Columns

Long-disappeared Bosworth was once a place of importance. 

St. Valentine’s day turns our minds to thinking about love and faith.

Last Sunday, Charlotte Broome very generously passed on to me a bag of old newspapers, clippings and other fascinating historical items that had been accumulated by her mother, the late Edith Broome, who served as Elora’s librarian in the 1960s to the early 1980s.

I am so excited for this weekend I’m not sure how I’ll get through the next few days with any focus, except that of wishing time would fly faster, because this coming weekend promises several rough spectator sports, like watching the Carpenter sit through the Super Bowl. 

To start this story, I must explain I don’t like to be late.

Rejection is a part of life that, in my experience, can make you or break you. It’s your choice. 

Maryborough council held its opening session for 1856 on Jan. 21. 

“And there happened to be there a man of Belial, whose name was Sheba, the son of Bichri, a Benjamite: and he blew a trumpet, and said, We have no part in David, neither have we inheritance in the son of Jesse: every man to his tents, O Israel.

The best defence is a good offence, they say, so this is my defence for why I placed third-last in my inaugural NFL Pool contest: I had no idea what I was doing. 

As an illustration for a recent column on Hustonville I used an 1870 letter sent from the post office in that vanished hamlet. This week, I want to take a closer look at that document.

There is an old saying: “Be careful what you wish for, you may just get it.” 

Occupying a prominent place at the high point on Geddes Street, St. Mary’s Roman Catholic Church has been one of the most prominent Elora landmarks since it was built in 1870. 

Don’t rush to judgement on this, but every night since Christmas I’ve gone to bed with Geddy Lee, the lead singer of Canadian rock band Rush.

I recently read in a scientific journal that scientists are discovering that from deep in the universe they are receiving radio waves.

I began writing this column from my bed a week ago, propped up with pillows, tucked between my flannel polar bear sheets and my duvet.