Happy Christmas

Well, it's almost midnight on Christmas Eve, and I don't know what's more desperate; me writing this post or you reading it! We've been following Santa's progress all evening courtesy of NORAD, and as I write he's merrily flying over Guantanamo Bay (really!). Good job Santa has worldwide clearance, because otherwise you can bet he wouldn't make it out of American airspace. Shoot first, open presents later.

It's blowing a gale here at the moment, and in true British tradition it's also pouring with rain. Incredibly, the snow I wrote about only a couple of days ago has all gone, at least in our locale, and it looks as though I won't have to dig out the car tomorrow before we head out for Christmas lunch; maybe I'll even get to drive. We're headed out to our Australian friends, Tarni and Dave, for Christmas dinner, where a good time should be had by all as another turkey is thrown on the barbie.

NORAD now informs me that Santa is headed our way, so I'd better get to bed because he knows when you are sleeping and he knows when you're awake, which is quite creepy if you stop to think about it. I shouldn't worry though; an air strike courtesy of Uncle Sam is never too far away if things get ugly.

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

A change in store

There are many positives to being back at home for Christmas, such as seeing friends, a comfy bed, Tim Horton's, clothes I forgot I had and being able to afford fresh fruit, but there are also negatives. For example, whilst I enjoy being able to drive again - although Melanie hasn't let me yet - the car had to be located and then chipped out from under what seemed like an entire glacier this morning (Melanie was more than happy to let me do the locating, though!). When we did finally get the old girl going (the car, not Melanie), our destination was the mall, and this leads me to another negative of being back.

Living in the North certainly changes your mindset in terms of what is, and what is not, important when it comes to consumerism, and although I enjoy Christmas as much as the next man (unless the next man happens to be called Scrooge), I have to say that I found my foray around the stores a little, shall I say, grotesque. I suppose my opinion is also coloured by the fact that we have less money at the moment than in years gone by, but even allowing for that I have reached the conclusion that 'things' really don't matter that much. I have learned to get by with what I have, and to be thankful for the fact that what I have is still a damn sight more than most people.

For example, for many years I have quite readily worshipped at the altar of Best Buy, but after ten minutes there today, I was done. There were many things in there that I would have loved to have but, as our good friend Kate would say, they were all a case of 'greed not need.' Now, whether this state of affairs is permanent or whether it's just a passing phase remains to be seen; when and if our financial position changes for the better, perhaps I will jump straight back onto the consumer express once more, who knows. Whatever happens though, the last few years have undoubtedly altered my perspective on life and, for the moment at least, I think I'm all the better for it.

Home!

Well, I finally made it! Our flight left at around 11am, we went straight through to Montreal (only three hours!), and then I managed to catch a lift with Stephanie and her dad, whose route home to Trenton took them down the 401 and right past our house. Result! No Snowmageddon, and no need for Bruce Willis.

It's great to see Melanie again after four months, and she's certainly made the apartment look very Christmassy; our balcony has more lights than all the other condos combined! It's also wonderful to have proper internet again - we have the cheapest service here, but it's greased lightning compared to 'Shatner-net'!

Just in case I was missing the North though, it's currently -18°C here, and it's forecast to be -27° with windchill tomorrow. Oh, and there's a snowfall warning in effect too. It won't stop me getting my Tim's though.

Bliss!

No fly zone

Damn, damn and thrice damn; my flight has been cancelled.

Not because of the weather, mind you, but because of 'mechanical problems.' What's worse, I just had to go to the airport to collect my now redundant ticket, in order that I can mail it to the School Board so that they can use it to get a refund from Air Inuit. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the stage where I collect the ticket and mail it to the Board (so that they can then presumably mail it back to Air Inuit) a little pointless? Don't ask!

I'm now scheduled to fly tomorrow morning instead, arriving in Montreal around 4pm. From there I will then slum it in the coach to Kingston, rather than the more-executive-but-convoluted-via-Toronto plane. Weather Forecasters are already dubbing Sunday as 'Snowmageddon' in the Toronto region, and seeing as Sunday is when I'd now be flying to and from there, I think it prudent to avoid the area.

So, I now have to unpack and spend another night in Inukjuak, not that that's too bad I guess. I just hope that Snowmageddon doesn't make it's way up here, but if it does I have Bruce Willis' number on speed dial. He'll make 800 feet; he doesn't know how to fail.

