Thursday, April 26, 2007

Diary 1, 2

Diary
Wednesday, 25 April 2007
Davies' Diary of Samuel Marchbanks and Table talk of Samuel Marchbanks have inspired me to try my hand at daily writing. I don't know how well this experiment will go. Imitating a writer is hard enough; emulating him is much more difficult.... J. returned to Toronto today; I took him to the bus stop this morning. He seemed cheerful enough, which is just as well, his having enjoyed free board and lodging, reimbursement for the bus ticket, and $100 reward for helping me with the Trade Show booth. It comforts me to think that such minimal sacrifices on my part can generate such contentment.

Thursday, 26 April 2007
Went to lunch at St Andrews today, as we usually do on the 3rd Thursday of the month. I chose leek and potato soup, a creamy broth of delicate flavour, that perhaps appeals to the 1/8th of me that's Welsh. A tolerable lemon cake with a good lemony icing, and a cup of coffee rounded out the meal. We sat with three friends that we have known since we came to Blind River 35 years ago, and had a pleasant conversation about inconsequential matters. This is the best kind, for it engages the mind agreeably without straining the prejudices. Since one of the people present was a geologist, we discussed rocks. He had a piece of Ayers Rock at home, picked up before it became necessary to forbid visitors there to pick up souvenirs. I wonder why people like to have stones as reminders of the places they have visited. One doesn't pay for stones, but that can't be a sufficient explanation, as most people are quite willing to put out cash for trays, spoons, tea towels, and other assorted items of dubious practicality. I suspect an unconscious return to the early childhood fascination with pebbles.

There's No History Here (poem)

There’s No History Here Above Kama Bay This country has no history, they say. Then what’s that breathing there? There are no stories told mo...