This post is brought to you by the letter G for Grump. Be warned.
Sunday morning we woke up late, about 11:30, due to the little sleep we’d had the night before. We decided to go out for breakfast as Glen wasn’t keen on cooking but once we got outside we thought better of it. We went home, saved ourselves some money, and ate. Quite tasty too. We had chicken bacon. Apparently that’s a thing now.
Buskerfest was on this weekend, a three-day festival down Yonge St that was filled with the usual food stalls (starting to notice a theme now) and performance spaces up and down. I had envisaged roaming performers, almost intimate vignettes and alcoves set up down the two blocks the street cut through, where quirky and interesting buskers of different varieties would delight small knots of people.
Instead, there were about six spots down the street…
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