48 Hours

It's bingo night again, and further to my posting of a week ago, the big prize still hasn't been won so tonight's pay out could be close to $30,000! Someone's going to have a happy Christmas.

Speaking of Christmas, we're in the middle of a very exciting/nerve-racking 48 hours at the moment. Yesterday was graduation day at Nunavimmi Pigiursavik (my school); we tend to have two graduation ceremonies during the year, one at Christmas and one in the summer, as the courses we offer all start at different times and have different requirements in their hours of study. Yours truly was asked to M.C. the event - it's the third time I've 'hosted' - and if Hugh Jackman can't make the Oscars for some reason, I'd be only too happy to stand in for him.

Today was my last day with the students, and I spent most of it playing 'Copter', an inordinately frustrating yet addictive online game. One of my class introduced it to me, and I guess this was the modern equivalent of when you were allowed to bring in toys and games on the last day of school. This was always the highlight of the year, and nearly always ended in tears when someone's prized toy was trodden on resulting in the teacher having to call everything to a halt with a cry of "well now you've spoiled it for everyone, haven't you?"

Having spent most of the afternoon crashing my aircraft into the rocks, thoughts now turn to my flight home tomorrow; thinking about it, playing 'Copter' probably wasn't the best preparation for my flight, was it? Much like the way I made my friend Kevin watch the film 'Alive' the night before coming on our old school's ski trip probably wasn't the best preparation either.

I'm meant to be flying from Inukjuak at 1.45 pm tomorrow, spending the night at Montreal airport - I've already booked the comfy sofa opposite Tim Horton's - then catching a flight to Kingston via Toronto very early on Saturday morning. For those of you who know your Canadian geography this route makes no sense, but there you go. I say meant to be flying though, because the local forecast for tomorrow afternoon is not the best, and it's going to be a nervy few hours ahead as we watch the weather. A snow day is normally cause for celebration, but not when you're scheduled to be flying home for the first time in nearly four months.

So hopefully my next post will come to you from Gananoque, but I don't want to tempt fate and face waiting for Another 48 Hours, because that really wasn't a good film...

Who throws a shoe?

It's not often that anybody gives George Bush credit for anything, but I couldn't help be impressed by the way in which he dodged that shoe missile yesterday. It was an incredibly accurate throw, favouring the 'heel over toe method' as opposed to the 'spinning sole' technique, but Bush's cat-like reflexes enabled him to avoid the hit without even spilling his beer (had he had one).

In fact, I rather think that the President must have been practising for such an eventuality, and I can reveal here an excerpt from the Secret Service training video that he used:



In all seriousness though, the great and good CNN has just revealed that the Secret Service are indeed going to add 'how to deal with an assailant armed with a shoe' to their training regime.

I'm sure Barack Obama will now sleep more easily at night.

A breach of elf and safety?

It's snowing as I write (surprise, surprise!), and it's -25°C outside. Looking out the window, I've just seen the same woman walk past for the third time, a bit like when you watch a chase scene in an old Tom & Jerry or Scooby Doo cartoon and the same piece of background keeps coming around and around again. If she passes by for a fourth time, I shall be on the lookout for Shaggy and Scoobs.

But I digest.

The real reason I put virtual pen to virtual paper today is to share with you news of the demise of one of the UK's 'finest' theme parks. Lapland New Forest, situated on the Hampshire-Dorset border in the south of England, has recently been forced to close its doors due to the fact that it didn't really deliver what it promised. Its advertisement depicted a snow-covered Lapland village with Hollywood special effects, a Nativity scene and a bustling Christmas market with an ice rink, but when the public - who had to pay up to £30 (about $55) for a ticket - arrived, the ice rink was broken, the huskies and reindeer were chained up in pens, the market was four stalls in a tent and the Nativity scene was a picture on a painted wall that could only be viewed after crossing a muddy field.

As the complaints flooded in, the Park's owner, Henry Mears, stated that "six of our staff - three elves and three security - have been assaulted and all have been verbally abused," and to cap it all Santa, who at one stage was found sneaking a quick cigarette outside his grotto, was punched in the head by an irate father who'd had to queue up for over four hours only to be told that he couldn't take a picture of his children and that they weren't allowed to sit on Santa's lap. Oh, and they'd have to get in another queue to get their presents.

I think that the lesson to be learned here is that theme parks should be left to the Americans, as they simply do them so much better, much in the way they excel at opening ceremonies at major sporting events, building cars that no-one wants and destroying the world's economy.

