Just over a week left. I will try not to be maudlin as the end of this phase draws nigh, particularly as I’m moving on to new adventures. But this one has been pretty special, partly because it has been a journey backwards for me. Yesterday morning I went to the Lycee Claude Monet, which I attended from January to June 1965; I wanted to see it with my middle-aged eyes, see if it triggered memories. Then it was an all-girl’s school with a stultifying number of rigid rules; my schoolmates were a cowed bunch.
Summer continues, bewildered but happy Torontonians out in tank tops, shorts, flipflops. On October 1 Lynn and I swam in