Extra time

It's been more than 'a couple of days' since my last post I know, but as I've said before I tend to lose all track of chronological perspective at this time of year so you will have to excuse me. Christmas has now been and gone but we had a good one, and I've been able to catch up with most our friends in and around Kingston. I've also been catching up with eating too and have put on about eight pounds since I've been back, but when you consider the fact that I lost twenty pounds between August and December then it's probably not such a bad thing. I don't eat badly in the North, but there's less snacking - trips to Tim Hortons are not a particularly realistic proposition - and I guess the cold must effect my metabolism in a weight reducing manner.

It should be less than a week before my return to Kangiqsujuaq, but as is rapidly becoming a Christmas tradition (well, it happened last year as well) I need to visit the dentist, and with my appointment booked for Monday - the day I should have flown back - this will necessitate a few extra days in the South. Whilst the prospect of going under the knife (or whatever instruments dentists use) is not a pleasant one, a few extra days at home with Melanie is a good pay-off, so it might be a little while yet before the blog comes to you live from Nunavik once again.

Not sure what we're doing for New Year's yet, but I shall wish you a happy one for now as the next post probably won't be until 2010 (that's next year, not ten past eight). Happy New Year!

Christmas top 10 (part five)

Well, we finally arrive at the top of our festive countdown. Many songs failed to make the cut that, on another day, could quite easily have been there, and if I were to repeat the exercise on another occasion then we would most probably not end up with the same ten tunes. However, my top two would most certainly still be in there somewhere, and without further ado, here they are:

2. Greg Lake - I Believe In Father Christmas (1975)
Grand. Play Loud. I'll say no more.




1. Bing Crosby & David Bowie - Peace On Earth/The Little Drummer Boy (1977)
The ultimate Christmas song? In my book, yes. Log fires, woolly jumpers, harmonies around the piano, snow falling outside...and Bing Crosby. It has to be the full version though, complete with the two minute introduction from the Bing Crosby's Merrie Olde Christmas show of which it was a part; did you know that the 'Peace On Earth' part that Bowie sings was written especially for the show as Bowie actually hated Little Drummer Boy and refused to sing it? Kind of glad he refused, because the end result was true Christmas magic.



Hope you enjoyed our Christmas top ten, and all that remains now is to wish you all, wherever you may be, a truly Merry Christmas; see you in a couple of days.

Christmas top 10 (part four)

I'm back home now, and I really must be in holiday mode as I'm already losing track of what day of the week it is. Christmas shopping is almost done, and whilst in town yesterday (or was it the day before?) we said goodbye to Tarni and Dave, who are heading back to Australia; we shall certainly miss our friends, but at least we now have a holiday location sorted out for some time in the future. Haven't had the opportunity to catch up with any other friends yet - yes, we do have some and we pay them well - but there is all that to look forward to in the next week or so.

And speaking of things to look forward to, here's the penultimate part of our Christmas top 10, where we have reached the number 4 spot:

4. Jethro Tull - Ring Out Solstice Bells (1976)
One of my favourites for many years - wouldn't be in this list otherwise - and it brings some good old English eccentricity to our countdown. A song that always makes me go 'ahh..' when it comes on.




3. Band Aid - Do They Know It's Christmas? (1984)
The track that spawned a charitable phenomenon, and a classic the moment it was recorded. Impossible to hear it without replaying the video in your head, and a testament to the durability of the pop stars of yesteryear when compared to their modern counterparts (although quite how Marilyn got into the recording session was as much a mystery back then as it is now). Tonight thank God it's them instead of you...

Almost home

I'm writing this courtesy of the wi-fi service at the Via Rail station in Montreal, which means that I'm almost, repeat almost, home. After a hugely frustrating 48 hours I'm not counting any chickens though.

I managed to get to Kuujjuaq yesterday where, as I mentioned before, I was on standby for Montreal. Happily First Air got me on board the Montreal flight, but after two hours waiting on the tarmac, those of us who had been on standby were asked to raise their hands. Oh dear...this didn't look good.

And indeed it wasn't. The flight was going to stop in Iqaluit first - check your atlas to see how little sense this route makes - where we would take on more passengers, and there was a chance that the 'standbyers' would be asked to leave the plane and be forced to remain in Iqaluit. When I asked what was meant by a 'chance' I couldn't be given a precise answer, which was a little worrying given that planes have a finite number of seats so, given that the next flight out of Iqaluit was not until Monday, I decided to get off.

