Monday without Macca

Spent yesterday afternoon working in the sunshine - am rereading the manuscript one last time before sending it out to a few readers, as I don't know any more what it needs. Chris came for dinner and afterwards we went for a walk, at dusk after a sunny day - the beach jammed with people, Denman Street packed, nearly impassable - what a rich outdoor life there is here, Toronto can only dream. We bought a gelato and sat on a bench by the ocean watching the crowds as the sun set behind the mountains. Sublime, this city can be sublime. Also, however, ugly and harsh in the number of street people, homeless, addicts, the problem much more extreme than we face in the cold east. The other side of Paradise.

Speaking of Paradise ... I need to signal that right this minute, it is the pre-sale for Paul McCartney's concert on July 21 in Hamilton, and I have NOT bought a ticket. No I have not. I saw him last year in Toronto and will again on the 19th here in Vancouver, and that is my Macca limit. I know a woman who's a true addict, follows him around the world, is worried about her retirement because she has spent everything on tickets. I will not go any further than I have in my tiny little addiction. Though mid-July, I may be sorry. I hope not.

Today Chris and I were going to Bowen Island to visit old friends, but he is not well, his struggles to speak have now given him tremendous back pain. It's terrible to watch a friend suffer so and not be able to help. But that means now I have a full day ahead with nothing planned, what bliss. Will work, get groceries on Granville Island, maybe the Art Gallery, maybe the Y - I went in a few days ago and it's a gorgeous renovated building. Work and play, in equal measure. Though play almost always wins out.

Out there, right now, a slate grey sky, the water a flat blank sheet of the same grey, nine huge tankers waiting in English Bay, one small motorboat chugging past, and in the distance, on the mountains, a hint of white and blue.