slightly weird

15th June 2026

20-20

Monday, 15 June, 2026

On the subject of 20-20, I looked back at my first post of that year. I remember typing it. Lockdown hadn’t been announced yet, but there were quiet rumours of an epidemic that could become a pandemic. That didn’t sound possible at the time. Nevertheless, I had high hopes for the year. It was 20-20, perfect vision, after all. What could go wrong?

The concept of ‘home’ came to me again today. I am following a couple on social media. They are from the USA and left to find a different life last year – they’ve been in Mexico some years back, and recently the UK, Spain, Crete, and Holland. They want to live in the UK, but that’s not easy. They do have a three-year digital nomad visa to live in Spain so, after some stays in these other countries, they are in Valencia for their three years, still hoping for an entry way to the UK. Inevitably, they get a lot of comments – some hateful – from mostly US and UK followers asking what they can possibly see in the UK, how they are traitors who will regret their decision, and so on. People don’t get it. Somehow they think they should. Oh, I’ve been there. I am there.

So let’s talk about me. Because I’m trying. Really. What makes us love a place? Honestly, who knows? We can trot out all the reasons we love a place, or a person, but there will always be things we don’t love about them. After living in London, Toronto, Southern California (LA area), and San Francisco, and travelling a bit in Europe, I can say that there are things I love and don’t love about everywhere I’ve been. However, there are constants, the things that a place must have for me to love – or like – them at all. In my introspective way, I follow a handful of people from Canada and the US who have relocated to London, and an equal number of people who have moved from the UK to Toronto. Fascinating. The North Americans in London interest me with their mixed reports of falling in love versus pure confusion-frustration over the UK way of doing things. They report missing things from home, often junk food items that make me go ewww. But I get it. Now, the Brits living in Toronto are another breed. They’re starstruck. The skyscrapers, the summer (and winter) sunshine, the ‘nice factor.’ They love their sparkling condos, their mod cons. They’re young and stride around the city- they’re used to walking places – checking out all the boogie coffee shops and eateries. Toronto is next-level luxury to them. What I came to appreciate was that the things that impressed them were not the things I wanted. I get it. But it’s fun to watch them brim with joy in a Dollarama, gape at the produce in Farm Boy (and yes at the prices too). I keep hoping their enthusiasm will rub off, and try to see this place through (their) new eyes. I have a cousin whose middle name is Bitter. Yes, that one. She smirks at me and then gathers her bitterness, telling me that I wouldn’t love East London if I’d lived there as long as she had, if I’d endured the hard life she had no choice to live. Once when I was staying in Liverpool, my dad visited on business. He screwed up his nose and asked me how I could love being there when it was so poor, so dirty. I told him, honestly, that the things he saw as ugly were the things I loved. I couldn’t help it.

Am I wearing rose-coloured glasses? Am I romanticising? Does it matter? Is my cousin right? Honestly, I understand her history is longer, but no matter how you paint it, I honestly did and still love my childhood home even as I know I had my eyes open about how ‘poor’ it was. (We were never truly poor, but you may know what I mean.) Is the grass greener? There’s that, but it’s also different, and different can be a lot of fun.

Since I last wrote anything, there’s been a gap because last Tuesday I had my first cataract surgery and, since it makes some people squeamish but I want to document it, it follows on the next page.

Meanwhile, some photos to document what else I’ve been filling my time with.

At the corner of Dupont and Ossington are some large local Ontario stone boulders where people can sit. I looked but can’t find any explanation

Ever entertained by watching kitchen prep going on at the side of the house. It was a gorgeous day

After a failed attempt last year, when I bought the wrong size, put my Ikea duvet cover on the bed. It feels good.

Inside the Filosophy coffee shop, there’s a chalkboard which is fun to read

Iced matcha and a cheese and chive scone from Filosophy. So far Road Trip is the scone champion. Patio season!

