After a long afternoon in the garden -- weeding, planting, a little edge maintenance – I whipped up a sandwich, cracked a beer and plonked myself down on the couch.
Turned on the TV, and there, like an old friend, was Hockey Night in Canada. Jersey at Montreal.
The senescent Bob Cole was calling the game, getting things wrong, as usual, but still capable of Twitter-perfect poetry. My favorite line: “He was bumped, the Devil’s Gill.”