Pass the eggnog.

Eyes down...

Thursday night is bingo night in town, and tonight's prize for a full house is $24,000. That's right, twenty-four thousand dollars. Apparently no-one has won the jackpot for a few weeks now, and the money has been rolling over. The weekly bingo game is huge here, as you can imagine with such prizes, and the way it's played is quite unique. Not that anything can be quite unique, but we'll leave that discussion for another time.

To play, you buy your card(s) from the local store, then tune into the radio (or the FM, to use the colloquialism for local radio here) on Thursday evening and let the games begin. I tried playing once, but as my grasp of Inuktitut is tenuous verging on the non-existent, it was quite a harrowing exercise: "What did they say? What was that? Was that a number? Please slow down!"

Anyway, I shall endeavour to find out tomorrow whether anybody won or not; shouldn't be too difficult - it'll be the person with all the new friends.

But Emily loved him

Another Brits only post

Oliver Postgate died today, and part of many a childhood, including mine, died with him.

Oliver Postgate was the creator of Bagpuss, The Clangers, Ivor The Engine and Noggin The Nog, some of the most beloved of all children's characters ever to grace our TV screens. In fact, forget the word children's; these are cross-generational, truly iconic characters.

I was fortunate enough to meet Oliver Postgate at a book signing event a few years ago, and for over an hour he enraptured all of those present with tales of saggy old cloth cats, Welsh steam trains and the swanee-whistling inhabitants of the Moon. He had such a mellifluous voice (go on, look it up if you have to), and one felt instantly safe and secure in his company, much as one did when settling down to watch his creations on television. Melanie even got to hold Bagpuss - the real Bagpuss - and although I was saddled with photography duty that day, it was still a privilege just to be near Mr Postgate and his baggy, loose-at-the-seams cat.

It might seem strange to some for me to talk of it being a privilege to be near a stuffed toy and its owner; surely such an homage should be reserved for the likes of Nelson Mandela, The Queen or Scarlett Johansson? However, such is the affection afforded to Bagpuss and his friends, at least from this quarter, I think it's appropriate.

Bagpuss gave a big yawn, and settled down to sleep.
And of course when Bagpuss goes to sleep, all his friends go to sleep too.
The mice were ornaments on the mouse-organ.
Gabriel and Madeleine were just dolls.
And Professor Yaffle was a carved wooden bookend in the shape of a woodpecker.
Even Bagpuss himself once he was asleep was just an old, saggy cloth cat.
Baggy, and a bit loose at the seams,
But Emily loved him.

Only In America

As I write, I am watching the annual Rochester Christmas Parade on TV. It's rather wonderful entertainment...the 'Older People's Commission' float has just driven by, featuring "representatives of the Commission lip-synching to a variety of all your Christmas favourites."

Oh, here comes a line of Clydesdale horses: "what says holiday better than Clydesdales?", comments the announcer. Would she like a list? And here is the Holy Family school float, with a 'Live Nativity Scene'...Push, push...I think I can see a head!

And to cap it all, as the programme came back from commercials, with the announcer proclaiming, "welcome back; you can feel the sun, you can feel the holiday spirit here," what was passing by on screen?

A tank.

Ain't that America?

Occupational Hazard

Whilst the nation's leaders bicker over who's going to run the country, we have our own problems to deal with at a local level. As I was preparing to leave school yesterday, my attention was brought to this notice on the door:

If I find any, I'll let you know.

Crisis? What Crisis?

As America prepares to embrace the New Hope that is Barack Obama, Canada is staring into a political abyss, although after today's events on Parliament Hill it could yet prove to be no more than a Phantom Menace.

As referenced in this blog a couple of months ago, Canada elected a minority Conservative government at the recent general election, with none of the party leaders seeming able to ignite the blue touch paper of public interest or support. With little likelihood of one single party assuming outright control in the near future, the three opposition parties have come up with an interesting solution: unite and conquer.

The Liberals and the NDP have announced a coalition, and with the backing of the Bloc Quebecois, their intent was to topple the government with a vote of no confidence this coming Monday. I say their intent was to topple the government, because Prime Minister Harper has come up with his own interesting solution to the problem: shut down Parliament.

He met with Governor General Michaelle Jean today, and after two hours of talks the GG agreed to prorogue, or suspend, parliament until late January, a step unprecedented in Canadian history, or for that matter the history of most democratic nations that you could care to mention. It's basically the political equivalent of stopping the game and declaring "it's my ball and I'm going home!"