Made a new doll to beat my ennui. Even managed to complete it with my recovering eye

Toronto is hosting six FIFA World Cup games. People are excited and it’s far more popular than my ‘roommate’ supposed it would be. Yesterday we passed the Fan Fest area.. This is all I could capture. ‘The World in a City’

Friday photo:

At the back, the Old Man’s helper is hard at work. Since this photo, there’s a new addition. Some poles have been erected near the fence. Things are growing

Continue reading “20-20”

8th June 2026

Getting out and fighting ennui

Friday, 5 June, 2026

We’ll start with a rant, shall we?

I haven’t had a steak for years. That’s the last thing I posted to my brother. Restaurants in Toronto seem promising, but often I come away disappointed and broke. I need some new go-tos! Don’t hold back. Send me some suggestions.

A disappointing meal at a place chosen for a friend’s birthday dinner. The bill was huge, and I could have produced better in my own kitchen. At the bottom left, these prosciutto-wrapped asparagus spears were ridiculously named “Italian spring rolls”.

At the same restaurant, this was billed as double chocolate cake. It was a square muffin at best. It’s so sad

At my friend’s son’s restaurant, The Federal (The Fed), I am rarely disappointed. Breakfast burrito with the crispiest rosti was my choice at lunch with my brother and my friend, Judy

My brother’s visit came and went. I considered m and am still considering, visiting him next time. I honestly have a good deal of hesitation until 2028 (hopefully not longer), and although I think it’s somewhat unfounded, it’s a very hard thing to think about. At the very least, I’d need to be in a safe and healthy break from all my medical stuff and know how to handle the physicality of it if I’m alone.

As expected, I couldn’t manage to get out with him as I always have. I managed slightly more than I thought at times but far less than I wanted. And maybe that’s where it has to sit with me for now. One day we met my son in his neighbourhood of Chinatown and Kensington Market. I managed really well that day and enjoyed all the colour and random stickering and wall art (none of the latter posted today).

Kensington Market, Baldwin Street. Changes so much over time but I think it’s ready for another makeover

Only kind of riot I’d expect in Toronto the Good

My brother also came with me to my monthly kitchen class at Toronto General Hospital Survivorship program. We had the sample snack- lunch they give you afterwards, and we’d wandered through the MaRS Centre. “Medical and Related Sciences,” MaRS has expanded beyond medical research into information and communications technology, engineering, and social innovation.

The Hydro building at Queens Park and College is lovely on a clear day

The MaRS Centre is impressive and there are always people walking or having coffee. I aso had my own discovery – going between floors is not easily accessible – for shame!

I love when new buildings incorporate old ones. In this case the front side and entrance of the building is on the main road.

Meanwhile, I’m carrying what I consider a sin — ennui. 2026 ennui. Writing fills some gaps; getting out a little is helpful if brief. I’d love to sew again, but I need materials to get started, and Krish isn’t keen on me stockpiling any more dolls. I also need art materials and ideas. I joined an online sewing week gathered some thoughts. I need to organise picking up the promised donations, and it feels daunting. Can someone volunteer to drive me from house to house to collect now that I can’t do the walking? Life became more complex. Can you feel my brain overheating?

I visited the grounds of the Ukrainian Catholic Church of the Holy Protection of the Mother of God (Yep, all that: Свята Покрова – Українська Католицька Церква Святої ). It’s just down the road from me and is one of those Toronto churches that makes you think you left the country. Canada has a very large Ukrainian community: 1.4 to 1.5 million people of Ukrainian descent live in Canada (122,500 in Toronto), making it the second-largest Ukrainian diaspora in the world after Russia. In fact, most Canadians consider pierogis one of their own national dishes. There are also 300,000 Ukrainian nationals living as temporary residents since 2022. I didn’t get to go inside the church, but I should try one day. My brother captured a few, enough for me to see it’s worth it. This page shows you just a bit, including a video. I actually prefer a very simple church, but this looks quite glorious.

Meanwhile, the restaurant is morphing into its summer incarnation. This has been fun to watch.

On Monday, two days before opening, the patio doesn’t look anywhere ready for diners. It will be!

