This KFC ain’t like that KFC.

This KFC ain’t like that KFC.

“Welcome home”, said the woman in the monogrammed mask, as we walked through the glass doors into Kenten’s S.M.A. “Welcome home”, I thought. Do I know this woman? Have I been here before? How drunk was I? It was almost two hours later, heading out through those same...
I come to praise Caesar. In the middle of Mexico.

I come to praise Caesar. In the middle of Mexico.

We Canadians apparently drink about 400 million of them a year. The rest of the world combined apparently drinks only 150 million. I’ve always been bewildered as to why. Their loss, our gain, I guess. I’m talking about the caesar or, as its sometimes known, the bloody...
“All I ever wanted was to make music.”

“All I ever wanted was to make music.”

In 1994, a guy named Stuart Bastow walked into an Ottawa piano bar. The 20-something had never sung in any venue except perhaps a shower but, thanks to a pint or two of courage, the next thing he knew there was a microphone where his glass used to be. By the time he...
When in Venice

When in Venice

The Champagne Lady. That’s what they call Don Day’s Wife. For seldom a day goes by when she doesn’t tootle a flute of sparkling wine. It’s rarely real Champagne. Usually it’s a French Cremant. Occasionally, a Spanish Cava. And once-in-a-while, an Italian Prosecco. But...
The night Don Day thought he was 20 again.

The night Don Day thought he was 20 again.

OK. I’m not exactly their target audience. I have grandchildren who aren’t exactly their target audience. But it was one of those early December days when the sunset seduces you into the night and guilt makes it impossible to do another slovenly slouch on the couch....

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