On the road again

The young plumber arrived before I was even dressed, and the rest of the day maintained that buoyant pace. Fortunately, I had gone to the bathroom before he burst into my solitary shell because the first thing he did was dismantle the toilet in preparation for the laying of tiles that will take place while I am gone. I shut my bedroom door and dressed, resigning myself to the fact that I would be driving to Victoria without even brushing my teeth or washing my face. As I took out the garbage and compost, two more vans pulled into my parking spot. Jay and his crew had arrived. Four young men carrying tools and getting down to work is more excitement than I've had come into my house in the early morning in ages. So began my day and it has continued buoyant until this moment when I sit in the Marina coffee shop in Victoria typing this blog as I drink a light but tasty ale, which I will finish before they close at 6:00pm, in three minutes.
More anon.

The women cleaned up without interrupting me. I finished my beer in peace and left as pleased as Jim was when we had dinner in a little trattoria in Rome and the waiter topped up our wine for free because he saw we needed a bit more to finish our dinner with. It's the little things that make us and break us.

It was sunny from Vernon to Victoria, except for some cold icey rain at the summits, where the snow still overhangs the rocks and goes right to the edge of the road. Once CBC radio began to crackle as I approached The Connector, I put in a Billy Joel cd that I hadn't listened to in ages and felt as young again as the men I had left behind at the house. It's amazing how six weeks with a knee that won't let you walk up and down stairs without pain can be wiped out by having nothing to do but put the peddle to the metal and listen to some good music.

After beer at the Oak Bay Marine, I went for a walk around mom and dad's old neighbourhood. The first sad note of the day hit me when I tried to walk out on the docks where the boats are moored. The entrance to the ramp was locked. I don't want to jump to conclusions as I used to do in my youth. I haven't been able to jump to anything in the last six weeks. Maybe a sharp pain in the knee jolts one into wisdom. Perhaps it was later than when dad and I used to go for our walks to look at the boats. Maybe they've always locked up at night. I will not yet add that to the list of upscale developments that struck me as I walked around Oak Bay and drove through downtown Victoria after my beer.

How lucky I am to have a home to return to in this beautiful city. I am happily sitting at the little table in Barbara and Terry's basement suite, drinking Terry's beer, which is as good as the one I had at the Marina, and finishing the huge lunch I'd packed.

Last time I came here with a new inflatable kayak and my bike. This time I have my yoga mat and ball to do the exercises the physiotherapist gave me and a cane my dad made for himself one year when they visited us in Wakefield.
And so it goes.







Starting the trip as I always do since Mela, Don and the Pollocks gave me a Tim's card in their farewell gift basket when I headed west in September, 2010.








On the ferry to Victoria














Flowers that greeted me in Barbara and Terry's yard