IF ONLY TEMPUS FUGIT

The days rolled into each other, punctuated by a visit to the supermarket washroom or a six-hour sit-in at a bar with wifi, trying to download one fifth of one movie. We didn’t see my oldest friend from when I was seven as he’s too busy and missed my friend Amy from school… One day we took a trip to the local baths, whereupon after a forty minute, free shower, shave and general spruce-up in the company of the city’s madmen and hobos, I walked outside to find a freezing and forlorn looking Natalie who wouldn’t shower in public showers without a bikini. Four hours later we were both showered.

We did however, one day, make some friends… An Australian lad called Clem, part of a gallery-dwelling art collective called Funktion along West Bloor Street invited us in for showers. As we spoke to him a man with a dog who truly believed it to be a dingo rocked up and started chatting about his RV and then an aging probably-not-very-good rock musician joined the party telling us all about Canadian marijuana and the Bible. Clem’s friend invited us to a party on Friday night, but alas like always, we’ll be long gone… ghosts in their cannabis addled memories.

Two days later we met Dave, complete with pink slip so we can sell the van. Good job too as the RV was beginning to get on my nerves and I came to think of it as less of a home and more of a burden. A sluggish, cumbersome weight round my neck that I know we’ll be lumbered with. We thanked him profusely, I said I’d send him some musings and we skidaddled oot of Canada quicker than you could say Bryan Adams.