After a night in the Co-op hotel in Kuujjuaq and a further six hours waiting at the airport I finally got my flight, and here I am, waiting for my train. I shall be so glad to get home and get clean - I've travelled light on this trip so no changes of clothes - but I shall also be sparing a thought for my teaching friends and colleagues back up in Kangiqsujuaq, who were unable to leave today because of the weather. I have every sympathy and I know how they feel, and I can only hope that they will make it back in time for Christmas.

As for me, the holiday now begins, and for once I think I've earned it. Tims here I come...

Grounded

Big.

Huge.

Blizzard.

I'm still in Kangiqsujuaq. Full-on blizzard all day today so no flights anywhere. Had to go to the airport nonetheless as flights are rarely cancelled until the last minute up here, and the drive there was a very interesting experience. Roland was at the wheel and quite how he got us there I will never know; you literally could not see five feet in front of you for much of the journey.

I'm now booked on a flight for tomorrow which will get me to Kuujjuaq, but I'm then only on standby to Montreal and there are six people ahead of me on the waiting list, so I look like facing an overnight stop somewhere in Nunavik's capital-in-waiting. However, maybe the weather will mean that some other people won't make their connecting flights tomorrow, and this might sneak me on board; we shall have to wait and see.

Until then I remain hunkered down in Kangiqsujuaq, and with the wind still howling and my house still shaking I'm beginning to wonder if we'll actually fly tomorrow morning at all. But let's not go there, unless 'there' is actually home, in which case then we will go, thank you.

More news tomorrow (maybe)...

Taking flight

Well, all things being equal I fly home tomorrow (the 17th), which is also the same date that the Wright Brothers made their first flight back in 1903. I just hope that my flight lasts a little bit longer than theirs.

As as I write the weather forecast for tomorrow is not encouraging though, and if we do fly it looks as though it will be a bumpy ride. This time last year we were grounded by mechanical failure rather than the weather and I don't want a repeat of those frustrations again, but there's no use in fretting over things that are out of my control. So I shall think positively, and hopefully my next posting will come from south of the tree line.

Christmas top 10 (part three)

Well, I've just completed my last day of teaching before the holiday, and in 48 hours time I shall be in the middle of my flight back home (or at least to Montreal). I let my students watch a movie today, but in retrospect 'Alive' probably wasn't the best choice. At least we now all know what to do if the plane goes down en route on Thursday. We just need to find a Uruguayan rugby team to help us and all will be fine.

Now back to the serious matter of our Christmas top 10. When last we looked in the countdown had reached number 7, so today I present to you numbers 6 and 5:

6. Slade - Merry Xmas Everybody (1973)
The only time I will ever write 'Xmas' rather than 'Christmas' because that's how it's spelt in the title (although I realise that I've now written Xmas twice...damn - now it's three; this could go on for some time if we're not careful). I always think of my first Christmas teaching at MK Prep back in the UK when I hear this song. The music teacher (not you Barry, it was the one before you and Mr G!) got the choir to sing it at the big Christmas concert, and I have this abiding memory of a mass of angelic little faces singing the lines:

Does he ride a red nosed reindeer?
Does a ton-up on his sleigh
Do the fairies keep him sober for a day?

Everybody now: IT'S CHRIIIIIIIISTMAAAAAAAAAS!




5. Chris Rea - Driving Home For Christmas (1988)
A tune that always reminds me of the times when I actually did drive home for Christmas: Bedford to Corfe Mullen via Milton Keynes, Buckingham, Bicester, Oxford, Newbury, Winchester and Ringwood. Now I travel from Kangiqsujuaq to Gananoque with stops in Quaqtaq, Kangirsuk, Kuujjuaq, Montreal and Kingston. How times change. For the better? Probably, but at this time of year I wish I could be making the former journey rather than the latter. Maybe next year...

You've got to hand it to her...

Just watching a program on TLC Channel called 'Born Without Arms' (kinda have to, don't you?). We've just seen Jessica, one of the women featured in the show, driving to work, which was incredible enough, but halfway through her journey she got out her mobile phone and started making a call. I'd like to see her explaining that one to the cop who pulls her over.

Oh, and the job she was driving to? She's a pilot!

I suddenly feel wholly inadequate.

P.S.
Still watching the show, and we've now found out that Jessica is a black belt in taekwondo.