But you know what? Harper's plan just might succeed, and here's why. Firstly, if the coalition won power, Stephane Dion would take over as Prime Minister, a situation that very few Canadians would care for. Dion has already stated that he will be stepping down as Liberal leader in May, and quite frankly he has all the personality of a wet fish. A wet fish that has just taken a bath. A wet fish that has just taken a bath and then stepped out in the rain. A wet fish that has just taken a bath, stepped out in the rain and then gone for a swim. A wet fish that has....you get the picture.

Secondly, other than in Quebec, Canada is scared of the Bloc Quebecois. For my non-Canadian readers, the main goal of the Bloc Quebecois is to see the French-speaking province of Quebec gain independence from Canada; the proposed coalition would be impossible without the support of the Bloc, and the possibility of a separatist party getting anywhere close to the corridors of power seems to give most Canadians outside of Quebec the willies. Now, I say that if they want to go, then let them go and be done with it, but many Canadians would see this as a dagger blow to the nation's heart. Consequently, any coalition that involves the Bloc seems doomed to failure, and when you throw Dion into the mix, I can't see the coalition making it intact into the New Year.

So, where does all this leave us? The politicians now have an extra-long holiday, when they come back parliament will still be deadlocked, and once the snow clears we'll most probably have another election, the third in three years. But hey, by that time my citizenship might have come through and I'll finally be able to vote; come on Mike, make it right!

Culture Club

WARNING
This is one of those posts that contains images of a highly graphic, animal-entrails-all-over-the-floor nature, so the squeamish amongst you might not want to read on!

It's been culture week at Innalik (the High School here) this week, and yesterday afternoon was 'show and tell' as Caroline, the centre director at my school, put it. Now, I've participated in a few 'show and tell' lessons in my time, both as student and teacher, and most of them ended up becoming a narrated display of the latest toys, with possibly the odd family pet or grandfather's old telescope thrown in for good measure. At Innalik, there were no toys or telescopes to be seen, and I hope to high Heaven that the animals on show were not family pets.

Innalik's show and tell afternoon provides an opportunity for village elders to teach the students the type of traditional skills, techniques and games that are sadly being eroded from memory as Southern culture becomes more and more influential; for a qallunaat like myself (qallunaat being the Inuit term for a white person), it is like being a part of the CSI team's annual outing to the abattoir.

My journey around the hall began innocently enough. I was able to observe a local craftsman demonstrate his carving technique, watch an elder teach the youngsters a traditional game and see a fine example of an oil-burning lamp, or qulliq:

However, most interest centred on the more, shall I say, 'graphic' demonstrations:

Caribou were gutted...

...foxes were skinned...

...and seals were...well, let's just say that this used to be a seal

All in all it was a fascinating afternoon; it was certainly not what I'm used to, but it hammered home the fact that what each culture perceives to be 'correct' or 'normal' is just that - a perception. The use of the land's resources is a way of life here, and the passing down of the skills on display in Innalik's hall forms a vital part of the continuation of a rich and proud heritage.

And it also makes for a unique show and tell.

Happy Birthday!

With the indulgence that writing my own blog allows me, this post is really for one person only:

Happy Birthday Mum!

Now, further to the conversation we just had on the phone, here's how you leave a comment on any of the posts:

1. Click on the 'comments' tag at the end of the posting (it will most likely say '0 comments').
2. On the page that comes up, write your comment in the box provided.
3. When you have finished, select 'Name/URL' from the options under the Choose An Identity heading. The other options are for people who have certain other internet accounts or who simply wish to remain anonymous; you don't need to worry about them.
   
4. Write your name in the 'name' box; you can ignore the 'URL' box.
5. Click on 'Publish Your Comment' and you're done!

So there you go. I shall now expect a plethora of comments over the coming weeks! (That goes for anyone else who is still reading this post, too).

Finally, did you know that December 1st 1887 was the first time that Sherlock Holmes appeared in print, in the story A Study In Scarlet?

Happy Birthday!

What the phoque?

Dominick and Dave, Quebecois both, came into my classroom at break this morning, and upon staring out of the window they both started swearing profusely. At least to my ears they did. Naturally concerned as to the source of such profanity, I too looked out of said window and was directed to a group of black dots on the horizon.

"F**k!" said Dave.

"F**k!" said Dominick.

"I'm sorry...?" said I.

