Blogue d'un québécois expatrié en Angleterre. Comme toute forme d'autobiographie est constituée d'une large part de fiction, j'ai décidé de nommer le blogue Vraie Fiction.
Wednesday, 16 July 2014
From Montreal to this English town
Yesterday, I went to an outdoor concert performed by the local orchestra (their first in their existence). My wife plays in it, so I might blog about it more another day. The concert was set in one of the nearby pubs that this little town is full of. It is one of the most modern pubs and it has a lovely beer garden, where the concert was taking place. I met at total random one of my neighbours, one who used to feed Odin with his wife and who said this great unknown line. Anyway, he was there with his wife and as they are warm and friendly, they paid me the drinks (mineral water as I was too tired for alcohol) and would have paid me a meal had I not eaten already. They are very sociable, the man even more than the woman, they talk to everyone, know everyone. And he already knew that one of the barmaids was Canadian, he didn't know from where, but she was Canadian and so on, so he insisted on introducing her to me, as if she'd been an old friend of theirs since forever. People in England often think Canadians know each other, or are from the same place. Anyway, she is actually from Nova Scotia, which I have never been to. Although I do have an ancestor from there (a great-grandfather to be precise). But, more importantly, she lived three years in Montreal where she studied at McGill, where my own brothers used to study. But she is too young to have known them, and she did not study the same thing anyway. That said, I found it slightly surreal, one of these moments when I remember how small this planet is and when everyone from everywhere seems to end up in this small English town.