I haven’t mentioned that my first cataract surgery is next week. I’m anxious, of course, but let’s get it done. I’m determined not to worry, and confess my biggest anxiety is going up in the elevator to the sixth floor! (I know.) There are three small elevators in the building, and only one is in service. It’s busy, with waiting times said to be around half an hour. Ouch. Once in, it will stop on every floor. This is a nightmare for an elevator-phobic like me. I shall have my audiobook or a meditation to listen to – must! Of course I will blog about it.

Friday-ish photo:

The Old Man’s garden. He’s obviously not there as often as he once was, but there’s growth at the back and along tight to the fence on the left, places he can hold on and do whatever work he can. There’s activity in the middle area, but I think others are taking care of this for him

Seeing the Old Man is like another episode in our personal soap opera. See him?

29th May 2026

Explorations are new styleeee

Friday, 29 May, 2026

Yesterday I dug into my stored enthusiasm and energy to do a mini-explore. The plan was to check out a small neighbourhood, then pop into the supermarket, then on to my friend Judy’s place nearby for a coffee.

I have a memory of being south of King Street one day, driving. I rarely drive in the city so this is vague. Down there was what I thought was a hidden Toronto, a time portal, a place where nothing had changed. In my memory, this was several narrow streets with old but beautiful homes, and factories. Things have really changed down there, and I would often look for those streets, and they weren’t there. I thought maybe I’d imagined them, but more likely and sadly, they were gone, eaten up by developers and skyscrapers.

Then I heard about Draper Street. My brother visited it a couple of years ago with my niece. All I knew was that there were old homes, almost buried among the new buildings. I took a quick look on Google Maps, but not too closely. I wanted to see this in person. It took me until yesterday to do that.

If this is what I remember, then it’s a small part, but it’s there. There are 28 nineteenth-century row cottages, now protected on this Heritage site. Toronto bustles; the traffic is notoriously jammed and noisy, and skyscrapers are going up everywhere with no end in sight – commercial and residential. Draper Street is indeed that time portal, what’s left of it. This was a workers’ housing area when it was built between 1886-1889. The street itself was first noted on a map from 1883. I doubt the street looked then as it does today. Yesterday it was colourful, bathed in sunlight, green in the finally-Spring day, and dotted with flowers. I found a listing for one of the workers’ cottages – 1100-1500sq ft – which sold for about $2,000,000 Canadian – 1,448,090 USD, 1,077,250 UKP. I would have guessed much higher, based on condo prices, and perhaps it is by now.

Draper Street row cottages. You can just see the students who were visiting

Draper Park, built after two cottages were torn down. 2026 encroaches at the back. Dizzy, a plump orange and white cat, was a popular fixture on Draper Street. Now he is a permanent one in Draper Park

When I arrived, the street was empty. Then a school group arrived. Their teacher asked them, What do you notice about this street after what we’ve seen so far? It’s quiet, said one teen, and that was pretty much it. I hoped there would be more, but the class was doing a scavenger hunt where it was their job was not to collect objects but facts. They moved on. I followed for a short while to see what they’d be shown next, but then turned away as we were suddenly travelling back to 2026.

Wellington Street, a little old, a lot new

A tree-lined walkway along Wellington Street

Along Wellington Street, it’s clearly 2026 for the most part. This area was once a centre of industry. There’s not a lot left, although there’s more a short walk away in the Niagara district. I did spot the old Copp Clark building at 517 Wellington Street West.

Copp Clark was originally a newspaper publishing venture, lithography, printing, bookbinding and stationery shop of Mr. Hugh Scobie. He was an energetic, ambitious young Scotsman who founded the business that would become Canada’s oldest continuously running book publisher. Copp Clark now specialises in information targeted to the needs of businesses in the global financial markets. It’s now headquartered in Etobicoke, a suburb of Toronto.

