Westminster School of Art did not open until September. When I was a little rested, a little steadier, I climbed the curving little iron stairways at the backs of omnibuses and, seated above the people, rode and rode, watching the writhe of humanity below me. I had never…
London was unbearable. August was exceptionally hot. Aunt Amelia lived in West Kensington—one of those houses in a straight row all alike and smeared with smug gentility. I felt the shackles of propriety pinch me before the door was shut. The six PG’s without one direct look…
The woman in the deck chair next to mine stroked a strand of red hair from her forehead with a freckled hand. “Oh, my head!” “Have my smelling bottle.” She took three long sniffs and then pointed the bottle across the deck. “Awful woman!”…
hosted, designed & maintained by Marilyn Jones for the walks & talks, bus tours and presentations she offers on Emily Carr in-person and online from Victoria, BC.
