George Connell


(posted on 16 Feb 2020)

How to make my day (not). Only a day after cancelling a community meeting in Egmont to discuss contentious cut blocks, to what do my wondering eyes appear but this sign on the trail between Malaspina Road and the works yard. Devious and lying little feckers. It wouldn't be half as bad if these bastards actually cared about what they leave behind. When you refer to trees as 'sticks' as though god has left them in the ground just for you, and you actually believe 'swirl cuts' will prevent trees from falling over, and when you cut too close to the edge of CLEAR CUTS, causing road blockages and power outages for days on end; you are a greedy and mindless pig -at both a corporate and personal level. I suggest you retrain everyone to work in a sustainable fashion and if you can't be transparent about your intentions, at least aim for semi-diaphanous. You and Timber sales are testing my capacity for anger and sheer hatred.

It's time to make a coast-wide change. Are you in support of putting pressure on government and industry to embrace the 21st century concept of sustainability and civic responsibility? Let me know your feelings...

(posted on 15 Feb 2020)

This is the link (click on the image) to check up on my progress on the 800 kilometre pilgrimage across the north of Spain. I leave on March 24th and hope to update progress every couple of days. Feel free to check back as often as you wish...A lot of folks are asking why I'm doing this, but the answers are many and range from simple to complex. It'll cost you a cider when I get back in mid-May. Love to all my cats and kittens...

(posted on 15 Sep 2019)

To celebrate the second anniversary of the release of 'Elephant in the Room' I've decided to offer it up who all who would desire it. We're working on the next project, so a good house clearing is in order...

(posted on 18 Jun 2019)

Tenth Annual Canada Day Do


Join us for the annual celebration of whatever being Canadian means to you. Bring pot luck and/or something for the barbie. Prizes for most outrageously attired Canadian, a mini musical concert, and the infamous Canada Quiz. Phone me at 883-2299 if you have questions...

Monday, July 1st beginning at 4 pm

5474 Jervis Inlet Road in Upper Earls Cove

(posted on 7 May 2019)
Don't disappoint me...or yourself. Slide on down to the Pender Harbour School of Music Friday, May 10th for an evening of three acts of tuneful delight. Show starts at 7 and I've got a set of new tunes that will at least entertain and at best provoke and arouse. Recreational judgmentalism at its best! See you there.


(posted on 4 May 2019)
I'd love to see you all this Friday, May 10th at the School of Music in Pender Harbour! Songs from the upcoming album and one or two oldies.


(posted on 31 Jan 2019)


Do you, like myself, support  the Ruby Lake Lagoon Society’s application for rezoning at Irvines Landing for the proposed Pender Harbour Ocean Discovery Station (PODS) project? Hopefully I am singing to other members of the choir. The re-zoning process is in full swing, and while things are going well, it never hurts to have more supporters in the corner. What follows is a framework for a letter to the SCRD expressing support for the PODS projects. Feel free to individualise it as you wish. Thank you for the's important for the overall economic and social welfare of the Sunshine Coast and Pender Harbour in particular.



Sunshine Coast Regional District

1975 Field Rd.

Sechelt, British Columbia

V0N 3A1


Date January, 2019

Dear Planning Department,

Dear Director,

Dear Regional District Staff,


Re: Egmont / Pender Harbour Official Community Plan Amendment Bylaw 708.1 Sunshine Coast Regional District Zoning Amendment Bylaw 337.116



I am writing today to express support for the Ruby Lake Lagoon Society’s application for rezoning at Irvines Landing for the proposed PODS project.


(Insert who you are here… )


This project will benefit the community by…..

I fully support this group and their efforts…

I can be reached at this email….or at this phone number


Generally: Letter needs to state:       

                                    Awareness of proposed change to OCP amendment bylaw

Support for group ….

Support for project ….

State how you can be reached for follow up …





(posted on 20 Jan 2019)

Join me at EarthFair Books in Madeira Park on January 26th (Saturday), from 11-3 for a reading of mostly new poetry and mayhap a tune or two. All in celebration of Literacy Week in the Harbour. It's free of course and I promise not to curse too badly, so you can bring the little ones.


(posted on 3 Jan 2019)

My first teaching assignment, many years ago, was at Woodlands School. The population was an agglomeration of some of the most varied 'disabilities' ever to confront caregivers and teachers; and while the now-closed institution still harbours unsavoury aftertastes of abuse and mismanagement, many good things came of the programs and caregivers that served residents. Woodlands was my first teaching experience and I have fond memories of the residents I worked with and the experiences we shared. This is one of them, titled:


Up the Downhill

          I didn’t begin my career at Woodlands as a teacher, but as a teacher’s aide. I’ve never liked the expression ‘teacher’s aide’. It has always sounded so prophylactic and taboo, but nonetheless that was the capacity in which I found myself one spring morning when I reported for work at the administration office. At the time I finished Professional Development training, the market for teachers had hit rock bottom. The ‘echo boom’ was still in its infancy and the progeny of the postwar generation, while swelling personally, had yet to begin to swell the ranks of kindergarten. So it was to swallow my pride and defray my student loans that I began to aim a little lower. My brother in law, who taught at Woodlands, suggested I apply for a recently vacated position. I really had no idea what I would be letting myself in for. I was introduced to the office staff and quickly discovered there would be virtually no orientation before beginning my workday. For the rest of the morning I wandered the program areas, observing home living training, American Sign Language instruction, and woodworking.

