Latest news with #cousins
CBC
18-05-2025
- CBC
I spent a decade in love with Montreal. Now I've outgrown what it can give me
This First Person column is written by Estefania De La Concha, who lives in Montreal. For more information about First Person stories, see the FAQ. When I first arrived in Montreal in February 2016, straight from the tropical heat of Venezuela, I was in awe of the city lights on the ride from the airport to my cousin's place, where I'd spend my first few nights. I was mesmerized by the beauty of the buildings and excited about the life I was about to build. For nine years, Montreal was where I rooted myself. I travelled outside of the city, but I always looked forward to coming back. I'd feel a rush of emotion every time I passed the Jacques Cartier Bridge and glimpsed La Ronde or the Olympic Stadium from the bus or car window, thinking, "Yes, this is home." Throughout this time, I was enriched by the presence of many cultures. I partied, tried foods I didn't know existed, made lifelong friends, expanded my horizons and hiked Mount Royal more times than I could count. For years, I couldn't imagine living anywhere else, and I was the one wondering why anyone would ever want to leave. Then came the pandemic, and the excitement of urban life faded. I couldn't enjoy it as I used to, so, like many others, I turned to nature to keep my sanity. Every weekend meant escaping Montreal to discover new hiking trails, cross-country skiing, ice skating and paddle boarding. I'd do anything to be outside, in nature, moving and breathing. What started as a coping mechanism quietly became an essential part of my identity and my sense of belonging. Ever since returning to "normal" in 2023, the city I once loved has constantly reminded me that my soul is craving something different. I feel the heavy weight of concrete on my shoulders — the noise, the traffic, the chaos, the endless construction and a growing sense of insecurity that wasn't there when I arrived. I still remember walking home alone at 3 a.m. through the Plateau Mont-Royal after a night out, feeling lucky to live in a city where a woman could do that safely. Now, even in daylight, I move with more caution — a habit I thought I'd left behind. It's like living in a constant state of overstimulation: crowded streets, rushing strangers, everyone moving fast to get somewhere that seems important but probably isn't. Even the escapes that once recharged me have started to feel more like a burden. On Saturday mornings, it often takes over an hour to get out of Montreal and then another hour or two on the highway before I can even begin my hike. I've explored almost every trail in and around the city. I know the familiar climbs and the lookout points by heart. I'm grateful for them, but I'm also ready for something new, and I crave the spontaneity that doesn't require four-hour round trips. Now, after years of watching prices rise and apartments shrink, the idea of living somewhere with more space, less financial pressure and easier access to nature feels like a relief. In a few weeks' time, I'll be moving to Sherbrooke in Quebec's Eastern Townships, a place where trailheads begin just minutes from home, and bike paths run along the Magog and Saint-François rivers. When I tell people I'm leaving, their reactions are often laced with concern or skepticism. "You'll regret it." "Why Sherbrooke? There's nothing there." These are the most common reactions. Once, a friend laughed and said, "If nobody outside Canada knows Sherbrooke, is it even a city?" It was meant as a joke — but beneath the laughter was a strong statement rooted in a worldview that perceives fast-paced urban life as inherently more valuable than a quieter, slower one with deeper roots and more space to breathe. I don't blame them. Like many others, I grew up in a society that taught me success meant chasing big cities and striving for more — more money, recognition and shiny things. I know their reactions come from a place of care, but they often reveal more about their fears than my decision. It's not really about Sherbrooke. It's about what leaving the city represents: the possibility that a different life might be just as valid. Montreal once felt like everything I had hoped for: a safe place to rebuild my life, far from the instability I had experienced in my homeland, and alongside family members already established here. And for nearly a decade, the city gave me everything I needed. It allowed me to immerse myself in a diverse, dynamic world. I felt connected, alive and full of potential. But over time, my needs shifted. Part of me already misses it, even though I haven't left yet. I find myself walking familiar streets, savouring everyday scenes, knowing they might not be mine much longer. Nostalgia came as an unexpected guest, not because I doubt my decision, but because goodbyes are never that simple. Choosing to leave isn't about rejecting Montreal or choosing Sherbrooke; it's about honouring who I am today, recognizing that I've grown and trusting that it's OK to want something different now — even if someday, life calls me back.
Times
17-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Times
Meet the next-door sisters: ‘We're like neighbours on steroids'
Milo, the youngest and only boy of the four cousins, comes running down the garden to his aunt and uncle's home, past the runner ducks, silkie chickens, guinea pigs, cats, dogs and koi carp — it's like a modern-day Doctor Dolittle set-up with a splash of The Waltons. For any child it's idyllic because not only are there animals galore (23, in fact) but there is double everything, from parents to children to pets. The sisters Katie Thompson and Sophie Parish decided that bringing up the four children they have between them — Tabitha, nine, Aurora, seven, Poppy, six, and Milo, three — would be more fun if they did it together, so they bought houses next door to one another and now raise
Daily Mail
16-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
People left shocked after discovering who Declan Donnelly's famous cousin is
Ant and Dec fans were left shocked when they discovered who Declan Donnelly 's famous cousin is. During their show, Ant and Dec's DNA Journey, Dec discovered that he had a long-lost cousin who was pretty famous for what she did for a living over in the US. Dixie Carter, a wrestling mogul turned out to be his distant cousin, and the pair met up during the series. She had been involved with the company Total Nonstop Action Wrestling for several years before she became a 'storyline character' in 2010, and before he met her, Dec was shown footage of her in the wrestling ring being thrown through a table. 'It feels weird, you immediately have this kind of connection with them,' Dec said after the meeting. Posting a picture of the three of them together, se penned on Instagram: 'YES... Declan Donnelly is my cousin! It's not a wrestling storyline. Dec's fabulous. Ant too,' Dec was left in shock when he discovered he had more than 12 cousins he didn't know existed and some of them were almost as well off as him. While the pair were in the US doing research for the show, they were told that Dec had a DNA match before he went off to meet his cousin Meg and her husband Greg. The couple, who were previously unknown to Dec, provided a helicopter for him to travel in and greeted him by laying out a large banner on their lawn. Meg said: 'We have the same great, great grandparents.' She added: 'I have a little surprise for you, I have a few of your cousins here.' More than a dozen people then entered the room and Dec was left struggling for words. He said: 'Oh wow, this is amazing. I'm really emotional. Oh my goodness. Nice to meet you all. 'This is quite overwhelming!' She had been involved with the company Total Nonstop Action Wrestling for several years before she became a 'storyline character' in 2010, and before he met her, Dec was shown footage of her in the wrestling ring being thrown through a table Dec was then introduced to another of his cousins, Tom, who was a firefighter in Manhattan that was on duty during 9/11. Later in the programme, an emotional past was found in Ant's family tree relating to his grandmother, Kitty. Kitty was from Ireland and Ant's family didn't know anything about her life before she moved to England from Fermoy, County Cork, when she was about 12 years old. Ant learns that his great-grandmother, Kitty's mother, died of tuberculosis but because it was considered shameful, records of it were covered up. Genealogy expert Anne-Marie Coghlan said: 'It was the shame of the family so it would be concealed in the records. It's very, very sad.' He then discovered that Kitty's older brother Michael died when he was eight from whooping cough. Kitty never knew because she was told by her parents that he emigrated to America, possibly to shield her from the pain of grief. Ant said: 'Thank you very much, this is invaluable to my family, especially to my mother and her sisters and brother. 'Its information that they've been dying to know for years. You've really brought her to life with this, thank you. 'I loved her so much I've got nothing but fond memories of her.'
