A little change from the ordinary. Below is a letter my daughter Pippa wrote about me last fall. If any of you used to come to the One of a Kind Show, you might remember Pip as I took her out of school every year for 2 weeks to do that show.
~Sa
Dear Readers of the Sa Boothroyd Blog,
This is Pippa, Sa’s youngest daughter. I’ve thought for a while now that it’s high time you got another perspective on the wild and adventurous thing that is Sa Boothroyd’s life. So here I am, humbly offering you a meditation on Sa, from a lifelong, dedicated observer.
First, let me say that this newsletter has been a formidable institution throughout my life. I remember being a kid when Mum used to send these letters via snail mail. It was my role in the assembly line of three (Mum, me, and my sister Lucy) to lick the seals of the envelopes, close them, and place them in neat piles to be sent off to all the subscribers. This whole production would occur over multiple evenings on the carpeted floor of my dad’s office. At the time, I had no idea who read the letters—and I must admit, I am still quite curious who you all are.
Ok, onto a story… or more of a journal of my mum’s visit to Montréal.
Oct 24th, 2025
Here is the scene: Mum has come to Montréal. After a bit of a kerfuffle with a lost key, I dashed home on my bike from campus and met my mum standing outside the door on a business call with Elf Paul in Ireland. Now she’s lying in my bed in her new multicoloured striped shirt with a book, while I patter about with work at my desk. When tea time rolls around, she whips out her bag of travel tea and scuttles to the kitchen. My mum is not one to take chances on her host’s tea selection, so she always comes prepared. 
Later on, we sauntered down Mont-Royal Avenue to a shop she sells at and popped into a bar for a pint. She had a lengthy discussion with the bartender about which of their beers tastes the least like beer, and they settled on a local pilsner. All parties were quite entertained by the interaction.
Oct 25th
I took my mum to my Categorization, Communication and Consciousness class. I had sent her the readings beforehand for her to ponder, which she did, and she came prepared with a few questions. She had her sketchbook out in class and was drawing some people in purple shirts and the bikes of Montréal. After class, we found ourselves equally puzzled about whether we had learned anything.
Later, my mum came to a little bar called Barfly and met a bunch of my friends over beer and loud music. After a thorough questioning period and three-quarters of a lager, she announced that it was time for her to go to bed—but that it should not hinder the rest of us from continuing on with the night. So off she went on her BIXI bike in her green coat.
Oct 26th
We bought tuques at a little boutique, and after consulting with the cheese lady, Mum purchased two tranchés of fine French cheese.
As we drove through Quebec, she announced the towns we passed through before they appeared. We talked about the quiet of the winter, the expanse, and how much time she spent toiling with her prints when she lived here. I believe she was nearly always cold, but there were many people to make her laugh. It is a familiar geography, and it reminds me how much of my mum’s life occurred before me.
Oct 27th
We swam every morning at Jaquo and Francine’s house. It was cold, but once one of us suggested a dip, the other felt a familial obligation to join.
Oct 29th
Mum left this morning. I lay in bed and stared at the yellow tree outside my window, remarking on how quickly a place can feel colder. I know that when she lands, she’ll be whisking herself off into the whirlwind of tasks that are required of her. But it was so lovely, even just for a few days, to have that whirlwind of Mum whisk herself around with me.
So there you go—this concludes my section of the newsletter. I hope it provided a little taste of life with the wonderful and curious character that is Sa Boothroyd.
~Pip
Over and out