In which two exciting things happen

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It was hard to decide what pleased me more yesterday;  scoring a last minute ticket to see Margaret Atwood at her book launch, or the purchase of a mini Sharpie marker in plum ink.  I think Margaret Atwood had the slight edge, although the fact you can clip this pen to a keyring did earn it extra brownie points.

She was in town to promote her new novel, The Year of the Flood, but rather than just sitting on stage reading excerpts, this was a fully staged extravaganza with an a capella choir and actors taking different parts, as well as the traditional Q&A session.   For a return, I had possibly the best seat in the house – directly in front of the stage, in the raised gallery.  My view of the apples and vines decorating the stage was second to none.

To be in the company of Margaret Atwood was like being back in a university seminar; I sat listening to her thoughts and ideas about the novel and its wider themes, and it reminded me of the many hours spent sitting in class discussing books and philosophy and ideas.

In fact, because I did my Masters in Toronto, I think part of the reason I really wanted to go last night was due to this Canadian connection.  I miss living there a lot, and listening to a Canadian voice discussing literature allowed me to think for a moment that I was back.

What also palpably reminded me of living in Toronto was picking up a late-night falafel sandwich (from the best falafel stall in the city).  As I wandered slowly across the centre to the bus stop, revelling in the food, I remembered similar times walking across Toronto late at night, travelling back up Spadina to Kensington from my friend’s place in Lawrence Market.  Getting late night food and waiting in chilly air for public transport, after spending the evening in the company of a Canadian, all joined forces to bring back some very happy memories.

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It’s good to see that someone else agrees with me about this time of year.  Although the weather has done a complete 180 and it’s now hotter than it was in August.  Go figure!

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One response »

  1. Pingback: In which we attend another German wedding and meet Margaret Atwood | Postcards from the Edge (of the West Country)

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