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Ah Saturday the week-end Globe – that I don’t read until Sunday. The major shock for me is that Canada Post is closed. Up and out to Hava Java, as now the entries are written and posted there over my café au lait, one tea bun and then a large cantaloupe, carrot, orange juice. I can see the screen while sitting outside. I take my time. I also notice that I have anew side of town. Been here a month and have yet to walk by the Family Barber Shop when they are open it is a custom that I wave at them at least once but in former lives as a bayman – I would pass them many times a day.

This time I was wandering George Street.

No large outings planned as I was going out to dinner – a chance to hone in on my oh so lacking social skills – so a day spent getting things in order.

With the printer and a moment of lucidity that came from photographing Patricia and her quilt in Portugal Cove South - I could print out other images of people that I made with the digital and now head out to distribute them pretending I am passing through say – Richmond – with a couple of snaps.

Back to Petty Harbour – I also wanted to photograph the ballpark in Maddox Cove but it was being used – to leave two snaps between the doors at the Scademia boat tour.

Down to Peter’s to say that I couldn’t make the get together on Sunday as I would have to make the flat presentable. Like most stops here, it entailed a water – it was hot – and a taste of his new baba ghanoush recipe.

A race up to Pouch Cove to retrieve a book from Kennedy – car was there he wasn’t kept circling and banging on the door to no avail.

But it was nice to chat to Shirley and a longer chat with Sharon on her property, she saw Kennedy leave in another machine earlier. I thought that he was around Pouch Cove.

-he’s not much of a walker.

Sharon said that if she had known I could have used her place in Sullivan’s Loop, I mentioned the reason why I had to be a townie this time she said that she understood.
-really?
-well no.
Whales in the cove yesterday – yeah but was it mauzy and cold. It seems that both she and Kennedy saw them. It seems that they come when he is working in his potato patch. From what I could tell it looks like the good people of Pouch Cove were trying to turn him into a farmer.

Gave up raced back to the flat to clean up – it looked like summer was finally here.

Raced back as I wanted to walk over to Ray and Beth’s. I wanted a full two hours to do the twenty minute walk.

I wanted to wander Georgetown another area that would be liveable if I had to live in town – sort of a meeting while marling.

Met and chatted with the women of Charleton Street as they were all out in a scene that was reminiscent of East Baltimore. Everyone on the block was out. Made more snaps of the people I had before – and pulled out the digital – no PV it isn’t named – and made more, exchanged jokes, found out more about them more than I wanted – it seems that the day before I photograph one of her women in her Santa Claus shorts. One asked if it the snaps were for Playboy?

-yeah the Braille edition.

Departed walking in a way that would have me choose the least travelled streets.

Crossed over the Rooms car park, and into Georgetown, more trees, more shadows becoming important parts of the image. More Diana snaps of the area starting with the buildings on the basilica’s grounds.

In the area I didn’t attempt to make forward progress but instead walked what ever street seemed interesting making sure that I hit no main road – Bonaventure, Circular or Monkstown. An alley was prime for exploration and in this case it was great for meeting people as someone just back from shopping with his neighbour at Sobey’s. Told me the history of the Lane – of the area and while I was making his snap he went to get a pen for the website photographed his back garden complete with laundry line being used.


A lot of formalism, a lot of juxtapositions conveniences and laundry. Cats as my constant companions but they would tag team follow me. Still cannot get a decent snap of the Georgetown tavern. Shed a tear at the closed for summer holidays Georgetown bakery. Less street action than behind Mile One there were more remnants with chalk drawings, toys left out etc.


Ran into Ally’s husband heading into the house of his friend that I saw the day before in Dominion and Staples, again making me feel like it is a small place but also like I belonged in this small place.

Tofu satay at Beth and Ray’s the meal outside, neighbours talking to neighbours, chat with the people next door through their bedroom window, another with a woman who was passing by. A soy cheesehead had stated that the province was like it used to be in the States. I could only compare what was happening here with the community feel of Peasant’s Pissoir – oddly to-day on Ideas a person talking about changing values mentioned that people in 18th or19th century England would think nothing of striking up a conversation with a stranger in the street, nor would they think twice of holding on to the person while speaking – both acts now that would get you maced – most places but here.

My social skills are either improving or there are low standards here as we continued outside until past midnight – history of the province, place names, the trouble with teaching, it seems that it is universal – but I still think it is on steroids at the WGAS – public programming CBC v NPR (CBC still wins although they seem to want to default), the yearning for travel – he’s been to Labrador many times, and my uncanny ability to photograph places he had personal connexions with as a child – a cabin in the Barrens where he used to hang out – and where the key is. Beth’s time in Gros Morne v my time – I won as she was in Glenburnie.

Seeing my found object photographs Beth wants to go a two person show – her sculptures made with found objects and my snaps. Found it strange as her sculptures are empowering, and positive while mine tend toward loss veering close to nostalgia.

But is sounded great and knowing how noncommittal I am when speaking e-mailed the next day making sure that she knew that I wanted to do it.

A thirty minute walk down through Rawlin’s Cross and by Charleton Street everyone asleep.