ALL STARTED with a phone call.
Ida liked the west coast; she'd always wanted to live in Victoria; and now that she was retired and had time to spare, she was particularly glad to be living in a city where she could walk and cycle the whole year round.
Karen, who was on the bedroom extension, said the worst thing about the Prairies was the time it took to cross them; she only lived there because of the work; when she retired, she'd be jogging along behind Ida.
Karl, who for some reason was also on the bedroom extension, said that Toronto for him was like Montreal, except it was in black and white and dubbed: he saw, he understood, but he didn't enjoy it much.
Brenda, who, for convenience' sake, was sitting on my knee, said that the best kind of home town was the kind you took for granted.
"Does that also apply to men?" I asked.
Then Ida said: "We should publish a magazine. I'll do the film reviews. Karen can put her plays in it. Karl and Brenda can do the book reviews."
"What about me?"
"You, you funny old thing? You'll be the publisher," she said.

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