Here are some rules I have discovered are the key to my buzz while I’m riding my fixed gear bicycle in the city. The city is Toronto, which is perfectly designed for riding such a bicyle, even if not brilliantly maintained for skinny hard tires and no suspension. For context, I have only a front brake, clips on my pedals, and 2" risers cut as narrow as I can get them and still have a reasonably accessible brake lever. Read more...

Somewhat cliched, but it was written to be read at a funeral, the most indulgent of venues. Here it is for the record. We’re here to remember my mum, Hazel Irving. I had a tough time putting down these words - of course I did, for all kinds of reasons - but one reason I had a tough time was because I kept realizing I’d forgotten entire chapters and subplots of her life. Read more...

Eveline Hazel Irving (née Hunter), born 1st January 1931, died shortly after 4am on 16th February 2012. Rest in peace, sweet heart. Thank you for everything.

It’s been just over two weeks since I last wrote. I’m having a hard time writing, because I’ve become more self-conscious. This is not my story, but it reads like my story. I mean, THIS clearly is my story, but it shouldn’t be. That it is reflects my own self-absorption, or so it seems to me today. Also I’m getting less coherent by the day. I don’t want to lose track of what happened when though, so here’s some bits and pieces. Read more...

The oncologist appointment is done, and I think that’s it for our dealings with St. James’, unless something happens and the crisis leads us to the emergency room. That’s not the plan though, the plan is to be prepared and equipped, and to stay at home or at a push move mum out to St Gemma’s Hospice. It was a strange conversation, another of those where you aren’t quite sure whether the doc is trying to assess mum’s cognitive capacity, or is actually seeking information. Read more...