This blog’s occasional Canadian correspondent, Anna Smith, lives in Vancouver. I have never been there, but it seems commendably eccentric. In the past, she has mentioned a rather disconcertingly high incidence of disembodied human feet being found locally.
Yesterday, I received a Christmas Day message from Anna. It read:
Another human foot was found a couple of weeks ago. I don’t want to bore your readers by reporting every single foot that is found locally but, in this case, the police issued advice that – if people find human remains – they should not take them home and then call the police but, rather, call the police first and leave the feet where they found them.
Anna continued:
Anna is fine; the weather is not
On Christmas Eve, I was at a bus stop in downtown Victoria (across from Vancouver).
I had just missed the No 7 bus and found a spot on the bench beside a nicely dressed older lady who had two canes. I chatted with her about the bus timetable but the conversation suddenly veered to the subject of the voices she hears in her room and she held forth for the next 20 minutes about radios, answering machines and overhearing her neighbours.
I realised she was probably schizophrenic, so I listened to her patiently.
A heavy snow had been falling. Now there was a snowstorm. Some of the buses were having difficulty steering and were sliding into the kerb.
As the lady continued talking I noticed an outlandishly dressed older man in conversation with a couple of his friends. The man had his white hair pulled into a ponytail and he was wearing a white cowboy hat adorned with a shiny red glass Christmas ornament in front and a plume of white ostrich feather sticking out the back like a rooster tail. Combined with his own ponytail, it looked as if he had two tails sticking out of his head.
A tall man with a white moustache and wearing an anorak joined us on the bench.
The lady with the voices dropped one of her canes in the snow and the man with the white moustache picked it up and asked me to hold it while he helped her organise her shopping bags.
He said: “I am headed home to Campbell House. If you are considering moving to Victoria, you should move into Campbell House – the rent is subsidised for disabled people and it is only a ten minute walk from the library.”
A stout lady wearing sweat pants and her coat unbuttoned despite the snowstorm looked admiringly at the guy.
He asked her loudly: “I wonder what Ambrose Bierce would have to say about all THIS… Ambrose Bierce,” he repeated. “He wrote The Devil’s Dictionary. What a great book! If only I had not loaned it to somebody. It is an incredible book and I can’t even remember who I loaned it to… probably it was the devil himself.”
Hen milk is a Canadian delicacy
It seemed like everybody waiting for the No 7 bus was a bit crazy. But that made sense.
Most people were home with their families on Christmas Eve, but odd people – possibly alienated from their families – were more likely to be out and about.
I am wrapping presents at the moment, doing my laundry (it’s a Christmas tradition) and, later on, I will dress as an elf and go for dinner at my sister’s place. We may drink hen milk.
Hen milk is a favourite Canadian delicacy at this time of year.
SO IT GOES - John Fleming's blog 
I occasionally hear about the floating feet (I am Canadian, which is likely a factor,) but this is the second time in about a week that I’ve heard about them. Though if one was found recently it makes sense people would be talking about them. The other time I’ve heard about them recently was from a Canadian crime podcast, Dark Poutine, that discussed them in their first episode.
Anna, really enjoyed your recounting of your Christmas Eve. You described it so well I could easily picture being there. Public transport can be a wild time.