.dropcap {float:left; color:#4791d2; font-size:75px; line-height:60px; padding-top:4px; padding-right:8px; padding-left:3px; font-family:Georgia}

Google+ Followers

Endless

Monday, August 1, 2016

Dykes on Bikes: 2016 Vancouver Pride Parade

My younger brother Mark and I sat up until at least 12:20 a.m. last night watching a rebroadcast of the 2016 Vancouver Pride Parade on Shaw TV.

Of course, I had already seen it in person downtown early that afternoon, but I never let on to Mark.  He still has no idea that I went to Vancouver.

We didn't sit through the entire parade, though ─ it was a long parade.

One thing that very much surprised me was how many of the floats and such that I just did not remember seeing.

As I reported yesterday in my account, I hardly took any photos in the last hour of the parade because of an almost boring sameness to it all.

Too, I was physically suffering by then ─ the strain of standing, thirst, hunger, and even a building need to micturate.

But more on the parade in a bit.

Before I went to bed last night, I checked my AdSense account ─ I had reported in yesterday's blog post that I had logged into it, and for the third consecutive day there was not 1¢ accumulated into my balance.

Well, by last night there were 25¢.

And today, there was an additional 26¢.

That's a little encouraging.

Upon rising this morning, I set to work finishing the edit I began last Tuesday of an old post at my website My Retirement Dream.  It took almost all of my morning, but I completed the edit of that January 9, 2012, post and now have it published:  Bangkok Trip Promotion.


My youngest step-son Pote was up when I came downstairs to prepare my early morning hot beverage; and soon enough, he left quietly to catch his bus to work.

Today is the statutory holiday BC Day, so his older brother Tho and my brother Mark have the day off, although neither of them will get paid for it.  Pote works in a sports shop at Guildford, and thus it is that few retail businesses observe statutory holidays.

Or at least, such businesses do not close down for the day.

And a sunny day it has been today!  I went out into the backyard this afternoon and at 2:12 p.m. commenced a session of 40 minutes seated in a chair and wearing nothing but cut-offs, facing directly into the Sun.

I was fortunate enough to finish that session of sunning just as the foul brown hound beyond our backyard fence began its relentless barking.  The owners will do nothing, and the bastard will probably continue for several hours or more.

The infernal beast needs to be put to the sword.  The grief and stress that thing's booming racket has caused me over the past three or more years is something unforgivable. 

Now getting back to the 2016 Vancouver Pride Parade, it led off with what I suppose were the Dykes on Bikes roaring up and down the parade route.

They were going far too fast for my camera to easily capture them, so some of my photos are pretty much only of the spectators across the street from me.

But here are my 11 attempts:












And that's all I'll post for today.  Otherwise, it would be just far too boring for all concerned.

I can at least now tell of where it was that I watched the parade ─ I was across Robson Street from the Whole Foods Market, whose address is 1675 Robson Street.

And I've just gotten a text from my wife Jack ─ she plans to show up this evening once Mango Thai Restaurant closes and then gets cleaned up afterwards. 

I guess I won't be getting to bed quite as early as I may have liked.

♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠

Just after I left the house yesterday morning to hike over to the King George SkyTrain Station possibly a mile away to go to Vancouver and see the parade, I met my neighbour two houses over.

He's had a 'house for sale' sign on his property for a few months, but I haven't spoken to him within that time until yesterday.

He announced to me, "I'm moving!"

Apparently he'll be moving away on September 1st to Merritt.

He further mentioned that the neighbour in between us had made a bid on the house, but wouldn't meet the asking price.  Supposedly that neighbour already owns two other houses, and wanted this one for his adult children.

I'm going to close my post now with this entry from my journal of 41 years ago when I was 25 years old, and living in a housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

The house was located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.

Back then, I was working just one day a week ─ on Fridays, I was a truck swamper on the blue pick-up truck owned by a charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that today is known as Fraserside Community Services Society

It was at that time located in an old building on Carnarvon Street.  The building is now gone, but it was situated about where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station now spills out onto Carvarvon Street.
FRIDAY, August 1, 1975

I am not happy with last night's opening of the month.

I got out of bed about 6:50 a.m. feeling very short on sleep.

I went to S.A.N.E. and learned Esther went to Horsefly and won't return till Tuesday; so I've been asked to labour Wednesday instead.

I came home with An English Handbook and The Elements of Style.

