Toronto Shooting

The media have been in hysterics the last few days about the tragic death of Jane Creba, the 15-year-old girl caught in the crossfire of a Boxing Day shootout in downtown Toronto. There has been much hand-wringing about gang violence, the illegal cross-border trade in guns, etc., etc. And so there should be - these are extremely serious problems.

But why is it that such issues are only brought to widespread attention when the victims are like Jane Creba - young, attractive, middle-class and white? Would there have been anywhere near as much attention paid if the person killed was not a pretty innocent teenager out shopping with her parents? Of course not. Only when the violence strays out of the enclaves inhabited by the have-nots do the haves sit up and take notice. Sad.

The Va Dinci Cod

Christmas should always have an element of wacky fun. So I've started reading a little book J. gave me called The Va Dinci Cod. I probably don't have to tell you that it's a parody (in the venerable tradition of similar works such as Bored of the Rings by the Harvard Lampoon) of an ersatz "intellectual thriller" that has sold by the shedload from airport departure lounges everywhere.

"An eminent, renowned museum curator lies dead in his own gallery, with a three-foot cod stuffed down his throat...."

I'm already enjoying it quite a bit.
*snicker*

On the Feast of Stephen

Well, it's been quite a relaxed day. A. and I dashed home earlier to gather up some stuff to take up to Cape Breton with us tomorrow. Opened some more presents as well, which was very good.

I didn't ask for anything in particular, but got lots of nice things anyway. Multiple bottles of booze, books, pieces of jewellery, choccies and candies; a crystal vase; a velvet shoe bag; tree ornaments; a glass bowl...et cie. A.'s family also gave us a very nice fireplace set (poker, tongs, shovel, etc.) which we really needed as we use our fireplace quite a lot now. My parents gave me my present early - I got a box of over a hundred vintage postcards, which they got a few months ago at auction. Nearly all of them date from the 1900s to the 1920s and they are absolutely wonderful...now I just need to figure out a nice way to display them.

Tonight it's another groaning dinner, before we battle the continuing torrential rain (which is melting all the snow, happily) en route to CB in the morning. In the meantime, over at the McWetlog, my friend Jonathan has presented a selection of holiday tunes for your consideration...heh heh.

Happy Christmas

With the in-laws today, and it's been quite nice. Present-opening was of epic proportions; it began at 8 am and didn't end till 2.30! Mind you, there was tea and breakfast and sherry in between, as well as breaks to get showered and dressed, and the taking of various phone calls from well-wishers. My in-laws are also freakishly patient people, who open gifts carefully with scissors and knives so as to re-use wrapping paper next year, etc. No joke! So that, coupled with the fact that gifts were opened one at a time and universally admired before proceeding to the next, meant that presents have taken up much of the day. Which - one must admit - is certainly not an unpleasant way to spend Christmas Day.

Dinner preparations now in full swing. A. and I have just finished our job, which is the first course - we made shrimp bisque. We're having duck for mains. Yummy!

Snowy

We've had a little light, fluffy snow these last few hours. It's making everything look very Christmassy. Not so nice for the people who still have to go shopping today, though!

A Christmas Carol

Just finished my annual viewing of A Christmas Carol. And not one of those rubbish modern versions either - it was the 1951 black-and-white version starring Alastair Sim as Scrooge:

This movie always used to freak me out a little when I was a kid - even now, I find some of the special effects (or lack thereof) unintentionally weird. Ah well, British film wasn't exactly at the cutting edge of technology back then. And it's still a great nostalgia trip.

"Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses?"

Fromage 2005

I just finished watching Fromage 2005 on MuchMusic. As usual, it's one of the funniest programmes of the year. Ed the Sock is scathingly brilliant. Don't worry if you didn't see it though, as it will likely be shown over and over and over again in the coming weeks....

O Christmas Tree

I know it is odd to love inanimate objects. But I really, really love our Christmas tree. It's just so beautiful. And it smells so good. Every time I walk into the living room, that sweet, woody scent overtakes me. I even find myself feeling sorry that no one will be here in this house on Christmas day, to turn on its lights and admire it. OK, now that really is weird.

I'm not working tomorrow, so I plan on spending at least some of my day lying on the sofa, communing with my tree, eating the shortbreads I made at the weekend, and reading something inspiring.

Happy Winter Solstice

Feuer Zunge Bowle

A ha! Courtesy of my FIL, I now give you the famed 'fire tongue bowl'!

Christmas Flickr

Dismayed to discover that I have no photos of last night's main event. A. decided to make a video instead - which did not come out as the light was too low. Argh. Perhaps my father-in-law will be able to oblige.

Made a Christmas album over at Flickr anyway - whatever festive pics I have, I will put there over the next week or two.

Urgh

Fine evening last night chez nous (I'll post pics later), but the glühwein...Lord.

I only had two glasses of the stuff, mindful that I had to work today (and very nice it was, too). Still, the sulfites in the red wine, plus the very substantial infusion of rum, meant I woke up with a headache. Which has not gone away, despite having taken two Tylenols at breakfast time.

Nothing for it but to go get some coffee and feel a bit low for a few more hours, I guess. 'Tis the season.

Festiveness

Tree is up, pressies are wrapped...and the family are coming round later for a little holiday cheer. My sister-in-law's boyfriend M. is German, so we are celebrating a Teutonic tradition this evening. It has a very long name (but can be called a 'Bowle' for short) and seems mostly to involve quaffing from a big boozy punchbowl, which gets set alight at some point during the proceedings.

Not sure how we ended up volunteering to host this event.

*eyes fire extinguisher nervously*

Eau de Balsam Fir

We went to the lot just up the road at Chocolate Lake last night, to pick out a Christmas tree. Got a good full one, about 7' tall. Prices have gone up this year - it cost us $35! I'll never get used to having to pay money for a Christmas tree.

We got it home and laid it out in the hallway, to warm up. The scent from it is unusually strong. Lying in bed last night, it wafted up the stairs and into our room - to the point where I nearly got up and shut the door because it started to bother me! Which is odd, because normally I love the smell of a fir tree - but it will fade, I'm sure, as the tree dries out. Must be a nice fresh one.

Dreaming of East

Very attractive review in Saturday's Globe & Mail (which I'm just getting round to reading today) of a new book by Barbara Hodgson (whose latest novel, The Lives of Shadows, I've been meaning to get hold of for some time).

Called Dreaming of East: Western Women and the Exotic Allure of the Orient, it's just the sort of thing I probably would have plundered while working on my DPhil: full of wonderful illustrations and gripping anecdotes, likely too hagiographic to be of much critical use, but sufficiently 'on topic' to justify reading.

All Done

Just in from doing the very last of my Christmas shopping. Also posted the last of my Christmas cards and parcels. What a nice feeling.

All that's left to do is go get a tree on Friday night, and then put it up on Saturday (A. already put up the outdoor lights, over the weekend). Bring on the hols!

The JCB Song

I must be getting old or something. But I love 'The JCB Song' by Nizlopi (video online here), which is tipped to be the UK Christmas Number 1 single his year. It's just so sweet.

"I'm Luke, I'm five, and my dad's Bruce Lee / Drives me round in his JCB..."

