Little did Linda know that in the wake of agreeing to marry me an acausal chain of events would be unleashed that would obliterate every site of importance associated with our marriage.

Entire buildings would be reduced to rubble. People would die.

There was forewarning of the catastrophes to come, but it was ignored.

The day the wedding invitations were to be printed, I got a phone call from Linda, in tears, telling me to call the printer and stop the printing of the invitations. The church where we were to marry had just burned down.

This was Linda's church, where her parents were founding members of the congregation, where her father taught boy scouts, where her mother sang in the choir and where her father's funeral service had been held after his tragic heart attack at 43 years of age. The building was only 10 years old. Eventually the cause would be traced back to faulty electrical wiring in the kitchen. But the building was completely destroyed.

Instead of her beautiful church, set quietly back on a suburban street, we were married in a small Presbyterian chapel on busy Kingston Rd. Two years later that chapel was torn down and replaced with a seniors home.

I hope you're keeping score. The church where we were to marry and the church where we actually were married, have both been destroyed. And that was only the beginning.

Our wedding reception was held at the Broom & Stone golf and curling club. It burned down the next year.

Our honeymoon was at the beautiful Inn on the Park, where six people would soon loose their lives in a tragic and deadly fire. According to the New York Times article, "SIX DIE IN TORONTO HOTEL FIRE: Six people were known dead and about 60 were sent to local hospitals. The fire broke out at 2:35 A.M. and was brought under control about 90 minutes later. Guests had to wait for hours in temperatures of 4-below before being allowed back in the building." It has now been torn down.

Our first home was in the town of Parry Sound. A year after we moved in, it was expropriated by the town for the construction of a mall. Where our house once sat, where I carried Linda over the threshold, where our dog Jenny had her litter of puppies, where we had so many good parties with wonderful friends, is now a mall parking lot.

If it was a curse following us, destroying every place associated with our marriage, the curse ended there. Our next home, in Callander, still stands, as does the home we lived in for eight years in Powassan.

And of course, we still stand. But I think it was a close call.

Diana Gabaldon is a real person, not just a fictional character in my little blog story. Diana went from writing Donald Duck comic books for Disney to writing massive 1000 page historical novels celebrated for their exceptional research and attention to detail.

Her Outlander series is set 17th century Scotland and features a romance between Jamie Fraser and Claire Randell after Claire is transported back in time from her life in post World War 11 Britain.

Linda and I met Diana at the Ferris Highland Games in 2002. A charming and very funny woman, it's easy to see where her Jamie character gets his sense of humour.



Having shamelessly co-opted her into my story, I thought I owed her a plug. Her fans are notorious for their impatience with Hollywood to turn her novels into a major movie series. So, they have started making their own videos. Here's one--

"Here Anexplorer," Guenevere reached out her hand, "come see our world beyond the dank confines of this dreary room."

She gestured for him to join her at the window.

After being confined in the darkened room only half lit by flickering torches, he was struck first by the richness of the colour. The fortress had been constructed on the top of a vast hill of rich green grass. At the base of the hill was a small village and beyond that was a massive forest that reached out to the horizon.

The homes in the village were two story thatched roofed dwellings of dark wood whose lentils, cornices and shutters were painted in bright reds and yellows. Every home had its plot of land where vegetables were grown. Geese, chickens and pigs roamed freely while cows were confined to a pasture at the edge of the village. The odd home in the village had a single horse tethered in the yard.

Not far from the village a large river of clear blue water, ominously swollen by the days of ceaseless rain, flowed deep into the interior of the mighty forest. A family of pure white swans swam contentedly in the lee of the strong current.

Emerging from a rough road carved along the water's edge, was a long line of soldiers, all in red cloaks carrying pikes topped with colourful blue banners. At the rear of the column two men pounded on massive kettle drums and the marching soldiers sang to the beat, their clear voices rising all the way to the fortress, with no mechanical sounds to compete with its passage.

Villagers were pouring out of their homes to cheer the arriving soldiers. Men held children on their shoulders, women held the hands of infants. At the head of the long column of soldiers rode a large man on a pure white horse, head held proudly high, his armour more resembling that of a Roman legionaire than a traditional Knight, a great red cloak flowing behind him.

Two hawks lazily circled the village in the skies overhead.

"Its beautiful," Anexplorer stammered.

"Aye," said Arthur. "It is our world and our people and our way of life that we protect. And if, mayhap, it cost us our life, it is small price to pay."

Guenevere grabbed Arthur's hand, "But come my Lord we musts greet our guests!" She implored excitedly.

Arthur smiled and held her hand tightly, amused by her joy, "Aye," He agreed. "Come, let us prepare for our company."

As the Knights left the room, Merlyn held Anexplorer back.

