Sunday, and a day of rest for your intrepid scribe, and more importantly, to my sidekick and dearly beloved who was keen to sleep in as a pleasant change, no pressure for a rushed breakfast or early departure. Unfortunately early risers don’t benefit from delayed starts, in fact they are a bugger. Not to worry, I quietly handled a bit of correspondence, then went for a wander, ostensibly to find a cup of tea for the still snoozing better half. I came across Doc who was pondering how to push start the Suburban, a flat battery causing a few problems - thankfully, I understand the very helpful hotel concierge came to the rescue (a delightful young lady). There are few things more daunting than trying to push start a Harley, and pushing a Suburban is one of them... Walking past the park adjacent to our hotel, I was reminded of the cat fight that we witnessed last night whilst en route to dinner in the dark. Two black girls going for it, a bit of “girl on girl action”, and the real deal with plenty of cussing to accompany the punches being thrown, fairly ineffectual as they may have been due to the influence of mind altering substances and whilst trying with limited success to maintain balance on high heels. Their “men”, (in reality, their pimps), making but a token attempt to keep the peace. In contrast to the tranquility of this sunny morning, bearing in mind this altercation and other seemingly dodgy buggers about, the park was definitely not a safe place to be after dark. Not wishing to become part of the fray, we passed by fairly quickly, not sure what local protocol dictated regards the use of hand guns and the like. Daylight had driven away the evil of the night before leaving the park a much more tranquil place, and whilst there were still a few quite disheveled rough sleepers still absolutely conked out, there were many far more genteel people enjoying doing what normal people do on a Sunday morning, sitting with a coffee or a book, walking the dog, or like me, just passing through. Our day was spent on the “Hop on, Hop off” bus, seeing the sights of the inner city, a concise and condensed history lesson, on a day that showed Montreal off in the best possible Light. We bumped into Mike and Jacqui C and enjoyed a delightful brunch then back on the bus for a couple of hours - we opted to the comfort of the lower deck while others keener for a better view braved the sun (I was very happy with our choice!). So, an old city dating back over 300 years, graveyards on the “Mont” of Montreal apparently final resting place of well over a million souls, their gravestones much bigger than those we saw in the USA. The many Irish who escaped the Potato Famine of the 1840’s are apparently well represented in heritage, although their descendants now speak the local version of French (a very old version, quite different to the French of France) Back to the hotel for a mid afternoon siesta. Comments are closed.
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Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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