My dear Chris Facetimed today to scold me for not blogging for so long. Apologies! Life got away with me. But the need to blog is always nagging, so here I am. Still sick, still coughing a lot with sore lungs and queasy stomach — after three weeks. Enough! No idea why this thing is hanging on. I think perhaps it was once Covid, despite my vaccines, and now is comfortable in my body and does not want to leave. Phooey.

Winter. Winter is a job when it’s brutal, and this winter has been brutal, the worst in years, endless cold and snow.  Shovelling and schlepping. No bicycle, for sure.

However, there’s much to celebrate. First, our Prime Minister’s speech at Davos — ground-breaking in its tough honesty, almost poetic — quoting Thucydides and Vaclav Havel! Very proud of him, very proud of Canada. Especially as, at the same time, Canada’s Heated Rivalry is also ground-breaking in its honesty, almost poetic, a beautiful show about tenderness and love. Featuring, yes, hockey players with lovely bums and backs and adorable faces. The world-wide hysteria around the show reminds me of Beatlemania; we needed something lovely at this dark time, featuring handsome, talented young men who obviously trust and care for each other. What I also love is that the women in the show are kind, understanding, generous. GO CANADA!

Carney’s brilliant, powerful speech, followed by the idiotic ramblings of a sick, mentally impaired old racist who holds the American nuclear codes. Terrifying.

Much else. I’m tapping on my new MacBook — love that new Mac sound. My seven-year-old one was starting to go black or blank periodically, scary when I teach on Zoom. I survived the Apple store’s frantic Genius Bar. In fact, was impressed there, because the woman who helped me was deaf, with a designated sign language translator on an iPad she carried with her; I spoke to the iPad lady, and she signed to the saleswoman. I wrote to Apple after to say how glad their inclusivity made me. I’m getting used to this machine; it can do a million things I will never understand, but as long as it gets my words out, I’m in.

Another treat: took Annie to see the Canadian production of Kimberley Akimbo, that won the Tony for best musical. Loved it, a terrific show with a lot of humour, great music, great characters, and a poignant message or two about seizing the moment. A perfect musical. Highly recommended.

Lots of work: gave two talks about memoir, including one that required me to get the subway clear across town at 8.45 a.m. in minus 12. The big U of T Zoom class is full steam ahead. As I may have said before, luckily, I love what I do.

The Cabbagetown lunchtime talkfest this month was with the American consul to Toronto. I was not looking forward to a blowhard Trumper, but this guy was obviously not, the opposite, treading very carefully as all the Canucks in the room complained at top volume. A masterclass in discretion and diplomacy. Bravo, sir.

Am reading Margaret Atwood’s enormous memoir from the library; keep thinking I want to skip bits, because I won’t be able to finish before the book has to go back — it’s 560 pages, and sometimes annoyingly arch. But she’s had an interesting life, a childhood mostly in the bush, very independent, working from a young age. I will get as far as I can. I did skip forward to a vicious page about Jan Wong, whose interviewing style Peggy disliked intensely, and boy, does she get her revenge. Do not cross Peggy Atwood, friends. You will not enjoy hearing from her.

Watching the series Archie, where Harriet Walter plays Cary Grant’s difficult mother with her usual gusto. Not a great show but always great to watch Harriet. Watched One Battle After Another and enjoyed it very much — crazy, anti-capitalist, with some fabulous performances. And I will watch episodes of Heated Rivalry again, because … so good during a freezing January.

Oh, and I’m seeing two possible tenants for the suite downstairs, which is always stressful.

The family had brunch with our new friend Jody and her husband Chris, who won an Oscar for an NFB animated short. We got to hold his golden Oscar! Very heavy. Thrilled to see a Vancouver friend, Alison McAlpine, nominated this year for a short documentary. GO CANADA!

My mother is on the Roll of Honour at Bletchley Park, where she worked for two years, but there was no photograph. Went through a certain amount of rigamarole, but she’s there now in all her loveliness. GO SYLVIA!

And most importantly, I went to the Comprehensive Treatment Clinic last week with my son, who’s a recovering addict. It’s a miraculous place for those suffering from addiction, and those, like Sam, bravely kicking what has held them hostage. It’s a small storefront, clean and quiet, with animated films playing on the wall, and warm, nonjudgmental people helping. Heroes.

So. Are we caught up? Coughing but alive in the ice and snow here, thank you very much.

2026: Will you get better? I sure hope so. There’s always light on the horizon. Spring is only two months away.

GO SPRING!