The poor man on the left has a hand growing out of his shoulder.
Those of you who follow this blog know, perhaps, that my dear friend Chris, who was adopted as a baby in Vancouver, found his birth mother in his forties – to his delight, she was a French-Canadian actress. This man who grew up anglophone on the West Coast, but had felt compelled to go to France to learn French and was making his career in the theatre, discovered a whole artistic Quebecois family. Today we went to meet his cousin Jean, who works in the post office but is really a composer; he brought us a CD of some of his compositions and told Chris about his grandfather. What a story.
As usual, we ate outside and watched the people parade – the most interesting of any city I’ve ever visited. The same at lunchtime; we ate with Glenn in the gay village. Fascinating.
Very very hot. We had to go into stores to cool off. Mr. T. has increased his collection of shorts and t-shirts, and I simply had to buy, on sale, a pair of sandals for my aching feet and a pink rain poncho, ideal for the bicycle. Fun.
Ottawa tomorrow. Not fun. But important.