Nuit Blanche, the ‘sleepless night,’ spread across the city of Toronto after dark yesterday, with eighty art installations open from dusk until dawn, and tens of thousands, despite the autumn chill, expected to throng the streets downtown.

This year we took a different direction, heading up the hill behind us to the Wychwood Barns art centre, and then on to the Spadina Museum. Instead of crowds, we found families with small children, peaceably exploring the exhibits at Wychwood, and later, in the deep dark gardens of the museum, were delighted by the light displays in the foliage, the whimsical ghosts and witches, the play of art and science in the installations.

We were out and about for longer than we thought – it was after eleven when we got back to the house, after walking a good couple of kilometres, up Christie, along Saint Clare, back again along Davenport. And here’s the thing: all you felt and saw about you was quiet pleasure and restrained contentment. Or as Canadians like to say, peace, order, and good government. And in that, deeper and more profound sense, I came home last night with a renewed sense of attachment to this country, and appreciation both for what it offers and of its good fortune – notwithstanding my intense distaste for this, particular, Government.

It may be a cheek, coming from me – but this government seems so – so unCanadian.

I guess that means that the Canadian inoculation is taking hold in me, too, eh, after nearly three years in the country?