Festive Vintage Bargains

J. is in NS this week, visiting with her family, and so popped down to the city yesterday for a short overnight visit. We did our usual round of lunch, shopping and spa visit, which was all very nice. I also introduced her, yesterday and again this morning, to the delights of Halifax's vintage clothing boutiques. We hit four different places, and J. came away with a pile of fantastic things for next to no money (while these shops aren't terribly expensive to begin with, they're all having half-price sales at the moment). Her finest find was most definitely a black silk Ralph Lauren evening gown, priced at $20.50. I myself snagged an Italian merino wool sweater for $11, a lovely tailored wool jacket for $5, and a beaded evening bag for $2. As J. exclaimed in the dressing room at The Clotheshorse this morning, "I'll never buy retail again!" Haha!

She Is Gone

Benazir Bhutto has been assassinated this morning. Christ - I can't believe it.

Her country will probably dissolve in chaos now...and it's the last thing she'd have wanted. :-(

New Books and Houseguests

One of the many things I like about this time of year is that the newspapers are full of retrospective book reviews, pointing out new titles whose releases passed me by. This morning, I was getting caught up on some reviews and found Trading in Memories: Travels Through a Scavenger's Favourite Places by Barbara Hodgson. It chronicles her travels across Europe and North Africa, visiting flea markets, graveyards and used bookstores - which, naturally, are some of my favourite haunts as well. Looks fascinating... *adds to Amazon wishlist*

My parents are arriving tomorrow. After several years of entreaties, they (and my uncle) are coming to spend Christmas with us in Halifax this year. I'm a bit nervous of the massive hostessing burden I've taken on (sit-down dinner for five on Christmas Eve; buffet for nine on Christmas Day), but I've been planning for weeks now and hopefully all will be well. I'm starting the baking today - I'll do the mince pies and shortbread this morning, then carry on with eggnog cheesecake this afternoon. There will be no shortage of food in this house over the coming week, I can tell you.

Go East, Young Woman

Today, I confirmed that I will be going back to the Far East this winter, for my work. Yay! You may recall that this time last year, I was in Hanoi, Vietnam, attending the annual meeting of the project I manage at work, and had a short stopover in Hong Kong on the way home. Our next annual meeting is scheduled for 25-29 February 2008, and this time it will be held in Iloilo, Philippines (which is home to one of our project's partner universities).

I booked my flights this afternoon, so everything is set. It turned out that the cheapest routing for this trip is via Japan (as you can't fly direct to the Philippines from Canada). So on the return trip, I have arranged to have another two-night stopover, in TOKYO! Woo hoo! I can't tell you how excited I am - I have always wanted to visit Japan. Obviously, two nights will only just allow me to have a taster, but that's OK - I'll take it.

I plan to spend at least a little time over the Christmas break poring over guidebooks and making plans for this trip. And the last week of February is perfect - the weather is so miserable at that time, and the post-holiday blahs are in full swing, so it will be wonderful to have something like that to look forward to. Plus, the Philippines will be lovely and warm at that time of year

All Ready

I'm ready for Christmas now. Trimmed the tree, decorated the house and put up all the outdoor lights today. And yesterday, I finished the last of my Christmas shopping. Spent a lovely afternoon curled up on the sofa with eggnog and the newspapers, while a snowstorm raged outside, the fire crackled in the grate, and the lights shone on the Christmas tree. Very cosy.

We spent Friday night in Tantallon, as M. and L. hosted us once again for the famed Feuerzungebowle (a.k.a. the Flaming Cauldron of Booze). A. got this shot of the proceedings, which involve ladling hot wine mixed with rum, fruit and spices over a cone-shaped lump of sugar, and then setting the sugar alight:

The Golden Compass

I have been eagerly awaiting the release of The Golden Compass, the film based on Northern Lights, the first book in Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy. Went to see it last night.

Verdict? Pretty good, though it could have been better. The visuals are definitely stunning, and those alone are worth the price of admission. Both the child actress who played Lyra and Nicole Kidman (as Mrs. Coulter) were absolutely excellent. Actually, it was a pretty stellar cast all around, though it would have been good to see some of these luminaries (like Ian McKellen, Derek Jacobi and Christopher Lee) more. Daniel Craig was very good as Lord Asriel, but again, we didn't see him very much. Oh, and watching the credits at the end, I was very pleasantly surprised to hear the voice of Kate Bush - she composed and sang the theme song for the film, "Lyra", which was very nice to hear.

One of the greatest strengths of the books, in my opinion, is that - given they were written for teenagers - they are darkly philosophical. (Reading them for the first time, I kept thinking, "I can't believe these are for kids...this stuff is deep.") Unfortunately, and I suppose inevitably, alot of that depth has been jettisoned in the film. But perhaps the oddest thing about the adaptation is the way in which the controversial, "anti-Christian" material has really been whitewashed. In place of Pullman's unapologetic, unvarnished atheism, the film has much more of a general anti-establishment theme - so all those good Catholic parents, fearful for the souls of their impressionable kiddies, don't have anything to worry about. Quite honestly, though, I have no idea how any putative film versions of the second and third books in the series would be scripted. Pullman really has no use for organised religion, and that message comes through louder and clearer as the series progresses. Mainstream film producers obviously won't want to touch that with a ten-foot pole - so how to film the books without warping the original story beyond all recognition?

At any rate, it looks like all of us fans of His Dark Materials may not need to concern ourselves with such issues. The entertainment media reports today that the film has already been deemed a bit of a flop, having earned "only" $26 million in its opening weekend in the US. It seems set to do considerably better overseas, which is unsurprising as the novels have always been far better known outside North America (and where people have fewer evangelical hangups). A pity, really, as it's not a bad film at all - but in America, Pullman has never had the cachet of a JRR Tolkien or a CS Lewis, so perhaps it's to be expected. And if they can't make and sell a million Lyra action figures, will anyone in the business of making movies for kids be interested in sequels?

College Christmas

Went tonight to a holiday 'do laid on by the alumni association of the university where I did my undergrad. It was held in the President's Lodge, and both C. and L. came along with me. I've only gone to this event once before, but it's quite lovely. There was plenty of drink, lots of scrummy nibbles, and a splendid performance by the Chapel Choir, who favoured us with four carols.

The organisers of this event are very clever, in that it deliberately echoes College Christmas - a tradition that I and many others so loved as an undergraduate. The university laid on the loveliest Christmas celebration, which was always held the Sunday after classes ended for the term, before exams began. It started in late afternoon with a candlelit Lessons & Carols service in the College Chapel (which warmed the cockles of even my agnostic heart). It was followed by Formal Meal in the dining hall, into which we all trooped in our black academic gowns, fidgeting during the Latin grace before tucking into turkey dinners. (And no, I'm not kidding - outsiders haven't nicknamed that place "Hogwarts" and "Narnia" for nothing.)

