Little bento place has opened up Christie St. Bought little chicken bento there today. True Nihon no aji/ taste of Japan. Happy sigh.
Reading the next Tara French, all antsy 'this cannot end well.' Am speed-reading so as to get through the not ending well bit asap.
By way of balance, am also reading Medieval women : a social history of women in England, 450-1500 on a random rec, and finished the chapters on Anglo-Saxon graveyards and Anglo-Saxon abbesses last night. Had not realized how thoroughly my concept of early England had incorporated-- not exactly the memories, but the gestalt-- of the early 70s, as experienced by me in my sheltered Catholic fashion. But memories are there too-- descriptions of women's grave goods brought vivid flashbacks to St Michael's College Coop, the lounge at SMC, where I spent reading week of '72 writing a paper on Widsith; the names on the map of 7thC England took me to London that summer, peering at the Lewis chessmen; and in between are unplaceable impressions of grey skies and the smell of snow melting on the back campus and all those things half-noticed by someone who walks everywhere, because in those days I didn't bike. (That may be why Toronto no longer seems the Toronto of old: the sense impressions are different.) It's a weird sensation: forty years ago seems as distant and gone as the Anglo-Saxons themselves, but seems also as if the two once existed simultaneously.
