I must apologize to Montreal - I didn't mean to slight your city! This is perhaps the fifth time I've been here, and obviously I wouldn't keep coming back if I didn't like it. It's just that until today, it hasn't been the best part of my trip, partly just due to the excessive heat.

Anyway, I've very much enjoyed the last twenty four hours, even though it was even hotter today! I just returned to doing exactly what I wanted to do without feeling any internal pressure to do what I thought I ought to be doing. I spent all morning, and part of the afternoon in my hotel room, catching up with email, paying bills (via the miracle of the Internet!), working out and listening to the sad commentary on NBC covering the loss of John Kennedy's plane.

When I finally did get out, it was into a very hot and sticky day. I drove the few blocks to Old Montreal and, somewhat reluctantly, given the heat, climbed out and started walking. The first street I found was rue Saint Paul, which seems to be a sort of Soho of Montreal, with many excellent art galleries, and cute little cafes. The whole area had a very authentic feel to it, and you would easily have though you were in Paris.

Some guy on the street in Old Montreal

Window shopping the galleries along rue Saint Paul

I found an air-conditioned cafe to get some lunch, and had a strange but wonderful caesar salad with sausage: a first!

I walked further, to look at some of the older and more famous buildings, and took some photos.

In Champ de Mars on the old walls of Montreal

After touring Old Montreal, I drove to Ile Sainte-Helene to see the Bonaparte exhibition at the Stewart Museum. Bonaparte is a source of particular fascination to me, as he is to many. The museum's permanent collection is devoted to the history of Canada, mainly. Before making it to the exhibition, the exhibits explaining the early history of Canada caught my attention, as I realized I was completely ignorant on that subject.

The Napoleon exhibit itself contained some wonderful artifacts and paintings, but was confusingly organized, leaping from one incident to the next like in a TV movie, with inadequate historical perspective. All of a sudden he was routing the Prussians when I hadn't even realized they were at war with them. However, since I new more about Napoleon from the naval perspective than the military, I learnt a lot, but the exhibit did nothing to change my mind that he was ultimately undone by his lack of care for naval strategy.

Watching the rain at the Stewart Museum

Surprisingly, when I came out, a thunderstorm had struck. I drove to the top of Mont Royale, and climbed the steps up into the park, took off my shirt, and just let the rain wash over me. It felt heavenly after all the sticky humidity.

By the time I got back to my hotel after my impromptu shower, I just had time for a real shower and a change into nicer clothes, before speeding off to the Casino du Montreal, where I'd bought a ticket for dinner and the show "Sinatra Remembered"

The casino was enormous, and really quite spectacular, what I saw of it. But I was running fairly late, so I made straight for the cabaret, and took my table. First thing I noticed was that all the waiters seemed to be named Keno :) As I looked around, I almost felt myself back in time - although the crowd wasn't as well dressed as they would have been in Sinatra's day. I wished it really was going to be Sinatra performing. I did see him live once, at the Spectrum in Philly, along with Sammy Davis Jr and Liza Minelli. I remember being incredibly let down when he bastardized the lines to "Strangers in the Night" and stumbled through "My Way".

I'd be lying if I said I felt totally composed sitting at that big red-clothed table by myself. I felt a little like Katharine Hepburn in ... well, I forget the name of the movie and I gave my staff the month off :) But she was all alone in Venice and whenever she ordered tea at a cafe, she ordered for two to make it look like her escort had momentarily stepped away.

It didn't make it any easier that the family at the table near me kept looking at me and passing comments to one another. It's at times like these that I almost feel like the Keith of my early twenties - so self-conscious. Thankfully, though, that Keith no longer can take full control. I pulled out my notebook and started making the following notes. I soon felt my composure return and I started to relax and enjoy my surroundings.

Looking around, I realize that I'm again, by several decades, one of the youngest persons there. Makes me wonder what I'll be doing when I'm sixty - going to sex clubs, and circuit parties?

Oh Lord, I've just noticed a table of girls all about my age. Mamma, they're making eyes at me. And now the waitress has spilt my water all over my notes!

It's just amazing how nosey people are. Every time I glance towards the stage, this fat pudding of a woman in a pink Berber carpet of a suit has her bulbous eyes locked on me. I confess that because I've always been so tall, I'm particularly sensitive to being stared at.

For tonight, I've relaxed my no-drinks rule, and I'm on my second gin & tonic. But that will be my limit. I love booze, but not the calories that go with it.

Alright, I'll shut up now, until the show's over, since I'm chattering too much. Chatty Kathy, as my friend Paul would call me (and that label had better not stick!)

The poor dinner band (yes, I know I said I'd stop chattering, but I've got nothing better to do while I wait for the "Spectacle" to start). They've launched into "Moon River" and nobody's paying a blessed moment of attention except me. Maybe I should ask for a request - how about "You Must Remember This" - they love to play that. NOT!

It's very odd, but I'm realizing that the opportunity to write a daily journal and know it's being read that very day (if I'm to believe the feedback I've been getting) is probably one of the reasons why I've rarely felt alone on this trip. I'm lucky to live in an era where, for the first time, this is possible.

After the barely adequate dinner, I had time to take a spin around the Casino, where I won $30 on only my third $1 bet! I quit whilst I was ahead. When I returned to the Cabaret, my big red table had filled up. The three nearest me were miserably silent, although the old biddy diametrically opposite at least had the decency to assume a look of anxious amiability.

The show was fabulous - it gave me a real kick. For a start, it's not often I get the chance to hear a live big-band. And the guy who played the younger Sinatra truly got under his skin, capturing the voice, the mannerisms, the movement and his timing, as well as putting real meaning to the lyrics. His "Old Man River" was breathtaking. After a while, I ignored the fact that he looked more like an ex-member of Duran Duran than Ol' Blue Eyes, and began to believe in him. There was also a magnificent Ava Gardner, who put in a brief, flashy appearance.

Unfortunately, the guy who played the older Sinatra just seemed like any old cabaret singer, sounding more like Tony Bennet than anyone else, and giving no depth of meaning to the words. But still, the music was great!