But the very best part came afterwards, when the annual Christmas meeting of the college literary society convened in the main lecture hall. We'd all get a bit tipsy on the (admittedly rather cheap and nasty) mulled wine while listening to holiday-themed readings. The roster changed annually, although certain readings were considered sacred. The normally-pompous and terrifying Professor H. would reduce me to tears every year with either "The Happy Prince" or the "The Selfish Giant" by Oscar Wilde. One of the chapel wardens would read "A Child's Christmas in Wales" by Dylan Thomas, while a deep gravelly-voiced don could always be relied upon to recite "How the Grinch Stole Christmas".

To me, during those wonderful years, College Christmas always marked the true start of the holidays. I love that even as an alumna, I still have the chance to experience a little of that special feeling again.

Best. Deal. Ever.

I've had a bit of trouble recently, trying to renew my Saturday Globe and Mail subscription for the next year. I duly paid my $147.01 online, but no paper materialised this past weekend, and there was no online record of my renewal. So I decided to give them a ring, and speak to a human being about it.

But first, I pulled up my account details online, just to have them handy. Imagine my astonishment when I discovered that I am all paid up, after all! (click to enlarge)


No, you're not seeing things - according to the good folks at the Globe's Customer Care site, my subscription doesn't expire until Thursday 1 January 2499. That means I can now look forward to just over 491 years of Saturday delivery, at the paltry sum of less than $0.006 per issue!

SWEET!!

White Christmas

Just in from this year's holiday show at Neptune, White Christmas by Irving Berlin. This is the first year we've gotten tickets for the holiday show (as it's never included in the main subscription package, for some reason), and we were glad we did. It was quite nostalgic and very entertaining - if a kick line of tap-dancing chorus girls can't make you smile, you're probably dead. ;-)

Victoria is Back!

O happy day!!! Tonight I found out that Victoria, my favourite magazine ever (which ceased publication four years ago) has been relaunched!

I was doing some shopping earlier at La Cache (always big Victoria advertisers) and spied a stack of magazines on the shelf. At first, I thought they were copies of Victoria decorating or cook books (since those are still in print), or perhaps some old issues being used as a display prop. It was only when I picked one up and saw the cover headline that the penny dropped.
I was gobsmacked. The salesgirls had a giggle at me, and said they've lost count of how many women have come into the shop over the past week or two, seen the magazine, and had the same utterly delighted reaction.

Though the new Victoria is only going to be a bimonthly to start, and has a new editor and publisher at the helm, so far everything bodes well. It looks exactly the same inside as it always did (and sure, that means it's still twee as all hell - but I love it anyway). Even their old website has been relaunched, complete with readers' forum.

Needless to say, I have once again filled out a subscription card. YAY!!!!!

Memory of the World

Ever heard of an initiative called the "Memory of the World"? I hadn't, until yesterday. It's a really interesting and valuable project being spearheaded by UNESCO, which aims to publicise and preserve important library collections and archive holdings around the world. There's a committee that meets regularly to decide on what material should be added to the project's register.

I read about the project in this weekend's paper, which reported that some Canadian collections (including the Hudson's Bay Company archive) were chosen this year for the first time, for inclusion on the register. There's certainly a fascinating, global cross-section of documents that have been recognised - not just books and manuscripts, but also audio recordings (Beethoven's Symphony No. 9, from Germany), film (The Wizard of Oz - thanks America), and material items (the Bayeux Tapestry, from France).

Very neat stuff.

My New Heroes: the Untergunther

I heard the most remarkable news story on CBC radio this evening (see a print version here, from The Guardian). It concerned a group of French "cultural guerillas" who sneaked into the Panthéon in Paris after hours to undertake the illicit repair of an old, broken clock. The group is called the Untergunther, and their mission is to restore France's cultural heritage on the sly. Apparently, they constitute the "restoration cell" (!) of a wider clandestine cultural movement in Paris called the UX, whose members do things like break into public buildings at night to stage cultural events.

The Untergunther seem to be drawn to projects which the French state has neglected - hence the Panthéon's broken clock, which had been left to rust since the 1960s. Members got themselves locked into the building one evening, set up a secret workshop under the eaves, and laboured for a year on the restoration, under the direction of a professional clockmaker. Much to the embarrassment of bureaucrats, they were never discovered by security and were only revealed when they contacted the Panthéon's officials themselves, to point out what they had done so that the repaired clock could henceforth be properly maintained.

I'm utterly taken by this story. I guess you could call it cultural vigilantism. Obviously it's not something to be encouraged, but secretly I love the idea of such people, who are so committed to cultural heritage that they brazenly circumvent red tape and act where the state cannot. Naturally, the Untergunther are already at work on their next project - the details of which are being closely guarded, for obvious reasons. I wonder what it will be?

File this one under "Completely Awesome...Please Can I Hang Out With You Guys?"

L'Affaire Dion

Annnnnd the epic drama continues! Yesterday, the media breathlessly revealed the real reason Celine Dion's concert here was cancelled abruptly last week. Apparently, we Haligonians were just so darn mean to poor Celine that she decided to take her ball and go play at somebody else's house.

This shite is really quite funny, I must say.

Politics ≠ Glamour?

Far be it for me to belittle the extremely serious political situation in Pakistan these days. But though it's shallow of me to say so, I really have been struck by the level of glamour and attractiveness evident in Pakistan's opposition right now. I wonder about the degree to which this may (or may not) be influencing Western media coverage of current events there.

I've followed the fortunes of Benazir Bhutto since I was quite young. I remember when she first swept to power in Pakistan in 1988 and found her to be quite a compelling figure. To be honest, this was not only because of her eloquence and strong political convictions, but also because of her beauty and elegance.

More recently, I've watched with some bemusement as Imran Khan has morphed from cricket star and British society figure (having married the heiress Jemima Goldsmith and become minor UK tabloid fodder during the later 1990s as a result) to a member of the opposition movement against Musharraf. Like Bhutto, he too is strikingly attractive, Oxford-educated, worldly and charismatic. And he seems to have the courage of his convictions too, having been thrown into prison last week and commenced a hunger strike in protest (the BBC reports that he has just been released today).

Scientists tell us that physical appearance is a far greater influence on our estimation of others than many of us would care to admit. So I suspect I'm not the only person to have noticed the likes of Bhutto and Khan in this way.

Bounty

After a growing season of over five months (including a final month inside the house, to protect the plants from frost), today I harvested our crop of orange peppers. Here it is:


Ah, vanity gardening. Heh heh!

The Veil

Last night at Neptune, I took W. to see a new play in the Studio. It was The Veil by Shahin Sayadi, and it was very good. I was expecting it to be a little over-earnest, but was pleasantly surprised. The story (of a Persian princess, set against the history of Iran in the 20th century) was pretty compelling, and I enjoyed it for both its political content and its depiction of women's lives and the relationships between women in families.

