Day 16

If last night was great, then this morning was a massive comedown. We travelled out to a nursing home in Burlington, western Ontario to see my (Great) Aunt Betty. She's a bit of a legend in our family in all honesty. She's my Gran's youngest sister and she is generous to a fault—a really smashing woman. Leaving aside the fact that she gave us a few dollars every time we were in Canada or a few pounds when we were back in Scotland, one time she asked my Da what cake he liked in a dessert shop in a mall called Sherway Gardens and when he said he'd take a slice of a certain cake, she bought him the whole thing! She was always making large quantities of food for family members too, one time I was over; she made me a whole tray of lasagne and bought me about 6lbs of Polish sausages. She was always on the go too, running people here there and everywhere and looking after her grandkids. Not to mention the fact that she was a hopeless romantic and was married three times! She lived her life a bit like a Mills and Boon novel!

In early 2010 though, she had a stroke, which left her with little feeling in her left side, hence the fact that she's now in a home. It's different to the one that my Papa was in for a while too. His was cleaner and he had a private room. Aunt Betty was in a place, where the smell of urine was so pungent it made me wretch. She was sharing a room, separated by curtains, with two other women. She was in a wheelchair, which she had to move using her feet and looked a shadow of her former self. It was very difficult to comprehend, not to mention heartbreakingly sad. I'll say this much for her though, she's resilient and still had that same wide smile on her face that she's always had. She never let the pain, of what must be a terrible situation for her, show.

She was delighted that I'd come to see her and I'm glad I did. She's always been a little bit superstitious too, so I quite happily let her read my cards, even though I don't really believe in them myself. We looked through some old family photos too and she still seemed sharp as a tack with regard to when and where each one was taken. I gave her one of my band's CDs and a wee religious prayer card with Our Lady on it and it seemed to make her well up, which made me feel even more sad. I hope she's getting regular visitors in that place, because it felt like a waiting room for death.

Afterwards, myself and my Uncle Eddie went to an old Fish and Chip place called the Viking Restaurant (pictured below), near my Gran and Papa's old house, which is a constant favourite and has been for years—it does Irn Bru too, which was a huge bonus years ago! A lovely piece of halibut and chips and a can of Grape Crush was just the tonic before home to chill out for a bit.


Aunt Margaret picked me up at 5.30pm to take me fore a meal at an Italian eatery called Enzo's not far from her place in Mississauga. It was split in half with a small bar on one side and a busy restaurant on the other. We were seated on the bar side and my Aunt Margaret seemed to know the majority of the locals. It was a bit like the Canadian version of Cheers (pictured below) with drunker clientele. One guy looked a bit like a gin-soaked version of the Cowardly Lion from the Wizard of Oz. I was introduced to all of them, but I could barely remember all of their names. I don't think that this would have bothered them unduly anyway, their mind was on the alcohol, not a Scottish visitor. I had a nice wee Italian Wedding soup to start—with crackers, which is common here—and then sole stuffed with crabs and scallops and pasta in a vodka cream sauce.


My Aunt Margaret is a good person to tap for stories about what it was like to leave for Canada in the 1960s and what it was like when you got there—my Da, a year older than her, eventually moved home for good in 1971. She also gives you an insight into some of my Da's cousins, which is interesting because I don't know all of them that well and you always like to know more about your background. I like to tap all of them for information on the family as they all have their own unique take on it, apart from my Great Aunt Harriet, with whom they find common ground in their dislike for. Their description of her seems a bit like my own Aunt Anne back home, a snobby social climber who wouldn't give you the steam off her piss!