*EDIT 10.07 am*

Aaahhhh! BBC Radio 2 is playing 'Fairytale of New York' by Shane McGowan and Kirsty McColl right now! It's the first time I've heard that this year.

OK, Christmas can officially begin now.

Deep Thoughts

You know, it's a good thing we have blogs. Where else would we get to expound on the really important questions - the weighty issues of our day?

To wit: just how many crap renditions of "O Holy Night" are out there, anyway? Today, as I sit here at work with the radio on, I have already been subjected to three: one by Destiny's Child, one by Avril Lavigne and Chantal Kreviazuk, and (just now) one by Clay Aitken.

Why, God? Why??

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

Right then - I'm just in from seeing it. Verdict? Not perfect, but still quite good. All the elements were there, but some of the magic was missing.

• Acting was quite good - all the children were quite respectable, and there were star turns from Tilda Swinton (the White Witch), Liam Neeson (Aslan), and Ray Winstone (Mr. Beaver - when he referred to Aslan as the 'top geezer', I nearly busted a gut).
• Special effects were middling to good - quite uneven in fact, which was odd. Some things, like Aslan himself, were spectacular, but other characters and effects looked a little dated. Given the amount of money that went into this film, and the team behind it (Weta Workshop), this seems quite strange.
• The scriptwriters stayed very close to the novel - which I suppose was not hard to do, given that the novel is only about 170 pages of largish print. Not like Harry Potter, in that respect, where huge swathes of narrative had to be chopped.
• The Christian allegory was handled quite subtly, I thought. If anything, I worried about this aspect the most, fearing that viewers might be hit over the head with Aslan/Jesus parallels.

All in all, a faithful and well-executed adaptation of the novel. Despite this, however, it was not as magical as I hoped it might be. Of course, films like these rarely are. I guess I've been spoiled by the Lord of the Rings films in that respect.

In a nutshell? This first of the Narnia films (for there will doubtless be more) wasn't a patch on LOTR, but was rather better than any of the Harry Potters. So there you are.

An Unexpected Letter

Checking my backlog of e-mail earlier today, I found this lovely message and some accompanying photos:

------ Forwarded Message
From: "dean w."
Date: Fri, 09 Dec 2005 15:16:29 -0800
Subject: Hello from Seattle

Hi, Jen (of "Jen and Jana's Trip To The Loire Valley 2002").

My girlfriend and I just got back on Tuesday from a trip to the Loire Valley.

Months ago, in preparation for the trip I'd Googled "Loire Valley Travelogue" and came across your excellent and very helpful description of your travels there.

Jean and I stayed at "La Chaussee" with Madame and then spent 3 great days at "Le Moulin du Fief Gentil".

The mill is now run by a very outgoing, wonderful woman, Florence, and her husband, Francois-Xavier. I'm sure you'd enjoy meeting them. They purchased the mill from Ann and Roger. The mill and its new owners were a real find.

Jean and I just wanted to thank you for posting your very well written travelogue! It was fun to read and very helpful!

Happy Travels.

Dean/Jean
Seattle, Washington, USA
------

Isn't that brilliant? I've gotten a few messages like this over the years and I'm always floored by them. Reminded me, though, that I really need to go back to all my travelogues (not just the Loire one, above) and update the links, many of which have expired. Must make a note to do that, in my copious free time. ;-)

First Snow

Arrived back home last night just as the first real snowfall of the year was beginning. Slow, heavy, and wet, it soon blanketed everything, and weighed down trees, bushes and power lines. The electricity went out between midnight and 2.00 am. In the morning, we woke up to a couple inches of snow cover, which was rapidly freezing. Made for bad road conditions; A.'s clinic still had no power this morning and so was shut for the day.

It's unlikely to last, however. Tomorrow's forecast calls for heavy rain and temperatures well above freezing, so most of it should disappear. A sharp little reminder to finish the last of the yard work and put the garden to sleep for the winter. I bought those new boots in Montreal not a moment too soon, it seems!

At Home

Keeping purposefully busy here. Grandma's memorial service was held this morning. Just the six of us (as the wider family will be gathering this summer in Newfoundland, for the interment), and there was a priest on hand to say a few words. It was nice - but very sad.

This afternoon I helped my mother and aunt some more, going through my grandmother's personal things. By the end of the afternoon I had a little pile of things to take away with me. Some were gifts I have given to Grandma over the years - a thorn brooch from Glastonbury, a china dish from France, an early 18th-century Bible I found in a secondhand bookshop in Devon, a pair of leather gloves from Venice. Other things were her own possessions - her sewing box with embroidery silks, a copy of Tennyson, a pair of walking shoes she bought just a few months ago and hardly wore.

Late in the afternoon, my aunt handed me a folder full of papers and asked me to sort through them. They were copies of my grandmother's poems. I actually hadn't been aware that she wrote that much. Needless to say, they were hard to read. The most poignant is one she wrote in 2001, after her own mother died:

In a moment of stillness, she passed peacefully away
With contentment, for having lived to the fullness of her age,
She was prepared for the time when her mortal life would end,
And she wanted us to know, as she had said many times,
"I have been truly blessed, and now I have been fulfilled."

During the last days,
She recounted the lives of those she would leave behind,
Reaching back in her memory to find the pattern of events
Leading up to her present place in time, and she was satisfied
That indeed, she had done her best, and now all would be well.
There were no regrets.

Alice Winona Jean Keating, 1928-2005

My beloved Grandma, who had been ill for some time with cancer, passed away in hospital Monday night. My mother and aunt were with her. Her last moments were peaceful and dignified, which is a great relief. We are going to Cape Breton today, for a couple of days.

Her obituary appears today in the Toronto Star, the Cape Breton Post, and The Telegram in St. John's:

KEATING, ALICE WINONA (GOSSE) — "Passed gently into the good night." Alice Winona Keating, age 76, a resident of Big Bras d'Or and formerly of Toronto passed away peacefully Monday, December 5, 2005 at the Northside General Hospital, North Sydney.
Born in Newfoundland, she was the daughter of the late William Edgar and Marion (Reid) Gosse. She resided most of her life in Toronto, where she married, raised her six children and then retired to Cape Breton Island seven years ago. She was a loving wife, devoted mother, and grandmother.
She is survived by: brother: Gerald Edgar Gosse, NL; sister in spirit: Kay Gosse, Calgary; her six children: Karen Keating, Toronto, Jeannette (Lolek) M[...], Big Bras d'Or, William Keating (Michelle), Toronto, Gale McGowan (Erick), Penn., U.S.A., John Keating, Big Bras d'Or, Marion Craymer (John), Mississauga; grandchildren: Jennifer, Bryan, Jonathan, Justin, Kathryn, Sarah, Colton, Sam, Dora, Katelyn, Rebecca and Matthew.
Beside her parents, Alice was predeceased by her husband William Thomas Keating, her sister Ellie Rowe and brother Baxter Gosse, and grandchild Candice Keating.
There will be no visitation by request. A private family service will be held under the direction of W.J. Dooley Funeral Home, 107 Pleasant Street, North Sydney. Memorial donations may be made to a charity of choice. Online condolences may be sent to info@wjdooley.com.
"Let your indulgence set me free" - Epilogue, 'The Tempest'

Terrible Anniversaries

Man, what a day this has been. I've got the news on at the moment and have been reminded that this is the anniversary of two terrible events in Canadian history.

