The Return of the Penniless Pensioner: Can I Save Canada? Chapter Three: I Am Not the Man I Used To Be

If you have read my book “The Penniless Pensioner: Misaligned, Maligned but Marvellous” you might be tempted to say I morphed in light speed from a spoiled Indo-Welsh brat into a man of intrigue.

Am I happy? How can you ask that after my sweet Calabrian plum Ginevra and our unborn child were killed in a Cyclops planned bomb blast at the Bay of Naples.

They say a mark of success for a man is money, power and sex. As for money I have more than enough. As for power I have none if that means the power to control the fate of human beings. At times I feel I can’t even control my fate. As for sex well there is Svetlana my rather large Russian lady friend. We met on a flight from Bombay to Toronto and hit it off lickedly split. She told me she crossed President Putin on a protection payment and it was time to “relocate” from Moscow. I am uncertain about our relationship. Her penchant for caviar, vodka and dogfights seems to have little spare time for cuddling with The Penniless Pensioner although she is so rotund there is not much room on the sofa.

I am living in Toronto, Canada in a swank condo on Avenue Road. I spend my time cooking food much of it Indian and the racist condo dweller’s association is attempting to evict me. What is a little bit of curry aroma in the air now and then.

I manage my Indian restaurant chain from Toronto. I make frequent trips to Bombay on the Air India Delhi Belly flight. I work with renowned Romanian sommelier Z (no relation to the Russian Ukrainian war Z) to commence importation of Romanian wine into Canada and to establish my Indian restaurant chain in Romania. They are crazy for my curry fried okra. I sold my Bombay Blues Whisky brand to an Albanian consortium in Tirana.

I maintain my unit in the Dakota in New York and have warmed up a bit to Yoko Ono. She’s not a bad bird once you get to know her and she is not in a recording studio. Her screeching even exasperated John Lennon a dear friend I held in my arms after he was shot. Is life no more than death?

I walk in the many parks of Toronto and have discovered many challenging trails.

So I exist. Not much more than that.

There have been certain events emanating from the United States president Oran Crapaud that have caused me to contemplate what should I do next and how can I do it.