This week, I’m spending the days in Goderich at the annual Celtic College, learning new tunes. In the past, Edmund and I always found a hotel or a B&B, but this year I decided to sleep at home in Stratford, a mere 75 km down Highway 8 from the locus in quo. Bad idea. Too much driving when I’m learning a lot, and I get very, very tired.

Again, I am reminded how much more fun everything used to be. When Edmund died, my life got turned down to five, sometimes three.