The Montreal Massacre happened on this day in 1989, when Marc Lepine killed fourteen women in an attempt to gain revenge on the 'feminists' who had allegedly 'ruined his life'. It's a day that is marked especially in universities, and I believe there's a memorial tonight down at our Engineering faculty - which is fitting.

It's also the 88th anniversary of the Halifax Explosion, which changed this city forever. Until it was eclipsed by the atomic blasts in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, it was the largest man-made explosion in history.

*shakes head*

Montreal Update

In the interest of keeping my mind off of recent events, I'll tell you a bit about my weekend in Montreal, which was very good.

J. and I spent Saturday and yesterday doing some epic shopping. Got nearly everything I was looking for, including some clothes for work and some winter boots (the likes of which I have not worn - indeed, needed to wear - for a decade now). Christmas shopping now nearly complete.

Sunday was very eclectic. We went first for a magnificent brunch to the Mount Stephen Club, a beautiful, stately Victorian home downtown which is now a private club. Probably the best brunch I've ever had - we stayed almost three hours and sampled nearly everything the buffet had to offer, before having ourselves a little tour of the opulent premises. Then we went up the street to the Musée des Beaux-Arts, to see their current exhibition of paintings from Provence. Very very good, and it brought back memories of my holiday there last year - quite a few representations of landmarks such as the Fontaine de Vaucluse, and the Papal Palace in Avignon.

After that, we headed to a salon to be coiffed for the evening's event, before heading back to Jana's to get changed and made up. By 7.30, we were heading back downtown to the Bell Centre for the concert. The Bravery (who were the opening act) were due to play at 8 pm and we didn't want to miss that. They gave quite a good performance, and were pretty well-received by the crowd (it must be so hard to be the opening act at these things!). Then...J. and I headed to the sound booth where we were due to meet with The Bravery's tour manager. My friend C., who works in the music biz and who is mates with the band's manager, kindly made arrangements for us to meet the band, which was pretty freakin' cool. So we met up with 'Keith', who ushered us backstage (!). Quite surreal as neither of us had ever done the backstage thing before (very quiet and orderly back there). After hanging around for a little bit, we found ourselves in The Bravery's dressing room! Ack! A bit intimidating as we were the only fans there, and the band were obviously very tired, having just come off stage. But they were polite and chatted to us for a bit. J. and I took our leave after a couple minutes, though, as we didn't want to be intrusive. Totally surreal.

We went back out to our seats a few minutes before Depeche Mode took the stage. And what a show! I had never really been a huge DM fan in the 80s (though I did buy most of their albums - J. was probably a bigger fan than me), and lost touch with them completely in the 90s. But their latest album is pretty good, and as it turns out, they are amazing live! The set was like something out of a retro sci-fi film, with these consoles that looked like spaceships. To the left of the stage, there was a huge grey ball with slogans on it ('angel', 'sex', 'love', 'pain', 'enjoy') that lit up during different parts of the show. Rather odd at times, but far be it for me to question their artistic vision...J. christened it the 'Christmas Ball of Armageddon'. Heh.

Dave Gahan looked amazing - far better than a former heroin addict has any right to. He spent most of the show stripped to the waist and is quite...um...agile in his movements. Quite a revelation - who knew? I think J. had developed the hots for him by the end of the evening! And Martin Gore did not disappoint. He arrived on stage sporting a pair of small feathery black wings and what looked like a chicken's arse on his head. Sadly, the arse disappeared after the first few songs, but the wings remained.

The Bell Centre was packed out - 13,000 in attendance, apparently. And the crowd was insane. I've never seen anything like it. Sure, I've observed some hysteria at Duran Duran shows, but they always seem to have a considerable 'harassed boyfriend/husband' component, who stand around all evening with arms crossed, looking pained. Everyone at the Depeche show, by contrast, was totally into it. Dave Gahan had but to bat an eyelash, and the crowd would go apeshit. It was unbelieveable.


I've definitely developed a new appreciation for Depeche. Fantastic show.

Off to Montreal - Again

I'm away to Montreal way too early tomorrow morning - will be in the city by breakfast-time. This trip is a gift from J. and should be much fun, though less hectic than my last visit.

The weekend will mostly be about shopping, brunching, and art, and the centrepiece is a concert on Sunday evening by Depeche Mode, at the Bell Centre. It's been some years since I've paid that band much attention, but their new album is great and young whippersnappers The Bravery (whom I love) are opening for them. Watch this space...

New Bed?

Our house has three bedrooms (with possibilities for a fourth), but not enough bedroom furniture. Our main guest bedroom is downstairs on the main floor, and I've been planning to get a queen-size bed for it. We already have two single beds, which are upstairs in the second guest bedroom. But it would be nice to accommodate visiting couples with a proper bed, instead of those two singles pushed together.

The problem, as always, is a limited budget. I want something decent, but given that the bed will only have occasional use, I don't want to spend very much. So I've been keeping an eye on the want ads for a gently-used bed. And I think I may have found a good one at last.

The mattress and boxspring are five years old and were bought for a spare room. The frame, however, consists of a wrought-iron headboard, footboard and canopy (!). The seller sent me a couple of pictures. This is the standard configuration:

And with canopy attached:

Obviously, this is rather more than we need. But the seller is only asking $350 for the lot, which seems a bit of a bargain to me. I've offered her $300, so we'll see what she says.

Prisoner of Narnia

Via McWetboy came a link yesterday to this splendid essay in the New Yorker about C. S. Lewis. I enjoyed it very much. This part resonated with me especially (emphasis mine):

...[P]oetry and fantasy aren’t stimulants to a deeper spiritual appetite; they are what we have to fill the appetite. The experience of magic conveyed by poetry, landscape, light, and ritual, is . . . an experience of magic conveyed by poetry, landscape, light, and ritual. To hope that the conveyance will turn out to bring another message, beyond itself, is the futile hope of the mystic. Fairy stories are not rich because they are true, and they lose none of their light because someone lit the candle. It is here that the atheist and the believer meet, exactly in the realm of made-up magic. Atheists need ghosts and kings and magical uncles and strange coincidences, living fairies and thriving Lilliputians, just as much as the believers do, to register their understanding that a narrow material world, unlit by imagination, is inadequate to our experience, much less to our hopes.

Secrets and Smoothness

Finding a beauty-related product that actually does what it says on the tin (as they say) is such a rare occurrence these days that when it happens, you feel the need to spread the word.

Yes ladies, I'm talking about the prickly subject of hair removal. (And if this subject constitutes Too Much Information for you, you'd best look away now.)

I've been thinking for quite a while about trying an epilator, as an alternative to waxing. But I didn't know if they were any good, and was put off buying one by both the rather high price, and fears that it would be painful. There's nothing worse than paying a lot of money for something that gets used once before being relegated to a drawer somewhere.

Well, recently I found this one at a bargain price, and decided to give it a go. And lo - it is truly a thing of wonder. Quite easy to use, and far quicker, less painful and less messy than waxing. And so effective. When I read in the instructions that it removed hair as short as 0.02 inches, I scoffed. But it's true! And let me tell you, it's amazing.

I'm totally impressed, and converted. I think I can safely say I will never wax again. YAY!

