Q: Obviously commoners are not allowed to touch Royalty on account of our divine lineage. Sadly, many of the “people” are now ignorant of this and the protocol is often broken, but only at behest of the Royal, who may deem to shake a hand or pose with a commoner’s pet. However, recently, a nouveau riche commoner completely shattered protocol by putting his big, powerful, black arm around me. He was a large commoner, good stock, and covered in the intoxicating musk of the peasant, I felt so small and vulnerable yet protected within his embrace! I have to say, it stirred certain feelings and they’re scary! What should I do?

Confused Kate

Dear Confused:

Many Royals harbour secret desires to go “slumming,” and you shouldn’t be alarmed that this commoner has stirred such feelings in you. However, you must remember that serving your country is of cardinal importance, and that nothing, not even a new and thrilling lust, should get in the way of this holy duty! You must not let the public face of the Royal Family slip!!!

However, you should keep in mind that for millennia Royals have been fulfilling this need for “slumming” by indulging their fetishes in private, behind castle walls, using slaves, concubines and prostitutes. You have a vast and excellent staff working beneath you, utilize them! They will be only too happy to earn a shadow of your gratitude by corralling the vulnerable and desperate to serve as playthings for you! Don’t get hung-up on this one peasant, remember, they’re in limitless supply and completely disposable!

Q: Imagine that a great King was put in a situation where he had to impose a law on his people to prohibit sex for all between the ages of 9 and 18 in an attempt to quell the AIDS pandemic. It would be a wise and just law, no? The King loves his children and wishes to protect them! Imagine then, that this great King, much loved by his people, had 25 wives, and legions of “liphovela,” all trying to become pregnant by the great King in order to prove their fertility and become one of his official brides. If one of them was selected, as is the custom, during the topless virgin reed dance, and she was between the ages of 9 and 18, would the great King then be in conflict of interest?

Great King

Dear Great King:

You are not only above the law, you are the law, so the short answer to your question is a resounding NO! However, it is important for a great ruler to keep harmony amongst his people, lest they rebel, and so I would respectfully suggest that you compensate the family of this particular liphovela with a token bought from your great wealth, which must certainly be in excess of 200 million,  such as a cow, cell phone or Nutribullet. Easy-Peasy!

The seals of Rollo Bay would only allow us to come to within about 20 feet of them before clamoring off into the water. Slightly hurt that they didn’t love and trust us more, we’d sit watching, pleading with our eyes. Alien and mysterious, arrayed in undecipherable formations, they just bobbed in the water “They know so much more than we do,” Rachelle said to me.  And after about an hour, as we motored away, one seal bulleted along with the boat, always watching, a decoy to lead us away from the greater pod now settling back on the sands.

Prince Edward Island is stunningly simple and beautiful, a sort of land that time forgot– like a place in a movie rather than a place in the world. We stayed with some friends at their cottage on Fortune Bay, near Souris, where their families return each year to effortlessly entwine like forest. Children and dogs run freely about in an endless golden summer, while the adults, smiling and just slightly melancholy, watch from beyond.

A sweet man who looked like he belonged on a rum bottle played acoustic guitar in front of the fire singing Farewell to Nova Scotia:

Farewell to Nova Scotia, the sea-bound coast,

Let your mountains dark and dreary be,

For when I am far away, on the briny ocean tossed,

Will you ever hear a sigh or a wish for me?

He sang it slowly, a eulogy rather than the typical jaunty, Irish Rovers kind of celebration. His east coast voice was thick and true, and the song was beautiful and heartbreaking. His wife watched keenly from the sofa, her hands pressed together hoping that he would speed up the tempo, but he didn’t, he didn’t, and somebody’s ghost lingered long after the song was finished.

One night I was speaking with a middle-aged woman about the royal family, and how in spite of it all, she cared.

“They’re not just celebrities, they’re a family and their presence ties them to my family. It’s visceral, organic, and there’s not a woman my age that didn’t weep when Lady Diana died. Oh, the poor thing– beautiful like a fawn– the eating disorders, the unhappiness, and then when she became herself, her death. And so I’ve followed her children, so alone, really, and when I heard William and Kate had their baby on the radio I was so moved I had to pull over and text my sister, and all up and down the highway, other cars were doing exactly the same thing. ”

A beautiful and sophisticated couple from Montreal rent a cottage in the area each year. All of the men have secret crushes on Pierre, while all of the women have secret crushes on Louise. One night they shared a Quebecois song from the 70s with us as we sat out on the steps of the cottage. Louise, wrapped in a blanket, sang along from her perch, while Pierre, in a voice from some film you never forget, translated the words for us, and through this translation the song took on many voices, becoming a history made manifest, a poem still unfolding as the stars wheeled above.

*With thanks to Victoria Bazan and Rob Hyndman, who provided most of the photographs and everything else. ( And to many, many others, too.)