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The Pantaloons of Oscar Wilde

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Days 138-140 have been bookish. Bought a Kindle after my friend Pouncipher raved about its glories, only to discover not a single e-book I'm the slightest bit interested in reading is available in Canada, so printed out the return address slips and will be sending it back to Kentucky. Luckily whoever ripped the seat off my ladybike while I was away in Halifax did not happen to notice that UPS had left the Kindle and its red leather case outside on my doorstep. But there have been more successful bookish events - in Halifax Annabel was awarded the Thomas Head Raddall Atlantic Fiction Award - a huge honour - and the Writers' Federation of Nova Scotia was very kind - I met some beautiful souls, took my first trip on the Halifax-Dartmouth ferry in seaweedy fog that seemed lovely to me because I haven't been steeped in it for a month, and slept in The Waverley Inn, Barrington Street's  grand, old-fashioned and glorious piece of historic Halifax, where Oscar Wilde once stayed. I knew as soon as my taxi pulled up outside the glittering doors that there was something outrageously elegant about the place: Can't you see Oscar's green velvet pantaloons disappearing up the staircase?

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On May 21st, 2011 12:19 pm (UTC), (Anonymous) commented:
Yay for Annabel!
I love your seaweedy fog--though, as you say, you haven't lived with it for a month. What a swank, old stylish hotel!
Is UPS allowed to leave packages on the doorstep?
Theft of bicycle seats is rampant this time of year. I don't worry about mine since the squirrels chewed off part of it--not the part I need for seating, just enough to make it look like garbage.
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