Given that this play is brand-new, and was staged by a small local independent theatre company, I thought it was exceptionally good. One of the best things I've seen at Neptune, for sure.

Say It Ain't So!

No!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!






[Bwahahaha...do the events planners for this city look like idiots now, or what?]

The Frick Collection

On Sunday afternoon, J. and I visited the Frick Collection, an art museum in New York City. The core of the collection consists of works acquired by the American industrialist Henry Clay Frick (1849-1919), and it's housed in the enormous stately townhouse he built for himself on Fifth Avenue.

Nearly all the art on display is European, and dates from the Middle Ages to the early 20th century - though the most notable works are 17th to 19th century. It was one of the best art museums I've ever visited - and not just because it housed quite a few exceptional pictures. I loved the fact that the layout and atmosphere of the Frick home has been preserved, so visitors can see the collection displayed in the way it was originally intended. It's also quite small, as art galleries go - you can comfortably see everything in only two to three hours, which is excellent as I suffer easily from art fatigue.

Here are some of my favourite pictures:


The collection is quite strong in 18th-century British painting, featuring works by Turner, Constable, Lawrence, Reynolds and Gainsborough, among others. George Romney's Lady Hamilton as 'Nature' (1782) is a classically lovely, Romantic portrait. Plus, I've always found Emma Hamilton to be a fascinating figure (she was the paramour of Lord Nelson, the hero of the Battle of Trafalgar).


The realism of Hans Holbein the Younger's Sir Thomas More (1527) is astonishing - enhanced, I'm sure, by a bloody good cleaning job fairly recently. There's no evidence of the grime of centuries here. I just found myself mesmerised by More's chin stubble and his velvet sleeves.

In the museum's final room were two pairs of amazing portraits by James McNeill Whistler.

Symphony in Flesh Colour and Pink: Portrait of Mrs. Frances Leyland (1872-1873) and Harmony in Pink and Grey: Portrait of Lady Meux (1881-1882) are very pretty, very typical Pre-Raphaelite pictures. But strangely, I liked this pair of portraits, hanging on the opposite wall, even more:

Arrangement in Brown and Black: Portrait of Miss Rosa Corder (1876-1878) and Arrangement in Black and Gold: Comte Robert de Montesquiou-Fezensac (1891-1892) are two of Whistler's so-called 'dark portraits'. The latter, in particular, couldn't be more different from the pink 'n' pretty pictures above. It's very modern, and has a faintly twisted, decadent air about it - the Comte looks like he's about to set off for a night at the Moulin Rouge, complete with absinthe-induced hallucinations and a tawdry assignation with a can-can girl. I couldn't stop looking at it.

Rotten Luck

Got back from New York City late (unexpectedly, very late) on Monday evening. While I ended up having a great time, it was a rollercoaster of a weekend.

The main reason J. and I planned this trip was to see one show in a very special series of concerts by our favourite band on Saturday night. The venue for this particular show was a Broadway theatre, and it was staged in three "acts". It was quite unlike any show they've ever done before - we simply couldn't wait to see it, especially as it was nearing the end of its nearly two-week run and the reviews from other fans had been fantastic.

And then, on Saturday morning...the Broadway stagehands decided to go on strike. Nearly all the theatres shut down immediately, and shows were cancelled until further notice - including our show. We couldn't believe it - it seemed like a bad dream. The band managed to reschedule their final two shows at a rock club in the city, but it was too late for me to see them, as I had to leave on Monday. All I can do is console myself with fan-made videos of this show on YouTube, now. :-(

We ended up getting together that evening with some other disappointed fans, went out for dinner and drinks, and made the best of it. I ended up in a pub in Greenwich Village with my good friend C. and some other folks as well, which was great fun - just not quite the evening all of us had planned!

Fortunately the rest of our visit went really well. J. treated us to two nights in a lovely room at the Mercer Hotel, which we thoroughly enjoyed (especially the huge marble bathtub). We had a fab visit to the galleries of the Frick Collection (about which I will blog separately) on Sunday afternoon, and I even managed to squeeze in a little Christmas shopping in SoHo.

Malalai Joya

The former Afghan parliamentarian and women's rights advocate Malalai Joya is doing a cross-Canada tour at the moment, and she's speaking at my university tonight. I suspect there will be a very big turnout, given the high profile of Afghanistan these days. I actually helped organize the event, so I'm really sorry to be missing her talk. But with my trip tomorrow I was just too busy getting ready to attend.

Instead, I went to the press conference she gave on campus this afternoon, so I got to hear her speak for a short time, at least. She's an incredibly interesting and brave woman. I first found out about her a few months ago, when a documentary film about her (called A Woman Among Warlords) was shown on PBS.

Long Weekend

I'm off tomorrow for a long weekend in New York City. Yes, again. J. and I celebrate our birthdays this weekend, and so we're doing our usual jaunt somewhere fun. So far, we've only just nibbled at the Big Apple, so why not return?

Doing a Broadway show Saturday night, and some galleries, fab meals and Christmas shopping too. Woohoo!

And The Winner Is...

Ever since the Rolling Stones played the Halifax Common last year, the city council has been working feverishly to attract more big-name acts for concerts here. Over the past few months, there have been all kinds of rumours about who might be coming (like U2...dream on, kids) to give the Next Big Show.

Well, today it was officially announced that the next Commons concert has been confirmed for this August. And who will grace the stage in front of tens of thousands of eager fans?

Celine Dion.

*falls about laughing*

Dinner and a Show

We braved last night's wind- and rainstorm (as we were lashed by the tail end of Hurricane Noel) and kept our original plans for go out for dinner and a play at Neptune.

Arrived at the Halliburton House Inn fairly damp, but none the worse for wear. Stories, their restaurant, is one of my favourite small restos in Halifax. We were last there about three years ago, so it was high time for another visit. As expected, we had a very memorable meal (and very private, too - due to the weather, there was only one other party of diners in the entire place). We decided to go for their current seasonal tasting menu, the "Game and Ale Immersion", which was basically a five-course meal focused around wild game, and featuring beer and ale pairings with each course, instead of wine. It was very different, and quite successful - we enjoyed it a lot. Here's what we ate and drank:

• Amuse-Bouche: Digby scallop with butter and herbs
• First: Smoked Muscovy duck with apple-fennel slaw and cassis / Belhaven fruit beer (Scotland)
• Second: Roasted squash soup with caribou ravioli and toasted pumpkin seeds / Samuel Smith's Nut-Brown Ale (England)
• Third: Abbey Blue cheese (Quebec), with golden and red beets and a fig port reduction / Chimay Red Label Ale (Belgium)
• Main: Grilled bison and caribou steaks with scalloped potato and veg / Le Fin du Monde (Quebec)
• Dessert: Flourless chocolate cake with Amaretto ice cream, and Madeira pots de crème / Propeller Porter (Nova Scotia)

Needless to say, after all that meat and beer, we fairly rolled out of the restaurant and into our taxi for the short trip to Neptune. (We'd have been well-advised to walk off some of that meal, but it was most definitely not an evening for strolling.) We saw The Vertical Hour, a relatively new play which debuted in New York last year. Quite political, but I thought it was generally all right. I'd heard very mixed reviews about it, so wasn't sure what to expect - but it wasn't bad. Not the best thing I've ever seen at Neptune, though.

