Friday, June 21, 2002, 8:10 pm, Vancouver, BC
This wretched cold persists, punctuating the evening and night with coughing, and the day with enervation and frustration.
I’ve been constrained to walks: yesterday along the Inlet, and through Gastown (and the central library) back home, the general population annoying me immensely; and today down and up Robson, searching for shoes and finding instead the ‘National Aboriginal Day’ celebrations on the grounds of
the Vancouver Art Gallery: and fine they were, too: the Métis fiddler, and singer-guitarist, and keyboards – all in their fifties, and the ‘B.C. Métis Dancers’ from Surrey, Churchill, and other parts of Saskatchewan, Manitoba, and Alberta, dancing the reels and jigs, despite their ages, weights, and agilities. It was marvellous; so marvellous I thought what a great country this is and how I love it. I confess my eyes misted.