Page 239 - Michael Frost-Voyages to Maturity-23531.indd

remembered that my career hitherto had consisted of going to hot, or at least
warm, places. This place was colder than anything that I had yet experienced,
even in Britain, where the Gulf Stream kept things relatively warm in all but the
coldest weather. As a result, I took to going underground, where I found the
Metro to be far superior to the Underground; clean as a whistle, running quietly
on rubberised wheels, and with shops and warmth that belied the severe weather
outside. This interlude I enjoyed; at last I was on the last leg (of life/the journey?).
The train itself was not by any means luxurious, but better appointed than any
British train of my experience, and less crowded than expected.

This was a three-day trip, but I was surprised how slowly we travelled, and to a
degree, how big is Canada; we seemed to take forever to go around northern Lake
Superior (which looked as cold as sin) and then eventually arrive in Saskatoon,
where I thought that I would step off the train and buy a paper. I took one step
off the train and stepped right back – this place was absolutely freezing! It made
Montreal seem tropical.

Of the train itself, I had no complaints, the food being more than adequate,
the domed car absorbing, and the sleeping quarters quite acceptable. The transit
through the Rockies was disappointing because it was at nighttime, but I felt quite
under the weather anyway (psychological pressures by then having overtaken me).

We arrived at about 10:00 am on November 25th, and of course, there she
was waiting for me, dressed, I am sure very deliberately, in a smart red suit,
looking her best. We went to her apartment. There now occur, of course, a few
terminological changes; ‘apartment’ for ‘flat’, ‘pants’ for ‘trousers’ (though much
of Britain thinks differently), ‘trunk’ for ‘boot’ and the like. A smart apartment
greeted me, we lunched on shrimp vol-au-vent, and, beautifully planned, Judith
returned to work … an excellent idea.

The domestic arrangements were perfect, with a sitting room tastefully
decorated in a light brown, and a bright and airy bedroom that could have
brought some parental problems … had they been around. In fact, the
Shepherds were by that time in Jamaica, where Mr Shepherd was in a job very
similar to that which he had enjoyed in Colombo. I had no unpacking to do,
my luggage being brought by CP to me later that afternoon, so I relaxed, at least
to the extent possible, until Judith returned from work. We quickly went out,
however, because her boss, something of a bon vivant, had suggested that the
best place for such an occasion was Hys’ Prime Rib, where he was a friend of
the head waiter. I, frankly, was not much interested in roast beef, as in English
cuisine roast beef was brownish, toughish and thinnish, but it would have been
churlish to point this out.

And thank goodness that I didn’t! This was one of the finest meals that I had

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