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Day 20

On our last day in Vancouver, we took a final walk in Stanley Park. On the previous evening, Althegal had mentioned that The Lost Lagoon was a pretty place and wondered if we had seen it yet. She had given us an idea of its general location, so we set off to find it. As it turned out, the lagoon was, indeed, a little bit lost because we had some trouble finding it. Even after obtaining directions from a passing cyclist, we were thwarted by various access paths being temporarily fenced off. On good days, I have a bit of a nose for directions, so I kept on heading where I thought it might be, and I eventually saw it off to my left and exclaimed to Cuppa that we had found The Lost Lagoon.

Unfortunately, even on her very best day, Cuppa has no sense of direction. In point of fact, I have never come across any mortal with a worse sense of direction. So, when I pointed out that the lagoon was no longer lost, she wailed rather desperately, “Yes, but where are we?” You see, because of her lack of directional sense, she becomes a trifle rattled when she doesn’t know exactly where she is and how to get home from there. Did I say “trifle rattled?” That, my friend is a trifle of an understatement.

But I did get her there, and we sat at this lovely spot for a while and looked at the fountain, the geese and ducks (see top photo), and even two swans that paddled by (see next photo).

Day 20

As lovely as it was, however, the apprehensive lady was not really enjoying herself (see her anxious posture below).

Day 20

So, I didn’t keep her there very long before beginning to guide her back home: except I took a route other than the one we came in on, along interior streets rather than the familiar path by the bay. This did not assuage her perturbed state in the least, for she became more lost than ever. It didn’t help too much that I was reasonably sure of our position because unwilling was I to state it categorically with 100% assuredness. There were times when she was rather desperate to ask someone of our whereabouts, but I refused. I am a male and have some pride after all.

Well, it turned out that I did know where we were and was able to escort her ladyship back to the safe confines of the apartment. It was all quite straightforward really.The next day, however, when we arrived in Ottawa after a long flight which included a transfer in Toronto, we discovered that one of our pieces of luggage didn’t make the transfer and was headed to Halifax. It was my luggage as a matter of fact.

The triumvirate was complete: Lost Lagoon, Lost Lady, and Lost Luggage.

Cross posted to Raindrops.

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