          Lunch found me in the subterranean restaurant staffed by some of the more cognitive and trained residents. I sat in the corner alone with a sandwich until I was joined by one of the teachers to whom I had been introduced that morning. Gerald was a bit of a character, the depths of whom I had only the faintest inklings at this point. He dropped his backpack and wandered over to the salad bar, which offered three sizes, all dictated by the size of the Styrofoam container and not by weight or contents.  Gerald picked up the smallest of plates and began a building process which would have done Albert Speer or the pharaohs proud. He began by pasting a thin layer of smooched down potato salad over the surface of the plate and then laying down a foundation of radially arranged bread sticks. On top of this came a layer of coleslaw interspersed with beets and sliced tomatoes. Next came a few layers of lettuce before the depositing of more smooched over potato salad. Now that a sufficient base had been established, he constructed a skeleton of bread stick uprights within which was placed the less adherent ingredients of the salad bar. This continued until the salad was a foot high, firmly compacted and capable of withstanding a major earthquake or a gale force wind. In the time it took Gerald to undermine the restaurant’s daily profits, I had finished my sandwich and was headed back upstairs for my briefing. Pretty good for eighty cents he called out as I made my way up the stairs. Needless to say this fairly well prefaced my opinion of him for the rest of my five year stay.

          I was told to report to the cafeteria and escort Daniel, an eighteen year-old first nations resident, to his ward. Don’t forget that this is an instructive opportunity, I was told. You can’t use your hands or push or pull him onto the ward. It’s a chance for him to learn.

          Why would I want to do either, I asked?  Because he has a hollow leg. Because he has three hobbies; breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Because he will pirouette around and scarf up a crushed cashew off the sidewalk faster than you can even think. Because he will do anything to try and get back to the cafeteria. Right. Off I went.

          I found Daniel contentedly finishing off a bowl of Jell-O and adjusting himself, a grin so big he might have had ear wax in the corners of his mouth. I chatted with one of the supervisors. How are you going to get him up to the ward, he asked. I explained what had been explained to me, that I was not to use hands, push, pull, or otherwise overtly coerce him up the 200 yards of steep hill to the ward. He grinned knowingly. Ever play football, he asked. Uh huh. Offense? Yup. Same thing, he concluded, leaving to break up a Jell-O theft.

          We left the cafeteria uneventfully. Daniel was still basking in the afterglow of lunch, his hands clenched together under his chin, flashing a million dollar smile at outer space. We had gone about twenty feet. I was walking behind him, as instructed, when he spun around and slammed his head into my chest, moaning and whimpering as the fact that lunch was over suddenly dawned on him. I stood my ground – barely. My hands were at my side and his face was in mine, flecks of spaghetti sauce between his teeth and spraying over my cheek. First day on the job. I wanted to do well, so I held my ground. No more and no less. He spun again, trying to get past me. I parried his spin with a cheeky side step and just barely blocked him. By now my hands were grasping my sweatshirt at the chest, elbows out and feet lightened, waiting for the next move. He dropped to the ground. I relaxed my grip on my shirt and instinctively bent over to help him up. He had done this before, and he rolled past me, regained his feet and was trotting back down the hill. I sprinted past him and reclaimed my position in front of him, face to face. He’s not going to do that again, I thought. But he did, over and over, and after an hour we were about ten feet from the cafeteria entrance.

          Now Daniel was young and extremely strong and I was beginning to question whether I had the stamina to keep up with him. Was failure an option? What would happen if he made it back to the cafeteria? Would he be rewarded with another meal? I doubled down. This was a challenge. I must admit I cheated. I gave him the slightest bit of pressure from my chest and we began to make headway up the hill. Halfway up and I was gaining ground and confidence. Too much apparently, for he slipped me and I fell forward onto my face, propelled by my own impulse. But fueled by pride, I raced around in front of him and redoubled my efforts. This was personal, like a rookie offensive guard who has been taken to school in his first game by the wily middle linebacker. Ever so slowly we made it to the door of the ward where a crowd of care-givers had gathered, cheering encouragement. The last ten feet might as well been ten miles, but eventually Daniel found himself behind the bottom of the Dutch doors, one of the matronly workers pinching his cheek playfully and telling him how naughty he’d been.

          I was flushed and bushed and desperately in need of a shower and a beer. For the first time that afternoon I looked at my watch. It was five to three! What appeared to take twenty minutes had dragged into almost two hours! Several of the care-givers leaned against the door smiling at me and shaking their heads. I straightened up and tried to look as professional as one can after going up against a middle linebacker and sweating a six-pack. So how’d I do? I asked, wondering how my time stacked up against my predecessor. We’re impressed, one of them said. What do you mean? I asked. We were about to send a couple of the boys down to bring him up in a vehicle like we usually do. No-one’s ever made it all the way up before. You’re the first. And Daniel smiled at me from behind the Dutch doors as if to say, OK you won this one, but tomorrow’s another day. I’ve got your moves down and you’re not that  good.

          That night I demolished the six-pack and slept very, very well.



(posted on 20 Jul 2018)

One more sleep Cats and Kittens! Get your tickets online at for four exciting 'chanteuses' at Ruby Lake Amphitheatre!



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