To the Neptune

Back again to the theatre this evening, for the third show of the season, The God of Hell by Sam Shepard. The Halifax production is the Canadian premiere; interestingly, the play is also having its European premiere this month, at the famed Donmar Warehouse in London.

Good play, but a bit of a head-scratcher. It's a total anti-Republican, Orwellian polemic (see this review in New York magazine for a plot summary), and apparently Shepard rushed it out just before the US election last year. Which shows, given the fact that it's only just over an hour long. There's not much of a narrative - it's more a political statement, chucked out there for the audience to ponder. Still quite worthy, though. And the acting was very good - one of the leads was Mary-Colin Chisholm, from Sydney in Cape Breton, whose work I've always enjoyed.

I'm a Woman of Letters

I know I'm sentimental and a bit of a packrat when it comes to things people have sent me, but sometimes I amaze myself.

I've been setting up a desk for myself in the pantry this afternoon (In fact, I'm typing away on the laptop at said desk right now. And the room gets sunlight! And it's warm!). So I took the opportunity to unpack a couple small boxes of 'desk stuff' that have been languishing upstairs for some time.

Hoo boy. Along with all the stationery-related ephemera, I found stacks of letters. You know, the paper kind that we hand-wrote and popped into the post, back in the days before e-mail. By the time I'd sorted through them all, they littered the floor and I stared at them in amazement. They all date from 1994-96. I had forgotten that I never used to throw out letters - it seemed disrespectful to the friends who wrote them to me (most of whom I still keep in touch with). Plus, as a historian, I've spent ridiculous amounts of time poring over the letters of others, and what seems mundane and trivial to us now could be immensely interesting to someone else in future.

So I'm ashamed to say that my first impulse was to chuck the lot for recycling. But I decided on a reprieve. After all, I've kept them this long. So they've gone back into a little box, to be put away with the rest of the sentimental flotsam and jetsam of my life. They're to be kept, just for the sake of keeping.

George Best

The famed footballer George Best died last night. Normally I don't give a toss about soccer, but Best was both a sporting and a pop culture legend in 1960s Britain. He played for Manchester United at the height of his career, but he was born and raised in Belfast, so Ireland loved him too.

Sadly, like not a few other immensely gifted people, his talents were overshadowed by his personal problems. He was an alcoholic nearly all of his adult life, and he had a controversial liver transplant a couple of years ago - after which he still couldn't stop drinking. And he was pretty unrepentant about his lifestyle. "I spent a lot of money on booze, birds and fast cars," he once remarked. "The rest I just squandered."

Still, people loved him. The blanket press coverage across the pond today is proof of that. Hell, it even made the main page of CNN's US site this morning.

Shopping Insanity

The US papers and websites are full of stories about shopping today. I hadn't realised until after we moved home last year that the day after Thanksgiving in America was such a big deal, when it comes to the sales. All these crazy stories about people getting up at 4 am to go to the mall and get a few bucks off some useless gadget...it's mental. I guess maybe it's similar to the Boxing Day sales here - which I must admit I often attend, but in a very strategic manner (i.e. only when there's a specific item I've had my eye on - I go in as soon as the shops open, grab said item, then get the hell out).

All that said, I'm heading back to Montreal next weekend and hope there will be good sales on, as I need to finish my Christmas shopping and get some new clothes for work.

Madge = Dance Queen

While commuting today, I listened to Madonna's new album, Confessions on a Dance Floor. And bugger me if it isn't completely brilliant. Not a dud track on it - though weirdly enough, 'Hung Up' is maybe the weakest thing on it (why the Abba sample? It may be catchy, but when you're Madonna, why is it even necessary?). Dance music is definitely her forte and this album showcases Madge doing what she does best. Mind you, the lyrics are not amongst her finest - 'I Love New York' is especially cringey ("...I like New York / Other places make me feel like a dork", "If you don't like my attitude, then you can eff off." Erm...OK then, missus). But then, the lyrics are hardly the point. If this record doesn't make you want to move, you probably don't have a pulse.

All that said, if you don't like dance music, you'll loathe it from start to finish. Heh.

New Job Pressures

Much possible employment activity happening at the moment.

I've just come out of an interview for a permanent post in one of the main Faculty offices here at the university. *mops sweaty brow* I think it went very well, but of course you never know. Still, it was good to get to interview stage after so much time applying and getting nowhere. But jeez, if they are thinking of offering me the post...I'd have to tell the bosses about it as Personnel would want to call them for a reference. And given that the bosses don't know I'm applying for other work, this would make for an extremely awkward situation. Gaah.

In related news, one of the other universities here in the city has been jockeying for my teaching services (which is really rather nice, when you think about it). They've asked me to teach a survey course in my field, which is absolutely fine, but they've also asked me to take on another course in early modern British history (1485-1715!). Given that the last time I studied early modern history was when I was an undergraduate, this prospect fills me with terror. I think I'm going to have to turn it down - the amount of work involved in teaching myself the material and writing lectures would be overwhelming. And given that teaching is something I'm supposed to be exploring for 'fun' and mental stimulation, I don't want to get pressured into doing stuff I'm not comfortable with. Even teaching a class in my field of speciality will take a ridiculous amount of my (already limited) free time - the preparation will be staggering.

I must say, it feels very odd to be in a situation where one might turn down work.

Female Chauvinist Pigs - A Review

I finally got hold of a copy of Female Chauvinist Pigs by Ariel Levy, loaned to me by an online friend (thanks Nancy!). And though I have quite a few criticisms of it, I thought it was an entertaining and important read. The central premise of the book is that the current prevalence of ‘raunch’ in our culture (i.e. porn-star memoirs on bestseller lists; stripping classes at gyms; Girls Gone Wild; g-strings marketed to preteens and their mums) is not ‘empowering’ or indicative of the success of the feminist project, but rather serves as proof of how far women still have to go.

I wanted to love this book, and for it to be stronger than it is. Its biggest problem is that it’s very uneven. The strongest chapters are the introductory chapter on ‘Raunch Culture’, the third chapter (which describes the nature of the ‘Female Chauvinist Pig’, who objectifies other women) and the final chapter, ‘Shopping for Sex’, which returns to the carefully-argued ground of the first and third chapters and ties them together neatly.

The second chapter, ‘The Future That Never Happened’, does its best to map the terrain of the women’s liberation movement in the 1960s and 70s, in an effort to show how we got from those heady days of radical activism, to our current quiescent, apolitical and hyper-sexual situation. This chapter only partly succeeds, mainly due to an apparent lack of broad, well-grounded research on Levy’s part. I don’t doubt her argument, and support her attempts to illustrate how far we have fallen away from the woman-centred position of the second-wave feminists, but this chapter would have been so much more convincing if she’d marshalled more evidence and examples. The only contemporary feminist of any prominence she interviewed for the book was Susan Brownmiller. Surely with a little more effort, she could have sampled a wider cross-section of opinion? I’m not a specialist in this area, but I was left wanting much more from this chapter in particular (probably because I was reading it as a historian). The argument was there, but it seemed rather hollow.