I'll get my coat.

Christmas top 10 (part two)

Still cold here, but not as bad as a couple of days ago and certainly not as bad as in the Prairies, where it's been as low as -25 in Winnipeg and -28 in Regina. I shall be flying home this time next week - well, the plane I'm in will actually be doing most of the hard work - so as long as the weather's fine then I really don't care what it's like now.

In the meantime, let's carry on with our festive top ten; today we reveal numbers 8 and 7:

8. Jona Lewie - Stop The Cavalry (1980)
Never intended to be a Christmas hit but it's got sleigh bells and a brass band and will always be indelibly linked with the festive season. Only kept off the number one spot by the posthumous back-catalogue of John Lennon.




7. Chris de Burgh - A Spaceman Came Travelling (1975)
"And it went laaa la la laaa la la laaa la la la..." A Christmas song that actually debunks the whole foundation of Christianity, and the only time that Chris de Burgh will ever appear in one of my top tens. Wonderful.

Christmas top 10 (part one)

It's starting to get cold here now. I'm trying to keep the Canada Goose in mothballs for as long as possible, but it was -20 today, which felt distinctly chilly even given my short journey to school. Still, in little more than a week I shall be back in the relative warmth of of the south, although with impeccable timing Gananoque is in the midst of its first winter storm warning of the season. Better now than next week, I guess.

Now, a few posts ago I talked about my penchant for Christmas music and I threatened to give you a rundown of my top ten. Well, it may be somewhat self-ingratiating, but it is my blog after all, so we will start today with numbers ten and nine and hopefully work our way up to number one before Christmas day itself.

10. Stan Freberg - Green Christmas (1958)
Not really a song and will be completely unknown to virtually everyone except my family, but I've loved this track since I was very small. We had it on 7" vinyl and the record always got stuck when it got to the "All right, Abercrombie" part, and even though I now have it on mp3 and CD I'm still always surprised when we get past that bit without me having to shove the player or weigh down the needle with coins. Ah, memories...




9. Johnny Mathis - When A Child Is Born (1976)
Whenever I hear this song I must be the only person on Earth who thinks of Subbuteo; the table football set I got for Christmas that year was just about my best present ever, and the warbling voice of Johnny Mathis serenaded my plastic players as they took the field (well, green baize) for their first game.

Food, glorious food

There hasn't been any more snow since my last post so we had to go back to school on Thursday and Friday, but a food-filled weekend more than made up for such a disappointment. On Saturday James and Sophie hosted a potluck and today (Sunday) was the day of the Christmas meal for the students at the residence. It's a bit early for Christmas meals I know, but some students and staff will be leaving in the next few days so this was the last weekend before the holidays when the whole group would be together.

It will probably be back to ramen noodles for lunch on Monday so I made the most of my two day smorgasbord, and I will now have to pacify myself with the knowledge that it's only nine days until I'm back home and able to access a full larder again (assuming Melanie's done the shopping). Until then I will be whittling down what I have left up here, which means there might be some interesting culinary combinations on the table over the coming week.

Pineapple chunks and water chestnuts on toast, anyone?

Snow day!

The week just keeps getting better!

We were forecast to have a blizzard both yesterday and today, and although it never really materialized we still got today off; the wind may not have arrived but the snow most certainly did! Never in my entire time in the North - or, for that matter, in my entire life - have I ever seen so much snow fall in a 24 hour period.

There's meant to be a phone tree in place in case the school is ever closed, but it didn't work this morning, which is understandable as trees don't grow this far north. Consequently I tried to get into school, but the snow at the back of my house was literally up to my waist! Having extricated myself I then saw a colleague of mine who had just found out that there was no school, so it was back home for an unexpected day off, which of course I filled with important work of a school-related nature.

Not.

It's the most wonderful time of the year

I like December 1st.

It's my mum's birthday - happy birthday mater! - and it's also the day when I allow myself to start playing Christmas music. Now, I know most Christmas hits are full of throwaway cheesiness, but I've loved them ever since I was small; when I was much younger I probably liked them simply because they were associated with holidays and presents, but nowadays I find they help evoke happy memories of the days of Christmas past.

It's around Christmas time that I most miss my family back in the UK, and I guess that wrapping myself in my festive music helps create a sort of mental pathway back to the Christmases we used to have together. It's also easier and more practical than wrapping myself in actual wrapping paper, which would be messy, difficult, wasteful and just plain bizarre.

