Back to Blighty

This is it. It's our maiden voyage home. Or not home. England. Wherever.

It's a bit scary, I have to say. I've been jumpy and touchy and snapping for the last few days (my family probably can't tell the difference to me in my normal state, but I can). There's so much to do, so many people to see, so many conversations to conduct. How can I pack 17 years into 2.5 weeks? I'm not a magician.

After many years away from Durham, our home for a decade, we learned how to visit. We joyfully see the people we must see: the critical core. Then we can add in others as a sort of rotating treat. We know what things we have to do: walk in Flass Vale; play in our old street; wander along the river beneath the Cathedral; pop in to see Sting (well, it happened once). I'm looking forward to our visit there with pure pleasure, except for the long drive. But returning to Brighton for the first time feels so overwhelming that it's really scary. I want to see everyone, do everything, recapture the feeling of living there.

I'm afraid I won't be able to leave again.

Rudeness in Toronto

This is big city-- fifth largest in North America, I'm told (though how can that be true, now I come to think of it. Oh well, it is big. You can tell by the traffic jams). There are crimes, car crashes, bike accidents - lots of bad city-type things happen here. But while I've encountered impatient drivers, I don't think I'd ever had someone be rude right to my face here. It is a city of friendly people-- some born-and-bred Canadian, but about half not. Toronto is a place where if you stand on a street corner lost in thought for a few moments, a passer-by is quite likely to approach and inquire if you are also lost in body. (I'm sure i was about to solve unified field theory once, at Bloor and St. George streets, when a friendly citizen came to point out the subway entrance-- what a shame for science.) But today I encountered a genuinely rude person, a woman at the St. George subway. It was such a shock! She pushed in front of me to buy a token after we had both waited for a nice young Englishman to learn that he could not buy a week's Metro pass on a Thursday (why not?? but that's a different story). The woman thrust her money at the attendant and when I said 'excuse me, I was next,' she didn't hesitate a whit; she just snatched her change and her token, and said sneeringly, 'Well then be quicker. I don't have all day to wait for you people.' You people? You people? Who is you people? I must have looked as shocked as I felt because after she strutted away, the attendant consoled me and said, 'Don't let it bother you.' But of course it does bother me. I tried imagining that her husband had just left her, or that she recently suffered a bereavement, to explain her behaviour. Hey, maybe it was both: she killed the husband because he stepped in front her while they were waiting in a line. Or she has no friends. (Yeah, that's it. No one ever reads her blog!) Mostly I think of all the things I could have said or done, and didn't, to her face. Just as well, no doubt. Anyway she will probably have to leave the country soon because they just don't allow rudeness here.

Let there be light

It's summer! It's warm! Toronto has sprung to life and is celebrating its survival of another winter, and even more, another spring. One can hardly navigate the roads for all the street parties and festivals.We've been to big ones, small ones, ethnic ones, bicycle ones, and one that was actually just a family having friends over that we mistook for a public event. (They were sweet about it though, and they grilled their burgers to utter perfection. (I'm joking.)) We do feel a little out sync because we continue to use our oven rather than barbecuing all our food. We purchased a barbecue, because I think it's the law here, but it's still in its box. The smell of smoke pervades everything. It must be tough for the fire department. The raccoons are happy, as the pickings are good. We have a little posse of them living off the crumbs under our picnic table. One grew especially bold and climbed inside our rubbish bin, just the tip of its tail left hanging out, then popped back up and scampered off holding a bag of something in one paw, like a child going to school.

Hi Yael!