The fourth and fifth chapters are the weakest of the bunch, however. Chapter Four, ‘From Womyn to Bois’, attempts to illustrate the ways in which raunch culture has infiltrated the lesbian community, while the fifth chapter, ‘Pigs in Training’, takes the inquiry to teenage girls. The ‘Pigs in Training’ chapter seems to consist mainly of handwringing over the degree to which today’s teenage girls spend most of their time fixated on their physical appearance and how to make boys like them. But there is nothing new about this. While I’d agree that girls are becoming sexualised at a younger age than they were even a decade or two ago, I don’t think a strong enough connection was made with raunch culture generally. As for the ‘Womyn to Bois’ chapter, the example of the ‘bois’ (lesbians who ‘act like men’ in adopting cavalier, love-‘em-and-leave-‘em attitudes in their relationships with other women) also seems a weak basis from which to extrapolate. How widespread is this phenomenon? Has its impact been felt beyond the lesbian enclaves of New York and San Francisco? We never find out. The entire chapter smacks of an ‘add lesbians and stir’ approach.

Despite these serious shortcomings, I do think this book is very valuable. There’s no doubt that it has articulated, in a very clear and accessible way, just how pervasive and disturbing ‘raunch culture’ has become. As a statement of the zeitgeist, it is urgently overdue and therefore is to be welcomed. But Ariel Levy has only outlined the contours of the problem. Her central premise is sound, but I don’t think Levy has the expertise to extend her investigation beyond the limited world she herself has witnessed – as becomes obvious in the very thin chapters about lesbian ‘bois’ and teenage girls. I got the impression that, rather than allowing the evidence she uncovered to shape the argument, she undertook research that would support the point she wanted to make. I guess this isn’t surprising, since she’s a journalist by profession. But of course, I’m interested in a more academic approach.

What we need next are feminist theorists, familiar with the relevant research and with greater knowledge and experience, to pick up this line of inquiry and explore it in much greater depth. As it is, Female Chauvinist Pigs reads less like a coherent thesis, and more like a series of discrete magazine essays (which, in fact, it is – several of the chapters appeared as articles in various papers and magazines, including the LA Times, New York (1, 2) and Slate). But still, at least she’s shed light on the issue, and made me angry about it. And of course, change doesn’t happen until people are sufficiently pissed off. I can’t understand how my contemporaries have allowed themselves to sink so low as to embrace pole-dancing and Playboy, when our mothers’ and grandmothers’ generation worked so hard to bring us the rights we now take for granted. It’s embarrassing, and the fact that so many young women are blind to it is infuriating. As Susan Brownmiller says, in my favourite quote from the book, “’You think you’re being brave, you think you’re being sexy, you think you’re transcending feminism. But that’s bullshit.’”

Wireless, baby...yeah!

While I was away last weekend, A. had fun playing with computer stuff. He installed our new AirPort Express, as well as the wireless network card he bought last week. This means that, in addition to being able to broadcast music from our iTunes library (installed on the computer downstairs) on the living room speakers upstairs, we also now have wireless Internet access throughout the house. Given that he has the use of a nice new military-issue PC laptop for the next few months, this is pretty convenient. I'm hoping to set up my own desk (with said laptop) in the pantry/sewing room this weekend.

Ahhh...peace. ;-)

Harry Potter

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. The new Harry Potter movie doesn't open until tomorrow. But I'm special and got to see it tonight. My sister-in-law's law firm arranged a special advance screening for their staff and clients and rented out a cinema. The management told us the only other cinema screening the film in North America today is somewhere in California. Don't know if that's true or not...but if it is, that's really odd.

(I think I might indulge in a few spoilers here, so if you don't want to know what happens, look away now!)

Anyway. The film is really very good - definitely the best of the series so far. The script is a hell of a lot better than that of the previous three films. It came across as less of a kids' movie, and was considerably darker - in a good way. My favourite bits at this point probably are:

1. visual effects: the Quidditch World Cup stadium, for sheer scale; the medieval grandiosity of the Gryffindor Common Room; the general de-Disneyfication of the sets (the interiors of Hogwarts now look like they've been done up by someone from the BBC costume drama department, rather than by someone in Hollywood with a penchant for Ye Olde this and that);
2. the setting of the South Downs on the Sussex coast (near Brighton, where I used to live) for the World Cup: Harry and the Weasleys materialise on the chalk cliffs with the Seven Sisters towering behind them; later, the lighthouse at Beachy Head comes into view!
3. the fabulously OTT Miranda Richardson as Rita Skeeter, and Brendan Gleeson as Mad-Eye Moody;
4. a fleeting but fun cameo by Jarvis Cocker as the lead singer of the Weird Sisters, the band that plays the Yule Ball. *EDIT - the other guys in the band are from Radiohead, apparently*
5. *EDIT* Teenage girls everywhere will rejoice at the amount of eye candy in this film. There are two especially cute boys filling the gap left by the sadly departed Oliver Wood. Viktor Krum is menacingly 'andsome, but no question that Cedric Diggory takes the cake as the archetypal English Public Schoolboy - floppy posh-lad hair, rosy cheeks, and all:

(Jailbait! Jailbait!)

Of course, the film's not all wonderful. There were a couple of cringey aspects. It did nothing to change my opinion that Daniel Radcliffe and Emma Watson are not very good actors (Rupert Grint continues to be great, though). Also, there was a horrible bit at the beginning when the Irish team flew into the stadium for their World Cup match - fireworks went off which morphed into a leprechaun jigging away to horrible diddly-eye music, and a huge banner reading "Top o' the Morning" was unfurled...eurrgh (Irish people themselves refer to this sort of rubbish as 'Oirish'). And don't get me started on the entrance of the Beauxbatons girls...pah. Tellingly, none of this bad stuff was in the book.

I had fears for this film, but I was pleasantly surprised. Now I need to start worrying about The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe...

Formidable!

So then...Montréal pour le week-end. Brilliant time had by J. and I, as was to be expected.

Arrived around suppertime on Thursday night; J. met me at the airport with hubby K. and baby A. Trooped back to hers and then spent the evening watching the live concert section of the new Duran DVD and inhaling some wine and cheese.

Friday morning we were up early to see K. off to work and A. off to her daycare (Remembrance Day, surprisingly, is not a public holiday in Quebec). Spent the morning having a bit of a laze, watched the song commentaries section of the Duran DVD, then got cleaned up and headed downtown about 11 am, whereupon we hit the shops. I had planned to do a bit of a shopping recce this trip, and not really buy anything (saving that for my return visit in December), but we hit a couple of brilliant sales. What to do? I ended up buying a lovely new coat and a few sweaters, while J. got a coat and a suit. Good stuff.

Later in the afternoon we headed for the hairdresser so J. could get her hair cut. As we had plans for an evening out, I got a blow dry and the stylist gave me some seriously big hair - a bit of a retro Farrah-esque flick, actually (J. said my hair looked like Madonna's in her new video - heh). Bit of a new look for me - felt I was channelling my inner blonde ditz - but it was kind of fun! Hee. Anyway, after that, we headed for the makeup artist's - J.'s treat. Result was a bit of a mixed bag - the foundation the girl used on me was too dark, but she did an outstanding job on my eyes. I kept trying to see what she was doing, but not sure I'll be able to replicate it myself.

