Spring – slightly weird

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

3rd April 2026

Endings

Thursday, 2 April, 2026

Some decades ago, I made a decision that changed my life. I don’t know who I would have been if it hadn’t happened. After a fairly average pregnancy, I felt a pull to support people through their own experience. I shouldn’t have been too surprised. I was agoraphobic from a young age and, once on the road to recovery, stepped into the directorship of an organisation that helped others cope with their phobias.

To make a long story short, I found somewhere that trained prenatal teachers who had no university or nursing background, and I applied. They told me they accepted 1 in 10, so I was thrilled to be one of them. The training was long and serious. I had a very young baby, but I knew I was where I needed to be. It’s a vocation. It has to be because no one ever got rich from it. During my 100 classroom hours, I learned something (enough?) about a staggering number of things. Anatomy, anaesthesiology, pharmacology, embryology, massage and other complementary therapies, pain theory, pain management, exercise, nutrition, parenting, newborn care, high-risk pregnancies, and much more. I attended births as an observer and as a labour supporter. I swaddled babies, held hands, talked to children who were expecting siblings, and led tours for teenagers where I had a chance to shape their understanding of pregnancy and parenting. I attended and ran conferences. I met some incredible women – my fascinating and strong fellow teachers, and the amazing experts in my field. Many are dead now, but they live in my head, my heart and my resolve.

I loved to write, and so I was accepted as a contributor to the national pregnancy and parenting magazine and gained fans. It felt good and important.

I taught for years, then was asked if I’d consider joining the hospital I was working for as admin support. My main job was to bring their registration system into the present by working with the IT department. I would also be writing their patient/client literature. Life was sweet. Out and about, I’d be stopped by young families – “You were our teacher. This is our child.” I glowed. I stopped teaching and began instead helping to train new teachers, and in the age of the internet, I counselled people on an online parenting site, and I began writing articles for the hospital outreach – branching out to all women’s health issues. Through my work online, I was offered a co-author (localisation) of a Dummies book. I’m not sure I recommend it – the American side of it is “off” – but it’s here. NB Writing a book is many, many, many hours of writing and rewriting, and in the end, might pay a few pennies an hour. Lesson learned.

Tools of the childbirth education trade/ We get used to it. Fabic placentas and breasts and knitted uteri are normal. Even now, I’m thinking about teaching how that big baby head passes through the pelvis. Clients were always surprised to see how it actually happens

I left in 2002. I had had a cancer diagnosis, and I wanted to get back to London. I tried to teach there, but it wasn’t the easy path I’d found in Toronto. It was also going to be costly. I felt sad, but my vocation was over. But it wasn’t really. My heart is still there, even now. My interest is still high, and I still challenge how things work for women. It’s such a feminist issue. I’m here for it.

Endings? Oh, yes. On Monday i went to Sunnybrook Hospital to meet my friend, Leslie. My department had moved there from a women and family-centred hospital downtown (Women’s College Hospital) to a much more corporate hospital with a patriarchal system (Sunnybrook Health Centre). About a month ago, the hospital informed them that they were closing the service. I could say a lot about this, but I’m not sure it’d help my stressed brain to do so. Closing. After I don’t know how many years, to be honest, maybe fifty. There’s a lot of opposition, frankly, it’s about profit and nothing else. The women’s and families’ needs come second. It’s brought up a lot of memories for me. So many good ones, including those I’ve talked about here. I feel like I’ve lucked into many golden ages of many things in my life. Perhaps that’s just ego, each generation believing they lived the best. I don’t know.

Sunnybrook Hospital is looking like a mall these days

I didn’t ever get a chance to see their new premises. It came and went without me, as so many things have and will. I looked at Leslie’s windowless room, thinking about the luxury of windows and space we’d had at Women’s College Hospital and how informal and friendly everything had been. No matter how busy or how large a task I took on, it never felt like work. How lucky I’ve been. I photographed the collection of teaching tools and the wonderful cubby hole cabinet we’d used that once had the teachers’ names at the slots. It was beautifully custom-made by a teacher’s husband. Where would it be next? There was anger, sadness and despair in the air, so we made our own happy memories and thoughts in this new, now vanishing, space. With such interesting and independent-minded women on board, we could recount many ridiculously funny stories.

Everything ends.

We have decided to stay in this flat for a full year at least. Have we resigned ourselves to being here and leaving London behind? Hell, no. We are both far too conscious of what we left behind. We know that things aren’t always rosy there, and there are many changes – many that make us very sad – but what we’ve lost wasn’t ever about those things. Will leave this here.

The rest of the photos tell the story of what I’ve done, where I’ve been. Hint – not much and not far! Ha.

The second bedroom is full of boxes, empty or not unpacked. It’s a mess but it will slowly empty … right?

