It feels as though it has been a long day. I was awake with my feet on the hardwood at eight o’clock this morning. Denis is always up and at it by that time. Indeed far earlier. For me it represents an early morning moral imperative. I should add that we turned off all the lights last night not much later than ten o’clock.  I never sleep well because of my neuropathy and whatever else is currently affecting me. On occasion I have attempted spuriously to quell my paranoia about staying in bed beyond the recommended 8 hours/night by arguing that it is a privilege of age. Nonetheless the Protestant Work Ethic always wins in the end!  As a result I rather applaud myself for my purity this morning!

The work was however before me.  I had to mount my tricycle and then motivate it up Robert Hill Drive from the river to Paterson Street, the crest of inclination.  There I was obliged to turn left and go a further kilometer before reaching my appointed destination. Orchard View on the Mississippi River. Surpassing my recent moderation I entered the building and approached the staff at the front desk. Before I could say a word, she asked whether I wished to play the piano. I confirmed I did.  So I did.

During this my matutinal exhibition my erstwhile client arrived.  She and I removed ourselves to the patio outside. We immediately engaged in a discussion of electric tricycles and motorized devices. The conversation was enhanced by the arrival of my client’s husband. Naturally it wasn’t long before the vehicular discussion changed to other far more compelling topics involving people we know, money and anything medical. I believe we may even have contributed a psychological or philosophical thread to the remarks. But the unanticipated fortune was the arrival of my long-standing friend who in addition to our companionship is the first woman whom I met in town when I was thrown off the train in the Summer of 1976.

As if this serendipity were not sufficient I later received an email from another longstanding friend with whom for the past several years I have beeen shamefully incommunicative. It is impossible to know what separates friends. My best friend from 60 years ago  – with whom I seldom speak – is always convivial. There was however an added feature to our conversation.  More business.  This time related to a certain artistic element known to us both.

The day would by now be at an end were it not for my mandatory car wash.  Amusingly I afterwards switched from Petro-Canada to Ultramar for gas.  There is an Ultrmar in town.  Upon entering the gas station today I passed a chap who shouted my name and said hello; then another at a pump who did the same.  You see I am sure the vitality!