This is a true account of a time I spent in Winnipeg about 25 years ago. The Peg is a nickname for Winnipeg. I hadn't read it in years and never dared publish it until now. But it's time. All names are changed to protect the guilty but every word of it is true and I relived the horror of the whole experience as I read it a day or so ago. Alternative title at the time: The Hosts from Hell.
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It all started with Caroline, who worked for me. Her parents lived in Winnipeg. I met her mother, Eileen, over dinner with Caroline. Caroline thought we'd loads in common because we both knitted. Knitting has never been my life, I should make clear, usually indulged in during summers by the sea or in the winter over a movie.
Caroline moved to England. Next time Eileen came to Toronto she called me and I took her for lunch. Caroline had emailed me that it was also Eileen’s birthday that day, so feeling pressured and not totally out of generosity, I presented her with “A History of Canadian Knitting” a book that I'd recently bought for my own use in an obscure little shop. I took her to The Distillery, filled with artisans' studios where we could wander afterward.
Very early on I realized that I had been misguided in taking the afternoon off. I'd been with bores before but this was the auntie of them all. For a while I thought Eileen was going to burst into laughter and scream “gotcha!”
After lunch, as we toured the studios I was treated to a day by day accounting of life in England in 1965 and the details of every item of clothing she'd ever knitted for her children.
Demented, I whipped out my mobile around three o’clock and said I'd forgotten a very important appointment, could I drop her off.
Just about weeping with relief, I pulled away from her hotel. I will never, ever have to endure Eileen again.
Eileen raves to Caroline about the wonderful time we'd had and lickity-split, Caroline immediately buys an airline ticket for a full weekend in Winnipeg with Eileen and Edgar, her dad.
Horrified, but loathe to offend Caroline, I tell myself it won't be that bad. After all Edgar is a professor which required some degree of intelligence.
I arrive at Winnipeg airport on a Saturday morning. I'd been up since 6.00 a.m. and am exhausted, cranky and shy about a quart of coffee.
They're both waiting for me in arrivals, grinning, each with a coffee. As I struggle with my bag they tell me I didn't want a coffee. Really? I follow them and stop, horrified, as they open the two front doors of a two door 1991 Toyota Tercel and climb in. I am a tall, large woman and survey the back seat of the car which is piled high with jackets, tools, rags and cleaning supplies. It takes me five minutes to move all the material to the trunk and ensconce myself in the back seat accompanied by the happy sounds of slurping coffee from the front seat.
A comment from Marge who can't post here for some reason, but could before.
ReplyDeleteGood morning,
For some reason I couldn't access "comments" today and when I have
entered a comment up until now it comes up "anonymous" so I am surprised
when it actually shows up. Well, that's not why this note. I've been
reading and enjoying immensely your account of Winnipeg. Love your sense
of humor and cannot wait for the next installment. It's great fun
(probably not for you at the time!) to read, and so welcome in these
stressful times. I too am a tall, large woman so endured along with you
the back seat of that car--along with the lack of coffee! Terrible thought.
Also, in your account of your driver's license, I too am an August baby
although older than you. Luckily I was able to (one-time only) renew my
license online this year so escaped the test. Next time (in 5 years)
will have to go in so who knows. But will worry about that tomorrow.
Take care. The duck at your lake is indeed beautiful.
Marge
Well, I can tell right away this isn't going to end well. Having had several misadventures with individuals of a similar ilk who have thankfully exited my life, all I can say is I'm sorry you endured this and whatever else is to come in part 2.
ReplyDeleteCaroline owes you big time. While shuddering, I look forward to reading more.
ReplyDeleteThis sounds awful. I can hardly stand reading it.
ReplyDeleteI am really quite amazed that murder was not committed - but I am sure you would have been acquitted with a defence of justifiable homicide! Sadly, I think we have all known ( or know) people like that, and it becomes a strategy in life’s journey to do all possible to avoid seeing them.
ReplyDeleteI believe I would have gone straight to sleep. I also can keep my eyes closed and pretend, perfectly.
ReplyDeleteI'm reminded of a time I showed a visitor around Adelaide and knew within five minutes it wasn't going to go well. I myself am one of the boring people and not knowing much about my own home town, my visitor wasn't much impressed with the parts of my city that I showed them, remarking they could see exactly the same in any other city.
ReplyDelete