This is an old Italian neighbourhood for the most part – it’ll fill it with vegetables soon, and I’ll be longing to pick some. Used to love foraging and scrumping as a child

The Crazy Store. Still haven’t made it in there. I really have to go up with my camera one day, and hope they don’t mind me taking photos

Daffodils. Memories of a London spring. Bunches and bunches of the damn things in our flat every day till they stopped selling them. I can’t imagine this now. Sigh

Waiting for the Artemis launch on 1st April.

Almost tempted but $10 for an individual one. Not sure. Need to learn to make my own. The fish pie had no smoked fish in it so easier to pass by.

Maple Season. I’ve always wanted to go see them tap and boil the sap. Never happened

Buds! Finally. It will be May before things are in full leaf and bloom.

Restaurant kitchen work Just love these guys and chatting to them. They are so kind and friendly. The restaurant is open Wednesday through Saturday. We aren’t bothered by the low volume music, can’t hear any talking, and we won’t see the diners until things move outside – June?

Friday Photos

March 27 Backyard. We haven’t seen the Old Man yet. Oh dear

23rd March 2026

Spring sprung a leak

Sunday, 22 March, 2026

It’s one month since we moved in. The second bedroom is full of boxes waiting to be unpacked or put away. Until we have a longer-term commitment, we won’t be changing anything. We want to, and it’s a long list. For now things feel messy. On Friday after my hospital visit, I came upstairs, took a photo – it was my Spring Equinox set – and almost didn’t post it. Seriously messy. Seriously real.

It’s a little better when seen from the couch. Our TV had been so far away that it strained our eyes to look at it, so we moved it closer. I thought, hoped, the coffee table would be a temporary measure, but Krish is keen to keep it. I do hope that won’t be the case. The coffee table isn’t my style, but I suppose it’s serving a purpose right now, and it’s nice to have the TV for relaxing.

There was a rare treat this week. We unpacked one of the boxes from our shipping container. Everything has sat in storage since November 2022. I was beginning to think I would never see our belongings again, but we needed frying pans and it made sense to rescue our own. So pleased about this.

I have my quiet mornings waiting to work. It’s snowed on and off for ages now, like winter can’t bear to go. One morning, looking up from the table where I was setting up my laptop, I noticed the light, the snow, the pale blue of the sky and thought perhaps I might be in Scandinavia. Throughout the snowy days, the people opposite still need to smoke, even during b;ixxards. Nordic it might look out there, but still quintessentially Canadian.

Winter passes, and Spring is next. Speaking of Spring, it came in very, very wet. It continues that way. At least the rain isn’t freezing anymore. That’s the worst kind of winter weather.

Spring in Toronto is funny, anyway. One day snow, the next warm, then a blizzard and so on. They say Toronto has eleven seasons:

Winter: Cold, grey, and long.
Fool’s Spring: One 15°C day in March where everyone wears shorts, followed by immediate regret.
Second Winter: Snow returns right after you put your winter boots away.
Spring of Deception: It looks sunny, but the wind is biting.
Third Winter: A surprise April snowstorm.
The Pollening: Everything turns yellow, and everyone sneezes.
Actual Spring: Lasts approximately 3 days.
Summer: High temperatures, high humidity, and nonstop patio time.
False Fall: A nice, crisp day in September.
Second Summer: Hot weather returns, causing panic over air conditioning.
Actual Fall: Leaves turn brown, and construction season finally ends.

While this may seem silly, it’s remarkably true.

Crocuses are ready to bloom. They usually go into full flower only to be blown over and snowed under shortly afterwards

Downstairs, the restaurant comes alive Wednesday through Saturday. They were smoking something for dinner. I’m always curious what’s on the menu, the one I can’t really afford

My friend, Judy, had asked me if I was interested in one of the restaurants her gym friends had recommended. Of the two, she chose a Korean hotpot place not too far away. The bus was late picking me up, but I got there in good time. My only other hotpot experience had been a shared (with Robin) pot of both on a hotplate that kept it simmering. That time, we collected some ingredients and cooked them ourselves in the broth before drinking it. This was different. We collected a metal bowl and some tongs and then moved along a long counter filled with meats, fish, vegetables and noodles. A server helped us understand what each thing was.

I chose lamb rolls, a pork belly roll, shrimp, squid rings, enoki mushrooms, tofu, Shanghai bok choy, kelp shoots, and a Chinese doughnut (looking just like a mini Yorkshire pudding). At the counter, they weighed it – it came to around $13, less than expected – and I chose a broth. Mala with sesame. A slightly spicy choice and a good one. They brought the bowl to the table when everything was cooked, along with a drink. After the meal, we got a mini Yube soft-serve cone, a lovely ending to a delicious and comforting meal. I’ll go again and make some different choices.

