William Dalrymple

Last night, I went to a lecture by William Dalrymple, a prizewinning popular historian of British India. Having him come here to Halifax is quite a coup, I think. He spoke about his latest book, The Last Mughal: Fall of a Dynasty, Delhi, 1857. Dalrymple is one of those historians who has pulled off that rare feat: writing works of scholarly seriousness while retaining the air of an engaging storyteller, and attracting a large popular audience while doing so.

I'd have loved the chance to talk to him about the book - particularly, about his extensive use of a hitherto-unknown, vast archive of primary source material about the "Indian Mutiny" of 1857, written mostly in Persian and Urdu and which lay in the Indian National Archives, largely untouched, for decades. I would also have liked to hear his thoughts on the presence of British women in India (one of my own research specialties). But the lecture hall was packed out, so I didn't get the opportunity - and he was whisked away to a reception afterwards. Still, since it's now a fairly rare occurrence for me to come into contact with people like this, I was pretty satisfied with my lot.

Grass Roots Farm

Yesterday, we had an excursion north of the city to Grass Roots Farm. A.'s family have known the farmer who runs the place for many years, as he also operates a well-known dog kennel and obedience training programme there. In the past few years, however, they have branched out into a new venture - humanely-reared, free-range meat produced from heritage-breed animals.

They started with chickens and turkeys, and have done quite well with that. They have since expanded to ducks and geese, and more recently pigs. We've bought their chickens and eggs before, but yesterday we picked up a selection hamper from them which also included some of their pork (they raise Berkshire and Tamworth pigs). So we now have pork chops, ham steaks, bacon and sausages to try out, in addition to more nice chickens for roasting. Over the next year, they plan to rear beef cattle and sheep as well; we are seriously considering getting together with a couple of friends and family members, and buying half a cow for the freezer.

Of course, it costs more to buy your meat this way than to get it at the grocery store. But I have been wanting to eat more locally-produced meat. That way, you are not only supporting a local farmer, but you can be assured that the animals you consume are being humanely raised, outside the factory-farm system. The weather still being wintry at the moment, we didn't see too many animals out and about yesterday on the farm. There were a few cattle down in one of the far pastures, and a large flock of plump, tasty-looking ducks (sorry JT) in one of the nearby sheds. But next time we go back, later in the spring, there will definitely be more to see.

Ballgown for a Song

This evening, one of the fancy dress shops downtown had a special three-hour blowout sale. Mindful that we'll be attending the Fleet and Garrison Ball again this year, I went down to the shop after work in the hope of finding a fabulous new frock at a bargain price. And I did!

I found this very classic black satin gown with a crystal beaded neckline (front and back). It needs a few alterations in the shoulders, waist and hem, but that will be quite easy to sort out. And I certainly don't mind doing it, when I'm saving 90%. Yes, that's right. The sticker price on this dress was $289, but I got it for a mere $29. WOOT!

More Review Books

Arrived home on Monday from a fun long weekend in Montreal with J., to the news that I've snagged another book for review, from LibraryThing. Yay! This one is called Weaving a Way Home: A Personal Journey Exploring Place and Story by Leslie Van Gelder. Time will tell whether it will be quite profound or a pile of touchy-feely rubbish. The jacket blurb suggests a meld of travel narrative and memoir:

Weaving a Way Home is an inquiry into the complex relationship between people, place, and story. In our memories and connections to a place, we are given one of the few opportunities to have deep relationships with place---relationships that cannot be described in words. Place can embody powerful emotions for us, and Leslie Van Gelder argues that we ourselves are places---geographical points possessing unique perspectives---that can feel displaced, replaced, or immovable. While the places of the external world can be accessed through maps and a good GPS system, our emotional landscapes are best reached through the sharing of stories.

In the interim, though, I guess I better get cracking on the review for my first book.

Avant Got A Clue

Went to see Happy Days by the Nobel laureate Samuel Beckett at Neptune last night. W. came along with me. I'd been quite looking forward to this play...until I remembered that Beckett's stuff is weird as all hell. Last night's play was no exception. The main character spends the entire first act buried up to her waist in a giant pile of dirt - and the second act, buried up to her neck. Seriously. Forty-five minutes of just this woman's head on stage.

It was pretty damn odd, for sure - but not as awful as I feared it might be. Unlike many in the audience (the Neptune Studio was noticeably half-deserted after the intermission) I stuck it out till the end. Let's just call it a "challenging" piece of theatre. Luckily W. and I had fortified ourselves at Stonehaven beforehand, with cheesecake and about a gallon of coffee!

Snowy Squirrel

I installed the software for my new camera tonight, and imported the files for some pictures I took over the weekend. I snapped this little squirrel (through the porch window) on Saturday, as he was cavorting on the deck looking for birdseed. The snowflakes on its nose and tail were too cute.

Why Do I Bother?

I was in the public library for a while yesterday and had some time to kill, so I spent a little time browsing the "speed reads" section (where the bestsellers are usually housed). I normally have no interest in bestsellers, but I thought I'd check out what was there, for a lark.

I ended up picking up, and flipping through, The 4-Hour Workweek: Escape 9-5, Live Anywhere, and Join the New Rich by Timothy Ferriss. Well, who wouldn't like the sounds of that? It's apparently been selling very well and I figured it would be one of these get-rich-quick, overeager biz titles. It's certainly that, but it wasn't long before I discovered it to be infuriating and morally bankrupt, as well.

Ferriss' prescription for achieving the 4-hour workweek? Cajole your boss (by trickery, if necessary) into allowing you to work from home, then outsource as many of your duties as possible to "virtual assistants". And where can one find these assistants? Why, in foreign lands, of course. Ferriss particularly recommends India, where hard-working, English-speaking, university-educated assistance can be had for just $5 per hour, apparently. Why bother doing anything you find to be boring or meaningless, when you can exploit people in developing countries to do it for you? And hey, the boss never needs to know!

Disgusting...and it reinforced some of my worst prejudices about the general scumbaggery of the corporate world. How do people like this sleep at night?