Money, memories come to mind

News Oct 15, 2009 Ancaster News

Were you and yours filled with good foods and special treats on Thanksgiving Day, Faithful Reader? My family crossed the country from Nova Scotia and British Columbia to send greetings. The B. C. gang circled up from Vancouver to Prince George for their gathering and sent their greetings the old-fashioned way, Faithful Reader, by telephone.

I have spent too much time this morning discussing the fine points of cable television with the supplier. Not that I am a new subscriber. No. For many, many years the History channel has been a favourite. Alas, no longer, Faithful Reader. The reason is a long, sad tale which I shall spare you. Bluntly, it is beyond my budget.

If you are a faithful Faithful Reader you will know the tale of my dear old aunt who spent the last years of her life in a nursing home. Aunt May was out of touch with the cost of everyday items. When I told her the prices of eggs, butter and ice cream she announced, “I am certainly glad I’m not living in these times!” She spoke with perfect diction and emphasis. Now, it seems, I am keeping up that family tradition. My family, of course, keeps up the role of covering my explosive, “How much did you say?” with May’s reply.

One sum which does not concern me is the price of a hockey team. Six hundred million dollars. I don’t know if that is American or Canadian dollars. I tried to imagine the truck, loaded with money. Then I reasoned there was no truck. It was just another small piece of paper, a cheque. While I am bundled up, the heat turned off, writing this on an ancient computer, someone bought a rather expensive hockey team. A sum that does distress me is the $3 million to run our national election. Why do I suspect that figure is on the low side?

No doubt those of us who recall the slim days of the Great Depression and wartime rationing have a special keen appreciation of Thanksgiving Day. The bounty of the local Farmers’ Market, our local butcher, bakery and cheese shop supplying our needs. Fresh organic produce, tempting baked goods. I plan a short swift visit but linger, meeting old friends, acquaintances and F. Rs.

Not at the market, another special treat is Oh Canada wild rice. It is pricey but not meant for every day. I mix a little brown rice with it. The flavour and texture are different from white or basmati rice. Be prepared to cook it longer. It is grown and harvested from lakes at several Native reservations.

Another experience you may not have enjoyed is the Back Alley Kitchen. Downtown Dundas. The address is King Street, north side, but it is necessary to go through one of those old horse and cart/carriage arches to find it. Or ...ask someone. Very good coffee.

I have a scribbled illegible note, something about the 600-year-old bells in Ipswich, England, that are being rung again. If you know anyone from there, please congratulate them.

On one of my English travels I was invited to watch village bell-ringers. If you recall, I believe I wrote about it? There is no prize if you do. The worn spiral narrow stone stairs up to the tower bell room, with its shorter than I am door? The men and one small young lad. Pulling the ropes. The boy, lifted off his feet when his bell rang?

What a quirky memory I have! To remember such things but not to remember to put out the garbage on collection day.

Money, memories come to mind

News Oct 15, 2009 Ancaster News

Were you and yours filled with good foods and special treats on Thanksgiving Day, Faithful Reader? My family crossed the country from Nova Scotia and British Columbia to send greetings. The B. C. gang circled up from Vancouver to Prince George for their gathering and sent their greetings the old-fashioned way, Faithful Reader, by telephone.

I have spent too much time this morning discussing the fine points of cable television with the supplier. Not that I am a new subscriber. No. For many, many years the History channel has been a favourite. Alas, no longer, Faithful Reader. The reason is a long, sad tale which I shall spare you. Bluntly, it is beyond my budget.

If you are a faithful Faithful Reader you will know the tale of my dear old aunt who spent the last years of her life in a nursing home. Aunt May was out of touch with the cost of everyday items. When I told her the prices of eggs, butter and ice cream she announced, “I am certainly glad I’m not living in these times!” She spoke with perfect diction and emphasis. Now, it seems, I am keeping up that family tradition. My family, of course, keeps up the role of covering my explosive, “How much did you say?” with May’s reply.

One sum which does not concern me is the price of a hockey team. Six hundred million dollars. I don’t know if that is American or Canadian dollars. I tried to imagine the truck, loaded with money. Then I reasoned there was no truck. It was just another small piece of paper, a cheque. While I am bundled up, the heat turned off, writing this on an ancient computer, someone bought a rather expensive hockey team. A sum that does distress me is the $3 million to run our national election. Why do I suspect that figure is on the low side?