All dolled up, we headed back to J.'s place, got dressed, and then K. drove us back into the city as we had reservations at Bu for 8 pm. Bu is really a stylish wine bar with food ('Bu', of course, meaning 'drink' in French), rather than a restaurant that serves wines. But it was really very good. Over the course of the evening, we tried seven different wines - two whites (a riesling and a costières de nîmes), a flight of three pinot noirs, and two dessert wines (a muscat and a tokaij). In between sips, we had crostini, antipasti and chocolate tart to finish. Very nice.

After dinner, we jumped into a cab and headed to Old Montreal, where we hit the Wunderbar at the W Hotel, hoping that we'd find a slightly older and more stylish crowd. By midnight it was pretty packed, but mostly with twentysomethings (who were nonetheless quite à la mode). Ah well...at least the DJ was great, and the bar itself very chic, though the crowd was younger than we'd have liked and rather attitudinous. But we ended up staying till about two, and had quite a good time in the end.

The saintly K. was up early with the baby the next morning while we had a much-needed lie-in. Around lunchtime, we jumped into the car and headed downtown for round two of serious shopping and strolling. That night, we had reservations at Le Club Chasse et Pêche, one of the smartest new restos in town (coincidentally, I discovered during my flight home that it's been deemed one of the 10 best new restaurants in the country this year - la-di-dah!).

It was a bit of a gastronomic tour de force. We sipped cocktails whilst considering the menu and debating what wines to order (eventually, after consultation with the waiter, we settled on an extremely good bottle of Piedmontese chardonnay, La Spinetta 'Lidia'). I had butternut squash ravioli and suckling pig risotto with foie gras, while J. had the lobster, white truffle and Kobe beef starter, followed by a main course of American snapper. We both partook of the cheese board before moving on to glasses of muscat and dessert - nougat ice cream with crystallised fruit for me, and baklava with honey ice cream for J. Amazing meal. J. quite pickled by the end of it, and for second night in a row. Shocking. ;-)

By Sunday morning we were all feeling kinda wiped. What lightweights we are these days. It was a beautiful morning so we took little Miss A. to the playground and the nearby park for a walk. Then we had lunch and crashed for a bit (A. and K. both disappeared for mid-afternoon naps), while watching the remaining bits of the Duran DVD. And then it was time for me to head to the airport.

Great weekend. And the best part is that I'll be back there again in less than three weeks, cos J. and I are going to see Depeche Mode and the Bravery at the Bell Centre on 4 December. SWEET!

Remembrance Day

In Flanders Fields (1915)

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

- John McRae

In Flanders Fields first appeared in Punch magazine on 8 December 1915. John McRae, a Canadian doctor, was brought up in Guelph, Ontario. He served in the Canadian contingent in the South African Boer War in 1900 and he volunteered to serve with the Canadian forces in France in 1914. He saw extensive service in dressing stations and hospitals in France and Flanders. Exhausted by his work and the stresses of war, Lt Colonel McRae died of pneumonia and meningitis on 28 January 1918, aged 45. He is buried at Wimereux Cemetery near Boulogne.

Aftermath (1920)

Have you forgotten yet?...

For the world's events have rumbled on since those gagged days,

Like traffic checked while at the crossing of city-ways:

And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flow

Like clouds in the lit heaven of life; and you're a man reprieved to go,

Taking your peaceful share of Time, with joy to spare.

But the past is just the same -- and War's a bloody game...

Have you forgotten yet?...

Look down, and swear by the slain of the War that you'll never forget.

Do you remember the dark months you held the sector at Mametz --

The nights you watched and wired and dug and piled sandbags on parapets?

Do you remember the rats; and the stench

Of corpses rotting in front of the front-line trench --

And dawn coming, dirty-white, and chill with a hopeless rain?

Do you ever stop and ask, 'Is it all going to happen again?'

Do you remember that hour of din before the attack --

And the anger, the blind compassion that seized and shook you then

As you peered at the doomed and haggard faces of your men?

Do you remember the stretcher-cases lurching back

With dying eyes and lolling heads -- those ashen-grey

Masks of the lads who once were keen and kind and gay?

Have you forgotten yet?...

Look up, and swear by the green of the spring that you'll never forget.

- Siegfried Sassoon

Off to Montreal

I've been getting packed and ready this evening as I'm away to Quebec tomorrow, for a joint-birthday weekend with Jana (it's her birthday on Friday). Should be much fun.

I'm leaving after work tomorrow and we're planning to spend the evening curled up with the new Duran Duran Live From London DVD, and a bouteille or two. Friday night J. wants to hit this wine bar, and Saturday we've got posh dins booked at a swank resto called Club Chasse et Pêche (i.e. The Huntin' n' Fishin' Club). Sunday we'll probably head for the Musée des Beaux-Arts, as they have an exhibition of paintings from Provence at the moment - quite looking forward to a little wistful reminiscing about last year's holiday.

I shall doubtless report back on my return!

Happy Birfday to Meeee

Yep, I'm 33 today. Not sure how in the hell that happened. ;-) Especially as the last birthday I remember being excited about (in a "Wow, I'm XX years old today! Kewl!" way) was my 24th.

Like every working stiff, I'm in the office today, but at least it's a beautiful day outside. Opened some cards and presents at breakfast this morning and have been sent some nice e-mail messages. It's all good. :-)

I discovered that some cool things happened on this day in history. For instance, the Louvre opened as a museum on this day in 1793. Also, Sarah Bernhardt made her debut on the New York stage this day in 1880. Furthermore, this is the 82nd anniversary of Hitler's launching of the Beer Hall Putsch - which is most definitely not a cool event, but it has one of the silliest names ever. So it's good for a birthday snicker.

**ADDENDUM, 9.00 PM**
Just in from dinner at the bistro in the Hydrostone Market. Quite a nice little restaurant - would definitely go back. I had crab cakes and veal and two glasses of red wine and coffee with a big lump of chocolatey goodness (properly called Dark and White Chocolate Cheesecake, I believe) to finish ... mmmmmm! *pats grotesquely-distended stomach contentedly*

My birthday present from A. turned out to be a Griffin iTrip - yay! For those not in the know, the iTrip is a little FM transmitter gizmo that allows you to use your iPod in a car and broadcast through the car stereo. As he ordered it from Apple, he also took the opportunity to finally get us an AirPort card and base station (double yay!), which he's been tinkering with all evening. Not only will this allow us to broadcast music in various places through the house via the computer in the basement, but it will also facilitate the setup of a wireless Internet network. So soon, I'll be able to set up one of our laptops upstairs for my own use - which should cut down on battling with A. for keyboard time on the main computer. Good stuff all around.

Busy Weekend

Quite a bit of activity this weekend. I've just come in from having brunch with a group of friends, one of whom is in town from Newfoundland at the moment. We went to the Victory Arms down at the Lord Nelson, and it was Eggs Benedict and mimosas all round. :-)

Friday night, I decided I needed to get a jump on my Christmas shopping and so dragged A. to the big Christmas craft and antique show over at the Forum. The stuff on offer was about eighty percent twee rubbish, as usual, but actually we did find quite a few presents for people on our collective lists. The 'antique' stalls were mostly old tat from the Fifties onwards, but I did get a bit of a bargain on a cache of lovely vintage costume jewellery. Also (because one must always buy presents for oneself at these things) I found a pile of old postcards. I winkled out the oldest ones (a half-dozen dated from 1910 to 1921), which I got for $2.50 apiece. Some of them are quite sweet, and I'll try to scan and post a few later. I've got a little collection of old postcards now, which I really must figure out how to display nicely.