Top TV

I must rave about a television series I've just finished watching. It's called Buildings That Shaped Britain and it was an eight-part series shown on BBC Canada. The last episode was just screened this past weekend, but it's likely that BBC Canada will repeat it (at least I hope so, as I missed the first two episodes in the series).

Anyway, it's an absolutely excellent programme on architectural history, but it was so much more than that. Beginning in the Middle Ages and coming up to the late 20th century, all the main developments were surveyed (and beautifully photographed). But what really impressed me was the way that it related these amazing buildings to wider social, cultural, economic and political contexts.

I need to figure out how to transfer these episodes from my DVR's hard disc, as I'm itching to show them to students, next time I teach. The best episodes, in my opinion, were the ones on the development of the country house in the 18th century, and the rise of industrial architecture (oh those dark Satanic mills!) in the 19th century. Fantastic (and unbelieveably interesting) stuff - I think students would enjoy these programmes, as they really brought the subject alive.

I suppose that at some point, I'll also need contact the production company that made the series, to get permission to screen it in future and thus avoid persecution by dull copyright-infringement wonks....

Online Shopping Backlog

I knew it! There was a report on the news tonight that a surge in Canadians shopping online with US retailers (ever since the loonie approached, and then passed, par) has resulted in a big backlog of mail-order parcels at Canada Post, and major delays in delivery.

On September 29th, I placed an order with an American cosmetics company for some speciality skin-care products that I can't get here. I finally received the parcel yesterday, over a month later. At least the Customs charges were very modest - since you never know, when you do mail-order from the US, what kind of unpleasant surprise you might get from Customs, once your stuff finally arrives.

On "Sexy" Halloween Costumes

Halloween is the one night a year when girls can dress like total sluts, and no other girls can say anything about it.
"Mean Girls" (2004)

Forget ghosts and ghouls. Much has been written recently about the growing phenomenon of women using Halloween as an excuse to dress like strippers. Time was that most women reserved Playboy Bunny and Naughty Nurse costumes for the bedroom, but not any more. But while it may be fun, is it harmless?

I did a little surfing to check out the latest costumes, and it didn't take long before I found myself kinda shocked. For instance, this year, some f@#!wit thought it would be clever for women to dress up as "Anna Rexia" for Halloween:


That's a tape measure around her waist, in case you were wondering. This is wrong on so many levels, I don't even know where to start. What's next - dressing up as cancer, or heart disease, or AIDS? (I jest, of course - THAT would be deemed insensitive and wrong.)

My other big problem is that the trend is, unquestionably, trickling down to children. Don't believe me? Check out this "US Diva" costume for little girls, which you can apparently buy at Target and other American mega-stores:

That's right! Now you can dress your daughter as a War Whore for Halloween!

Can anyone tell me who in the hell buys this garbage?

To Moncton

Had a flying visit to Moncton, New Brunswick this weekend. Drove up late yesterday afternoon to our friend P.'s new home, just purchased this past summer when she moved to Moncton for work. Had a lovely dinner last night and really enjoyed the three-course repast P. laid on for us. It's not that often that we have dinner in other people's homes - so often, we end up just meeting at restaurants because it's easier. Later in the evening, P.'s old friend K. came over and joined us for dessert and a few drinks - hadn't seen him in 13 years, so that was a nice surprise.

P. went even further and whipped up scones for breakfast this morning, while the ever-handy A. got out his toolbox and did the Rent-A-Husband thing - putting up a curtain rod and re-doing some caulking around her sink upstairs. Then we had a little driving tour around town (I've only ever driven past Moncton, on the way to somewhere else) and had brunch at a local diner, before we hit the road back to Halifax. So a flying visit indeed, but one I'm very glad we made time for nonetheless - especially as P. travels all over hell and creation for her work and is hardly ever at home. Good fun.

Songs from Vagabondia

I have always loved this poem, and was thinking about it today while cycling to work through a residential neighbourhood full of beautiful old trees.

"A Vagabond Song"

There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood--
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.

-- Bliss Carman (1861-1929)

Mystery of the DPhil - Solved!

I have long wondered (and have had people ask me) why my university in England awarded me a DPhil instead of a PhD. I know that both abbreviations are short for the Latin for Doctor of Philosophy, but I never knew exactly why the difference exists.

While searching Wikipedia today for related information, I was delighted to stumble across the answer at last. It confirmed what I've long suspected - it's to do with the vagaries of Latin grammar:

Due to the flexibility of Latin word order, there are two schools in the abbreviation of doctor's degrees. At Cambridge, D follows the faculty (e.g. PhD, LittD), while at Oxford the abbreviation D precedes the faculty (e.g. DPhil, DLitt).

So PhD is short for Philosophiæ Doctor, while DPhil is short for Doctor Philosophiæ - and both translate as "teacher (doctor) of philosophy".

Most universities, in the UK and around the English-speaking world, follow the Cambridge model and use PhD. But the University of Sussex (where I went) and a handful of other institutions sprinkled across the Commonwealth follow the Oxford model, and use DPhil.

I love eccentric explanations like this. And I'm quite pleased to be a slightly weird, anachronistic DPhil, instead of one of those common-as-muck PhDs. ;-)

Shelby Steele

I hadn't been familiar with the work of the American race-relations scholar Shelby Steele before I read Margaret Wente's interview with him in yesterday's Globe and Mail. It's pretty compelling (and highly controversial) stuff - well worth a read (link fixed). I think I may check out his latest book, too.

Pink Robes for Albus

JK Rowling apparently let slip this weekend the news that one of the most important characters in her Harry Potter series, the headmaster Albus Dumbledore, is gay. I must confess I hadn't given the subject much thought, but apparently the HP fandom has been pondering the question for years now. Who knew?

