I work on the west island. Funny that they call it the west island, because it’s exactly the same island as the east island. What they mean when they say “the west island” is “the west part of the island.” Too many words, so it’s the west island, and that’s that.It doesn’t matter that I work there, except that it’s mostly English, the west island. The east island, which, as I said, is the east end of the island, is French. Wanna learn French? they say, go to the East Island and get lost. You’ll learn French fast. That’s what they say. I’ve never done it. I’ve not much been to the east island at all. The Olympic Stadium, around there. I’ve not been much beyond that. St. Leonard (pronounced Lee-o-nard). I don’t know if that counts. I never know around here.
Anyway, the west island. The street is called Des Sources, which means springs. Spring water is eau de source. The Des is just to confuse you, like Des O’Connor. It takes me a while to get there. There is no direct route. I have to take a bus to the Metro station, and that’s east, more or less (less, it’s really northeast). Then the Metro goes north (north west on a map) and another bus takes me west, which is southwest. You see? It’s confusing.
That last bus, it takes the autoroute. That’s another French word, “autoroute.” It means freeway, but nobody here says “freeway.” Ever. It’s an autoroute. Period. Anyway, it gets on the autoroute until Sources, then takes a right. But there’s this one driver, he keeps missing the turnoff. Then everyone starts yelling at him. “Everyone” in this case means one person. And no, it’s not me. But he comes back round, and he doesn’t miss any stops, and it only takes an extra 4 minutes or so, so we all forgive him.
I’d like to tell you more about the west island, where I work, but I hide inside because it’s winter and I don’t feel like going out in the cold. So far I’ve discovered the pharmacy across the street (kind of pathetic for its franchise) and the bank, because I use the ATM. And there is a service station next door, and I get coffee there sometimes, and glossette raisins. Down Sources and to the right there is a kind of mall that I’ve been to, and not far from there is a place where I got my hair cut a while back. There are parks in the area that are waiting to be discovered, and who knows what else.
Inside, though, is where I usually find myself, and when I’m not actually working, then I’m in the kitchen, which, believe me, isn’t too exciting. My employers, they are nice, and they supply us with fruit – apples, oranges, grapes, midget pairs, bananas. So there is fruit on the table, and a newspaper, The Globe And Mail, and that’s where I spend my lunch hour.
So, to sum up, the VSL Poltroon is back, and he will be giving seminars on how to write about absolutely nothing…
