My wife and I started out together in a cheap apartment in SE London in 1970, and when opportunity knocked one year later we moved downtown, across from City Hall.
["Across from City Hall": photo GAH]
Who knew it would be so exciting?
I love Victoria Park. Had it to myself while jogging at 7 a.m. before breakfast and driving off to school in 1971-73. I loved walking out the door on weekends and shopping for groceries at the Dominion store (York and Wellington) five minutes (count ‘em), five minutes away.
["David's first birthday; Gord w bad haircut": March, 1971]
I hated it when our new Gendron baby carriage was stolen from the YMCA. Not the current Downtown YMCA. I mean the original downtown YMCA on Wellington, north of Dundas. The one that burned down in a blaze of terrible glory.
I hated that I could barely see PM Trudeau from my balcony, as he escaped his body guards at the corner of Wellington and Dufferin, during a rare visit to Deforest City, and took a run for it in order to shake hands with the common man, none more common than me.
["Two Dave's I know; my son and his uncle, D. Tamblyn, formerly w OCEAN": photo GAH]
I’m now happy as a clam in The Village, a 15 minute walk from the JLC, 25 from City Hall (yeah, I checked).
But if my neighbours boot me out of my lovely cottage (plus wee workshop - it’s heaven) because they’re finally tired of constantly hearing the strains of Dylan (or my weak attempts at delivering a hit single) drift through my open windows, I’ll land downtown.
Downtown - as long as my wife gives the thumbs up.
Yeah, two people live in my... our house.
.
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