Saturday, 28 February, 2026
Business first: There’s an update on Live! if you’re following my breast cancer journey.
Moving is a strenuous thing. It taxes your body, your brain and your emotions. I didn’t have to do much physical work, but one week later, I am not back to my pre-move state of mind or body. I’m waiting for that feeling to pass, while grappling with all the clinging thoughts about ‘will i ever’ and ‘can I ever’ Probably yes, I will and can, but there are moments…There’s an overlap here with the BCJ, but someone in my group, when I asked if I’ve regressed, answered ‘recovery isn’t linear.’ Well stated.
The new place is also an old place, so there’s a ‘fitting back in’ feeling. There’s no strangeness to very much. It’s all familiar if slightly faded. There aren’t that many boxes and bags to unpack now, but where is my heating pad? I must have developed an addiction to getting up on any cold morning to that lovely heat source. This space is large, and down the long staircase to the outside is a glass door that lets in light but also the cold. And it’s been a very cold and snowy winter. We’re still working on how to keep the temperature pleasant. We had never been here in a cold month before. I imagine a little electric fire, the one I grew up with. To imagine a roaring fireplace would make me too sad. (Going to fill my hot water bottle now.)
Our space expanded from toytown to mansion proportions – well, not quite, but it feels like it. I’ve filled closets and drawers, and there’s still space. It feels weird to walk across two or three metres of wooden flooring to grab the salt – I’ve started creating an island on the island, where such things can sit within reach. Interestingly, the pantry filled up quickly. Where on earth did we put it all before (Answer – in boxes packed into a spare wardrobe). The luxury of space.
The snow and ice outside, the body pain and fatigue is keepign me indoors, but I can see ‘out there’ out there. Krish stands at the kitchen window looking out, moan-wailing ‘dead zone.’ He says the man opposite (occasionally joined by a woman) stands outside smoking in the cold, ‘waiting to die.’ Ouch, I think. Thanks, I say.
However, I was here in the Spring and Summer before, and I think about the flower-filled walks and hope to do them again. Only three months to go. There’s a coffee shop one block over and two up. It’s quiet there, maybe too quiet, but it’s ‘out.’ The restaurant downstairs is a reminder we’re not alone. It’s winter so they’re eating inside. Sunday through Tuesday, all is quiet. On Wednesday morning staff show up. They’re a friendly, chatty bunch, getting on with the preparation for the restaurant opening days ahead The bread person shows up with five or six sourdough loaves, placed on a metal shelf outside. People start arriving to eat, and music and chatter drift up through our floorboards. It’s not loud or rowdy, but like a cocktail party being held by neighbours. By 10pm there’s close to silence again except for the quiet clanking of cleaning up. I know that on Saturday night the staff sit down and eat and drink together. That can get noisier, and tonight we’ll find out. In the warmer months, the woodfire lights up, and everything moves outdoors to the back. It seems to bustle more. As I told someone yesterday, It can feel like I’m in the middle of a Bear episode. I do love the energy.
This is the last day of February, 2026. The world is out there, some of it more out there than others. Enough said. (Or not?)
I won’t say that we are happy here in Toronto. I will say that it’s brought its blessings. It feels stable compared to other places right now. It’s safe, polite, ‘nice,’ of course, the government is reasonable, people live somewhat without hate – debatable, always. Nice, safe, and reasonable can also feel dull. A friend told me, bloom where you’re planted, and it’s a bit harder to do that during the Toronto hibernation phase. Things tone down. Krish was rhapsodises yesterday about what he would eat if he were in the UK – go to Ambala almost every day for samosas, drink an Aspall at least once a week, buy chocolate eclairs a few times a week, gorge on sticky toffee pudding with cream, have a plate with cheese, pork pie and picallili, walk along the street with some chips and cod bites, eat LAMB. I could only smile. Here, there are smiles rather than excitement, that’s for sure. I have a couple of weeks of appointments coming up. I won’t feel like doing much else, but most of the year is ahead, so I’ll seek out some adventure, no matter how subdued.
I’m going to do Friday photos. Shots from the window to see the season changing. I’ll start here with the ones from yesterday.