It was only then that it was explained to me that the French word for seal is phoque which, comically, sounds almost identical to the English word f**k. I now feel very disgruntled that, by not teaching us about seals, all my French teachers at school denied my classmates and I the obvious amusement that we could have derived from this situation.

It also explains why Seal can't walk down any street in Quebec without people tittering behind his back.

My secret life

I was idly Googling myself today (narcissistic I know, but sometimes there's little else to do here), and to my immense surprise I found that I have been leading a secret life.

In the Netherlands.

It seems that Gideon Eames is a character in the virtual world of Second Life, and is resident somewhere in the Netherlands. I was even able to find a couple of pictures:

Handsome devil, aren't I? Now, quite what I get up to in this virtual world is anyone's guess. I wonder what I do? Rather a nice rocking chair there, looks like a roaring open fire, large window, sea view, nifty shades; seems I'm doing alright. Rock star? Footballer? Neurosurgeon? CSI special agent? Talk show host? Gigolo? OK....maybe not a gigolo.

Or what if my existence up here in the North is the virtual life? There would be some poor Dutch guy, albeit very well dressed, who'd just found on Google that he'd been leading a double life as a down at heel teacher in the sub-Arctic who had nothing better to do but look for himself on Google...

Oh no, I've gone cross-eyed.

...and the paint's peeling off of my walls

Further to last Thursday's post, it was really, really cold today: this morning it was -28°C, which with windchill was a numbing -38°C! As I said before, it will get even colder than that in the months ahead, but for November this was exceptionally chilly, and even some of the locals found it a bit too cold for comfort. Numbers like these simply had no meaning until I moved to Canada, and although it can get so cold here that your nostrils literally freeze up on the walk to school, it's amazing what you can endure with the right clothing and a positive attitude. That said, I wouldn't have fancied having to live out in the open as the Inuit would have done not much more than fifty years ago, and I'm grateful for the haven of my (relatively) sumptuous apartment on days like this.

Nonetheless, despite the cold it was another beautiful day, although when I tried to take some photos of sunset over the (now frozen) Bay, my poor little camera simply refused to cooperate. It made a few whirring noises, the lens kind of half opened, then closed, then opened again and finally a message on the screen proclaimed 'lens error' before total and final shutdown. I think the message should have read 'it's too cold to be taking pictures you idiot; put me back in the case NOW!', but I got the picture (well, actually I didn't, but you know what I mean). Fortunately Stella, one of Dominick's Desktop Publishing students, got a good shot of the Bay with her obviously superior, Northern-proof camera - the photographic equivalent of Eddie Izzard's Stalinist oranges - and it is with great pleasure that I present it for you now (click to enlarge):

On a different note, it was the Grey Cup yesterday, which for those of you not in the know is the Canadian equivalent of the Superbowl. Canadian Football is similar to American Football, the main differences being that there are twelve players on a team not eleven, each side has three downs to gain ten yards rather than four, and the players apologise when they knock each other over. For the record, the Calgary Stampeders beat the Montreal Alouettes (all together now: ♪♫♪ je te plumerai la tête, je te plumerai la tête, et la tête, et la tête, alouette, alouette, ohhhhhhhhh......♪♫♪) 22-14, which will make Melanie happy as the Stampeders are her adopted Canadian Football team. She chose them because they have a horse on their helmet. Not a real horse, as that would make movement around the field very difficult, but just a picture.

Go Stamps!

Ask a silly question...

I had to post this - it made me laugh.

I'm currently listening to commentary on the Australia v New Zealand Test match (that's cricket to the uninitiated) on internet radio, which in itself is mildly amusing, given my geographical position and national allegiance.

Anyway, New Zealand is not doing very well, and one of the commentators remarked that their batsmen would need to develop superpowers if they were going to win.

He then posed his co-commentator the question: "If someone offered you a superpower, what would it be?"

A few seconds thought, then the answer:

"Russia."

It's cold outside...

Although the town has been covered by a blanket of snow for some time now, today was just about the first time that it felt really cold, the type of cold that literally does get into your bones and starts to freeze the end of your nose. As I write, it's a decidedly frosty -17°C outside, -25°C with windchill, which is quite cold enough thank you, but I've been here long enough now to know that it's going to get a lot colder than that in the months ahead.

