For someone who has spent the last year and a half confined to a housette in pajamas with only a computer screen to talk to, this little jaunt can only be described as overwhelming, in every sense of the word. I’m still jetlagged but who could blame me? It took 18 hours to get here where I’m 5 hours behind France time. The bags under my eyes will have to be claimed as carry-ons when I head out to St. John’s tomorrow.
Anyway, bag lady or no, I hardly know where to begin to describe the events of late. I arrived in Halifax last Wednesday half starved to death, so we popped into one of my favourite restaurants (Jane’s) for a light supper and my long overdue daily dose of vin blanc. Just as we were settling the bill, a young waitress stood a few feet back from the table, cocked her head to the side, narrowed her eyes and said, “Did you write that book?” I said, “Well, I wrote a book.” “I knew it,” she said, “we were all over in the corner trying to decide if we should ask you.” Apparently they had seen the poster for the blook in the window of Bookmark and recognized me. Well, I never! Continue reading “Finding Me in Halifax” »