The Pancakes are delicious, whole grain with nuts and smothered, in my case in boysenberry syrup and Carl is having his drowned in maple. Lunch fit for a diabetic coma, and despite the upset of his mother being almost gravely ill and in hospital his appetite appears robust as ever. In fact, he could easily compete with our friend Carol for prowess in recreational gluttony. He hasn't said anything about his mother since leaving the hospital and I feel too discreet and compassionate to want to bring her up. What remains open is how are we going to spend the rest of the day. Carl wants to take us on a long tour drive of the entire Lower mainland of Greater Vancouver, and maybe stop somewhere that is quiet and in nature for a walk. I couldn't agree more. Then suddenly he says, his eyes lighting up like two candles in the dark, "Chris, I have a brilliant idea. Let's go to Victoria..."
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