Pack up your troubles in your old Kits bag
I did so little yesterday it doesn’t warrant an entry but today was packed to the rafters starting with lunch (I didn’t say it started early!) with Laura and my ex-boss, Kathleen, who somehow hasn’t aged a day in the 11 years since we first met! We went to the Art Gallery and soaked up the sun as we chatted about changes in Tourism British Columbia since it has become a government agency. It was so interesting to hear the agency perspective of the evil Ministerial Officers having been one of ‘them’ so recently – I certainly recognised the unreasonable demands they spoke of having made so many of them myself and once again apologise and thank the fine staff at ADHC who may be reading this. Still, I’m sure things are a whole lot worse now!
After lunch I walked across the Burrard Bridge to visit another familiar neighbourhood – Kitsilano or Kits as its more commonly known. A fairly affluent neighbourhood renowned for its more laid back lifestyle as evidenced by the proliferation of yoga studios and nearby beaches (I say ‘beaches’ but we’re not talking about Bronte or Bondi!). Again it was a sea of memories, fond ones, such as hunting for Christmas decorations and other treasure in the Salvation Army store for hours and lunches at Sophies Cosmic Cafe. I stopped in for old times sake but forwent the veggie burger and curly fries this time for coffee and cake.
I completed a lap of the main drag before heading to South Granville on Kathleen’s recommendation to find it more upmarket than I’d left it years previously. As I strolled, my new found devotion to happiness began to wobble ever so slightly for no particular reason. A well timed text from a friend chimed in to put a smile back on my face and me back on track.
Revived, I attempted a little supermarket shopping when yet another text popped up to sort out my otherwise empty evening. I raced home and quickly checked my emails to find several waiting from Matthew with photos of the brunch he was at with my family for my sisters birthday. Having not actually spoken to Bec (only a singing voicemail), I seized the opportunity to kill several birds with one stone… or phone… call. The phone was passed around at the other end and it was delightful but of course a little sad too. But before I could hang up and get glum, another of my angels swooped in to save me – Laura and Harper had arrived to take me to an art show.
The exhibition included work by one of her good friends who’s name has now escaped me. It was on the eastside in the less salubrious part of town. Not an area you’d normally spend a lot of time in without a good reason, like if you were a junkie looking to score. As if to prove this point we were asked for ID at the door – not because we were on a list of any kind – just to prove we had ID. Bemused, we stepped through into another world like stepping through the looking-glass. The stark contrast was surprising if not a little disorientating. We took in the art, rubbed shoulders with the beautiful people and met the artist before heading back to Laura’s place to round out the night with a bottle of wine and a taxi ride home.