Then last night, A. and I went to a play at the Neptune. We actually have season tickets this year, and this was our second show. The play was Frozen by Bryony Lavery; it was very dark (the main character was a pedophile serial killer), but very well-written and acted. Not a fun thing to watch by any means, but very worthy. I'm quite looking forward to the rest of the plays this season. Neptune always does a very good job of mixing well-known plays with the not so well-known, comedies and dramas, and a few brand-new and/or local things as well. For a small city like Halifax, it really is a remarkably good little theatre.

Bonfire Night

Remember, remember, the Fifth of November,
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
For I see no reason why gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.









This is Bonfire Night (Guy Fawkes) in the UK - though I imagine there will probably be a few fires even around the Maritimes tonight. When I lived in Brighton, I went once to the bonfire celebrations in the nearby county town of Lewes, which are probably the most famous in England. It was something I will never forget - the press of the crowds, the noise, the darkness, and all that fire. Very primeval.

Of course, the other thing I won't forget is the strident anti-Catholic theme of most of the traditional bonfire processions. In Lewes, I was astonished to see a huge banner strung up above the High Street which read 'No Popery'. Then there are the other, politically incorrect, verses of the Bonfire Prayer above, which include:

A penny loaf to feed the Pope
A farthing o'cheese to choke him
A pint of beer to rinse it down
A faggot of sticks to burn him.

Burn him in a tub of tar
Burn him like a blazing star
Burn his body from his head
Then we'll say old Pope is dead!

Not that the Catholic Church needs me coming to its defence, mind. I'm just pointing it out, as a bizarre historical anachronism.

Autumn Leaves

Wow. What a difference twelve days makes at this time of year. On 22 October, I posted this pic of the maple tree on our front lawn:

And this was the scene this morning:


A. will doubtless have lots of fun with his new leaf blowing/sucking/mulching machine this weekend, I think!

Such a beautiful morning here, so I took a few pics outside before going to work and posted them over at Flickr.

Kate, Dear Kate...How I Have Missed You

I've always adored Kate Bush. Her new album Aerial (her first for 12 years) is out next week. But most of it can be streamed at the moment from nme.com, so I've been listening to it today. It's a delight. Much of it is just Kate playing piano and the sound of her beautiful, dreamy, ethereal voice.

There's a few rather wacky touches, as are to be expected from Kate. 'Prelude', the first track on the second CD of Aerial, features what sounds like a child's voiceover and the coo of mourning doves (the speakers on my office computer aren't the greatest, so it's hard to be sure). Actually, there seems to be rather a lot of birdsong. But for sheer weirdness, however, nothing could ever beat the Bulgarian choristers she had singing backup on most of The Sensual World. Aerial is considerably less odd, but no less enjoyable.

BOO!

What a great Halloween night this is - dry, calm and very mild. Usually, Halloween night in Nova Scotia can be relied upon to be cold and rainy, which is always the pits. I remember so many years when I was a kid, working to come up with a really good costume, then having it wrecked because it was freezing out and my mother insisted that I wear my snowsuit underneath. Oh, the indignity.

I raced home after work today (watching all the kiddies going door-to-door en route), lit the jack o'lantern and put it out on the deck...but thus far tonight, there have been no trick-or-treaters. *sigh* Not surprising - we didn't have any last year either. Since our street is a cul-de-sac, with only a handful of houses, I guess the local kids can't be bothered with us. And apparently, most kids get driven around by overprotective or lazy parents these days.

It was different when I was a kid. Granted, I grew up in a small village, where there weren't that many neighbours, and they lived far apart. But maybe because there were relatively few houses, we made sure not to miss any at Halloween.

The other great thing about trick-or-treating in the country is the quality of one's haul of treats. When my brother and I were very young, and living in Toronto, anything we brought home that wasn't wrapped was chucked out. But having then moved to a rural community in Cape Breton, it became OK to eat all the good home-made stuff, like toffee apples and fudge, because we knew all our neighbours and could tell our parents who had given us what.

Eh...it's just not the same these days, I tell ye....
*consoles self with unclaimed stash of Doritos and mini Crispy Crunch bars*

Recent Reading

This morning, I finished The Time Traveller's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger (loaned to me by Jana). It was not at all what I was expecting. I thought it would be a historical novel, but it was entirely contemporary. Wasn't sure that it would hold my interest, but it was really awfully good, and quite a touching love story. Not the kind of thing I usually read, but I liked it a lot.

On my iPod at the moment is another audiobook, The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan. I haven't read any pure fantasy like this in quite a while. It's OK, but like so many novels of its type, the story is heavily Tolkienesque; there's definitely a finite number of ways the standard sword'n'sorcery saga can be told. Still, it's fairly frothy, so in that sense it's not a bad thing to be listening to while commuting. And unsurprisingly, it's enormous - presented on a whopping twenty-nine CDs - whoooo!

Not sure what I'll start reading next - though I'm kind of tempted by Nick Bantock's Morning Star Trilogy (which I recently bought). Hmmm...

Adventures in Home Decorating (con't)

The second floor of our house is a half-storey; it consists only of two bedrooms and a large landing at the top of the stairs. The landing is a quirky, eccentric space, and it's one of the things I liked most about the house from the first time I viewed it.

I have envisioned the space as a little reading area. I went as far as buying a nice armchair and small endtable for it, but other than that, nothing much has been done so far. But yesterday, I bought a rug (as the landing is the only place in the house where the original wood floors have not been refinished). I saw this rug a month or so ago, and instantly knew it was the one I wanted - and so I snagged it yesterday when it went on sale. This is it (still somewhat rumpled from the packaging). I really like the circles, and the different shades of blue:


It's weird how a single item can inspire a whole space. As soon as I saw this rug, I suddenly knew how I wanted the landing to look: pale yellow walls, blond wood shelves for books, the armchair (which is beige), and roman blinds and an interesting lamp in shades of blue, echoing the rug.

Now that I can see it, I want it to look that way NOW. ;-) But I think I'll have to wait another month or two before there's time for things like painting.

To the Cemetery

Thank God for PBS, otherwise my brain would probably go to mush. Quite enjoyable (and timely) programme on last night. A Cemetery Special was a documentary about one of my favourite places - graveyards.

I always try to make a point of visiting old burying grounds whenever I travel; I've enjoyed the sprawling grounds of Highgate Cemetery in London and Père-Lachaise in Paris as much as those of tiny parish churches. The American sites visited for the show last night really were cemeteries, though - the nineteenth-century, rural garden-style type, full of marble statues of angels and sleeping figures - rather than graveyards. There are comparatively few graveyards in North America - we're just not old enough - though I visited several recently in Boston. And not forgetting the Old Burying Ground in Halifax, which dates mostly from the eighteenth century and has beautiful headstones.

But I digress. The show on PBS last night visited a sampling of cemeteries across America. Most interesting were Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta (which I visited nearly twenty years ago with my grandmother, who is herself very interested in old burial grounds), and Mount Auburn in Boston (which I have not yet visited, but which I've read a fair bit about). But oddly absent, I thought, were some of the cemeteries of New Orleans. In the wake of the devastation there, it's a shame it wasn't included.

