The House of All Sorts could not have been quite itself in any other spot in the world than just where it stood, here, in Victoria, across James’ Bay and right next to Beacon Hill Park. The house was built on part of the original property my father had…

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One day our father and his three girls were going over James Bay Bridge in Victoria. We met a jolly-faced old Indian woman with a little fair-haired white boy about as old as I was. Father said, “Hello, Joey!”, and to the woman he said:  “How are you getting…

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Victoria’s top grandness was the Driard Hotel; all important visitors stayed at the Driard. To sit in crimson plush armchairs in enormous front windows and gaze rigid and blank at the dull walls of the opposite side of View Street so close to the Driard Hotel that they squinted…

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