More Makers Than Takers - Pt I

Two of Toronto's nicest pubs sit across the street from one another (Prince Arthur Avenue, for locals and future visitors).

The one, the Bedford Academy, the better one (sh), what with its rather convincing fake fireplace, the old books on the bookshelves and the dim candlelight, serves Kilkenny and you can get sweet potato fries with spicy mayonnaise.

Ai and I were indulging in precisely these treats, the creamy brew and the crispy fat dipped in creamy fat, last Friday eve when a gentleman, a lady and a teenage girl came and sat at a table next to us. They were not, as I first thought, a family.

The gentleman, clearly well spoken and not afraid to speak at strong volume and with words comprised of more than a single syllable, drank tea, with honey. The lady, quieter, more Canadian, but also clearly pretty bright, was, however, really just a woman. ie. her dress was not fancy. But the gentleman, he had these very round glasses, small round his eyes, and clothes that were formal, too stylish to be called academic, but still rather academic all-but-the-pipe dress. I struggle to remember details like the actual articles he was wearing. He could have been in a blazer or a topcoat. Dark denim? Light khaki? I don't have the foggiest. Don't even ask me about colour (my 2 favourite t-shirts are the same shade of grey). I could swear, though, that the gentleman had on a vest, and the impression of a bow tie, though not, unfortunately, the reality of one - apparently what he wasn't wearing I can remember. It all suggested to me that he was either in publishing or that he wrote.

He wrote. He writes. I listened in on his conversation with the woman, who turns out to, amongst other things, critique children's literature for "The Toronto Star" and who had brought the writer to the University of Toronto for a talk (I think). The teenager - well I never worked out what exactly the teenager was doing there. My guess is she was some kind of a big fan. Whether she won a contest to go to a pub and have tea with her beloved writer or whether she was in fact the niece of the woman I'll never know.

But I bring this all up because of an overheard line of the writer's that I've been mulling over since,

which I'll post in Pt II.