Feeling rather more ambitious than usual when I got home last night, I decided to make the trek down to Edgemont Village with the mutt. I was also rather motivated, I must admit, by the thought of indulging in my new favourite treat: the blackberry-peach scone at Starbucks. The hike up Mount Royal, stroll down Mosquito Creek, hike back up Mosquito Creek and walk back down Mount Royal were going to be enough of a workout to justify the empty calories of the scone.* There was also, the added bonus of walking by the firehall with the cute firemen not once, but twice, but I digress .....
So, off we went. Maggie had a great time running down the creek, swimming, frolicking, chasing sticks, etc. Got to Starbucks and settled in at an outside table with my decaf Americano (it was after 7, after all) and my yummy and much anticipated scone and cracked my new Vanity Fair. However, I was soon distracted by a lovely voice coming from behind me; male, with the most wonderful, soft and lilting Irish accent. I am an absolute sucker for an Irish accent. I virtually melt. I sat and listened for a while with images of Gabriel Byrne, Liam Neeson and Colin Farrell (not the obnoxious Colin Farrell, but the lovely Home at the End of the World Colin Farrell) floating in my head (the voice was behind me, so I couldn't see the face). I was actually smiling to myself as I listened, not so much for content (quite mundane, actually) but for the sound.
Coffee and scone complete, I got up to leave and came face to face with the voice: a pimply-faced adolescent. Sigh ....... another dream crushed.
*Welcome to another facet of my really exciting life: I have the need to justify pretty much everything that goes in my mouth, red wine excepted. Have done therapy and am much better, thanks.