West from here is Victoria Memorial Square Park by Lieutenant-Governor John Graves Simcoe. It’s a combination cemetery, park and memorial area. Before Toronto was a city, from 1794 to 1863 it was the burial place for Fort York (the Toronto Garrison) . In the 1880s the ground was levelled. Some of the surviving gravestones are kept here, and there’s a monument to the War of 1812 erected in 1902.

Salvaged gravestones and more scavenging teens

Down to Judy’s where it’s tall and modern. No energy to look around. We had coffee and cake and talked about this and that. This was our first home when we returned from London so it’s all familiar. Still, perhaps a little modern exploration is in the future.

Fleet Street, the streetcar stop for Judy’s. It’s all condos here until you cross to the housing Co-Op where I’d have coffee

Stadium Road. It’s the home of the historic Maple Leaf Stadium, now long gone. The Maple Leafs were Toronto’s baseball team (Now it’s the name of the hockey team). Babe Ruth was an early player, and his first ever home run was hit from here. Legend says it landed in the lake (Lake Ontario) at the bottom of the street

On the way back, there were lots of people on the street on Ossington Avenue (“The Strip). The weather was sunny and warm with no humidity. Torontonians go through long winters and cool Springs thinking of days like this

Back home. The restaurant has started setting out furniture on the side patio for the summer. On Wednesday, business will shift to the back

The lovage is growing so quickly. Time to pick more!

Getting the back patio ready for Wednesday. They’ve been sanding and varnishing natural wood planks and hanging and arranging flowers and plants

Why new style (styleeee, GenZ)? These days explorations are brief and not frequent. I know I’m stronger than I was and going further, but I’m not there yet. I’m doing what I can, when I can, and I hope it gets easier. In the meantime, I tell myself, You’re doing your best, Jan.

FRIDAY(ISH) PHOTOS (Life as it is) Scroll down if you’re an Old Man fan

There’s some advanced al fresco dining at the side now – end of May

From the back. The tarpaulin is up and there’s growth in the Old Man”s garden – end of May

Look who it is. Slowly but faithfully, things are getting done. The Old Man – end of May

11th May 202612th May 2026

Not much yet so much

Sunday, 10 May, 2026

(Admin: Live! is updated here)

I have so many photos and so little to say, really. Yet I always manage to say a lot. A friend told me I might say too much – well, that’s a bit of misquote, but it refers to my entire family’s predilection for stream of consciousness speaking and, in my case, writing. Ho hum. Should I apologise? Not really, but I will say that, for my cancer journey, especially, I am writing as much for myself and my recovery and survivorship as to entertain or educate. It’s just one reason I kept it separate. I am very conscious of my habit of speaking aloud what I’m doing or thinking. I don’t suppose I will change, but I do my best not to overdo it, and I acknowledge this every day. For those who read me, or listen to me, sorry not sorry applies. This is who I am.

Shopping for tulips. Proof (to me, at least) that I do get out

We have a friend. He was Krish’s closest friend in high school and we still see him a few times a year. He’s a quiet soul but with definite opinions. He’s also gay. This has been a curiosity for Krish, who asks, was he always? Yes, I say. Hmm. I love that his partner is his opposite. Not loud, but vocal, doesn’t care much what you think of him or his lifestyle. It’s an interesting dynamic. Yesterday we went to his birthday dinner at his chosen restaurant. Krish and I don’t like the food, but I said it was about the birthday boy, not us. WheelTrans picked us up an hour late, and we raced (can I even do that?) in, then needed to leave before the cake had appeared. Damn. The only straight people there, this time we found someone to chat to. Interesting guy. Maybe we can meet again.

