to the north forty, it was suddenly Christmas Day and the home filled with visitors. There was Caliban, the towne drunk; Petruchio, Joelle's mother's sister's husband; Shylock, the half-mad gardener; Herne the Hunter (Joelle's brother) along with his wife Gertrude and their children Titania and Nick Bottom; Joelle's parents Heathcliffe and Catherine; her sister Portia; Puck, the farm-hand; and many more. The house was loud that day, my friends. Like a Limp Bizkit concert where the locals had forgotten to pay off the sound engineer to sabotage the sound board. A good man was lost in the commotion of gift unwrapping and at one point we feared dearly for Portia's life but in the end we all breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she only lost an eye.
In a bid to escape the pandemonium that was twirling all around them with their lives, Pemulis, Joelle, and Helga soon after climbed aboard the Ultimate Driving Machine and roared down the motorway to Pemulis's parents' grand palace, also-known-as The Willows. My memory escapes me with respect to the precise time of our arrival, but Pemulis and co passed through the doorway of The Willows somewhere in the environs of 11 pm (or at least it felt that way due to the length of the morning). In contrast to the north forty, The Willows was surprisingly quiet. Pemulis's brother's children -- who historically were classified as "potentially dangerous contributors to acoustic neuroma" -- seemed polite, reserved, and very, well, grown up when Pemulis compared them to Titania and Nick Bottom and their frighteningly loud and out-of-control interactions with Helga. Even Pemulis's sister's daughter Saldana was a joy to have around.
Pemulis sat himself down on one of the two Vincenzo De Cotiis down-filled, kangaroo twine stitched living room settees and the butler promptly fetched him an Old Fashioned served in a Baccarat crystal. The children quietly amused themselves in the games room and the adults discussed the year that was while partaking in a spirited game of backgammon. Pemulis's luck had run out, however, and was thoroughly swatted when he doubled at a point when clearly should have simply accepted a double. He won't be making that mistake again.
When it was time to open the gifts delivered by Kris Kringle, there was an orderly procession of youngest-to-oldest and following each unwrapping Father Pemulis captured a photograph on the Leica M3. The highlight of the afternoon was undoubtedly the white gold Patek Philippe Calatrava gifted from Pemulis to his older brother. It was all the more humorous when later Pemulis opened the identical gift from Joelle. Great minds, and all that.
Several days later, Pemulis and Joelle set out for a night away, a generous gift from Pemulis's parents that included full babysitting service for the apple of their eye Helga. They again boarded the Ultimate Driving Machine and thundered to the South Bank of the Thames where a dinner awaited them. They strolled the streets through the glistening snow post-meal and planned a very comfortable life in the area for Pemulis's baby sister including her future banker, tax advisor, gym, and of course guitar teacher.
Returning to the north forty, Pemulis encountered some health problems. Nothing a timely administered Carbolic Smoke Ball couldn't cure, however, and our heroes were back to the races. The next event on their itinerary involved a trip to the local mountain where little Helga could participate in some much-deserved mountaineering. Helga took to this rather impressively and was soon climbing circles around the other adventurers. There were zero problems with her wanting to participate in said activity and the whole family felt 100% confident that they had got their money's worth and vowed to return when the opportunity again presented itself.
Like all good things, eventually the CCV v.6 had to come to a close. Pemulis, Joelle, and Helga, after a relaxing chariot ride to the aerodrome, boarded the TWA Dreamliner and were whisked into the clouds for a return to a more civilised version of life. Diesel automobiles, beer for breakfast, the expectation to only bathe monthly, and most served food based on a process that involved force feeding a helpless animal in some manner. It was good to be back on the continent.
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