However, it was also beautifully sunny today, and the view out onto the Bay really was rather stunning. Now, I vowed to myself when I started this blog that it wouldn't turn into yet another amateur travelogue, full of endless photos of the landscape which, after a while, all merge into one however beautiful they are. But today I feel the need to indulge myself and share with you a few photos that I took either at, or on the way to, school (click to enlarge):

The view from my classroom

Hudson Bay, as seen from the school

Smoke on the water...(go on, you know you want to!)

The last photo - not the best quality as it was literally taken through my classroom window - shows the phenomenon of sea smoke, or steam devils, caused when warmer air covers colder waters and winds are calm. The locals view this as a sign that the freeze has really begun, and if there's one thing I've learned to trust in my time here, it's local knowledge when it comes to the weather.

Finally, since I started writing, the temperature has dropped to -20°C (-28°C with windchill), so not only does this illustrate what I was just saying about local knowledge regarding the weather, it also means that it's time to break open the hot chocolate and marshmallows (the little, hot chocolate mug variety). Night, night.

A sad day

I heard some very sad news earlier this week. Last Sunday, a boy I used to teach in the UK, named Sam, collapsed and died during a soccer match in which he was playing. He was only 16. I received an email from a parent at the school to tell me the news, and I had to read it three or four times to take it in. Sam's father was watching his son play, as he always did, and another former pupil of mine was playing on the opposite team.

The term 'tragedy' is over-used in life, especially in sport, but I can't think of a better word to describe what happened here. Sam's family were the most friendly, caring and supportive people you could wish to meet, and his father was, and still is, someone for whom I have huge respect. He always came to support our school teams, whether his sons were playing or not, and he was always positive, never negative; "did you have fun?" was always his first question after each match.

I'm sure his boy was having fun last Sunday. He was such a committed, competitive and talented young man, and it is extraordinarily difficult to comprehend that he has gone. I would love to be back in England at this time so that I could pay my respects in person, and it's at times like this that I wonder what I'm actually doing in Canada, let alone the sub-Arctic. I've called this country 'home' for the last three and a bit years and I enjoy living and working here, but such tragedies bring into focus the very notion of 'home'. Where is it, precisely? Is it where the heart is? Or wherever you lay your hat? Or even on the range? I've done more travelling in the last five years than in the rest of my life put together, and I think my vision of home has become increasingly blurred during that time...

That's quite enough navel-gazing for now though. I have nothing but fond memories of Sam, and it is intolerably unfair that he has been taken from his family so suddenly and so unexpectedly. On tonight's CSI: NY, Detective Mac Taylor commented that we should make the most of the time that we spend with the ones we care about, and that rings especially true today. Godspeed to you, Sam.

Off The Buses

This is most probably a post that should be marked 'for Brits only.'

I read today that the actor Reg Varney has died at the ripe old age of 92. Many of you may now be exclaiming 'Reg who?', but as one of the stars of On The Buses, he was one of the most familiar faces on British TV in the seventies, playing the character of bus driver Stan Butler. On The Buses was a classic British working class sitcom, and it actually still gets shown over here in Canada from time to time, rather incongruously on Vision TV, a station that mainly broadcasts religious programming. Ironically though, in the novel The Garden Of Unearthly Delights by Robert Rankin, On The Buses has become the basis of a religious cult in the distant future, so maybe this is a case of life imitating art, or something like that?

And here is a most interesting piece of trivia (well, I find it interesting):

Did you know that Reg Varney was the first ever person to withdraw cash from an ATM? Quite why Mr Varney was afforded such a privilege I simply don't know, but when Barclays installed the first ever ATM at its branch in the London borough of Enfield in 1967, it was he who made the first withdrawal.

Thanks for the laughs, Reg.

There but for the grace of God...

I woke up late this morning. 8:32 a.m. to be precise. A power cut some time during the night had reset my clock and the alarm hadn't gone off. My class starts at nine, so it was a mad rush to get out of the house. No shower, no breakfast, just get dressed and go. Bugger.

However, my cursing at this misfortune stopped as soon as I got outside. One of the houses opposite me, a house that I see and walk past every day, was no longer there. It had burned down. There was nothing left save for a large pile of charred wood. Suddenly my problems were put into stark perspective.

I had never witnessed a house fire before, and now here was one almost on my doorstep. When I got to school I learned that no one had been hurt, which was the most important thing, but here was a poor family who had suddenly lost everything, literally overnight. I can't possibly imagine how I'd cope with that. Since I've been in the North I've learned to become less attached to 'things', but I still can't comprehend what it would be like to be stripped of everything you own, without any warning.

