Leslie(nova scotia)
Well-known member
Decided to celebrate my new appointment at a half way house (term position) by going out for a dig. Not a dig for clad nor quota, but for an old one! What better place to try then the "Dingle Park" which in reality is named after Sir Stanford Flemming in honour of the Scot who gave us standard time, helped build the Canadian railroad and for what I liked the most..... designing Canada's 3 pence beaver in 1851 which was our country's first postage stamp. Very famous man, who like all of us common folk have a "dark" side. At the entrance to the park the stone mason's did him up right picking on his two vices.
If you look at the stone carvings to the left with some degree of objectivity you will notice that it looks like a bottle. Fleming was known for his fondness of ale...vice number one! Now as for the right side, think of a part of the male anatomy that controls the "brain." Yes indeed he was a world class skirt chaser.
Driving to the main part of the park and settling in Donna Marie (Marie's car) I could not help but notice the natural beauty of the park and the tower erected to honour the parks name sake. Fitting.
The dig began as I took the northwest trail down the shore of the Northwest Arm along which many a French prisoner of the early war took when out on a gentleman's pass. They sold crafts and handwork to get extra food rations. Melville Island was in those days a military prison which is now home to the Armdale Yacht Club.
The path is fit for a mountain goat especially since Hurricane Juan which felled many a tree. I was going to give the knee a real work out. Modern penny. Modern dime. Another penny and then a watch but no oldy. By this time the pursuit had taken me far from the maddening crowd utilizing the park. A nature call.....Lord love a duck! No bathroom tissue, no leaves but ...yes a forest floor full of pine needles........painful but did the job. Sure my derriere looked like a porcupine after that. Slithered down the slope and washed my hands off in the water....sure that was a halibut lot more toxic than anything that came out of this bouy. All evidence was buried as I had no doggie dew bag.
Back on the hunt...a good signal from my backup Pro. Darn a clasp. Started to meander through the woods. Slipped! A banshee let out some ungodly howls...and a few choice words thrown in for good measure. I was done with this and limped back to the car. Done with the Dingle but I wanted an oldy!
The Button Hole....almost gone and refilled.
Twenty minutes later I had my oldy......button.
Now home safe but sore. Now its time to pull my 5 remaining strands of hair out as I try and set my new digital watch........of course that is after I clean out the tub full of pine needles.......oh joy!
If you look at the stone carvings to the left with some degree of objectivity you will notice that it looks like a bottle. Fleming was known for his fondness of ale...vice number one! Now as for the right side, think of a part of the male anatomy that controls the "brain." Yes indeed he was a world class skirt chaser.
Driving to the main part of the park and settling in Donna Marie (Marie's car) I could not help but notice the natural beauty of the park and the tower erected to honour the parks name sake. Fitting.
The dig began as I took the northwest trail down the shore of the Northwest Arm along which many a French prisoner of the early war took when out on a gentleman's pass. They sold crafts and handwork to get extra food rations. Melville Island was in those days a military prison which is now home to the Armdale Yacht Club.
The path is fit for a mountain goat especially since Hurricane Juan which felled many a tree. I was going to give the knee a real work out. Modern penny. Modern dime. Another penny and then a watch but no oldy. By this time the pursuit had taken me far from the maddening crowd utilizing the park. A nature call.....Lord love a duck! No bathroom tissue, no leaves but ...yes a forest floor full of pine needles........painful but did the job. Sure my derriere looked like a porcupine after that. Slithered down the slope and washed my hands off in the water....sure that was a halibut lot more toxic than anything that came out of this bouy. All evidence was buried as I had no doggie dew bag.
Back on the hunt...a good signal from my backup Pro. Darn a clasp. Started to meander through the woods. Slipped! A banshee let out some ungodly howls...and a few choice words thrown in for good measure. I was done with this and limped back to the car. Done with the Dingle but I wanted an oldy!
The Button Hole....almost gone and refilled.
Twenty minutes later I had my oldy......button.
Now home safe but sore. Now its time to pull my 5 remaining strands of hair out as I try and set my new digital watch........of course that is after I clean out the tub full of pine needles.......oh joy!
As an aside, I worked in a half way house about 5-6 years ago. Reading the files on those guys made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I was always conscious that my back wasn't to anyone after that. I caught one guy constantly peeking around a corner at the girls next door, he had a history of violence and a sex offense, he got reported. Another time I was waiting for a guy to show up. He did, and as he was walking to the front door about 3-4 marked and unmarked cars roared up and grabbed him, he was also a sex offender. I'm not trying to freak you out, but these were some of my experiences working at a half way house. Of course they are all different. Good luck.
I suppose that public situational awareness doesn't hurt at any place and any time. Such are the days we live in. This may be another reason why I enjoy the peace and solitude of the hobby, particularly while out in a field or in the bush.