Sunday, 26 July, 2026 to
Sunday, 9 August, 2026
This blog is going to span a bunch of days with not much going on, but photos were being stubborn and I wasn’t able to upload all of a sudden. Life!
This coming Tuesday is my son’s birthday. Robin will be 46, and that’s surprising. Somehow. He was born on a day with record rainfall. We couldn’t see across the road; the rain was so heavy, and the air seemed green. When I was teaching childbirth preparation to couples and later to teachers, I learned about a study where older women were interviewed about their children’s births. Interestingly, even decades later and with other memories getting fainter, these women were able to tell the stories of the labour and birth of each child. Astonishing, but that’s how strong an impact. However, I won’t use this space to describe mine beyond saying it was a bit complicated, I was too isolated, and I was completely overwhelmed by the fact that I was doing this aided by what I saw as the legion of sisters who had gone before. Robin was tall, ‘almost all of it lungs,’ they told me, with a rather shocking head circumference. Still true, judging by every hat seller’s reaction. His fat red cheeks named him for me right then, minutes after birth.
I hope to see Robin on Monday. Last Monday I had lunch with teacher friends I’ve known for decades – they were keen, so was I. On Tuesday I had dinner with my niece – we were looking forward to it and sent texts back and forth. On Friday I had an appointment in one of the hospitals near Robin. We’d talked about meeting for a snack. All week there was silence. On Thursday, I took the plunge and sent a message.
Followed by more silence. Autism is interesting. Shall I take bets on whether tomorrow’s meeting happens? I do hope so. So far we’ve agreed on the time, more or less, but my question about where goes unanswered.
(Update) It happened. The visit lasted about 45 minutes. No surprises there. Success though.
Yesterday was my dad’s birthday. He would have been 101. He was the man everyone loved and admired. There’s a lot that I could say about him and, believe it or not, I am writing my life story. So I shall save it for there. (Will I ever get back to it?) I spent his last months with him, and it was both a privilege and an enormous challenge—meanwhile, a tribute on Facebook.
If anyone attributed to me even one of those things, I’d be very, very lucky. My mother would have been 102 next Sunday. When I was growing up, I thought her very bohemian, a liberal thinker. She’d gone to art school. It made me feel special among my friends, whose parents were far more traditional and usually a bit older. Looking back, I know she was a woman who knew her own mind, and this made some people bristle a bit, but I wouldn’t be the free thinker I am without that early influence. There are days I miss my parents in a very painful way. Thankful to have had them. I know too many people who have had terrible or absent parenting. I just hope that’s not what Robin will say of me one day.
The garden next door is growing at a crazy rate. The same is true for the downstairs herb garden. The amount of rain and some very hot spells have made everything grow at quite a speed.
I went for a blood test one day. The lab I chose is on Bathurst Street. It’s a really good snapshot of how Toronto has and will continue to change. The street is named for Henry Bathurst who organised migration from the British Isles to Canada after the War of 1812. He never set foot in Canada. Bathurst starts at the lake and continues north, where it was once called Crookshank’s Lane (some lane!) its name till 1870. Somewhere to the north of me there’s an original (restored) tollkeeper’s cottage. I’ll add it to my list of places to see. The small area I walked along was originally just a muddy trail. Bloor Street (south of me) is one of Toronto’s major dividing streets (along with Yonge Street, which runs north and south). Along Bloor Street at Bathurst, many Jewish immigrants once lived, but there’s not really much sign of that now. The Jews moved much further north but many have clung to Bathurst even then. Later this was a Caribbean area, and that too has faded, although the bakery in the station concourse sells some of the best Jamaican beef patties. There are many different ethnic restaurants in the area now and some small stores. On a cooler day I can take more photos.
It may not surprise you to know that most of my walks are food-themed. Along the way or at the journey’s end, there will be food. Sometimes it’s just window-shopping. My ride dropped me at a very fancy small supermarket, Summerhill Market, where I shopped with my eyes and claimed a free cookie, a perk for the newsletter subscribers. I now think I will go back and actually buy something, ready-made, superfluous to needs, and hopefully delicious.
On this stretch of Bathurst, south of Dupont and before you reach the subway station, things are bougie. Besides the fancy supermarket, there are gift shops and studios. The area up here is called Seaton Village. It’s where the Harry-Meghan love nest was. Definitely catering to the well-healed residents. This isn’t fancy-fancy Toronto, but it’s up there.
Toronto hosted six FIFA World Cup games. Our stadium is small, but many loved it because it made it feel more old-style and intimate, with fans closer to the field. The city felt festive, and I wished I could attend the fan fests and celebrations. Many home fans visited their teams’ games, and since Toronto has so many immigrants, they lent their enthusiasm. It was sad to see it all end, but this has definitely been a boost to home-grown football.
There’s a buzz downstairs with the restaurant patio booked solidly for outdoor dining. We’ve had some wacky weather where guests had to be shepherded indoors, but for the most part things are hopping and every day they’re open I enjoy cracking the bathroom window open to hear the chatter and smell the woodfire. Makes me wonder if I’ve ever shared their Instagram page for some gorgeous photos. ✨
I finally had my second cataract surgery. I knew what to expect this time but still found my anxiety mounting once I was in the operating room. On the other hand, healing has been easier. My eye isn’t even scratchy this time. I’ve also noticed this eye has clearer vision than the last. I shouldn’t be surprised, since it always was the stronger one, but it’s still strange. Something to ask the doctor at my check-up on Tuesday. And this feels like another chapter, a nice feeling. It’s done! Next, an eye exam for distance glasses – I’m not sure when.
I went to see a friend’s retirement building. I don’t quite know what to say. It’s incredible and if I can find my way to afford it, I’m definitely considering it. I now feel superstitious so will hold off further comments. I’m visiting her again this week so maybe then I will dare to say more.
August will be a busy month. I’m starting a lifestyle program. In fact, I’ve begun a lot of required preparation (like the bloodwork and some reading, even some diet changes). Group sessions start tomorrow (10 August), and I’ll fill you in. Tuesday is my eye check-up; next week is my oncology follow-up, and the following week my lymphoedema follow-up. It’s a hot summer now, and I’m taking things slowly when I can. I want my life to be more than a medical marathon!
Let’s do it!