If I get around to it I might give you a rundown of my 'Festive Top 10' or something like that over the next few posts, but in the meantime I shall bid you adieu and wish you, dear reader, an early and nostalgia-filled Happy Christmas.

But there's a flag on the play...

The Grey Cup final yesterday was an exciting affair, and it was heartbreak for Saskatchewan when Montreal stole victory with literally the last kick of the game. The Roughriders had never been behind until that final, fateful play, and the Alouettes actually missed their first attempt at kicking what would have been the winning field goal, sparking off what turned out to be scenes of premature celebration within the Rider Nation.

There was a flag on the play though - red flags in the CFL, as opposed to the yellow dusters used in the States - and the Alouettes would be given a second chance at the kick, a second chance which we now know won them the cup. And just what was the Roughriders' indiscretion that cost them the championship? Having too many players on the field. Of all the things! You just know somebody's going to lose their job over this.

And speaking of flags on the play, I'm reminded of my one and only attempt at refereeing a game of American football. It was in my college days back in the late 80s, when 'gridiron' was all the rage in the UK thanks to Channel 4's coverage - these were the days before the Premier League and Sky Sports combined to make soccer the uberbeast that it is today. Some fellow students had organized a game for some charity or another and they asked me to referee as I, apparently, knew more about the rules than anyone else. Looking back this was probably just a polite way of telling me that I wasn't good enough to play, but suitably flattered I agreed to their request, and I even borrowed a Newcastle United shirt so that I looked the part.

Not long after my first whistle it was readily apparent that I was the only participant who was going to take the game anything like seriously, but I maintained my standards, and a few plays into the game I noticed a flag-worthy misdemeanor by one of the teams and diligently threw my yellow duster onto the field to mark the offence. The play continued, but instead of the teams then waiting to hear my verdict before restarting, one of the players came over to me in order to point that that I'd 'dropped my hankie' before getting on with the game.

Needless to say, I didn't bother picking it up.

Not such a grey day

I am now in a much better mood.

Since my last post my flight home for Christmas has been moved forward two days, Monday has been made a ped day (just this particular Monday alas, not every Monday), and yesterday Queen's University won the Vanier Cup, the Canadian college equivalent of the Grey Cup which is, in turn, the Canadian Football equivalent of the Superbowl. For those of you not in the know, Queen's is based in my adopted home town of Kingston, and yesterday's 33-31 victory over the University of Calgary saw the Golden Gaels mount the biggest second half comeback in Vanier Cup history after trailing 27-7 at the break.

The Queen's football team is known as the 'Golden Gaels' because of their garish yellow - sorry, golden - jerseys and the fact that all the players speak fluent Gaelic. I actually made that last part up; the 'Gaels' part of the name is apparently in reference to the University's Scottish heritage, and although I was jesting earlier the team's fight song is partly sung in Gaelic. It is known as 'Oil Thigh' after a phrase that is sung repeatedly - to the tune of 'The Battle Hymn of the Republic,' or 'Glory, Glory Hallelujah' to common folk like us - in the chorus: Oil thigh na Banrighinn a'Banrighinn gu brath, or 'College of the Queen forever.'

Speaking of the Grey Cup, which we were earlier, it's the Grey Cup final tonight, with the Montreal Allouettes, last year's beaten finalists, taking on the Saskatchewan Roughriders. I have no real affiliation with either team, but as Corner Gas is set in Saskatchewan I guess I'll be cheering for the latter.

Go Riders!

Thanks for what?

It's not without irony - proper irony too, none of your Morissettian misunderstanding here - that on Thanksgiving Day (for Americans, anyway) I'm feeling somewhat down and decidedly unthankful. I've been ill for the last couple of days which hasn't helped (although I've still managed to make it into school), and in that time a number of problems and challenges have presented themselves which have led me to question whether where I am at the moment is actually where I want to be.

I won't burden you with the details of my travails - after all, a problem shared is a problem doubled - save to say that none of them are life-threatening and, compared to all the troubles that exist in the rest of the world, none of them are probably worth fretting and fussing over at all. However, one doesn't live in 'the rest of the world,' and in the part of it that forms my own personal little bubble there are a great many frustrations to be dealt with at the moment. Any one in isolation could be manageable but problems, like buses, never seem to arrive on their own and their effect on each other tends to be exponential rather than summative.