I guess she figured she could put the word out, now that the series is finished and the news isn't likely to impact her book sales (and I wonder what other juicy character details may be forthcoming from her in future). But the Christian fundamentalists will surely dislike her even more now, seeing as how she's promoting witchcraft and homosexuality. *rolls eyes*

The Art of Maquillage

As we all know, the vast majority of stuff posted on YouTube is pointless crap. But occasionally, I find really useful and interesting things on it. Like today, I found a great little series of instructional makeup videos by askmemakeup. I'm always looking out for new makeup ideas and techniques, and these videos are a cut above the rest (being reasonably professional). It helps that the looks this person has illustrated are quite classic, and one of her models has very fair colouring like mine (so it's easy to imagine how similar makeup would look on me). I'm thinking of giving this look a go this weekend, in anticipation of a glam event I'll be attending next month.

Conferencing

There's a bit of an intellectual feast to be had in the city this weekend. Besides last night's lecture, I've also been attending a history conference yesterday and today - which is very nice as I hardly ever get to go to conferences anymore. This one is the annual meeting of the North East Conference on British Studies (NECBS), the regional affiliate of the main North American scholarly society for British studies. The theme of this year's meeting was designed to tie in with this being the 300th anniversary of the Act of Union between Scotland and England - but as is usual at these meetings, some of the papers had only the most tenuous of connections to this theme.

Not that it really mattered, of course. It was just a nice excuse to hear some interesting papers, and catch up with people. I saw a few former classmates I've not seen in years, as well as my old MA supervisor (who gave a very good paper on the wartime landscape photography of Bill Brandt). My favourite paper, however, was one on calypso music, of all things - specifically on the generation of calypso musicians who emigrated from the West Indies to England in the postwar period. One of them, a guy who called himself Lord Kitchener (ha!), wrote incredibly socially- and racially-aware lyrics - quite amazing to hear.

Ooh, Alberto

[Haw haw...geddit? :-D]

Tonight was the Massey Lecture here in Halifax. Alberto Manguel delivered the first in a series of five lectures on "The City of Words", speaking for about 50 minutes and followed by questions from the audience. The whole thing was taped by CBC Radio for broadcast (and podcast, yay!) on the Ideas programme in November.

It was a great talk, and very nicely delivered. Very deep, though - I don't think I quite got it all, and will probably need to listen again when it's broadcast. Manguel is staggeringly erudite - his source material ranged from Plato and the Greek mythological canon, to a postwar German author I hadn't heard of, and all kinds of things in between. I liked what he had to say about the power wielded by readers, however, and the ways in which many in our society fear that power - so much so that great readers have often been ostracized as a result. (And indeed, are there any bookworms out there who can claim never to have been sniffed at and told to "get real lives"?)

Before heading out this evening, I grabbed my copy of A History of Reading from my bedside table and stuffed into my bag. And I was glad I did, as Manguel did a book signing right after the lecture. He signed my book for me as I gushed a bit about how much I enjoyed his work. I felt like such a little fangirl...hahaha!

Rufus on Bravo

I don't normally watch the Bravo channel that often. But last week I recorded their Live at the Rehearsal Hall series, as it was featuring Rufus Wainwright. Watched the programme last night and really enjoyed listening to him perform material from his new album, Release the Stars. There's so much formulaic crap on the Top 40 nowadays that it's a real treat (and a breath of fresh air) to listen to someone as genuinely talented as Rufus. And his "Leaving for Paris No. 2" nearly stopped my heart.

Since he's Canadian, I'm also hopeful he might actually come and play Halifax one day.

Skinny Bitch

Have you heard about Skinny Bitch? It's the hot new diet book that's been flying off the shelves ever since Victoria Beckham (hello!) was photographed with it a few months ago.

Last time I was at the public library, I picked it up to see what all the fuss is about. All I can say is, I'm certainly glad I didn't pay money for it. Beyond the chick-lit cover (no doubt designed to rope in women who think Confessions of a Shopaholic is a serious novel), this book is basically just a pro-vegan diatribe from beginning to end. Not that this is offensive in and of itself, of course. But coupled with the hectoring tone of the nitwit Californian authors, I found the book pretty patronizing. Not sure why any writer would think it's a good idea to address readers as "assholes" and "shitheads" (seriously!) because they eat meat and dairy and/or can't fit into size 4 clothing.

Let me save you the trouble - unless you're considering becoming a vegan (and if you are, good luck to you), don't bother with Skinny Bitch. Actually, scratch that - I'm sure there are far better-researched and more authoritative books on veganism out there than this lame cash-grab.

The Miracle Worker

Went to the first Neptune show of the new season on Saturday night - William Gibson's classic The Miracle Worker. Great production, and really fine performances from the actresses portraying Annie Sullivan and Helen Keller. (Oh, and the woman who played Helen's mother is somebody I went to high school with!)

The scenes of those two women working together were utterly exhausting to watch, though - with Annie repeatedly having to restrain Helen's feral temper tantrums while also trying to instill understanding in her. And I left the theatre thinking that, ironically, if Annie Sullivan were trying to use those same methods on Helen Keller today, she'd doubtless be sacked and brought up on assault charges. Which is pretty crazy!

Vintage Shopping

Halifax has a number of nice vintage and second-hand clothing boutiques (along with Frenchy's, which is ubiquitous throughout Nova Scotia - but that's a different class of place altogether). I don't visit these shops nearly as often as I'd like to, but while downtown today I popped in for a browse at Elsie's and The Clothes Horse on Queen Street - neither of which I'd been in before.

Both were really nice, with a choice selection of quite attractive stuff on offer. Of course I didn't leave without buying something. I scored this great little bargain for myself:


And yes, it's real fur - mink, I believe. It looks brownish in the photo, but it's actually more of a silver-grey colour. And the label indicates that it was produced for the Fur Salon at Eaton's, so that will give you some idea of its age. It seems to be in great condition. The price? Only $60 (including tax). I couldn't let it get away!

I've got a (potential) red carpet event looming next month. I wonder if I dare trot it out...

Murakami

I'm currently in the midst of two novels by the Japanese author Haruki Murakami. I was introduced to them by JT, and also by a certain online book club I belong to. I'm kind of amazed that I'm enjoying them, since as I've mentioned before, I tend not to like contemporary fiction all that much.

I'm only about fifty pages from the end of the first novel, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. And the crazy thing is, I still have NO idea how it's going to end. Normally, this drives me nuts and leads me to abandon a book - but for some reason, in this case I've felt compelled to carry on reading nonetheless. There are all these different, parallel stories going on, which have only just begun to intersect. I suspect the book won't have a tidy ending though. Not sure how I'll feel about that - but the weekend will tell, I'm sure.

Then, just a couple of weeks ago, I began listening to the second novel, Kafka on the Shore, on CD audiobook (neatly transferred to the iPod, of course). I'm nearly halfway through that one now. It has a somewhat more straightforward, linear narrative, but so far it's not quite as intriguing and surreal as Wind-Up Bird. Still quite good, though.

It's always a good thing when you move outside your comfort zone to try something new - and are pleasantly surprised by it.

