An apology
10:03 a.m.
During my rehearsal with my accompanist, which happened during the morning in the recital hall, a young man carrying a very impressive camera wandered in. He introduced himself as a freelance photographer Canada’s weekly newsmagazine had hired to take pictures of Quebec university campuses for their its special annual edition about educational institutions across our great land. BUshop’s generally scores very high in these survey editions. So he proceeded to take photos of the hall and us, which was very disconcerting since we were neither of us in our very best shape (I really didn’t know the Mad Scene from Lucia very well, not having practised much lately, and my pianist was suffering from terrible menstrual cramps). Afterwards we took him to one of the campus coffee dispensaries (this one being the national chain, a franchise of which the university bought [your guess is probably better than mine] which makes notoriously bad coffee [and I have long given up eating their doughnuts] and replaced the St*rbucks that used to be there where you could get a decent latte). I told him some of the places he really should photograph, like the observatory, and then went home and paid my cleaning lady and had lunch.
Choir practice was a little more enjoyable than it has been, namely because one of the burnt-out lightbulbs directly above the row where I have been sitting with several other middle-aged and presbyopic people has been replaced. We also started working on some new choruses.
Hubby came to see me right at the beginning when we were doing our warm-ups. He had to be back at the school for 6:45 p.m. in order to take a carload of students to see a Mexican guitarist performing at UdeS, but he had also booked himself a tennis game for 5 p.m. He hadn’t brought the car and neither had I, it being a lovely day and all. He wanted me to find him a solution. He never asked for one, just expected I would think of something, and I kind of bawled him out saying that if he knew he had to be back at the school so early, he shouldn’t have arranged the game with his colleague, if he wanted to have supper, that is.
So, following choir, Little Princess met me in the lobby after her class and we walked home together, enjoying the fall colours (some of which follow). She put a pizza in the oven and I hopped in the car and met Hubby just as he was approaching this end of the bridge, and drove him home. It gave him time to change into nicer clothes, have some supper, and meet his students (actually, student singular since the others didn’t show up). Mummy El saves the day.
I rewarded myself by going to the Humanities Division wine and cheese party held in the student pub. I got there at about 8:15 p.m. and was told I couldn’t have any wine because they were staggering the opening of the wine boxes so that they wouldn’t run out right at the beginning (you know how these humanities students and profs drink) and would have to wait to the half-hour. Well, at 8:30 I went back to the bar looking for a glass of wine, and found they were only serving white and I would have to wait yet another half-hour to get a glass of red (I can’t drink white wine, it upsets my stomach). I was not pleased. It’s not that I’m a lush or anything, but if I’m in a social gathering where alcohol is included, I like to get my drinking done early enough so that by the time I need to leave, I have sobered up sufficiently to drive my automobile. Finally, one of the girls behind the bar took pity on me and poured me a glass of red wine, for which I was grateful, but not that grateful. It was just box wine, if you know what I mean.
But I did get to chat with several of my colleagues: Herr Doktor Professor, the two Dr. M’s and the Dean, and some students I know from hither and yon, mainly the choir, and met some new first-years. It was a lovely event. I then betook myself home, wasted time in front of the computer not writing a diary entry, and went to bed.
End of story.
And now for those fall colours I promised:
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