Life takes some curious turns. The phones at the airport were in demand because few could get a cell-phone signal and everyone was trying to organise accommodation or reschedule flights. The Crowne Plaza was full, and we have yet to see if the insurance will cover for the missed nights at Ottawa and Vancouver. But Stan became a knight in shining armour. (Don’t mention his lance…) He offered to let us stay with him. We caught the shuttle bus to the car park and Maggie began her impressive logistical feat of repacking from High Arctic to Stockholm via London. I have never seen more scrunched up suitcase contents, but she manages to look good. Then we had to pick up her briefing papers which had been mailed to the hotel she should have been at, and we had a glimpse of her work as Chair of the Global Water Partnership. High-powered work indeed. And we dropped her at the Departure gate. Stan drove the back roads to Wakefield and he explained that there were, 10 years ago, 22 working farms between Wakefield and Ottawa – now there are none. The house is modern, large and set in 12 acres of woodland. They have two cute beagles; one is new from the rescue because a coyote or a fisher (large weasel-thing) killed their last. We went to dinner at ‘Le Pot au Feu’ with one of Stan’s friends, Rosanda. He plucked her from a crowd outside the church being filmed by CBC. They have an anti-AIDS twinning arrangement with a small town in Africa and there’s a big conference in Ottawa this week. The town is something of a retreat for famous folk – Mike Beddel I’d heard of. We walked the dogs in the grounds before our traditional nightcap.