Sheryl and I spent our Friday night having dinner at MadWok, which she found underwhelming (she needs more time to forget what PadThai really tastes like), followed by a quick trip to NoFrills, and capped by a visit to the local polling station to cast our vote in the advance poll. Once at home we attempted to finish El Camino on Netflix but failed.
This I think was a far more rewarding evening than in my youth when I would spend my time standing around in a crowded bar pretending to have fun.
This morning after having burpees for breakfast at Crossfit (the Saturday crowd are a lively bunch), we dropped by the Farmers Market to get some rainbow carrots, my sons surprise favourite, fill him with rice noodles and hopefully run into Elizabeth May. Which I did, as Glen Beaton brought me over somewhat reluctantly to meet her. I had nothing to say other than some niceties, but it would be rude to take her away for more than a brief moment, from what looked like a delicious lunch, to ask yet more questions of her.
She is I think the perfect antidote to the Andrew Scheer’s of the world.