Mr Roedde was a German but his wife was British, having been born in Heligoland before we swapped it for Zanzibar. Ah, the heady days of empire! Anyway, he came to the US and eventually found his way to Vancouver where he set up as the city's only printer, giving him a monopoly and a licence to print money, as it were. A lot of this money went on the family home.
Now it's a museum, but not one of those where you're not allowed to touch anything. You're encouraged to write with Victorian school pens and try on Victorian clothes. There's even a nice big piano to play the national anthem on ("God Save The Queen" I'm referring to here). Our volunteer guide knew, literally, everything, and it was great fun, especially for a one-year-old who currently thinks his name is "Nopeter".
I can't be as glowing in my praise about the tea. It was Lady Grey but had the colour and taste of...well, I'll save the vulgar descriptions and just say they might want to add several more teabags to the pot. To make matters worse our guide poured the tea before the milk! In Victorian England this was a hanging offence but, for better or worse, I suppose we now live in more enlightened times.
Here's the house, in fashionable (for the 1890s) "Queen Anne Revival" style, complete with cupola.
The Roeddes, a nice Victorian family.
I tinkled some genuine ivories.
Authentic.
I hope our tea is served with this set!
Pete fancies himself one of the upper class. In truth, he would have been down the workhouse
God bless you, ma'am.
Don't you tell me what I can and can't touch!
Plenty of this in years to come.
In-suite laundry. I'm guessing that no one cloth-diapered in Victorian times.
Finishing with a nice* cup of tea.
* It wasn't nice.