My finished mala broth with all the ingredients – doughnut on the right. Yum

I’m lucky to have the WheelTrans option. It sometimes feels like I’m cheating, but, quite honestly,I don’t know if I’d go out much without it. They have buses, accessible taxis and regular taxis. On the day I met Judy, it was a bus. The drivers are excellent and help you every step of the way. The downside is that they hold more people, so there are often pick-ups and drop-offs that turn short rides into excursions. Because of all the activity, along with crazy Toronto traffic and roadworks, they can be late. I stood outside in minus 13 just over a week ago, and I waited for 45 minutes. Not good, but how do I complain about this fantastic service, a first-class ride for the price of a bus ticket?

I also took another walk to Contra Cafe on an unusually mild day. There are some odd houses in this neighbourhood, and I’m reacquainting myself with them. There are some strange garden decorations, the art house, the rubbish house and the Greek house. I’ll have to reconnect and check them all out more closely when the weather warms up even more.

There are also some colourful utility boxes along the way. These are on Shaw Street.

Finally, at Contra Cafe, I had a chai latte. I like how they make it here, with a large tea bag and no sugar

I got inspired by the Hotpot, and I skipped the hospital cooking class that day. A friend shared a recipe from the class, and I made it at home. I ad-libbed a miso, carrot and ginger soup and added some shrimp instead of chicken. Enjoyable!

And another insider’s treat with the next photo.

We don’t know if the Old Man is still there, but we were heartened to see some work being done in the next-door garden. Bring on planting season. We had so much fun watching it evolve last time

Friday Photos (20 March, Spring Equinox)

Front. Freezing rain turned to just rain

10th June 202311th June 2023

New neighbourhood – new beginning

Saturday, 10 June, 2023

I have a feeling all the time like I’m forgetting to do something. This is what comes of having little to no routine.

Packing up to leave Parkdale was a big job. We’ve accumulated stuff, way too much in my opinion. I wanted so much to just leave it there, but of course it had to come. We did manage, however, to sell our coffee table. It might have been handy in the new place but it was also large and just one more heavy thing to move. As it was, it took three days, three trips to get everything over here. Maybe it could have been done in less but the truth is we didn’t have enough packing bags or boxes so each time things arrived here everything was emptied out and the bags and boxes went back for repacking.

Our biggest fear was to transport any bugs with us. We bought a large heating box and everything we owned that could go, went into that box to make sure we were OK. It took up a lot of floor space but it just had to be done.

Moving confusion as usual with the dreaded box taking up a lot of living room floor

Top left yellow circle is us, Robin to the right, pink

When the owner met us and showed us upstairs I was surprised by how nice and large it was. The photos didn’t show it well, and mine haven’t improved on them much. As Krish put it many times afterwards, this is a very grown up space. Adults live here. There’s a large open plan living room with a big kitchen space and a huge centre island for food preparation and the stove. There are two bedrooms, one we are using to store our things. And there are cupboards. Everywhere. Every room has a ton of storage space. In the living area, the cupboard space holds a microwave, laundry area with washer and dryer, a cleaning supply area, and a pantry – all floor to ceiling. I’ve never seen so much storage space and I’m enjoying that.

The living room – never looks as spacious in a photo. Here we’ve already started to make ourselves at home (euphimism)

The kitchen with its massive island — The massive kitchen island overlooking the living room

We are above a restaurant called Actinolite – it’s open four days a week for dinner and it’s all chef’s choice tasting plates. The people who own this aoartment own the restaurant too and they lived here before they bought a house in this neighbourhood, better suited to their two young sons. Downstairs beside the restaurant patio is a herb garden where we can help ourselves. The biggest crop is lovage and we’ve had quite a bit of it.

Walking towards Actinolite, the space on the right hand corner

Outside the restaurant side entrance, some sour dough loaves cooling

Before we moved here, I was a bit worried about how I’d handle being in this neighbourhood. There are four supermarkets but all are a good walk and none are handy by bus either. When we first arrived, though, I discovered that there is a small collection of shops five minutes away to the west – no fresh food really but two bakeries, one restaurant, and a pharmacy.

A strip of new townhouses on our way along Hallam to the little shops. It’s very residential here over by the school

Sometimes quiet but also with some busier times – weekends – Dovercourt and Hallam is nice to walk over to. The Portuguese bakery, Progress, is our regular spot, while across the road trendier Santana has the best pasteis de nata we’ve had in Toronto

In a garage area behind Dovercourt, someone is a collector

The streets can be very pretty. It continues to surprise me that many of the houses are the same vintage as Hackney houses, yet look so very different. If I walk east there’s a coffee shop quite nearby. Amazingly, I haven’t checked it out yet but really should. If we walk 15 to 20 minutes we are at the Meghan and Harry love nest, as I call it. I keep meaning to do that trek but who knows if it will happen. After a few months of quite a nice reprieve from knee pain, it is back. Not as bad as before, but enough to slow me down and cry out for more frequent stops on streets that have nowhere to rest.

The prize winner house on Shaw Street (one small street west). A true Greek paradise. There’s a story here

Continue reading “New neighbourhood – new beginning”