SPCA

Went last night to a charity dinner and auction for the provincial SPCA. A. sits on its Board of Directors, so we really had to put in an appearance. The owner of his clinic kindly bought a table, so all the employees could attend.

It ended up being pretty fun. There was a silent auction beforehand, in which I ended up winning two items which will make nice Christmas gifts. Then after dinner, there was a live auction of all kinds of donated goodies. At one point, I began bidding on what I thought was a painting of Peggy's Cove. I was amazed that the bidding only went as high as $30, upon which I won. I was all excited to have won a painting for only $30...until the others at the table told me that no, I'd actually won one of the (admittedly very nice) floral arrangements on the tables:


(And no, you're not seeing things - the "vase" is, in fact, a dog dish.)

What the hell?!?! Granted, I'd had a few glasses of wine at that stage, but I was paying attention - and the whole time I was bidding there was a girl standing at the podium showing the painting. Not sure how it happened, but I did have a good laugh about it. Note to self: DON'T DRINK AND BID! Put down the paddle and step away from the wine. ;-)

The evening ended on a high note when they drew for the raffle prize and...I won! I got a big basket with over $200 worth of skin care products by Arbonne. Also inside were a gift certificate from a salon downtown for a haircut and style, and another gift cert from another salon for a haircut and style, a tanning session, a brow wax, and $10 off any tattoo or body piercing. Hahahahaha!! Yep, I'll be making that tattoo appointment right away.

So, quite a good evening, all around - and it raised over $20,000 for the SPCA too, which is great.

Danse Orientale

I happily started dance lessons again today with the uni dance society, after last year's hiatus (due to teaching responsibilities). I'm doing bellydance again this term, and what's even nicer is that my friend C. is joining me.

Dug out my jangly hipscarf and veil, and really enjoyed the class. The instructor seems very nice and I think we'll be spending a lot of time working on foundational movements, which is just what I need. We'll focus more on choreography next term, in preparation for the end-of-year show.

I forgot what a good workout a dance class can be. Great stuff! And very fun, too. *practises hip circles and shimmies*

House Pics

I consider my home to be my most valued possession, and I love decorating and making it look nice. Recently, I took a bunch of new photos of the interior, in order to update the album of house pics I had on Flickr. Since making that first album, we've done loads more redecorating, so there's a fair bit more to see. The album can be found here.

I'm quite pleased with how the house is looking now, after nearly three years of mostly cosmetic work on it. There's only one major job left to undertake, and it's a doozy - the kitchen. We've been saving up to completely re-do it, hopefully next year. There's a funny little pantry room next to the kitchen which doesn't see that much use. I'd like to knock down the adjoining wall in order to enlarge the existing kitchen, which is a little small (for the size of the house) and doesn't have much counter space. So it's going to be an expensive job, with structural work, new cabinetry, countertops and floors. Not to mention appliances, since the only thing there at the moment worth keeping is the dishwasher.

Summer's End

So now we're officially into autumn. I spent time yesterday clearing out my closets, putting away summer clothes and getting my warmer things out. There didn't seem much point in keeping the portable air conditioner connected either - I think it's safe to say we won't be having a freak heatwave at this point.

I have to say that this past summer has been the best I've had in many years - certainly the best since we returned home to Canada. Obviously, taking an exotic vacation was a big part of it, and three weddings kept things festive, but that wasn't everything. My trip to New York in June kicked things off, and almost every weekend since then has seen us doing something fun - including quite a few activities which I've been meaning to try for years, but never got around to before.

Good times, all round. :-)

Film Festo

The Atlantic Film Festival has been on here, over the past week. This year, for (embarassingly) the first time ever, I actually got off my backside and went to see a couple of films. I'm very glad I did.

Friday night I saw Control, a biopic of Ian Curtis (who was the singer in the band Joy Division before his suicide in 1980). It was very good, excellently-acted, and filmed in black-and-white - which entirely suited its rather grim, working-class, Thatcherite setting in the north of England. Interestingly, I discovered that the film was based on a memoir written by Curtis' wife, and that she (along with the late, legendary Tony Wilson) served as one of the film's producers. Which makes sense, given that the film depicts her as the innocent victim of Curtis's philandering and confused ways.

Then yesterday afternoon, I went along to see a documentary by a Dutch filmmaker called Forever. I wanted see it because it's about the Père-Lachaise cemetery in Paris, a place I have visited and loved (because I just like graveyards, anyway). The film turned out not to be quite what I was expecting, though. It wasn't really about the cemetery itself, but rather the many artists (both famous and non-famous) buried there, and the people who have loved them. The gravesite of each artist - Proust, Wilde, Modigliani, Chopin - served as a jumping-off point for the filmmaker to talk to the people who came there to pay their respects. The results were very beautiful, emotionally revealing, and incredibly touching. Far from being morbid, the film was a celebration of life, and the reverberations of human existence long after the body itself has turned to dust. I loved it.

Kylie: Showgirl

Tonight, MuchMoreMusic screened Kylie Minogue: Showgirl, which was filmed in Australia last autumn. Brilliant, jubilant stuff - I grinned like an idiot throughout and bounced along to all the hits. Kylie has really come into her own these last few years, since she stopped trying to be something she isn't (Indie Kylie?!). At the end of the day, she's a cheeseball disco queen, but she's fantastically good at it. Showgirl showcased her to the hilt - though it also really played up her status as a gay icon. She was accompanied throughout the show by a bevy of hunky himbo dancers, and performed "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" (!) whilst seated high above the stage on a glittery crescent moon.

I'd love to see one of her shows someday - though it's unlikely it will be here. She's never been anywhere near as popular in North America as she is in Europe and Australia.

Opaque Tights: An Appreciation

Normally, I greet seasonal fashion announcements with barely a flicker of interest. I could care less, for instance, if Sixties-style op-art prints are back for the umpteenth time. However, I have happily rejoiced in the news that, for Fall 2007, opaque tights are once again a fashionable item. (Along with the colour grey, tweed, and hats - all of which I approve, but that's another topic altogether.)

What woman, living in a northern climate, wouldn't be pleased? Opaque tights are our friends. They keep us warm, are inherently slimming, and disguise a multitude of sins. Which makes it all the more ridiculous that they were off the fashion radar for the better part of a decade. Remember how, for most of the Noughties, nobody was wearing pantyhose of any kind? Not only did we freeze for ten months a year, but legs that were better kept under wraps went on display for all to see. The bare-legged look is fine for those with long, tanned, unblemished pins, groomed to perfection and sporting a soupçon of shine. But for the rest of us? Argh.

I've not owned a decent pair of woolly tights in years; they've been impossible to find in any but the most specialised shops (which, invariably, cater to ladies of a certain age). I bet they'll be everywhere now, though. Time to stock up!

Weakling-B-Gone!

