Sep 2020 25


Posted In Blog,The world

Still on a little break. Cooking up a new website, and other junk. But I lurk in the shadows and will return.

Open for sporadic writing gigs so you if you have something in mind, reach out and touch me.






Sep 2020 20

let us begin

Posted In Blog





Sep 2020 01

You think you’ve seen it all.

Then you’re out walking the dog at night at the bottom of Roncesvalles. And a gaggle of teenage boys all riding bicycles pull up behind you at the light to cross the street.

No helmets. No lights.

But armed with a boom box.

And they’re blaring … ‘Band on the Run’ by Paul McCartney & Wings?

‘If I ever get outta here… If we ever get outta here…’

And finally you turn around (you have to) and say “It’s not often you hear someone your age blaring Paul McCartney.”

And they look at you and say “For sure, man!”

And the light changes and the troop tear off on their self-propelled two-wheelers and up Roncesvalles as Paul breaks into the part where the tone changes and he soaringly croons ‘Well the rain exploded with a mighty crash as we fell into the sun…’

And you look at your dog and you say ‘What a strange trip this is, man.’

But you somehow feel better about the world.






Aug 2020 10

For your enjoyment, the Pigeons of Parkdale.

Was napping the other evening and as I came to, and wiped some drool from my mouth, the light was all Cloud City perfect and one of the pigeons that likes to hang out on my balcony sauntered by the open window. Precariously walking the railing at a perilous 120 feet up. No net.





Aug 2020 06


Posted In Blog,The world

If there was a Pirate in the family, it would’ve been my Uncle Mick.

Youngest of my dad’s brothers, he passed away this week in Belize.

Growing up, I’d heard stories about Uncle Mick. Everyone in the family had one. He was larger than life.

Drinker, philanderer, runaway, and charming as heck. The ladies of Belize City knew of Uncle Mick. Even in his later years, he flashed a silver tongue and possessed a unique boldness.

More than a couple of decades ago, my cousin Mark (Mick’s nephew) introduced his fiancee, Denise, to Uncle Mick when they ran into him on the streets of Belize City. After their brief hello, and parting, Denise told Mark that she already knew Mick. Not by name, but he was legendary at the grocery store where she worked. When the cashiers gave him his change, he would hold their hand, gently caress it, look into their eyes and tell them how lovely they looked today.

When I saw the family tree, I wondered who this ‘Raymond’ was as one of my dad’s siblings. It was explained to me that this Uncle ‘Mick’ was actually named ‘Raymond’. When Raymond was very young, he ran away one night. The Belize City Police picked him up. They asked him who he was. ‘Mickey Mouse’ was his reply, taking on a popular persona of the in vogue 1930s cartoon character. It stuck. Mickey he was from then on.

I met him all of twice. Once when I was too young to remember. There are photos. And once in the last ten years when I dropped in on him during a trip to Belize and he had slowed down a lot.

But the stories live on. An interesting man. An interesting life. Loved and hated by the same people, he cut a drunken, jolly, cavorting swath through this world. He left behind a lot of hurt, to be honest.

There is a piece of land in my family on an island off the coast of Belize. My cousin built a small resort on it many years ago (Tobacco Caye – you should visit) The bar? It is on Uncle Mick’s piece.

No one ever said how he felt about it, but the whole family thinks it was fitting. The best times are had there. And certainly some times that are filled with regret in the sober light of the next Belizean sunny morning.

My favourite bar in the world. Fittingly, built on an island once occupied by Pirates. And every Pirate story, if you didn’t learn as a small child, is completely true.






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