The Canada Day Weekend

Just so you know, the two photos below have nothing to do with the content that follows. I’ve included the photos, taken in Etosha, for no more reason than the fact that I have been having another trawl through my images, to see if there are any good ones there that I might have missed. It’s my blog, right? I can do what I want with it.

Impala, HalaliHello

So, ahem, we had a good Canada Day long weekend, eh? Yes? Everyone?

Canada Day itself, the Friday, played itself perfectly. We had been planning a braai, or barbecue, so of course it rained like stink for much of the morning, and into the afternoon also. But then, just when I needed to get the fire on, and get my famous Cuban-style dry-rub pork ribs going, the rain cleared and the sun peered through clouds and everything turned hunky-dory. Boyd and Joanne showed up, the wine bottles were opened, the conversation flowed, and we were off to the races.

Saturday morning and we were off to The Hammer – Hamilton, the old steel town – for lunch and a visit to the Hamilton Art Gallery with Nora and John, aka John Bladen Bentley the photographer, of whom I written before in these pages. I was bold enough, or reckless enough, to take along a portfolio of my prints to show to John, the master printer, and John, god bless him, was kind enough to say that some of the images were ‘rather lovely’ and that the print quality was pretty good also. Made my day, I tell ya – thanks John, no really :-).

The exhibition at the AGH – The Artist Herself: Self-Portraits by Canadian Historical Women Artists – was pretty interesting, with one or two seriously good pieces, including a striking self-portrait by the immigrant Russian-Canadian, Paraskeva Clark – though the show was not quite as fabulous, to my way of thinking, as Rob thought it was: a difference I would attribute at least in part to Rob’s interest in feminism, though Rob herself would probably contest that.

Another day, another outing: this time a Sunday-afternoon excursion to the Toronto Harbourfront, to meet up with Stacey and Mary and listen to the hot, hot sounds of the Okavango African Orchestra – but not before we’d heard some pretty fantastic jazz-swing sounds while we were eating our take-outs. All of this for free, and the sunlight playing on the water, the yachts drifting by, and the easy-going crowds all speaking of summer.

In short, a damn fine Canada Day and and a damn fine weekend, if I may say so. And you know what? It’s nice sometimes just to let go and enjoy yourself.

Took me a bloody long time to figure that out.





One response to “The Canada Day Weekend”

  1. […] as we prepare to leave South Africa, and return to Canada, I feel the old duality still: this land is beautiful indeed, but it is also a suffering, […]


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