The Colts got their asses whupped so that is the end of this season. But I follow a football team in Sydney that almost never fails to disappoint – so am accustomed to the end of season blues.
Gwenyth is back home in Australia and continued the tradition we established with travel on our trip. Her flights were delayed and her bags were lost.
Despite our problems with travel we had a wonderful time in Canada – and especially in Newfoundland – which is pronounced Newfinland.
The Newfoundlanders are simply the most friendly people we have ever encountered. The most fascinating thing about them is the way the speak. It has been described thus by Jim Defede in ‘The Day the World Came to Town’.
‘Over the centuries, Newfoundlanders have developed a style and language distinctively their own, an amalgam of working-class English and Irish, although in lilt and tone it leans a bit more toward the Irish.’
Indeed on many occasions when we were talking to the locals we could imagine that we were in Ireland.
We have decided that we will go back one day – but probably not in winter – and we still have to get to Fogo island.
Cate has gone back to work – somewhat unhappily – and I now have a long list of chores to do.
My major task is to dismember the Christmas tree and I will have to chop it up into little pieces – bag it and take it to one the deceased Christmas tree dropping off points around town.
The snow has almost gone – but we are expecting a little more this week. The weather is quite mild and the squirrels are happily eating the bird seed. I wonder how they survive during things like the Polar Vortex.