I sat outside our local Tim Horton’s in the bright sunshine with my treat in a paper bag and my coffee in my hand. Some consider “Timmy’s” a Canadian treasure. I wouldn’t go that far. It’s more like an icon. Unless you head into the wilderness, you can find one within a couple miles of “anywhere” in the country.
“Timmy’s,” or “Tim’s” is famous for cheap coffee, cheap doughnuts and a distinctive ambiance of Canadian-casual. Named after Tim Horton, the famous Canadian hockey player who started the chain and then went broke, it’s a great place to retreat to, an oasis, you might say, from the busy world . It’s the kind of place where locals gather. There is no snootyness about Tim’s. Discussions range from curling and figure skating to the latest marijuana laws and when you get to the till everyone speaks their own language, eh, which is more basic than Starbucks. “I’ll have a double-double,” is about as fancy as it gets and that means two shots of cream and two shots of sugar. Many Tim’s are open for twenty-four hours and it’s darn hard not to feel comfortable in one. Kind of like Molly’s Reach.
Back to my coffee date:
My plan was to visit Timmy’s and write beats (i.e, plot points) for my latest, as yet unnamed, story
But I forgot my notebook.
I had packed it in a bag, but I took a different bag. No, I’m not excited about going to the conference in Vancouver this weekend. Much.
That left me at Timmy’s with a coffee, and a pen.
Inside, people lined up for their midday snack. Many were from the medical offices and labs on the street. Some dressed in scrubs, others in office-casual. A few colorful, street people dotted the lineup adding depth to the scene as if they were commas in a paragraph.
People talked loudly. I don’t get that. In Europe people talk quietly to one another in public places. But not here. They tend to yell. I’m not sure if they are hard of hearing, or whether it’s because they think whatever they have to say is so important it should be shared. Who knows? But it’s rudely loud, which makes it hard to concentrate. It’s not a favorite place for me to write.
I scored the best outside seat. Normally a group of four to eight, local bikers hold court there, but today it was all mine. The cement table looked like it hadn’t been cleaned this century, but I wasn’t about to complain. The sunshine burned into my skin and the air smelled sweet.
Across the street a line of Dogwood trees in bloom circled the old, city cemetery. Down the hill sailboats glided in the harbor. Beyond that lay Protection and Newcastle islands edged with arbutus and conifer trees. And in the distance the snow-topped, coastal mountains on the mainland spread across the horizon.
No laptop and no notebook…
So I wrote Haiku on a napkin. Not the best haiku. But does that matter?
The Canadian Sugar Rush
Double double eh
Maple Timbits and coffee
Bird Invasion @Timmy’s
Small, but determined
the bird edges towards me
hoping for my Timbit
Dogwoods in sunlight
Laden with white flowers, grace
Old tombstones in shade
The Timbit hands down. They are small circular doughnuts that would fit into the middle of a regular doughnut.
Each year the company supports legions of youngsters who play minor soccer. It’s called “Timbits Soccer.” I swear there’s nothing cuter than a herd of little ones in big Timbit shirts kicking soccer balls around.
And that was my writing date this week. I hope you all have a wonderful day.
Writing Quote for Inspiration
“I try to create sympathy for my characters, then turn the monsters loose.” ~ Stephen King
That should help me with my plot:)
Dogwood Photo Credit: https://www.thetreecenter.com/cloud-9-dogwood/