The game / compiled by W.C. Lougheed for the Strathy Language Unit
| dc.contributor | Fee, Margery Strathy Language Unit Queen's U |
| dc.contributor.author | Dryden, Ken, 1947- |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2018-07-27 |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2019-07-04T11:04:10Z |
| dc.date.available | 2019-07-04T11:04:10Z |
| dc.date.created | 1983 |
| dc.date.issued | 1991-09-09 |
| dc.identifier | ota:0596 |
| dc.identifier.citation | http://purl.ox.ac.uk/ota/0596 |
| dc.identifier.uri | http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.12024/0596 |
| dc.description.abstract | In English Title from title page of source text |
| dc.format.extent | Text data between 512 KB and 1 MB Contains markup characters |
| dc.format.medium | Digital bitstream |
| dc.language | English |
| dc.language.iso | eng |
| dc.publisher | University of Oxford |
| dc.relation.ispartof | Legacy Collection Digital Museum |
| dc.rights | Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. |
| dc.rights.uri | http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/ |
| dc.rights.label | PUB |
| dc.subject.lcsh | Autobiographies -- Canada -- 20th century |
| dc.subject.other | Autobiographies |
| dc.title | The game / compiled by W.C. Lougheed for the Strathy Language Unit |
| dc.type | Text |
| has.files | yes |
| branding | Oxford Text Archive |
| files.size | 656001 |
| files.count | 2 |
| otaterms.date.range | 1900-1999 |
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<1"The trouble with people like us who start so fast>1
. . . <1is that we soon have no place left to go.">1
--Pomeroy in Joseph Heller's Good as Gold
"<1I leave before being left. I decide.">1
--Brigitte Bardot
MONTREAL
I HEAR SOMETHING AND STIR THEN SQUINT OPEN MY EYES
The room is filled with the morning sun. Sarah, aged four, appears
and quickly disappears, shuffling noisily from room to room in her
snowsuit, looking for something, apparently with no success.
Downstairs, in a whispered shout, my wife Lynda tells her to hurry
up. I look at the clock in the alcove beside me. It is 8:51. I start to
get up, then I hear Sarah going down the stairs. I yell goodbye to
her, and she yells a reply. I lie back, close my eyes, but I don't sleep.
It has been a short, restless night, yet I feel wonderfully
refreshed. The sun, the crisp white sheets, a quilt pulled up to my ;
nose--I'm filled with an enormous sense of well-being and for
several moments I don't know why. Then I rem . . .
