The one of a kind show

Oakville Travel Blog

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not ready for skating yet.
She waits. That what she does. She waits.

And then, just when you think she’s not going to go, she twitches forward for an instant and then returns to her catatonic stare out of the window.

Another bitterly cold gust of wind forces it way through the gap I’ve left in the door. Still standing over her with my hand on the door handle my patience starts to wear thin. She can sense it in the tone of my voice, so she makes another lurch and another abrupt hesitation. My fingers are going numb. Its only –4 out, so I clearly haven’t managed to season myself to the Canadian climate yet. Wuss.

“Ok go! Go in 3…2…1….ok that’s it. I’m shutting the door now.”

Her piercing glare analysing the fence at the end of the garden as if the fence was about to make it’s closing chess move.
the lighthouse. its a bit small.


“ok I really am going to shut the door now.”

I shut the door.

Her link with the outside is broken; irritated she turns to me and whines in a longing fashion.

“no, you had your chance. Muffed it.”

And so begins the hourly routine of being pestered and eventually relenting, but I will forgive her for her catatonic stare, because after all she is a cat and sometimes she does actually go out.

I’ve rather foolishly booked an exam. Which kind of means I now have to revise for it. Even more foolishly I had to book it for new years eve, to take advantage of an exam fee offer. This I find a little ironic, because of new years resolutions. Being that one of mine from this year was to get the dang exam done. I’ll choose more carefully next year, with things that are easily achievable in the first, say three months.
the lake shore park at Oakville.
I cross ‘learn to juggle’ and ‘Visit Machu Picchu’ off the list, leaving ‘drive to Vancouver’,  ‘relent to Keira Knightly’s request for a date’ and ‘get a job’ as the only remaining entries.

My big sis took me to the ‘one of a kind show’ at Exhibition place in Toronto.

“we need to pick up (I) later, but no worries” my sister says, “we’ll see the whole place in a couple of hours”

My jaw drops as we enter the arena, and I suddenly get an appreciation of how absolutely huge it is, a couple of hours won’t suffice.

 The direct energy centre’s main hall is populated for several days by artisans touting their wares at extortionate prices.
The Credit river at Mississauga
We got a slice of pizza each and started at one end. The hall was arranged into aisles and subdivided into stalls, each stall selling its own unique crafts. It’s this ‘uniqueness’ that gives the show its name, with each stall reportedly selling something that no one else produces. The stalls were selling all manner of peculiar items, but mostly in a Christmas theme. You could have your choice of mini-bars made from old ammunition boxes, complete with champagne and flutes for two (what they did with the ammo we feared to ask) or chocolate made in a variety of different ways, with delicious ingredients. Coat racks made from old skis and a toy car made from shoemaker’s tools adorned one stall while another sold intricately designed woodturnings. Other stalls sold interesting hats that you wouldn’t catch me dead in, or stalls selling total outrageous underwear that you might.
The one of a kind show
  We ate our fill of free samples as we wandered around and bought a few Christmas presents.

When we were both sick of the artsy and craft-sty we had a quick crepe and pegged it off to try and catch the train home. Unfortunately we saw it draw off the platform as we rounded the corner and were left with a long wait for the next one. After half an hour in the freezing waiting room we pealed ourselves out of our frozen huddle and into the warmth of the train.

Which leads me on to the topic of urban jingles. These are the sound bites created by everyday infrastructure. For example the ding of a lift when it reaches the desired floor (women’s hosiery and garden equipment) or the ‘warning this vehicle is reversing beebop’ signature you are undoubtedly familiar with. The Toronto subway trains for another, they insist on playing the first three notes of notes of ‘daisy, daisy’ whenever the train stops and the doors open. In theory I don’t have a problem with this, it’s just that the remaining notes then lodge themselves in my head, only to be repeated at the next stop. My dismay at the transit authority is as nothing to my confusion went I encounter the local pedestrian crossings. I approach in the usual manner for a Brit: looking the wrong way and discovering again that people drive on the wrong side in this country. I replace my initial surprised expression with a confident scan of the far pavement and then a sheepish look at the road in the correct direction. Hopefully nobody noticed. I press the button; a small light comes on telling me that I have successfully pressed the button. All is going well, until my road crossing experience is interrupted with a croaky recording, emanating from the traffic light switch box:

“Please weigh the onesickle.”

As yet I have not managed to decipher what a onesickle is, I imagine its some sort of icicle whose weight is quite important to traffic lights.  

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not ready for skating yet.
not ready for skating yet.
the lighthouse. its a bit small.
the lighthouse. its a bit small.
the lake shore park at Oakville.
the lake shore park at Oakville.
The Credit river at Mississauga
The Credit river at Mississauga
The one of a kind show
The one of a kind show
Oakville
photo by: nathanphil