In an effort to light a fire under my fitness routine, I've recently decided to give weight training a go. It's never appealed to me in the past, but I keep reading about how extra muscle mass is especially beneficial for women in their 30s and 40s, who are looking to keep in shape. Plus, combined with some cardio, it's apparently a good way to rid oneself of those last few pounds standing between one and bodaciousness. Which sounds good to me.

But how to start? I hate gyms, so I did a little research online and ended up getting this DVD from Kathy Smith, as well as a selection of dumbbells. I've never done a Kathy Smith workout, but she's been around forever and has sold a shedload of videos, so I guess they must be good. Anyway, I'm now into my fourth week of the program (doing both the upper- and lower-body segments twice a week) and am getting the hang of it. I started out very wimpily, using 1, 3 and 5 lb. weights, but last week, I moved up to 3, 5 and 7 lbs. My upper body is killing me as a result, but hopefully I'll get stronger soon (my lack of upper-body strength generally is pretty pathetic).

In another few weeks, once I can manage the current weightload OK, I'll move up to the 5, 7 and 10 lb. dumbbells. By then, I hope the scale and bodyfat monitor will show a difference too - although I'm most interested in getting stronger.

Massey Lectures

OMG! OMG! Alberto Manguel is coming to Halifax!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ha! No, it's not the newest Latin pop star, but rather a distinguished man of letters. Recently, the CBC asked him to deliver this year's Massey Lectures, which he has titled "The City of Words".

At the moment, I'm partway through Manguel's book A History of Reading, and his last work, The Library at Night, is still on my to-read list. The university where I did my undergrad is co-hosting Manguel's lecture here in Halifax, and when I got an email from them last week announcing it, I literally whooped with delight (gawd I'm a big nerd). Now I'm anxiously waiting for the tickets to go on sale. I imagine they will sell out in short order, and I certainly don't want to miss this.

Dreams

I've been having some unusually vivid, wacked-out dreams nearly every night for the past week.

In one, someone had given me a broken plastic tiara to fix. As I was sitting there trying to figure out what to do with it, I looked down at my right arm and was very puzzled to find I was wearing three wristwatches. I bet some dream analyst would tell me there was all kinds of symbolism in that, but alas, I don't know any dream analysts.

Around mid-week, I had another dream in which I was a dragon. I sometimes took human form (as a man), and there were these two other dragons/men who were after me. And I was flying through the sky, and then through some sort of cave, trying to get away from them...only turning around to belch fire at my pursuers from time to time. Damn you, Christopher Paolini (and possibly also those peppers I ate).

Last night's dream was much more straightforward. I had tickets to see a big show by my favourite band, in New York (or it may have been Paris). But about a week before the show, the bassist announced he was leaving the band. This was disappointing enough...but then, just before the show itself, the keyboardist died. In the dream, I was sitting with a friend and fellow fan, watching endless TV reports on the keyboardist's death, as we sobbed and drank champagne in his honour. When I woke up, there were tears streaming down my face.

I think I'm ready for a few nights of undisturbed slumber, now.

Get 'em Out, Missus

Another month, another Vanity Fair cover at which to look askance. This month, multiple Oscar-winning, serious thespian Nicole Kidman shows us her bra, accompanied by the titilating caption "Nicole Kidman Bares All".

Why??? Seriously. I asked the same thing last year, when the cover of VF's Hollywood issue featured a nude Scarlett Johansson and Keira Knightley, accompanied by a fully-clothed Tom Ford. While images such as these hardly cause a ripple nowadays, it's good to know that I'm not the only person who looks at this stuff and scratches her head. In the Guardian today, Kira Cochrane notes precisely why these images are problematic:

I think what I find so incredibly discomfiting about these pictures is their suggestion that, no matter how talented a woman is, how many plaudits she has received, how intelligent her reputation, how garlanded she has been for depicting one of the most talented writers of the last century while sporting a huge prosthetic conk on her noggin, at the end of the day, if she wants to stay in the public eye, if she wants the magazine covers and the leading roles, she has to be willing to reduce herself to tits and arse.

Extremely well put. And before you go rolling your eyes and dismissing this kind of thing as boring feminist twaddle, ask yourself: when was the last time you saw a respected, Oscar-winning male actor get naked in the pages of a magazine, to promote his latest film?

Cool and Crisp

It's a sobering day, indeed, when you find yourself pulling tights out of the back of your dresser drawer, from the place where you stuffed them months ago as the warmer weather arrived.

And to have to put on your fall coat and a pair of gloves, before mounting your trusty conveyance and pedalling off to work? *sigh*

You know, I love autumn - but I'd enjoy its onset even more if we'd had more than about five weeks of warm summer weather this year.

Frosh Noize

Argh. It's the middle of Frosh Week here and I forgot that tonight's the night for the big concert in the quadrangle. All afternoon there's been an unholy racket outside my office window, as the band spent hours soundchecking for their show.

Bah. Bloody kids and their rawk and bloody roll. *grumbles*

;-)

Shakey-on-Sea

Last night, C., L., A. and I went to a production of Shakespeare by the Sea. Embarassingly, even though that company has been in existence for over a decade, this was the first time I'd seen one of their plays. We saw one of Shakespeare's lesser-known comedies, All's Well That Ends Well, and it was quite good. It was staged at the Cambridge Battery down at Point Pleasant Park, which made for a really effective backdrop.

We all decided we'd try to arrive a bit early, and have a picnic supper. I hauled out the lovely posh English wicker picnic basket we received as a wedding gift (and which we'd never used), and loaded it up with salads, cheese, bread and fruit, as well as two thermoses of white wine for clandestine sipping. We were the only picnickers in the audience, which caught the attention of the actors. During the interval, a couple of them mooched cheese and fruit off us, then made merry with my cheese knife for a bit. ("Look, it's the world's smallest butcher knife!" *cackles insanely and mimes chopping someone's head off*)

A very good evening, all in all. I think it should definitely become an annual event!

Princess

Ten years on, I still find myself wondering sometimes what things would be like if this lady was still with us.

A Letter in the Post

Today, I opened my mailbox to discover that, amongst the bills and flyers and other junk, a letter had been delivered for me. A real letter: stamped, addressed by hand and printed on thick, cream-coloured stationery. A letter containing greetings and news from someone I have not heard from in quite a while - my old flatmate, from when I lived in England, a decade ago.

In this age of electronic mail and instant messaging, receiving a letter in the post (without it even being a holiday) is such an unusual occurrence that I thought it bloggable. Strange, isn't it? And a little sad, also. I used to be a great letter-writer. While I still make it a priority to keep in touch with my friends and share news, I now do it almost exclusively in an electronic format. Only at Christmastime do I revert to paper again, and even then, my letters are always laser-printed - all that handwriting would kill me.

