Yesterday Ceri and I knocked about various places, and it was a most enjoyable day. We had a late breakfast and then headed out to Daisy Antiques, a place my mother and I used to visit regularly when I was a kid. Not much has changed, and certainly not Daisy herself; she looks exactly the same way she did when I last saw her twenty years ago.

Ceri and I had great fun climbing all over the multi-floor shop with its never-ending series of rooms filled with lovely things. We saved the wraparound porch for last, because that’s where the antique spinning wheels were. (The porch was always the best part when I was a kid, too.) And with a bit of poking and jury-rigging we dragged them out and tested all four (well, one wasn’t testable beyond treadling because the spindle was broken) and found them all in remarkably decent shape. They’d all need work before they could be used, of course; proper drive bands made for them, sanding down or filling in of gashes on bobbins, oiling and replacing of the bands or cups holding the spindle assembly, tensioning knobs replaced, flyer hooks straightened or replaced, and so forth. But they were all pretty solid. And the price was attractive, too; Daisy said they were all around $350, but she’d sell them for two.

Then I paid for a 1927 copy of Kipling’s Puck of Pook’s Hill I’d found on a shelf upstairs; I couldn’t pass it up because when I picked it up it fell open to the page with “A Tree Song” on it (and somehow I haven’t managed to read it, and it occurs to me that I don’t think I actually own any Kipling, how odd). Daisy began talking to us about books and she took us into a locked room where she had some gorgeous little books dating from the late 17th century. Ceri and I petted them and cooed over them. And as Ceri was wearing her Great Sax t-shirt, Daisy asked if she played, and the conversation turned to music. It seems that Daisy’s son is a pro sax player.

The things one learns, really.

Daisy also talked to us about estate sales. I think she’d seen and heard us being appreciative of the things we saw and the history they held as we wandered around the shop “Have you ever been to one?” she asked. No, we hadn’t we said, and she said, “Oh, they’re great fun.” A great way to pick up housewares and furniture and books at very good prices, she said, because the point of the sale is to clear the house, not to get the best price one can for them. She has one coming up in my borough in the next couple of weeks, so she gave us her card and told us to watch her website. It sounds like fun; we’ll see if we’re in town for it.

After heading out to Ariadne we had lunch together in the little tea shop behind the quilting store in Pointe-Claire village, and then I had to flee in order to try to get the day’s work finished. The service at lunch was very slow, which didn’t help.

Over lunch, Ceri and I talked about Worldcon (she’s not going either, which relieves me and makes me feel less guilty about choosing to miss it), and we touched on different things about writing and process and general approach. And I thought of two ways I could start Orchestrated, and Ceri suggested a different spin for one of them, so after the boy was in bed and I’d had a bath I curled up in bed with my notebook and wrote out two possible openings for it. Reading Graham Swift’s Making an Elephant was inspirational, too. There were a couple of turns of phrase in it that sent my mind off in new directions and pulled the what-if along a different route. It was nice to be interested in it again.

And now, out for lunch and groceries and bank and stuff.