It is the height of the summer. There’s a certain feeling of... freedom in the air. Yesterday, I had lunch on a yacht club restaurant’s terrasse. The wind was wonderful. Although very thin, the layer of sand under my feet reminisced of other times, other places. It was hard to believe I was in Montreal. For a short while, it carried me away, back to where the sea breeze always blows, so many yacht clubs, so many restaurants lined with sand... Bob Marley was unforgivably missing. I ate the cherry from my glass of a mediocre sangria.
“I used to know a Honduran parrot, I said suddenly, that just LOVED those maraschino cherries.”
My table cracked up. Because of my past experiences, I often have these really out of nowhere, off the wall anecdotes. My table cheerfully admitted nobody else had a Honduran parrot among their acquaintances. Heh.
But it’s true. His name was Paco. He loved cherries, and when in a really good mood, he’d keep repeating, in an creepy, ghostlike voice: “Goo awaaaayyyyyyyy”.
Today, we are forewarned of a tremendous heat wave. I shall be in my air conditioned office, then in my air conditioned gym, then in my pool. So I’m not too worried. And if we’re lucky, we’ll get some of these violent summer thunderstorms I love so.
I’ve still to tell you about the dog. About July 8th. Many things have been happening. It will come.
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