Cousins Geri and Gail came to Downtown Vancouver for lunch and we had such a jolly time. I was talking about our jovial moments and someone commented: “It sounds like you all have a sense of humor,” Indeed we do and I did speak of this in a prior posting, “A Sense of Humor is a Dryburgh Trait on February 19, 2017 posting. Here are some treasures.
Alexis: Look at the view, is it not magnificent? It is because we are up so high. But the other day I felt like hurling myself out the window. But the windows don’t open.
Gail: That’s convenient.
Alexis: I wonder where these jokes come from, I wonder why I am so funny.
Geri: God only knows Alexis, God only knows
Alexis: We are having so much fun together. How did you guys ever get by without me?
Geri: I sure as hell don’t know Alexis
Lunch was at the Fairmont and it was delicious. I had the French Onion Soup and a salad. I asked for an opportunity to speak to the chef and out he came. I told him (truthfully) it was the best onion soup I ever had. He said it was the result of teamwork. I did tell him that it was even better than my version of French Onion Soup that I got from a Julia Child cookbook. I was a great cook in my time. I did at one time think that the best onion soup was at Dolphin Square Bar and Grill. Please read the post of March 4, 2017.
I am capable of serious conversation. i had a long chat with Dakota, a waitress at the Fairmont. We spoke of many things. I told her of my horror at the incivility of diners in restaurants. She agreed saying: “sometimes you wonder if this was the first time they ate in a restaurant.” Another trait is to treat the serving person as if they are beneath the lofty diner and to think that being rude to the “help” improves the quality of service. My comments were based on my experience at the Rex Whistler in the London Tate Britain and some observations at the Fairmont. These are both very upscale posh restaurants.
Dakota is Metis – of Cree and French descent. We spoke of the beauty of the word Metis but were in solid agreement about the strange new term of “First Nation”/ We, and Dakota’s mother, both prefer the word Indian. I made the bold observation that if you relabel things it somehow takes away the sting. If you call these persecuted people First Nation it somehow removes the fact of their victimization at the hands of the European colonizers. Those two and half years in so called Great Britain made me aware that I was lied to in school. Great Britain was not benevolent colonizers as we were led to believe. There were two profound exhibits at the British Museum over the years. One about Australia aborigines and the other The Art of South Africa. I gasped at the brutality portrayed in the South African exhibit. Some old UK F*** took offense and churlishly said: “Look at what you Americans did!” I sneered: “I am a Canadian and what happened to the Indians was horrible but that does not forgive your people!” He was a bit startled probably. He did get the tough, no nonsense Ms. McBride. (see yesterday’s post, the quote from C.C.)
As mentioned in yesterday’s post C.C.’s job description is evolving. He has voluntarily assumed flower giving (awwwww) and now a new and different role. I fold C.C. of the Death Benefit – when I die the husband (if he is married to me for two years and is 55) gets a sizable portion of my retirement income until he dies. So, if I marry someone over 55 and after the two years of marriage C.C. will become the food taster. The role of food taster will prevent the purposive poisoning of yours truly. But said C.C. “If the individual is not yet 55 he will probably need to be put on probation.” C.C. will decide on the terms of probation and enforce them. C.C is a work horse and boy is he ever ambitious. I must ask him how old he is – we cannot have him retiring just when I really need him.
Here are some random thoughts about what it is like to live in a hotel. A long time California friend wrote: What are you doing living in a hotel? I churlishly responded: “Read my blog.” (I spend hours writing this blog and some people cannot take the time to read it.) But then I responded and likened our living situation. (She lives in a ‘retirement home’). “Sorry to be so terse but explaining in an email to you would take forever and it is on the blog. To summarize: I am like you in that I need a place where I will receive support, encouragement and have my needs met. So I am here at the Trump International Hotel and you are at S.R.R.’”
But my poor friend has neither Godfrey or C.C. Godfrey and I chatted this morning. Quite strangely and Independently we had arrived at the simple fact that C.C. is a work horse. Godfrey calls him a Clydesdale. So I laughed and said: “Now I am going to call him C.C.C.
Chief Clydesdale Concierge.
Godfrey looked up the spelling for me, and we also discussed that Clydesdale is a thoroughbred. I read yesterday’s blog to C.C.C. and then I came to my room to send off this email to Chris for posting.
This is decidedly ghostly. My room number here at Trump is the same as the year Uncle Dave, the subject of my biography, was born. It took Godfrey to bring that to my attention. By the way, churlish is the new word of the day. Probably no posting tomorrow as I am going to Whistler.
