Sunday, 19 February 2012

Fw: Artichoke

Message from our nephew Ken with esoteric references to our travels together. Mike was interested in the Quebec delights.
Sent on the TELUS Mobility network with BlackBerry

From: Ken Dobell <>
Date: Sun, 19 Feb 2012 11:15:23 -0500
To: Carol Matthews<>
Subject: Artichoke

Dear Carol & Mike

(See attached photo)

We are in Quebec City this weekend with our friends Jacquie & Michael and their two girls, Maud’s age and a little younger. Jacquie, who has run Theatre Gargantua in Toronto for the past twenty years, has finessed her way into a month-long real-time audit of the creation process of Monsieur Robert LePage in his theatre here. This is something that, by all accounts, he never does. However, it is exactly the kind of exclusive opportunity that Jacquie always succeeds in engineering for herself and others.

Anyway, the snow-dusted old city is quaint and picturesque. We have a spectacular view from the top-floor suite of the Hilton Quebec, which they see as only fitting digs for a diamond Hhonors guest of anglo country.We’re about to venture out now, trudge around the old city and visit the museum of civilization.

Of course we’ve been thinking all week about both of you, and Alison, and your sizable circle of admirable and admiring friends and family. We send our unending love and wish we could offer anything more. Here on the outskirts of the Laurentian Plateau, with the old fortifications andmodern hotel amenities, we are remembering the many fine trips we’ve taken together with you two. You would enjoy this one; there’s wine in it, and an outdoor heated pool for the girls, and there’s about to be a good dose of history and education today.

At breakfast Sandy and I were chuckling about other places, where wine was served by old sanitized mafiosos and history applied in the form of WWII helmets on unsuspecting heads. And we were giggling about our traveling companions in a neighbouring hotel room, resorting to the physical removal of bulbs from their light fixtures, because the keycard system had them flummoxed. And how Mike finished up simply tearing the metal window shutters from their hinges for lack of a better way. And the trains, the trains — they may run on time, but everything else is far from certain…

Artichoke, artichoke, Mike. This is not Vincenza. Don’t bolt.

Mighty love from your esteeming nephew, outlaw niece and spirited grand-niece.

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