While finishing up Ron's letter, Bill came knocking shortly past noon.  He had been committed by David, as he told me he would try, to help him move, but couldn't find David's abode.

We arrived about 45 minutes later than Bill promised, and found he had used a cab.

We failed to locate his new abode. 

Seeing some discarded doughnuts, Bill decided to treat us to some.  

We bought 9 each of glazed and long johns for $2.44, plus he bought a weird fruit (kiwi fruit?) and a 2-qt carton of milk.

After our feed, I broke out a new package of Granola to share.

He soon after departed.

I waited home all day till the bank closed at 6:00 p.m.; the dame upstairs did not come home and deliver my cheque.  Fortunately, my savings will cover the sum of tomorrow's rent.

To help kill time from 3:00 p.m. - 5:00 p.m. I rested, getting some sleep.

She showed up a couple minutes past 6:00 p.m.

I had a good, cathartic workout.

At 10:00 p.m., going out for a run, I crossed to the opposite side of the street so to mail Ron's letter; a car came, and I am sure David was headed by my place directly across from me.

At the track I ran a full 10 laps plus, being joined on the track about lap 6 or 7.

I was home about 7 minutes short of 11:00 p.m.

Bedtime at 11:40 p.m.
Esther St. Jean was my driver ─ perhaps she had even made a run in the truck to Horsefly, for S.A.N.E. sometimes travelled afar, whether to move someone, or to take a load of donations somewhere.

So there was nothing for me to do, and my day was postponed to the following Wednesday.

The two books I brought home from S.A.N.E.  have long ago parted company from me ─ I remember nothing of them.

It was while finishing a letter to my U.S. pen-pal Ron Bain that my old friend William Alan Gill came visiting.  Apparently another old friend of mine ─ Philip David Prince ─ had contacted Bill and asked Bill to help him move.

All of the tenants in the building David had lived in had been given notices to vacate, and David had found himself a new room.

Bill owned his own car and lived elsewhere in New Westminster, so David approached him for help.

Unfortunately, Bill was rather dense where directions were concerned.

I think David may have lived in a rooming complex called Fraser Apartments that did indeed get demolished, but I now cannot quite recall where it had been located.

David likely had a deadline to meet in getting out of his room, so when Bill failed to show, David had no option but to bear the cost of a taxi.

The poor guy ─ neither he nor I had much money back then.

David had verbally given me his new address, but although I believed it to be room #115 or #117 at 110 Tenth Street, apparently I had misremembered ─ I could not direct Bill to David's new room. 

So we pigged out on glazed doughnuts and long johns.  I am assuming that in total, we bought 18 of these two types of doughnuts...and then ate them all.

My landlady must have been away, and an upstairs female tenant was left with the responsibility of sorting the mail that would likely have been pushed through a mail-slot in the front door.

I had a wee container on the wall just outside my room's door into the rest of the basement ─ my mail was placed into that container, if I had any mail.  But it seems the tenant upstairs was in no rush to get home that day, and I was going to be unable to cash my cheque.

But did not banks open on Saturdays back then?  

Anyway, I sometimes went for runs at the school track at New Westminster Secondary ─ I would go well after dark when there would not be students hanging about.    

If a car's headlights illuminated my friend David as I was on my way for my run, I probably would not have drawn attention to myself because I would not want to have my plans interfered with.  

I was quite devoted to my fitness.

But again ─ poor David!  He must have felt abandoned.  Early in the week he had left me a note at my door ─ and a key to his building ─ asking me to come by the following day around noon, for he wanted to ask me if he could stay with me temporarily should he fail to find himself a new room in time before his eviction.

But I had other things to do that day, and did not come by until the day thereafter.

By then, David had located another room ─ probably out of sheerest desperation.

Speaking of New Westminster, last evening I heard that a Pride Week celebration is going to be held there.  According to that website, the big event will run from 3:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. on August 13 (Saturday) ─ a New West Pride Columbia Street Party.

That could be interesting, particularly if Columbia Street gets blocked right off to vehicular traffic.

Is that possible, I wonder?

I wouldn't mind checking it out, but 3:00 p.m. is usually when I like to be on my way home if I go anywhere.

That noisy brown hound I bitched about earlier?  The aggravating waste of life is still barking 3½ hours later.

I wish the damned thing a bullet in the head to stop for all time its noise and the accompanying relentless stress it has brought me these past years.
Post a Comment