The fact that I've started to use words like exponential and summative is probably a sign that I should sign off now. The working man's tonic, otherwise known as the weekend, is almost upon us, and a couple of day's R&R is probably just what I need right now. Thanks for reading, and I promise to make the next post a little more light-hearted!

What's mine is yours

We had an unexpected visit from representatives of the Raglan Mine yesterday, which eased the boredom of what would otherwise have been a mundane, regulation (but far from manic) Monday. Raglan is a huge nickel mine northwest of here, and as one of the larger employers in Nunavik they regularly send teams around the schools to pass on information about the work opportunities there. At the moment only 17% of the workforce is Inuit, but the aim of the mine's owners is to increase this figure to 20% in the near future.

The mine operates a profit-sharing initiative with Nunavimmiut (people of Nunavik), and last year $6.8 million was distributed amongst the 14 communities here. This sounds like a lot of money - and it is - but it is only about a fifth of the $32.4 million that was handed out in 2007. It seems that the bottom has fallen out of the nickel market in the past twelve months, a state of affairs that wasn't mentioned in the presentation at school, but despite this drop in profitability there is still a great deal of money floating around, and each community has its own method of using their share of the pie.

Salluit and Kangiqsujuaq receive the lion's share, being the nearest communities to the mine geographically, and here in Kangiqsujuaq much of the money is pooled and we now have a beautiful new community gym (the building where the Bowhead Feast was held earlier in the year) as a result. Some communities simply distribute their entire share on a purely individual basis though, and as a result, in the words of one of my students, it is often drunk away in a very short period of time. Many Inuit travel to Montreal in order to spend their windfall, and they are increasingly being targeted by local thieves who know that they have money to spend; the results are sometimes tragic, and you can read more here.

Consequently, the role of Raglan is a matter for constant debate in these parts, centering mainly on the level of Inuit employment there and the use of its profits, and with the mine having around fifty further years of potential use left in it, the debate is unlikely to be concluded any time soon.

An evening with Father Dion

One of the attractions of living and working in the North is the variety of people that you get to meet, and over the last couple of days I have been fortunate enough to spend some time with Father Jules Dion, Kangiqsujuaq's long-time resident priest and, as I was to find out later, champion Scrabble player.

Last night I was invited to have supper with Roland and his wife Hannah - Roland is in charge of the student residence here - and also joining us was Father Dion, who I had read a little bit about before I first came to Kangiqsujuaq back in August. Pere Dion, who is now around 80 years old, is originally from Belgium and first came to the North as a Catholic missionary in 1955. He worked in Quaqtaq then, and in 1964 the Bishop moved him to Kangiqsujuaq - "because a change is good for you" - where he has resided ever since. The Catholic mission where Father Dion lives and works is the oldest building still standing in the village, having been originally built by the army in 1927, and when he first arrived here it was just about the only building, with the locals still living in igloos.

Having enjoyed the wonderful hospitality of Roland and Hannah last night, I visited Father Dion at the mission tonight, where we exchanged stories for a couple of hours as he gently and graciously gave me a sound hiding at Scrabble, 351 points to 225. Whilst we were playing I commented that he must be getting help from above with his letters; he responded by quietly playing the word 'exile,' which scored 67 points and proved my theory in the process. I didn't care though, for it was a wonderful way to spend an evening, and a rematch is already on the cards.

You can read more about Father Dion here and here, and I urge you to take the time to do so as he is one of life's true pioneers and has an incredible story to tell. I look forward my next visit to the mission, and if I am ever to beat Father Dion at Scrabble I clearly need either to pray a lot or to commit my dictionary to memory, because otherwise I fear it will be a case of mission impossible.

Here in my car

A recent edition of the excellent CBC news programme As It Happens included a report on the Russian car manufacturer Dartz and their proposed new luxury car. I say 'car' but, in the words of Chris Howden, the show's presenter, it's more of a "steroidal Humvee-slash-Transformer," and would come with diamond-encrusted white gold speed gauges, gold-plated windows, pure tungsten exhaust pipes and three gold flasks containing some unbelievably expensive vodka. Oh, and the seats would be made of whale penis leather.

The seats would be made of whale penis leather.

There has been an understandable backlash since Dartz's announcement in October - why would anyone want gold plated windows after all? - and consequently the company issued a press release from which I present an excerpt here:

One month ago DARTZ presented uberluxury armored car with whale penis interior. As the world's resonance was very huge and DARTZ got lot of angry e-mails from Greenpeace, WWF and also Pamela Anderson, DARTZ make strong decision to stop their plans regarding such interior.