"A moment Sir," the old magician said.

Anexplorer turned to him.

"You know you may not stay here." The old man said, gently. "You bring a falsity to our time that may not be. I know not how you came, but I will reverse that error."

He pointed a rugged stick at Anexplorer whose eyes suddenly rolled back in his head as he collapsed to the floor.

*******************************************************************

Anexplorer opened his eyes to see Linda's anxious face mere inches from his own. "He's coming to," she said.

Diana Gabaldon stood just behind her. "Oh my gosh," she gasped, "You poor man. What happened to you?"

Anexplorer looked around the crowd of astonished faces gathered for Gabaldon's book signing. "Did I pass out?" He asked.

"You sure did, poor man. I know I can be somewhat intense, but I've never had anyone faint on me before."

"I had the strangest dream," said Anexplorer in wonderment. "I dreamed I was back in the time of King Arthur. And it was a terrible place. Dark and smoky and dirty. The round table was a cart wheel on a barrel and there were rats and the knights all had fleas."

Gabaldon smiled, "Well that sounds about right for the period. Life expectancy was only about 19 years in those days. Lots of infant mortality but mostly wars and bad hygiene. Cesspools right outside the door, sleeping with their pigs. There was a reason they called it the Dark Ages."

"But it was beautiful too," Anexplorer protested. "The air was so clean, the forests were vast and it was so quiet you could hear people talking a mile away."

"Now you weren't time traveling on me for real, were you?"

Linda put her arms around him and he laughed ruefully. "We're thinking about our retirement in a couple of years time. And I think this has taught me a few things."

"Such as," Linda prompted.

Anexplorer smiled, "Well, never volunteer for a Diana Gabaldon time travel demonstration, for one. Never judge a place by its reputation, for another. Always wash your hands just like your mother taught you."

"And how about 'There's no place like home?'" Linda asked.

"That too," Anexplorer laughed. He paused and became more thoughtful, "And that some things that look really bad at first, may not be as bad once you start to see the full picture. That human nature is much the same wherever, or whenever, you go. And that there IS nobility in the world. You should have met Arthur. He was so calm yet so strong. he was the centre of everything without even having to move."

"You really did bump your head," Linda said, touching a tender lump on his forehead.

"Oh, and I learned one more thing," Anexplorer said earnestly. "I really can speak great Latin. I never knew I could. You should have heard me!"

"Amor et melle et felle est fecundissmismus" said Gabaldon.

"What?" said Anexplorer.

And the two women laughed.

"It is new to me," said King Arthur seating himself at the table, "This notion of a healthy place. Healthy people, yes. But a healthy place, what mean you by that Anexplorer? How can a place be healthy or no?"

Anexplorer was rubbing his wrists, so soon freed from their chains, "Well," he said. "I suppose I mean a place congenial to health within a person. Where a person is least likely to contract a disease, has good companions, good food, shelter, safety from harm, has options for interesting things to do. You know, stuff like that. Where people can be happy."

Galahad leaned forward with interest, "What mean you, pray tell, by 'contract a disease'?

One of the two dogs in the room sleeping contentedly by the fire, raised its head and with a roar leaped to its feet. A large rat went scurrying along the edge of the room, the dog at its heels. The two crashed into Percival's chair sending him flying. In the confusion the rat made for the open doorway where the second dog leaped on it and broke its neck. The two dogs then fought over the corpse.

"'Sblood," cursed Percival, getting to his feet. "I hate those cursed things."

"You are not injured, Sir" inquired the King.

"My dignity, only. My Lord,"Percival replied, setting his chair right.

"You have rats in the castle?" Anexplorer was horrified, his gaze fixed on the two dogs biting and snapping over the dead rat. Ignoring the sight, the knights had drifted back into boredom.

"In the castle, in the village rats are everywhere. Is it not so in your time?"

"No. Rats and mice carry disease. And fleas."

Gawain scratched contentedly.

"Have you fleas, sir knight?" Anexplorer asked him.

"We all have fleas, you idiot." Gawain coughed. "They are a curse for our sins."

"But they carry disease. You must bathe to rid yourself of them."

"Bathe? It is not spring, you fool!" grumbled Gawain.

"You don't mean you bathe only once a year?"

"And that at risk to our lives." replied Arthur. "Why Anexplorer, do people in your time bathe more often?"

"Daily," the visitor from another time stammered. "And wash our hands more frequently."

Gawain fought back still another cough, "But you wash away your protection against ailment! You will catch a chill and expire. Why place yourself at such risk?"

Anexplorer looked around the room becoming aware of each knight scratching periodically, at the flies on the table top, the mud on the floor, the dirt on each man's hands. The air in the room was fragrant with bodies unwashed for months. Finished with the rat, the two dogs were returning to their place by the fire.

