No, I’m sorry, but the fireworks at Ontario Place suck serious donkey balls. So much so that even my photos of them suck.

I’m usually not a sucker for fireworks anyway, but when I went to see them last year at Ashbirdge’s Bay I accidentally stumbled on a spot that literally knocked my lid off. I mean, I’m sure they look great from the beach; the reason I know is because I heard the mighty cheers that arose from there with every new volley of thunder. I do not exaggerate when I say it sounded like a rock concert or a horde of vikings, and I was sitting entirely elsewhere.

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If ever there was a doubt that Canada is still under the British monarchic yoke, you need look no further than up. Well, today anyway. Those explosions happening overhead aren’t even for a living Queen, they’re for Victoria who kicked the bucket at the turn of the last century.

But I don’t wanna get down on old Vickie. For a dusty old monarch she and her kids have barely flexed their muscles in Canada, and if it wasn’t for her we’d all be at work today. Plus the old gal was kind enough to lend her name to the standard Canadian unit of beer, the two-fer (as in, “Happy May two-fer weekend!”, which also goes swimmingly with this time of year.

So thanks for the day off, Vics! We’ll be doing it up for you proper today, not like those crappy fireworks at Ontario Place last night (above).

Maybe there was something in the air up there because I was in bed before ten almost every night! *yawner*

Maybe it was the journey there. Bo-o-o-ring.

Thank goodness for the tinted windows inside the car. It made the unsightly earth bulges a bit more bearable.

Maybe what did me in was the trip I took with a gentleman who I think has the capacity to create death rays or teleporters in his spare time, my brother-in-law’s brother. The brobro. Very interesting individual. It’s a rare treat that one gets to discuss the impending attack of zombies and how one might protect oneself from said attack. He has excellent theories, and because they’re so excellent, I’m not sharing.

I must also say that his idea for this year’s Halloween costume is probably one of the best ones I’ve heard of in years. He really thought outside the box on this one. Well, he’s ordering it online, but what a great find! I sure hope I get a few snaps of it but until the day it’s revealed, it’s another top-secret project.

Basically, it was a genuine pleasure to hike and chat with him.

When we could talk, that is. Nature saw to it that that sole pleasure was interrupted as often as possible.

The trail had some warmup rock climbing and then hours of trudging through the goddam forest:

The narrow footpath wasn’t always well-marked, so it was easy to wander into some ghetto hoods:

What is that, moss? Isn’t that a fungus? Gross.

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Old Vickie had a blast on her birthday yesterday. Here’s a blow-by-blow:

“Albert! What on earth are you doing?”

“Birthday nosh, what?”

“Oh….Albert! Mmmmm….yes…right there…”

“That attachment…uhn…we had installed…unh…is proving…unh…quite effect…URK!”

“Heavens!”

“…”

“Oh, Albert. This is why you’ll never be king.”