No doubt those of us who recall the slim days of the Great Depression and wartime rationing have a special keen appreciation of Thanksgiving Day. The bounty of the local Farmers’ Market, our local butcher, bakery and cheese shop supplying our needs. Fresh organic produce, tempting baked goods. I plan a short swift visit but linger, meeting old friends, acquaintances and F. Rs.

Not at the market, another special treat is Oh Canada wild rice. It is pricey but not meant for every day. I mix a little brown rice with it. The flavour and texture are different from white or basmati rice. Be prepared to cook it longer. It is grown and harvested from lakes at several Native reservations.

Another experience you may not have enjoyed is the Back Alley Kitchen. Downtown Dundas. The address is King Street, north side, but it is necessary to go through one of those old horse and cart/carriage arches to find it. Or ...ask someone. Very good coffee.

I have a scribbled illegible note, something about the 600-year-old bells in Ipswich, England, that are being rung again. If you know anyone from there, please congratulate them.

On one of my English travels I was invited to watch village bell-ringers. If you recall, I believe I wrote about it? There is no prize if you do. The worn spiral narrow stone stairs up to the tower bell room, with its shorter than I am door? The men and one small young lad. Pulling the ropes. The boy, lifted off his feet when his bell rang?

What a quirky memory I have! To remember such things but not to remember to put out the garbage on collection day.

Money, memories come to mind

News Oct 15, 2009 Ancaster News

Were you and yours filled with good foods and special treats on Thanksgiving Day, Faithful Reader? My family crossed the country from Nova Scotia and British Columbia to send greetings. The B. C. gang circled up from Vancouver to Prince George for their gathering and sent their greetings the old-fashioned way, Faithful Reader, by telephone.

I have spent too much time this morning discussing the fine points of cable television with the supplier. Not that I am a new subscriber. No. For many, many years the History channel has been a favourite. Alas, no longer, Faithful Reader. The reason is a long, sad tale which I shall spare you. Bluntly, it is beyond my budget.

If you are a faithful Faithful Reader you will know the tale of my dear old aunt who spent the last years of her life in a nursing home. Aunt May was out of touch with the cost of everyday items. When I told her the prices of eggs, butter and ice cream she announced, “I am certainly glad I’m not living in these times!” She spoke with perfect diction and emphasis. Now, it seems, I am keeping up that family tradition. My family, of course, keeps up the role of covering my explosive, “How much did you say?” with May’s reply.

One sum which does not concern me is the price of a hockey team. Six hundred million dollars. I don’t know if that is American or Canadian dollars. I tried to imagine the truck, loaded with money. Then I reasoned there was no truck. It was just another small piece of paper, a cheque. While I am bundled up, the heat turned off, writing this on an ancient computer, someone bought a rather expensive hockey team. A sum that does distress me is the $3 million to run our national election. Why do I suspect that figure is on the low side?

No doubt those of us who recall the slim days of the Great Depression and wartime rationing have a special keen appreciation of Thanksgiving Day. The bounty of the local Farmers’ Market, our local butcher, bakery and cheese shop supplying our needs. Fresh organic produce, tempting baked goods. I plan a short swift visit but linger, meeting old friends, acquaintances and F. Rs.

Not at the market, another special treat is Oh Canada wild rice. It is pricey but not meant for every day. I mix a little brown rice with it. The flavour and texture are different from white or basmati rice. Be prepared to cook it longer. It is grown and harvested from lakes at several Native reservations.

Another experience you may not have enjoyed is the Back Alley Kitchen. Downtown Dundas. The address is King Street, north side, but it is necessary to go through one of those old horse and cart/carriage arches to find it. Or ...ask someone. Very good coffee.

I have a scribbled illegible note, something about the 600-year-old bells in Ipswich, England, that are being rung again. If you know anyone from there, please congratulate them.

On one of my English travels I was invited to watch village bell-ringers. If you recall, I believe I wrote about it? There is no prize if you do. The worn spiral narrow stone stairs up to the tower bell room, with its shorter than I am door? The men and one small young lad. Pulling the ropes. The boy, lifted off his feet when his bell rang?

What a quirky memory I have! To remember such things but not to remember to put out the garbage on collection day.