Showing posts with label CNE. Show all posts
Showing posts with label CNE. Show all posts

Thursday, 27 August 2015

Thursday, or Thereabouts - August 27, 2015

Meet me at the Fountain


All this week thoughts of the CNE (the Canadian National Exhibition or just The Ex) have been running rampant through my brain. I even asked my Facebook friends if any of them wanted to go with me to the Ex. No takers! Probably just as well - the Ex I truly wanted to go to was the one I went to in the 1960's.

The Dufferin Gate ca. 1960

Back then a bus to Jane and Bloor followed by two streetcars, got my older sister and I to the entrance at the Dufferin Gates. Once inside we had strict instructions from Dad, "Meet me at the fountain," so that was our first stop.




Then it was on to the Midway, passing by the Press Building, the Better Living Centre, the
Grandstand, and the Food Building. I'm not sure why but the Food Building was rarely if ever, a permissible stop along the way. Perhaps it was the crowds. Perhaps neither Dad (nor Mom on those few occasions that she came with us) trusted the quality of the offerings. Perhaps it was because they really didn't want us to have a taste of what we could not afford. Popcorn, candy floss and for a real treat an ice cream waffle or maybe a Tiny Tom donut are the only Ex-foods I recall ever eating.


The Midway 1966

But who cares? I was there for the rides. Being all of 8 years old my faves were pretty tame: the Ferris Wheel (in later years even the double Ferris Wheel), the carousel and it's souped up sister the Derby Racer, the Dodge 'ems and something called the Polar Express. The games of chance were always a huge disappointment for me. It looked so easy to get that dime onto a plate, or shoot down big yellow ducks as they moved across the shooting gallery, but I never even came close. And I wasted way too many dimes trying.

I well recall the year, Dad gave my sister and I $5 to spend on rides (rides back then were 25¢) while he went off exploring some of the buildings. My sister, six years my senior, had different tastes when it came to rides. Not only did she con me into going on the Wild Mouse, she put me in the front seat of those little two seater cars. It was the first and last time I would ever be on a roller coaster. Sheer terror!

The Wild Mouse, 1965

Fast forward ten years to 1975 and my time at the Ex was a little different. I went with my cousin Claire, who had come over from England for my wedding. We passed through the same Dufferin Gates then took in a hunter jumper competition in the Colosseum. Only then did we work our way through the Midway of rides, side shows, and games of chance.

Claire won not one but two prizes: at a shooting gallery she got all her ducks in a row and won a plush purple mouse a bit larger than a football; and then at a coin toss won a humongous plush polar bear.


Done with the Midway - there was no way I was letting her win anything more and we couldn't get on anymore of the rides with the thing either - we hauled the bear and the mouse over the bridge to Ontario Place.


Two attractive single women in their early twenties, one hugging a white bear and the other carrying a purple mouse walk into a bar...  Let's just say we garnered a lot of attention. From the savoury to the unsavoury, from the tailored suits to the stubble-faced sleazebags, we met them all. We refused all come-ons politely, then firmly. But when pressed too hard, we packed up the bear and mouse and moved on to the next bar.

We ambled, after a fashion, through the marina, took in an IMAX show at Cinesphere, and had wine with dinner in the restaurant with white table cloths. We oohed and ahhed loudly and giggled all the way through the fireworks. By now the bear had acquired a name, "Whiskey", as had the purple mouse, wait for it... "Mousey-mouse-mouse".


My Dad, Claire, Whiskey & Mousey-mouse-mouse, 1975







Yeah, well we lugged our menagerie back across the bridge to join the boisterous crowd heading for the streetcars. We hung on tight to the big bear and made it from streetcar to the subway, but missed the last bus home and had to walk from Kipling Avenue. As my late mother told it, she heard us long before she saw us. I personally have no idea what she was talking about.



Let's go to The Ex!
Meet me at the fountain...


...but beware of a bear and a mouse - they lead you astray and are very loud too!


















©2015 April Hoeller

Thursday, 28 August 2014

Thursday, or Thereabouts - August 28, 2014

The Last Long Weekend of Summer

For far too many the weekend perched on the doorstep heralds the end of summer and much moaning and lament flows in it's wake. But I am a stickler for precision - summer does not end until 22:59h EDT on Monday, September 22, the Autumnal Equinox.


Get a grip people! Summer has MORE than 3 weeks left to go!


In my story, these weeks are full to the brim with memories and celebrations.

In 1975 the Labour Day Weekend was my last weekend of single life. I went to the EX with my cousin Claire, who had come over from England for my wedding. We didn't know each other well when she first arrived but in no time at all we became bosom buddies. So the new best buds set off for a full day at the CNE. Bus, subway then streetcar let us off at the Dufferin Gates. We took in a hunter jumper competition in the Colosseum then worked our way through the Midway of rides, side shows, and games of chance. Claire did something I have never done, neither before nor since. She won not one but two prizes: at a shooting gallery she got all her ducks in a row and won a plush purple mouse a bit larger than a football; and then at a coin toss won a humongous plush polar bear. That bear was an armful.


Done with the Midway - there was no way I was letting her win anything more and we couldn't get on any of the rides with the thing either - we hauled the bear and the mouse over the bridge to Ontario Place.

Two attractive single women in their early twenties, one hugging a white bear and the other carrying a purple mouse walk into a bar...  Let's just say we garnered a lot of attention, many offers of free drinks and a few visitors who felt impelled to join us. From the savoury to the unsavoury, from the tailored suits to the stubble-faced sleazebags, we met them all. We refused all come-ons politely, then firmly then when pressed too hard, we packed up the bear and mouse and moved on to the next bar.

At the third tavern, though it might have been the fourth, after a parade of lonely, hopeful hearts club members, each one rebuffed with increasing intensity, the barman appeared with two scotches on the rocks, our tipple of the day, "Here you two lassies get these down ya, then move along before the dogs get ya."

It took us another twenty minutes to follow our protector's instructions, twenty minutes during which he ran interference for us while we downed the scotches we already had and then knocked back the two freebies. We made good our escape leaving behind empty glasses and a very large tip. We ambled, after a fashion, through the marina, took in an IMAX show at Cinesphere, and had wine with dinner in the restaurant with white table cloths. We oohed and ahhed loudly and giggled all the way through the fireworks.

From that very night in 1975!
My Dad, Claire, Whiskey & Mousey-mouse mouse, 1975








By now the bear had acquired a name, "Whiskey", as had the purple mouse, wait for it... "Mousey-mouse-mouse". Yeah, well we lugged our menagerie back across the bridge to join the boisterous crowd heading for the streetcars. Whiskey continued to bring us more attention than we wanted but now it was he not us that was the main attraction. We hung on tight to the big bear and made it to the subway, but missed the last bus home and had to walk from Kipling Avenue. As my late mother told it, she heard us long before she saw us. I personally have no idea what she was talking about. Mousey-mouse-mouse and Whiskey of course, know it all.

Happy Labour Day Weekend folks. Be safe and have fun.
Cheers!


©2014 April Hoeller