My feta, zaatar and spinach scone with a macchiato at Field Trip. For those carb-shunners who read my blog, it’s worth the walk. One of my favourite spots for coffee in the neighbourhood

I lived in San Francisco in 1969, and my best friends were a bunch of gay men who lived next to us. We shared a back porch, and we crossed it at will. Chats, communal dinners, even sleepovers were common. It was a good city to be gay. Toronto in the early 70s was that place too. There was no overtly gay village, but it did exist more loosely in its current location. My husband’s boss owned a gay nightclub in the area, and we often went to support them. We even helped with the food table they’d put out as part of admission. They infamously used dog food for pate – I’m serious. I’d dish it out. In those days, I loved the cabaret. Now I can’t be bothered with it. We made many friends, some infamous, some famous, and we lost them. My family reads my blog, so I’ll be discreet and say we also lost a family member whose gender would now be considered pansexual. Did we know that? I know I did, but then my life experience helped. Other people in my life helped me get there. I’ll leave their stories out for now. Anyway, no time for photos of Toronto’s gay village this time, but I’ll be back there in early June to catch up.

So excited to see things starting to bloom. Soon it will be overgrown like winter never happened

There’s news. The Old Man is alive! We both saw him, or what we thought and hoped was him, walking to the bus stop with a cane. No WheelTrans for him! We kept looking out the back window, and still the garden remained untouched. I told Krish that Torontonians often don’t plant until what’s called the May Two-Four weekend (so called because it’s the date around which the holiday falls and the Canadian slang for a case of twenty-four beers (a “two-four”) the most popular drink for the weekend, and to take to cottage country (more about that in a minute). Before that, frost is a deterrent. People plant seedlings to take out once the danger has passed, or they buy small pots of vegetables and herbs to start their own gardens (again). But they’re usually preparing their gardens before that – tilling, filling in the soil, planning out their patches. We had seen nothing. This week, that changed. Someone was out there turning the soil and then sowing seeds. Certainly not the Old Man judging by their energy, but perhaps a child or a friend. We hope he’ll be out there himself when the work isn’t so heavy and we look forward to following our own personal next-door drama.

Meanwhile, they are hard at work getting the restaurant patio ready for the summer season, which will begin in June. Yesterday, on our way in from the birthday dinner, I could see right into the restaurant. I normally pass it in the day and it’s not really visible. I was surprised at how modern and sophisticated it looks in there. The back garden patio is another story. It’s what Krish calls Muskoka style. For the uninitiated, Muskoka is north of Toronto in an area people here call cottage country, where people have summer cottages near the lakes and park forests. In the restaurant’s backyard, there are plants, wood chips, wood stoves, fire logs, and the like. If you’ve been to cottage country, it’s logical. There are no lakes, but there will certainly be mosquitoes.

The chef-owner, Justin, is from Actinolite, hence the name of his restaurant. Actinolite is not Muskoka County. It’s considerably south of there. Actinolite can sound romantic if you only know the restaurant, but it’s named after the form of asbestos that was mined in the area. Ouch.

The staff, mostly Justin, is getting the side and back of the restaurant ready for summer. There are planters and the herb gardens that border the seating area are growing. The most favoured herb is lovage. It began sprouting about a week ago and has grown so quickly that it shocked me. We’re invited to pick any herb we want, and we used a lot of lovage during our last stay here. It tastes like celery leaves but without the bitterness.

Lovage on 10 May. This much growth in less than a week!

Justin filling the planters at the side. It was like a meditation

Industry downstairs. A steady pounding of something on the left, like cracking open nuts. On the right, a good fire and earnest conversation

Today is Mothers Day here, and I’ll meet my son, Robin, at the Waterworks, which is a food hall in his general area, in Toronto’s Fashion District where once all the tailors could be found. I’ll add photos. Our meeting is not about Mothers Day, but just because. When I told my autistic son I wasn’t sure where to meet because everywhere would be busy today, his response was ‘Why will it be busy?’ I’m used to it.

(Later) My visit with my son was great. We went to Waterworks, a lovely building, which I thought I’d documented before and need to look at more closely again before saying more. My lunch was dreadful, but who cares? (What I do care about is not having taken a photo of us together.) The day exhausted me – I did a lot more than I thought I could. That’s a good thing. So is mother and son time.

Waterworks Food Hall, Brant Street, Toronto. We once rented a condo that overlooked this building before it was refurbished. Loved that condo!