We just looking for most expensive products for this car -- and that's why we choosed whale penis leathure when we checked it is most of most. After wave of protest we realised our mistake and make a decision not to use natural leathure at all. We will focus on world most advanced nanotechnologies to achieve interior highest quality using artificial materials which also was never used for cars. We want to tell our hello to all whales: 'Our Sea Brothers! We all know that earth are stand on three whales - we will keep You live! We don't Earth fall down to Ocean!

One of my students' current assignments is to correct the grammar and spelling of this press release, an exercise that should keep them busy for a while, and in the meantime I'm sure that our "Sea Brothers" will, to quote Chris Howden again, appreciate the company's circum...spection!

Czech mate

I've just been watching Ghost Hunters, which I must admit is a show I frequently tune in to, not because I necessarily believe in ghosts and the paranormal but simply because it's often just good entertainment. The use of Electronic Voice Phenomena (EVP) on the show always makes me smile; they will make tape recordings in the buildings that they investigate, play them back later in the hope of finding disembodied voices or unexplained noises amongst the static, and then present their findings to the owner of the building in question.

On the show we see night vision footage of the team moving around the building and making their recordings - it's always at night, with all the lights switched off - and asking questions like "if you are here, make a sign," "are you trapped in this place?" or "do you resent these people living in your house?" Most editions of the show are set in the USA - once they visited Ireland but they found no ghosts, only spirits - but today the team was investigating an old castle in the Czech Republic. They wandered around the castle - at night, of course - shooting copious amounts of video footage and posing the usual questions to the ghosts for their EVP work, and then we were shown their analysis of the footage which, to their frustration and disappointment, revealed far fewer anomalies than normal.

A thought then struck me. They were in the Czech Republic, trying to converse with ghosts...in English.

Do you want me to tell them or will you?

Buffering...

It's been a relatively relaxing last few days, and in exactly five weeks time I shall be back home for Christmas (weather and flights permitting, of course). Our holiday on Wednesday was followed up by two ped days, so I should feel refreshed when I return to school on Monday. Or at least that's the plan, as I've spent most of today being driven to despair by my internet connection.

I'm online and I can use Skype with no problems, but accessing any web pages is next to impossible. I think half the town's population must be downloading movies today, slowing everything to a crawl; it's as if the internet is being filtered through a giant piece of muslin. The visiting computer technician at school has informed me that Kangiqsujuaq has one of the quickest connections in the North though, so I guess I should be thankful for small mercies.

And for the chocolate cake I made earlier.

And then there was one...

This time last year I noted that only four British veterans remained from World War I. Sadly, three of those grand old men, Henry Allingham, Harry Patch and Bill Stone, passed away during the last twelve months, and this year's remembrance service in London was the first to be observed without the presence of anyone who fought in the Great War. The fourth member of the group, Claude Choules, now resides in Australia, and at 108 he is one of only three surviving WWI veterans in the entire world; 109 year old Canadian John Babcock and 108 year old American Frank Buckles are the other two.

Remembrance Day is a holiday in Nunavik, primarily to mark the signing of the James Bay Agreement, and I think that the time is long overdue for November 11th to be observed as such on a national, if not global scale. Thanksgiving is already celebrated in both the United States and Canada, but I can think of little else for which more thanks should be given than the sacrifices made by all those who have fought for their countries over the course of history.

May we never forget.

Ice & fire

We had a fire drill at school today, and as we were all milling around outside in temperatures that must have been approaching -10, the thought struck me that had this been a real fire, we might have had a better chance of survival in the warmth of the burning building rather than in the frigid wastes that double as a car park.

Just a thought.

Stop making sense

In the past I've made my feelings quite clear regarding hockey and, more specifically, the fighting that is tolerated within the sport. Last January the blog brought you the story of Garrett Klotz, who thankfully recovered after ending up in hospital as a result of a fight, but Don Sanderson was not so fortunate. In December of last year Sanderson, a 21 year-old player in the Ontario Hockey Association, was involved in a fight on the ice. His helmet came loose and his unprotected head slammed into the rink as he was forced to the ground; he went into a coma and died three weeks later.

