So I had to go to Nanaimo for a specialist’s appointment. Well it was that one hot day this week and I was steaming even before I got onto the ferry.

So I was in no mood for shenanigans. So what do you think happens? I go and sit in one of the passenger cabins, out of the sun, and then I have to watch these two love birds all but culminate their passion right there in front of me.

None of the rest of the passengers seemed to mind, but I did. I don’t know how they could even bear to touch each other, it was so hot out. I guess your temperature control is different when you are younger. I forget. It’s been so long.

But I digress.

I want to know why I have to put up with this, in a public place. Can  you do anything, Gabby?

Yours truly,

Disgusted

Dear Disgusted:

I agree, dear, it’s a wonder they could even bear to have anyone else’s hot flesh pressed up against them like that, but what can you do? Did you notice whether anyone had their phone on, taking pictures? It would be interesting to have a look….

Dear Gabby:

I hate maple trees. I loathe their pointy leaves and I am dismayed that Canada chose to have such a vulgar plant as its national emblem. They are all over the place on this island. You don’t even have to plant them, they’re such weeds. And in the fall the dead leaves infest my fish pond and I have to drag them out and upset my fish, who don’t like anyone poking around in their water. I know you can’t do anything about it, but I just had to tell someone, and you seem pretty sympathetic, most of the time. What can I do?

Sincerely,

Maple hater

Dear hater:

Set up a syrup farm. Make the buggers earn their keep.

Dear Gabby:

Remember me, with the invisible friend who used to be my son’s girlfriend? I know you won’t approve, but I just had to go back to Spain to find Greta. I had this strange feeling that she was in trouble, somehow.

So when I arrived, there she was, on a street corner in Madrid, close to the place I remembered seeing her last, and she was sitting on the sidewalk looking forlorn and lost, poor thing. Her invisible boyfriend had left her, just a few days before I arrived.

Obviously, Greta and I are psychically connected – why else would I know she needed help? So now she’s back here with me.

We couldn’t be happier. But there is one thing – her boyfriend in Spain taught her to swear something fierce.  Granted, it’s in Spanish, but I get the gist from the tone. She won’t tell me what’s making her swear either. What can I do?

Sincerely,

Greta’s eternal friend

Dear Eternal friend:

Have patience. Greta has been traumatised by a love gone wrong. Sad, really.

For obvious reasons The Flying Shingle tries never to disagree with our Dear Gabby, but unfortunately sometimes we do.