How the food hall looks when you first enter. It’s airy and not overcrowded. A nice change from mall food halls

Looking towards Spadina Avenue from Waterworks. This is the Fashion District of Toronto

Friday Photos:

The front – 8 May. April and May have been very rainy. Just a little more sun and everything will bloom

20th April 2026

My travel fantasies – now what?

Wednesday, 15 April, 2026

(My live feed is updated here. Now on with the present:

My travels these days are fantasies. I realised this while talking to my brother yesterday, when I discovered he was closer to Montreal than I was.

Gas prices though
But in my dreams we meet there and come to Toronto. However I am going to blog about that, my travel dreams that is
I’d love to visit Montreal. I’m sure I will, and it would be so much better if you guys were there too. I haven’t been there since 1967. There’s no reason why it can’t happen some time.
Pray for me!

Apparently, according to John, the archangel Raphael is the patron saint of travellers, mental health, healing, and eye afflictions. That covers me very nicely. When finding out that Raphael’s feast day is also John’s birthday, it’s a no-brainer.

It set me off, though. Not that I haven’t been thinking about this quite a bit lately. I miss travelling. As I get further away from my surgery and chemo, I fantasise about going somewhere.

Apart from London, there are three places that I know I’d love to see again. They don’t top many people’s fantasy travel destinations, but that’s OK. I mean, not being on the list means they aren’t crawling with noisy tourists. On the whole, I don’t worry all that much about tourists when I travel. The city’s top attractions are rarely on my own list. I like the neighbourhoods and back streets. I was famously gawped at when I said I had no desire to see the Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty or MOMA when I first visited New York. What kind of person am I? I’ve heard the derision – many times.

I’m very fond of dereliction, working-class neighbourhoods, and hole-in-the-wall, mom-and-pop restaurants. Forget the Michelin stars.

My favourite three places on earth: Torino, Budapest, and Porto. The amount of time I’ve spent in Torino means that in my dreams I’m walking the streets, knowing every turn (ha, I have an abysmal sense of direction and can’t read a map), and I’m showing my people what this place has to offer. I’m scouring the markets, cruising along the narrow backstreets, buying frito misto in a paper cone, discovering dragons and demons at every turn, and seeing their eyes widen as they go up to the top of the Mole. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve done these tours in my imagination.

The astonishing Mole Antonelliana, Torino

Our friend, il balon Our friend, The Torino Eye, on our way home
Choose what you want! A market seller motions in the farmers’ market

I’m strolling through the working-class neighbourhoods of Budapest, exploring the little ghetto streets, finding all the hidden spots for snacks. I’m wandering from Christmas market to Christmas market and soaking it all u. I’m sitting in the “sisters'” restaurant* on the steep Rua das Taipas, eating the amazing bolinhos de bacalhau and drinking vinho verde on tap. (*The place I’m not supposed to tell anyone about in case it becomes unapproachable.) I’m making my way through the hilly Maragaia neighbourhood, photographing the tiles, the crumbling houses, and the multiplicity of doors.

The truth is, these things may never happen again, at least not in the way I’m used to. I know that when I make my way to Contra Cafe, some 200m away, and collapse into a chair, congratulating myself on having made it this far. So silly. So tragic really if I let myself wallow. Such an easy way to test my sense of humour and gratitude. This is coming from someone who could walk for 5 or 6 hours and needed to learn how to travel and adapt rather than abandon travel completely. I want to do it again. Somehow.

There are places on my list that I don’t suppose I will ever get to now. I shall travel virtually to them all … Copenhagen, Rio, Mexico City, Morocco, Sicily, Krakow, Valencia, Bilbao, Belfast, Spit… and others. There are places I might make it to, with good fortune and health, like Boston. I’ve heard someone say it underwhelmed them, but I’ll judge for myself. I want to hope I will get back to London for any amount of time and would need to be super creative and develop a strong sense of willingness to let it go again. This will be the hardest.