"Indeed, Gawain is right," Galahad shivered. "You place yourself at fearful risk with all that washing!"

"My Lord, sir knights!" Dressed now in a bright red gown of finer material, Guenevere appeared in the doorway to the room. "The rains have stopped and our visitors approach." She crossed the room to the window and threw open the shutter. Light burst in, blinding everyone. Percival opened the shutters to the room's other two windows and looked out.

The knights, bored from inactivity, all moved to the windows, blocking the view from Anexplorer. The haze from the fire and the torches began to thin and a fresh breeze blew through the dank room.

"Who is here?" he asked.

Guenevere turned to him, her young eyes sparkling, "Our allies from Gaul have arrived. Led by brave Sir Lancelot du Lac."

For the first time seeing her face alive with pleasure like the 15 year old she was, Anexplorer began to scratch. Thoughtfully.

It was only after the vicious swing of Merlyn's staff came to halt mere inches from his skull, that Anexplorer flinched in terror. His feeble attempts to duck hampered by the heavy chains on his wrists.

Merlyn's gaze was unwavering, judging what he saw before him.

"Well," he said after a time. "It's obvious the man is no warrior. As you can see, my liege, his reactions are untrained. Remove his chains, Arthur, whatever we have here is no threat."

Arthur nodded to Percival who sighed, threw back his great cloak and bent to unlock Anexplorer's chains.

As Anexplorer made to rise, Merlyn's staff touched his forehead and pushed him back.

"Nay, sir. A seat in the mud will suit for now." Merlyn began pacing around him again, like a dog around a bear seeking a vulnerability.

"His strange clothing vouchsafes his odd tale," smiled Guenevere. "Have you seen the like Merlyn?"

"I have not my lady." The elderly magician crouched down, his face mere inches from Anexplorer's own, his old man's rancid breath leaking through rotted teeth. "If truly you travel through time, sir, why come you here?"

Anexplorer gathered his thoughts and looked up at Guenevere, "I don't really understand it myself. I hadn't expected time travel to work. It was a joke I was going along with." he explained. "I guess I had Camelot on my mind because my wife and I plan to retire soon and I've been thinking about the healthiest place to choose. You know, our perfect place. Our Camelot."

Arthur nodded approvingly, "Camelot is the strongest fortress in the land."

"It wasn't a fortress I was thinking of. I just turned 65 and..."

Merlyn's staff whacked him in the forehead. "Don't test our credulity, sir."The old magician hissed. "You can be no more than 35. Our liege is but 24, our knights no more than 19 or thereabouts. Guenevere is but months from 15 though I myself am ancient at 51. We know our ages sir and you cannot be 65."

"No I am 65!" Anexplorer protested with equal vehemence. "In the future we have better sanitation and better medicine. It is not unusual to live to be 80 or 90. That's what makes retirement so difficult to plan. I could well live another 20-25 years."

Arthur was intrigued. "This retirement, you speak of, what is that?"

"Well, you put money aside, the government puts money aside, the company you work for puts money aside and around 65 you stop working and start just enjoying life."

Coughing harshly, Gawain staggered angrily to his feet and began to draw his sword, "I've enough with these lies, my Lord. Let me end this!"

But it was Guenevere who answered, "Nay good Gawain. He amuses me." She turned to Anexplorer. "Sir, I have not much time, we are expecting company. An alliance is to be formed, our guests will soon arrive and I musts change and prepare their greeting. Their herald reached us yesterday. So tell me true, this place, our Camelot is revered in the future?"

Anexplorer nodded gravely, "It is my lady. Camelot is remembered as a nearly perfect land and Arthur the wisest and bravest of Kings. His knights, their ladies and the people lived the best of lives under his reign."

At the back of the room, Galahad voiced his accent. "I've seen worse," he said. "We fight the decline in everything since the departure of Rome in the time of our father's fathers. Then the land was at peace and people lived on splendid estates. Roman senators had estates here and magnificent homes. Now all about us the land returns to mindless violence and decline. The Angles and the Saxons and the Jutes invade from across the channel. We fight to preserve what little civilization is left."

There was a murmur of agreement from around the room and a beating of goblets upon the rounded table top. But Anexplorer could sense the frustration and the weariness beneath the bravado. They were too few and the decline too pervasive.

Guenevere rose, "I must go. Our guests will be cold and wet and weary when they arrive." She curtsied to Arthur, "My liege, my husband, I must go. But keep this man safe. He will amuse our guests this evening, to be sure."

Arthur reached a hand down to Anexplorer, "Come sir, up with you and sit with us at our table. I would speak with you some more. But vouchsafe me this I pray you, there will be no singing from you ever again!"