We notoriously avoid the celebration of birthdays, both our own and those of others. In defence I am reminded of my late father’s own excuse for similar ignorance; namely, “Every day is Christmas!” As specious as it may at first appear there is a truth in that compensatory assertion. This is particularly so today on the occasion of another birthday and our contemporaneous enjoyment of the last day of our sojourn in eastern Canada. In summary we have everything for which to be thankful; it would be hard to imagine a more desirable coincidence of favour. The weather has been spectacular; the food, superb; the scenery, transporting; the serendipity, remarkable.
Without exception each of those hallmarks afforded tremendous fodder to satisfy my yearnings and lingering curiosities. Admittedly the passage of between 50 and 65 years has exhausted much of my initial enthusiasm for what are basically old and tired movies cluttered with more imagination than reality. Yet the removal of the veneer has given me a critical insight not to be diminished. Nor can I overlook the discovery this evening at La Griffe restaurant of mascarpone ice cream infused with maple syrup and ornamented with fresh strawberries and coloured granular sugar.