Meanwhile, WheelTrans is taking me around to where I need to go. Nothing exciting, nothing that lights me up, but it’s out. I’ve planned a couple of things for when my brother visits, but aware that even they may be too ambitious for now. Denise told me that I am getting out for walks often, and I suppose it looks that way in others’ eyes, as seen in this blog. The truth is, my walks are very brief and often tied in with doctor or other vital appointments. I just try to do what I can manage, rarely overdoing it, and adjusting my expectations as I go along. I was born to explore and investigate, so this is the new version, the one that makes sense and is manageable.

Last week, I took the few hours between work shifts to get over to the discount optical store. I’ve been there before in 2019 when I decided I wanted contact lenses for Krish’s brother’s five-day Hindu wedding celebrations. They took a look and understood what I needed. Within minutes, they had found some frames that my lenses fit into, and I was sorted. Such a relief. How foolish I felt for not going there before. The TARDIS is in the shop, so I can’t go back and not have suffered through the last many weeks, but I’m so happy to have these glasses moving forward.

We lived in this neighbourhood, not so far from here, when we first landed in Toronto. I didn’t love it, but it’s familiar. I spent a little time in the health food store, buying some ground cumin and faro. Then I went across to the Salvation Army thrift store. They’ve changed the layout in there. So much nicer. I poked around a bit, leaving with just a pillowcase for Krish. After my appointment, I decided on some momos and a mango lassi for lunch. Too many momos and not my favourite food, but they sounded the most comforting. I’d have liked to have gone into the Korean spot, but it was inaccessible with my walker. No go. My ride came and spirited me home. I can see!

Mango lassi, chicken momos with turnip salad – lunch

One of my favourite murals in Toronto, by the opticians – at The Bee Shop – it sells honey and beeswax products. My photo doesn’t do it justice so if there’s a way to zoom in, please do or view it here

Another day, I was ambitious. I took the bus to the main street, Bloor. From there, I went to check out the Value Village, a very large chain thrift store, whose HQ store isn’t too far away. I wasn’t going to buy anything, but just scope out the offerings. I need to go back with more energy and time. I popped into the Paradise cafe for a cappuccino and a sadly rock-hard scone (dreaming of lighter ones with clotted cream and strawberry jam). Since I was last here, it must have changed hands. The ice cream freezer cabinet was gone, the selection of cake had diminished, and there wasn’t a sign of any bread for sale. I’d heard about a small art exhibition on Bloor Street, Gallery 1065, so I went in. The theme was On Time. I had two favourite pieces in there. One felt like it was from the pandemic, and the other was an imagined sundial made from found objects (including wooden bobbins, which got my eye right away). A perfect (for me) small room, easy to get into and around and then leave again. I have zero patience. or lately energy, for large galleries. I picked up a prescription before heading back to the station, and I was feeling very proud of myself for still having the power to get there. This was my biggest “day out” in ages.

Need to find the info on this. The numbers are random, and the pointer is filled with wooden bobbins. The artist uses found materials, just my style

Maker Bean Cafe. They run workshops. On my list

This church is converted into apartments. Will get closer photos when I can

Great toy aisle in Value Village’s basement

My final accomplishment this week was making lunch for my sister, Ruth, who’d asked me to make my “interesting salads” instead of giving her a birthday gift. Normally, the work would have taken a few hours, but these days I’m not up to it. I took all of Thursday and all morning Friday to put it together. Ruth and my niece, Suzanne, came over and ate. We chatted about this and that, and after they left, Krish and I relaxed and later ate some leftovers from the freezer. I did it!

Lunch for Ruth and Suzanne. From the top – tabouli made with quiona, raddichio with beet, goat cheese and thai basil, beans with olives, pesto, olive oil and lemon, spiced squash lentil soup, baba ganousy, crackers, pita, veggies – Chai and spiced pumpkin banana bread to follow

My travels have narrowed lately, but I need them. I won’t say my heart isn’t broken at the thought that I may not see my favourite places again, or any new ones, but I have to live with my new reality. I’ll plan some short excursions with WheelTrans. Onwards!

Friday photos (April 17):