John Mahoney

Hemingway slept in our bed

CHARLOTTETOWN, PEI | Hemingway slept in our bed. It's a large bed, massively crafted of dark, heavy wood. Solid, enduring, a place in which to dream of short, penetrating sentences on a firm mattress.

The Silver Fox is not fond of Hemingway's bed nor the large, ell-shaped room which it dominates, here in the Hillhurst Inn. Far too masculine and rugged.

As a committed man-ist, I heartily disagree.

She likes the spa-tub, however. On this, we are as one.

Last night we attended Stan Rogers: A Matter of Heart at the Confederation Centre of the Arts.

Misterman, that musical homage to the late Stan Rogers is two hours of non-stop quality singing and acting.

Four names to watch for: Terry Hatty, Dan MacKay, Frank MacKay, and Charlotte Moore.

If you love Barrett's Privateers you'll clap and stomp throughout this show. If you don't know Rogers' music, haul your unknowing arse to the nearest music store and smarten yourself up.

Before the show we dined -- that's what we did -- we dined at Off Broadway, a tiny restaurant next to The Olde Dublin Pub where we had lunch.

The pub's grub is good and the whiskey fine. A repeat visit is in store.

But, Off Broadway serves the finest chow I've ever had. Baked brie with a raspberry coulis, chicken breast with a strawberry/balsamic vinegar sauce, garlic mash...a truly vicious chocolate crepe stuff with all manner of delectables...all washed down with a glass of rouge from Down Under.

Staying over tonight. Taking the ferry to Pictou, Nova Scotia on Sunday. Greater Charlottetown lies before us today.

Re: Hemingway. Ernest didn't sleep in our bed. But Judy says the bed looks like a line of heavy-duty furniture that's very popular and marketed as the Hemingway line. So -- it's a stretch, but that's about as close as I'll get to Papa.

Gotta go...

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