It was plain sailing on a day such as today, beneath an exquisitely cloudless sky illuminated like a blue sapphire in seemingly endless brilliance round about the unbroken horizon, when the river sparkled in the lemony sunshine and the trees yet retained their copper foliage. Dressed in my grey cotton track pants, a silk scarf about my neck and a jacket atop my sweater, I breezed along the riparian roadway earlier this morning on my three-dimensional tricycle, alternating from one end of the now familiar route to the other then back again until having exhausted the precious moments of the ante meridian.

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While lunching at the golf club today on the last day of the season with dear friends from nearby Smiths Falls there were invoked during our leisurely conversation at table two themes of consequence which at the time I had not conflated but which now upon reflection I do. One involved sexuality in general; the other, women in particular.  The threads were not especially flattering.

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Corantos were early informational broadsheets, precursors to newspapers. Beginning around the 14th century, a system developed where letters of news and philosophical discussion would be sent to a central collecting point to be bundled and sent around to the various correspondents. The banking house of Fugger had an organized system of collecting and routing these letters, which often could be seen by outsiders. This system would not die until the 18th century. The term “newspaper” was not coined till 1670. Prior to this, a welter of terms were used to describe this genre, including “paper”, “newsbook”, “pamphlet”, “broadsheet”, and “coranto”.

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When things go wrong we seldom nowadays contemplate the effect of anything mystical. We may however apologetically impose a species of predictable misfortune if we are inclined to believe the application of luck and chance to anything we do.  Seldom however do we go beyond the attribution of religious punishment or divine retribution.

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October 21, 2023
Riverfront Estates
Almonte, Ontario

My dearest Lynn,

Thank-you for your email in which you asked for my thoughts regarding John’s request that you plan a reception following his death. May I first acknowledge that Johnnie often repeated the names of Lynn and Hugh as those who were among his closest and most valued friends. I recall your friendship goes back many, many years (perhaps as far back as childhood in Manor Park). Whenever we all foregathered it was instantly apparent that you, Hugh and John mutually propelled one another. Your collusions and bantering were unparalelled and as often mischievous.

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Why we are possessed by the contention that there are two ways to look at things (as opposed to three or more ways of doing so) I can only resolve by the comprehension that the proverb is designed to address a conflict or contrast between one side and another.  This attributes to the adage a collective feature. In any event what I am getting at is that there are always ups and downs in life, some good and some bad, ins and outs, ons and offs, bigger and smaller, richer and poorer and so on.

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Getting things settled seems to be an interminable preoccupation.  I suspect the enterprise is characteristic not only of my own mundane lifestyle but common to us all.  Each day something new arises, something to disturb the former placidity, something to corrupt or enlarge whatever we had before determined as sufficient and workable.

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There’s no telling what may erupt from a casual luncheon of fried smelts, calamari, pasta and affogato al caffè. The ages of our triumvirate at table today were 75, 72 and 70. Each of us had a tale of woe concerning our health. Naturally a good deal of the conversation centred about recent medical history of ourselves and loved ones. But what I hadn’t anticipated is the intelligence from the middle member of our troop that there is the possibility of medical assistance through Canadian Cannabis Clinics.

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My earliest introduction to Lady Jane was the song “My Sweet Lady Jane” recorded by the English rock band the Rolling Stones, written by the group’s songwriting duo of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.  The song was initially included on the band’s 1966 album Aftermath.

My sweet Lady Jane
When I see you again
Your servant am I
And will humbly remain
Just heed this plea, my love
On bended knees my love
I pledge myself to Lady Jane

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May I ask, dear Reader, that you afford me the small privilege of literary licence. I wish to varnish what follows with an arithmetic extension of the meaning of “day” to include for purposes of this manoeuvre the past twenty-four hours.  Not that any one incident is by virtue of its substance connected to another except by the ignominy of having been disconcerting.

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