Incomer musings

By Louise Froggett

Anyone who lives in James Bay knows it’s windy, especially along Dallas Road.  Many an evening has been accompanied by the thumping of the windows and rattling of the balcony door while a westerly pounds the front of our building.  We know how to handle it now, but it wasn’t always that way.

We moved into our apartment at the beginning of November on a clear autumn day that looked like it belonged in a travel brochure.  Because the movers stack boxes everywhere, and you soon run out of space, we instructed them to take a few things out onto the balcony; things that would not be damaged by potential rain.

So, after breakfast on our first morning, I stepped out onto the balcony to bask in the view (an eagle had just flown by…ahh) and just breathe in the sea air.  Marvelous!  But, it was time to get to work, so I glanced around pondering where to start in the organization our new place.  Out there on the balcony were a few boxes, our four outdoor chairs neatly stacked, and the table.  The table!  OMG, where’s the table?  Sitting quietly there are the legs for the table, a metal white-painted configuration of three, which should have a nice hunter green top clamped onto it.  My grandmother gave us this table as an engagement gift 40+ years ago and now, it’s gone!

By now, I’m envisioning catastrophic damage to vehicles parked on the street, so I crept to the edge of the balcony and quickly looked around.  I’m trying to remember if I heard car alarms during the night.  Good, no vehicular damage.  But there is the table, eight floors down, flattened onto the grass.  I flew inside the apartment and grabbed my husband’s arm, “Quick, quick, go down onto the lawn and get the table top before somebody sees it.  It did a frisbee off the balcony during the night and we don’t want to get into trouble.  We came 4,500kms to be here and we’re going to get evicted from our apartment after only one day!”

Dutifully, he threw on his shoes and rushed from the apartment.  I watched from above as he crept around the end of the front walkway and tiptoed across the lawn.  He picked up the table top, scurried back into the building and rushed up to the apartment.

The table top was a mess; it looked like it had been dragged six blocks behind a pedicab.  Now, we didn’t know what to do with it; how to store it so it would be safe.  In the end, we jammed the table legs into the corner of the balcony, laid the table top flat on the floor and put the stack of chairs on top of it.  That should do it.  Whew! Close call!

Today, the only thing that’s on our balcony is the stack of chairs, lying down.  There’s a reason for their prone position but that’s a story for another day.