Whilst idling flicking between channels this evening I came across a discussion on Hockey Night In Canada that centred around a new helmet that had been manufactured to make fighting safer, and the studio 'expert' informed us that it had been Sanderson's death that had prompted the new design. We then learned that rules are either already in place or will be in place soon - I couldn't hear exactly as the sound of my jaw hitting the floor momentarily drowned out the television - that will penalise players if they remove their helmets before fighting. Not penalise them for actually fighting, but if they fight without helmets.

At this point another 'expert' erupted into life, and you could quite plainly see him struggling to hold back the expletives as he lambasted this rule, stating that prospective players shouldn't bother getting into hockey in the first place if they weren't prepared to risk the physical consequences of fighting.

I could not believe what I was hearing.

Back in January, I concluded my post concerning Garrett Klotz with the following observation:

"So, what will it take for sense to prevail? I fear that someone is going to have to be killed for action to be taken, and even then I am not so sure. I sincerely hope that this will not be the case, but until action is taken, I cannot embrace hockey."

It is my sad duty to report to you now that there appears to be no sense in hockey.

I (don't) come from a land down under

I don't know why, but ever since our move to Canada I regularly get mistaken for an Australian.

It happened again twice today; well, it was once really, because on the second occasion I was asked if I was from New Zealand, which if I actually had been Australian is probably worse than an Englishman being asked if he's really from Australia or a Canadian being confused with an American.

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I really don't detect any similarity between my accent and those of our Antipodean cousins, and for a cricket-loving Englishman to be mistaken for an Australian is not exactly a complement (no offence Tarni and Dave, but who holds the Ashes at the moment?). Maybe the lack of exposure to shows like Neighbours and Home And Away means that your average Canadian can't quite distinguish the Australian the accent the way we Brits can, but one would have thought that the likes of Crocodiles Dundee and Hunter would have provided enough of a reference point.

If I ever end up moving to teach in a different Northern community I think I will put on my best Australian accent from the moment I get off the plane just to see what happens. Maybe then I'll be asked what part of England I'm from. Or not.

Pass the Vegemite.

Cloudbusting

Here's an interesting story. To alleviate a drought that threatened to ruin this winter's wheat harvest, it would seem that the Chinese have been seeding the clouds with chemicals in order to make it rain, something that I thought was still in the realm of science fiction rather than science fact. However, an incoming cold front somewhat scuppered the experiment for instead of the hoped for rain, tons and tons of snow were dumped on Beijing as the city was blessed with its earliest snowfall for over a decade.

Now, if only it were possible to take this technology and use it in reverse. We could then 'de-seed' the clouds we get here and buy ourselves some respite from winter.

That would be the ultimate Chinese takeaway.

Game, set and thatch Agassi

In his newly published autobiography, Andre Agassi makes the claim that he took crystal meth during his career and that he lied about it to the tennis authorities, who then proceeded to brush the whole affair under the carpet. Now that the story has become public, said authorities are receiving a lot of flak for their handling of the case and other cases like it, and the game's reputation threatens to go the way of baseball's as a result.

Now, whilst not wishing to condone drug taking at all, I'm not aware that crystal meth is in any way performance enhancing - in fact, I would think it's quite the opposite - and in my opinion the people who run tennis should be more embarrassed about another of Agassi's misdemeanors that has come to light in his book.

I'm talking about his wig!

It would appear that the ridiculous mane that Agassi sported in the early part of his career was in fact an even more ridiculous syrup that covered up his prematurely balding pate, and its disintegration the night before the 1990 French Open final was the reason behind Agassi's crushing loss on that day. His brother had to help him reattach the perished postiche with about twenty clips, and Agassi was consequently very wary of diving around the court lest his toupee tumble to the floor mid-rally. If Agassi is now going to receive retroactive punishment, it has surely got to be for his follicular crimes rather than his drug-related ones! Donning a wig is one thing, but to become Joe Dirt's role model out of one's own volition is as incomprehensible as it is inexcusable.

Finally, I must quote you this line from the book; Agassi is talking here about the letter he claims he wrote to the ATP in 1997 to explain his positive drug test, but in a grand case of Freudian slippage I think he's really making an admission about the state of his hair:

"It was full of lies, interwoven with the truth."

Priceless - you just can't write that stuff (unless you're Andre Agassi, of course).

Trick or treat?