Sunny Autumn Saturday

Such a beautiful October day today. I spent some time outdoors and took a few pictures. Across the lane from us, the light was filtering through the trees around our neighbour's house. I kept trying to capture it, but couldn't, really.


I need a better camera. No, I need actual photography skills. I could probably take better pictures with the camera I have, if I sat down and actually read the freakin' manual.

After I came back from shopping, the sun was sloping across the lawn and dappled through the leaves of the big maple tree, which is just starting to turn red. So pretty.

Dance Diane, Dance

Every time I go to ballet class, at some point I end up feeling like a twit and can't help but think of that old episode of Cheers where Diane decides she wants to be a ballerina. *snicker*

Found these stills of Diane at the 'bar(re)' after a cursory Google search:


Hehe ;-)

Je suis un danceur

Eh, well...not really. But I did go back to Dal Dance today. I had planned to try something different this term, after last year's ballet classes, but it didn't work out (bellydance massively oversubscribed; jazz being taught by rather snotty 'dancer-girl' type).

So I put myself on the waiting list to go back to beginner ballet, and finally was able to join the class today. Luckily, I've only missed three classes so far, and given that I did it last year, I didn't have any problems catching up.

Except physical ones, of course. Having sat on my arse all summer and taken a break from my usual exercise routine, my joints creaked and groaned throughout the class (which - dishearteningly - is almost entirely composed of lithe 18- to 21-year-olds). Felt much better afterwards, but really must dust off pilates and yoga videos and start moving again. You'd think the twenty miles I walk per week would be enough, but while it may be good for the ol' ticker, it's clearly not doing much for my strength or flexibility - as I discovered this afternoon.

Saturday Night

...and it's been a 'stay in with scrummy dinner and telly' kind of night. Absolutely chucking it down again today, and in the last half-hour the thunder and lightning have started.

Bit of yin/yang on the box tonight. Watched Nip/Tuck (which was remarkably unpervy this evening, for once), and then a PBS show about Boston in the 1940s. Bed and book shortly. Oh dee doe.

(My newest bedtime read is The Time Traveller's Wife, which Jana has recommended and loaned to me; only on about page 40 so far, though....)

"Who is that exquisitely-attired woman, and are my tax dollars paying for it?"

Damnation! Why didn't I think of starting a site like this?


The Lipstick Librarian is a delightfully facetious site. It's got everything - daft beauty tips, bibliographies, a blog, even an online store where one can purchase LL ephemera.

And if there was ever any doubt that I myself am an archetypal Lipstick Librarian, I'll have you know I took the quiz and scored a bodacious 92 percent! Whoo HOO!

Are They Mental?

News today that Diageo PLC, the eedjits who own Guinness, have decided that the best way to boost recently flagging sales of the black stuff is to...fool with the formula. Who comes up with these 'innovations', anyway?

Bloomberg has the story - apparently there are plans to release all these special limited-edition flavours, etc. I can't imagine it will go down very well. As it is, there are a million pints of Guinness sold per day in Ireland - a staggering figure, in a country with a population of just four million.

Autumn = Definitely Here

I think we need to turn the heat back on, in the house. Bedroom and bathroom freezing this (and the past several) morning(s).

When I left the house early this a.m., it was a mere 5°C. And I could see my breath.

ARGH.

It's the Great Pumpkin, Martha Stewart!

Grave disappointment in Nova Scotia yesterday. The CBC reported that after a week of negotiations to secure entrance to Canada, despite her criminal record, Martha Stewart's private plane was grounded in Bar Harbor, Maine, due to the terrible weather.

She was due to take part in Windsor's annual Pumpkin Regatta, and paddle a hollowed-out, gaily-decorated, 660 lb. whopper (supplied by Howard Dill, grower of the World's Largest Pumpkins™) across a lake. But in the end, one of her producers had to step in and do it for her.

Sometimes it's impossible to pretend that I'm not living in a wretched provincial backwater. This is definitely one of those times. ;-)

Thanksgiving

Well, in typical Maritime fashion, it's a miserable Thanksgiving day outside (it's been chucking it down since yesterday morning). So, not a bad day to fire up the oven. We're having the in-laws round this afternoon, for the usual turkey feast. A. always took it upon himself to cook for our Canadian friends for each of the Thanksgivings we spent in Ireland, so he's an old hand with this sort of thing now.

To wit, today's Bill of Fare:

Butternut Squash Soup with Garlic Croutons

: : :

Roast Turkey with Chestnut and Apple Stuffing
Roast Potatoes
Mashed Turnips
Asparagus
: : :
Pumpkin Pie
Trifle

Luckily, there's been some division of labour. My mother- and father-in-law are supplying the wines, as well as a main course for my sister-in-law (who's veggie) and some homemade cranberry sauce, as we forgot to buy cranberries yesterday (and this being Nova Scotia, all the grocery stores are shut today). SIL herself has made an alternative dessert of trifle, as my FIL doesn't like pumpkin pie. The offending pie in question has been my duty today.

The house smells positively ambrosial at the moment. Family due to arrive within the half-hour; iPod has been loaded with suitable music; a suitably autumnal fire has been laid in the living room grate upstairs. And I've just opened the sherry. Let the festivities begin.

EDIT 10.05 pm: *burp* oops ;-)

Adventures in Dildo

I was tickled to see this fun article in the NYT travel section the other week - a bit of reportage from the rather wonderful Carrie Fisher, on her recent trip to Dildo, Newfoundland. She had a larf, by the sounds of it.

And why wouldn't she? Over the years, while chatting with travelled acquaintances, Dildo has often been mentioned (and snickered over) when the subject of oddly-named places comes up. When it does, I do so enjoy playing my little trump card. See, I've not only been to Dildo, but some of my forebears hail from there. My mother's mother's family, specifically - though she herself left for Toronto at a young age. But there are still plenty of cousins there. My great-grandmother, 'Aunt' Marion Gosse (who passed away just a few years ago at the venerable age of 103), lived all her life in Dildo. And all of us in the family descended on her in the summer of 1997 to celebrate her 100th birthday.

Yep...a good time in Dildo was had by all.

Bill Philip

Imaginus, the travelling poster fair that has been going around Canadian university campuses since before I was an undergraduate, are at my workplace this week. As I still need a final picture for my living room, I wandered over to the Student Union after work and had a gawp.

Of course, it took ages to wade through the miasma of typical student dorm-room subjects - Bob Marley, Che Guevara, bikini babes, kittens, 'Beer: It's Not Just for Breakfast Any More', etcetera etcetera etcetera. But there were a few interesting things. I got a small reprint of a hilarious 1950s advert for Scott paper towels bearing the slogan "Is Your Washroom Breeding Bolsheviks?" Heh. I'm hanging it in the downstairs bog, of course.

And amazingly, I did actually find something for the living room. It's a triptych of photographs called Palazzo Staircase, by an English photographer called Bill Philip, whom I'd never heard of before. It's really quite nice and goes well with something else hanging on the opposite wall - an original photographic print of a spiral staircase in a chateau in Burgundy, which we bought at a market in Belfast. I googled Bill Philip and found that his work is really very good. And weirdly enough, he's based in Arundel, West Sussex - not even an hour's drive from Brighton. Small world.