On Saturday I left Nulli, Ma Belle Soeur, Peanut and Popcorn in Quebec and travelled by train back to Toronto, where I found my Mum and Dad.
On Sunday I walked through the beautiful snowfall to my first sister's place--given a lift part of the way by a friendly bus-driver with an empty bus--and went with her, my nephew Pirate and Pirate's friend Joseph downtown for brunch with my dearest Tricia. After traditional Canadian brunch, Trish left to provide music to a Finnish Lutheran baptismal service and the rest of us drove to Holy Family Parish, home of the Toronto Sunday Missa Cantata.
I warned the boys that this was Traditional Mass and that communion was received on the tongue while kneeling and hinted strongly that confession was available all through Mass, but I forgot to remind them that it was in Latin. Fortunately, I commandeered a second row so that they would have a good view of the action in the sanctuary. Although the snow reduced the usual numbers, there were positively flocks of altar servers and Oratorians. There was a priest, deacon and sub-deacon in rich purple as it was Septuagesima. From the distracted gaze of the littlest altar servers, I correctly divined that Pirate was wriggling a little, but however he felt, I was delighted to be at Trad Mass with my sister and nephew. Usually when I am at home my family stubbornly adheres to the local parish, weep weep.
Afterwards my sister dropped me off near my friend Lily's house, where I had a cup of tea and a chat before taking the metro (as it is never called here) to the iconic Dooney's (now at Ossington and Bloor) to have lunch with the poet Clara Blackwood.
Tertia and Pirate rejoined us for dinner, as did my youngest sister Quinta, and I was somewhat startled by the sound of six people thundering out Grace Before Meals. I was almost tempted to chime in "And God bless our lord the king" at the end. One can only imagine the noise and force of a large Catholic family praying the Rosary!
This evening I am going to Tertia and Pirate's karate class. Gradually my family is becoming as enamored of karate as it is of languages. I wonder if B.A. would like karate. Apparently it is a great sport for those who hate sports.