Huge blizzard here this weekend (why do they always happen at weekends?), and as a result Halloween was moved to Friday night instead of Saturday. The whole Halloween experience is very well organised here, with the town's municipality deciding precisely when trick or treating will take place; it was going to be between the hours of 6 and 8 pm on Saturday, but the blizzard forecast meant that proceedings were moved to Friday instead.

Halloween was never that big a deal when I was growing up - we had Guy Fawkes instead - and trick or treating was always regarded as an American thing that we only ever saw in reruns of It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. However, as with all things American it slowly pervaded British society, and I think it's safe to say that trick or treating has long since replaced 'penny for the Guy' as the preferred form of institutionalised begging back in the UK.

My supplies of candy did not last long on Friday night, and consequently an empty-handed latecomer played the trick of disconnecting my cable TV by uncoupling the connection that feeds my house. Needless to say I was not best pleased but the problem was soon resolved, and if I am still here next year I will make sure that I am more prepared, either by having more candy or by hiring somebody to stand guard over my cable box.

Enjoy your November!

One flu over the cuckoo's nest

I know the blog's been a bit neglected recently, but not purposely so. As I've mentioned before, my internet connection has been decidedly unreliable of late, but at the moment it appears to be on a good footing so I'll take advantage whilst we're all still on the planet to read the damn thing.

I say that because there seems to be a real sense of end of days around at the moment. The economy has tanked, 2012 is looming large - can't wait to see the film by the way; not just one national monument destroyed, but ALL OF THEM! - Iran and North Korea are on the verge of going nuclear, there are earthquakes almost every day and H1N1 is going to kill us all before any of the other stuff matters anyway.

Vaccinations are now rolling out around Canada - we have ours slated for the beginning of next week - but at the moment, I don't think I'm going to get one. Regular readers will know all about my cynicism regarding the Swine Flu, and nothing I've seen or read has done anything to change my mind. Yes, there have been tragic fatalities but they have been exceptionally rare, and there are many more tragic fatalities as a result of other diseases, including the 'regular' flu, that simply go unreported. I still believe that the 24 hour news media has played a huge part in whipping up the current wave of hysteria regarding the virus, and that the true epidemic is in fact an epidemic of fear.

And to cap it all, that self-same media is now able to fill its airtime with reports on the ridiculously massive queues of people waiting to get their shots. In Kingston, a number of children were absent from Melanie's school today as their parents had taken them to get vaccinated, with one family joining the line at 7.30 in the morning and not getting to the front until 3.30 in the afternoon; maybe the health authority should have sold fast passes à la Disney, although I doubt you'd have got many punters going round again for a second ride. As for me, well I'm not even going round for a first ride. At this moment in time I'm not prepared to be injected with an under-tested, rush-released vaccine, and I shall take my chances with my own immune system, thank you very much. Granted, we should be concerned by the whole situation, but not afraid; after all, the only thing we really have to fear is fear itself.

And perhaps spiders.

Stan's the man

It's been a busy week thus far. My internet connection continues to be consistent only in its inconsistency, so deprived of a regular web fix I've been catching up on work and on the myriad of TV shows that I've recorded but yet to watch. At least we've had no further power cuts.

It's also been a good week weather-wise, and today some of my students came out with me to take some photographs of a Flat Stanley we'd made for The Grade 1s and 2s at Melanie's school in Kingston. We decided that a more appropriate, Inuit style name for him would be Stanwillie, and it was interesting to learn from my students that there is no real word in Inuttitut for 'flat.'

Both the students and myself enjoyed taking Stanwillie around town and we took some good photos, but none as good as this one, which shows the one-dimensional, cardboard figure in Washington D.C.:

Not sure who the small guy with the green tie is, though.

Food for thought

My internet connection has been more down than up over the last few days, and yesterday morning we had a power cut, not an uncommon feature in these parts. Normally the power comes back after a few minutes, but this time it was out for over an hour, which is really hardly any time at all, but it was enough time to make me frustrated.

There was no TV, no internet, no phone and no running water (everything is interdependent here).

I of course went outside to make sure that it was not just my house that was affected, and when I found out that it was indeed a village-wide blackout I was able to take some sort of sadistic pleasure in the fact that everyone was in the same boat. The power eventually came back, but I think the whole episode has made me realise that perhaps I have not become as detached from my material needs as I believed I had.

Food for thought indeed (but not the type of food that needs an oven to cook it in case the power goes down again).

Maybe a cheese sandwich for thought...