If you lived in Manitoba, you could at least call today Terry Fox Day. But then you would live in Manitoba.
Category Archives: Scotland
I once prepared a five-page document detailing all its quirks.
I do not, in life in general, scream—not on roller coasters, not in pain, not when Wet Leg encouraged the crowd to unleash bloodcurdling cries—but when Harry was on stage, I couldn’t hold back.
Life there doesn’t confuse me, but it’s no longer what I’m accustomed to. I’ve become a real city slicker.
In one corner, it imagines a boat.
There’s no escaping a year; we’re in it for the whole, well, year.
Vowel merges have led multiple people to mistake my tale about seeing the ferry with spotting a fairy or my ponderings about Frodo and Merry as Frodo and Mary.
Just before they leave my field of view, they look up.
I decide that I do believe that King Arthur sat here. It will make the climb worth it.
I’d time the queue so that the lyric “can’t figure out / how I’m gonna get through the next 10 minutes” played as we arrived at the pitch.