Every summer, we have a little regatta, or sailing race, up at our cottage. It’s organized by either our household, or John’s sister’s, and we invite anyone with a sailboat to take part. The term “sailboat” is used rather loosely, as the race is open to anything that is propelled by wind, which is to say dinghies, windsurfers, or canoes with bed sheets. You can make your own vessel, if you have the inclination. Furthermore, the competition also includes a Best Costume category, and, at the ensuing cocktail party, the highly coveted prize for Best Hors D’oeuvre. It’s not exactly America’s Cup, but we’ve been doing this for 15 years, and it has become, at least as far as we are concerned, the highlight of the cottage season.

We have a trophy: the Pistol’s Cove Cup, named after our little bay, which is itself (unofficially) named after John’s grandfather, Everett “Pistol” Bristol. If this all sounds incredibly Old Ontario Cottage Establishment, it may well be, but I assure you it could have just as easily been called the Hoser Bay Cup, and come with a case of beer, and everyone would go home happy.

Anyway, it fell to me this year to update the Cup, which is inscribed with each year’s winner. It also needed to be repaired, as the sailboat part on top of the cup had snapped off. As such, I took it down to the city. The trophy place I usually use had gone out of business, so I located another one, in Yorkville of all places. I had a doctor’s appointment in the area, so I thought I would get everything taken care of in one afternoon. I parked in what’s now known as Yorkville Village, and put the trophy, which is about 2 feet tall and weighs about 10 pounds, under my arm. The trophy place was farther than I expected, and I got more than a few strange looks as I trotted through Toronto’s toniest shopping area, toting a giant piece of competition hardware. As it turned out, the trophy place did not exist, and now I was late for my doctor’s appointment. There was no time to go back to the parking garage, so I had no choice but to take the trophy with me to the doctor’s.

Which I did. I sat with it on my lap in the waiting room. I got a few sidelong glances, but no one asked me about it, and I didn’t volunteer any information. The doctor, when he saw me, only raised an eyebrow, and asked me if a keychain might be a slightly more discreet way of displaying my accomplishments. I told him medicine’s gain was clearly comedy’s loss.

I then took my trophy to the grocery store, because at this point why not. I pushed it around in the child’s seat of the cart. If anyone looked at me strangely, I just pointed to the trophy, then to myself and gave them the thumbs up. I told the cashier I had just won Best Shopper. She was not impressed.

I found another trophy place in Etobicoke, and the Pistol’s Cove Cup is now in the shop. I pick it up this week, and the regatta is on the long August weekend. I hope the repaired cup looks good, otherwise we will be hosting the Pistol’s Cove Keychain and Case of Beer.

 

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