Did people have more time in the past for keeping in touch with friends through letters? Or were priorities simply different? All I know for sure is that the impermanent character of electronic communication will be the bane of future historians. It's partly why I'm so reluctant to chuck out letters I receive now, no matter how inconsequential they may seem.

Recent Reading

Went to Toronto this past weekend, to attend a family wedding. Had a good time, and the trip was made all the nicer by being bookended by Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which I read on the plane there and back. I've been trying to prolong my reading of it over the past two weeks, to extract every last bit of magic...but by the last 300 pages, I couldn't resist plunging ahead. Fantastic read - and the odd non sequitur aside, a very worthy end to a splendid series.

Other things I've read recently:

• The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield - just finished this a few weeks ago, courtesy of a recommendation from a certain online book club. Loved it. Unputdownable stuff - not an epic work of literature or anything, but a compelling page-turner. How could I resist a tale of an eccentric aristocratic family, feral twins, a governess with a secret, and a decrepit stately home hidden deep in the English countryside? A caveat, however - this is a book for autumn/winter reading (it's set during November, December and January).
• Eragon by Christopher Paolini - I was quite excited to start this and find out what all the fuss has been about, but...eh. As J. told me, this is basically just middling fantasy fiction for teenagers. I'm sure I'd have loved it half a lifetime ago, but the adult me struggled to finish it. Worst thing is, I was given this as part of a box set, along with the sequel, Eldest. Who knows when I'll get around to that one - though Eragon improved towards the end, so perhaps there's hope.
• War of the Unknown Warriors: Memories of Britain, 1939-45 by David Souden - my sister-in-law actually gave me this for Christmas, but I only just got around to reading it recently. It's published by the National Trust, which is always a safe bet for me, of course. I really enjoyed this book, which chronicled the use of historic houses and estates in Britain during the Second World War, when so many of them were requisitioned by the government for use as hospitals, schools, military training sites, etc. Lots of photographs and reminiscences of people who lived in them during the war years...fascinating stuff. One of the illustrations was of this brilliant poster, produced by the Ministry of Food - I must copy it to put up in my kitchen. Love it!

Upcoming Shows

Trying to decide, this week, whether I should get tickets for a couple of shows coming up in September. On the 14th, Metric are going to be here. I'm not sure how much I like them (I need to make a point of listening to some more of their stuff, in my ample spare time), but the cognoscenti are certainly all abuzz. I wouldn't dither, except that they're playing the Cunard Centre downtown - a new venue which is all general admission, I believe. And there are very few bands I like enough to put up with the prospect of being pushed and shoved all night by drunken college kids.

The die may already be cast, however. Looks like A. will be buggering off out of town again for two weeks in September, to do another army course in Kingston. So unless I can convince a friend to come with, I don't think I'll be seeing Metric this time around. They'll be back, though - they're Canadian, after all.

A show which I may well try to see on September 11th is Loreena McKennitt at the Rebecca Cohn. I actually saw her live once before, at the Cohn in 1994, and I was enraptured by her. At the time I thought she was this mystical, pre-Raphaelite lady...but in the years since, I don't think she's progressed all that much, artistically. Her latest album, An Ancient Muse, strikes me as a bit of a pretentious re-tread of The Mask and Mirror and The Visit. Still, it would probably be an enjoyable show - and one I'd be quite happy to attend solo, if need be.

Cirque du Soleil

This afternoon, I went to see Cirque du Soleil live, for the first time. They are doing nine performances of their 'Saltimbanco' show in town this week, all of which sold out in a flash. I was lucky enough to find someone (via Facebook Marketplace!) who was looking to resell their tickets at face value, so I snapped them up.

What an amazing show - such a riot of colour (and just what I needed, as I was feeling a bit glum). The clowns, the acrobats, the jugglers, the musicians, the dancers, the contortionists, the mimes...everything. Best of all, in my opinion, were the bungee trapeze artists, who closed the show and were quite simply breathtaking. I found a video of them over on You Tube here, but of course it just doesn't compare to seeing it right in front of you. I felt like I was flying with them!

Hooray!

The shed reno is finally finished! The concrete foundation was poured earlier this week and the final inspection was yesterday. This morning the builders came back one last time to backfill around the site. Now, the work of landscaping can begin.

For today, though, I'm just happy to have gotten my dining room back. All the junk that's been stored in it since the beginning of June got moved back out to the shed tonight. And not a minute too soon, because I've got my cleaning man coming in tomorrow. Yah!

Doctor Who

Man, the latest incarnation of Doctor Who keeps going from strength to strength. We're halfway through the third series now, and tonight's episode "Human Nature" was gripping stuff - set in an English boarding school in 1913, with the Doctor (in human guise) serving as the Headmaster. I can't imagine that anyone but the Brits could meld historical costume drama and science fiction, and not end up with a laughable mess.

Victoriana and spaceships? How completely awesome is that?!

Venezuela Travelogue

My Venezuela travelogue is now posted, and can be found here. I've also got an accompanying album of photos over on Flickr, here.

You may notice that in the sidebar of this page, on the left, there is now a new category, 'Places to Go'. As this blog is now, in effect, my personal home page (do people even use such quaint terminology anymore?), I've provided direct links from here to the various travelogues I've composed in the past.

Building Work: Day 2

On Monday, the builders returned with a concrete mixer in tow. They poured the footings for the new shed foundations in the morning.

Now, we just have to wait for a city inspector to turn up, before they can carry on.

On Repelling Vile Blogspam

My fellow Venezuelan traveller MF has a blog of his own, which I'm finding very entertaining. I giggled and cringed in equal measures at his latest blog post, on dealing with that half-gibberish, half-pornographic spam we're all subjected to these days. Hilarious. You can read it here - though be warned: by its very nature, 'tis vulgar. ;-)

*edit* Feh, it seems to have disappeared. Too naughty by half, mayhap?

Holiday Sunday

Beautiful, warm sunny day today, so we decided to take advantage and head out to Tantallon for the afternoon. Spent a couple of hours on my in-laws' sailboat, out on St. Margaret's Bay, which was extremely nice (we'd originally planned to go out yesterday, but it was too foggy).

At dinnertime, we headed down the coast to Hubbards, and went to the Shore Club there. I was thinking last week that I couldn't remember the last time I've had a lobster supper. The Shore Club has been doing them for decades, and it's quite famous, so I thought it was high time we checked it out. It turned out to be really good. I snarfed down a pile of mussels and a modestly-sized canner, after hitting the salad bar and before tucking into blueberry shortcake for dessert. I must say, though, it was probably the fanciest lobster supper I've ever been to, and quite touristy. Though that's perhaps not saying much, when you grow up with lobster suppers served off styrofoam plates at community fire halls, as the norm.

I think we'll have to make it a regular summertime event. Scrummo!