Earlier this year, the smoke alarm in my house kept going off despite there being no visible signs of smoke, so I called maintenance. When they came to the house they went to the boiler room and found that the furnace could have exploded at any time due to a blockage somewhere. It was quite a sobering moment; there but for the grace of God went I.

We all walk a thin line in this life, and 90% of the time we forget that fact. When there's an accident on the motorway, everyone drives slowly for the next mile or so, but the image soon fades and then it's back to the normal grand prix circus. I guess if we didn't think like this then we'd be too scared to do anything, but for one brief moment we are forced to confront our own mortality and we are made to realise just how ephemeral our existence is on this planet.

Time for tea.

Lest we forget

It was Remembrance Day today; here in the North, remembrance focuses on the anniversary of the JBNQA, but I wanted to mention the events at the Cenotaph in London. Just four British veterans remain from all those who fought in WW1. Just four. Think about it. Four out of all those millions. Very soon, the Great War will officially no longer be in 'living memory.'

So no funny observations or trivial comment today.

Henry Allingham, Harry Patch, Bill Stone and Claude Choules, we salute you.

Bucking the trend

I read today that Starbucks has seen its profits virtually wiped out as a result of the current economic climate. In the article was one of the finest examples of corporate double-speak that I've seen in a long time, from Starbucks chief executive, Howard Schultz:

"With a re-architected cost structure...we began the new fiscal year with a healthier store portfolio that will allow for operating margin expansion."

Kind of sums up the pretentiousness that goes hand in hand with Starbucks; in other words, they're closing the stores that don't make money in order to cut their losses. Now, if Starbucks goes under, we will be faced with a very perplexing problem: where do all the pseudo-intellectual would-be writers go with their laptops (most probably Macs) so that everyone can see them write?

Answers on a postcard, please. An Iced Single Vente, 7 pump Peppermint, Caramel Sauce Top and Bottom, Light Ice, No whip, Mocha postcard.

A week is a long time...

In the words of Gary Glitter - probably not the best role model for a teacher, I know - 'Hello, Hello, I'm Back Again!' I've been very neglectful of the blog this past week, and I promise to do better in future!

Well, what's been happening in the past week? We had Halloween and the prerequisite party last weekend, I invited friends over and actually cooked for them this weekend - I'll just give you a few moments to take that in - and in between times there was an historic, era-defining election that you may have heard about, the result of which installed a vibrant, 47 year old into power with the largest victory at the polls in nigh on a decade..

So, with that election in mind, I'd like to congratulate Mr John Key on becoming the new prime minister of New Zealand, and I wish him every success in guiding his country through the tough times ahead.

We are currently in the grips of a 'severe wind warning' here (fnarr, fnarr!), but with no snow at the moment there's no prospect of a blizzard, which is just as well considering we have the next two days off. Monday is a pedagogical day, or 'Ped Day' for short - our equivalent of a training day - so whilst it's not really a holiday we have no students in, and Tuesday is the holiday to mark the anniversary of the James Bay Agreement, an auspicious date in the history of Northern Canada.

Consequently, I should have plenty of time for new postings this week, assuming that there are no lawsuits filed following the digestion of the pizzas I made for my guests on Saturday, so tune in again soon to catch up on the wacky shenanigans that go on up here in Arctic Fun Land!

That's gotta hurt...

I just had to post this; I swear I'm not making it up, and this was exactly how it happened.

I was watching the CW11 channel last night (which I think broadcasts out of New York), and during the commercials in Family Guy - it was the episode where Peter goes blind after attempting to break the world record for eating nickels - there was a preview for the evening news. It trailed three stories, in this order:

"Coming up on tonight's CW at 10, we look at how the financial crisis is affecting you, we reveal the shocking surprise that a local man found in his hot dog bun, and we uncover evidence that proves that there might be truth in the story of a Brooklyn cop who claims he was sodomised with a fellow officer's walkie-talkie."

Unfortunately, I had to help out at my school's Halloween dance and I never got to see the news.

Damn shame; I really wanted to see what was in those hot dog buns.

(S)no(w) day

Two of the most popular words for those who work in the North are "blizzard forecast", especially when they are followed by two even more popular words, "snow day." Well, we had the first two words yesterday, but unfortunately they weren't followed by the second two today, much to everyone's disappointment.

Winter has most certainly arrived though and, reluctantly, the Canada Goose has finally had to come out of its metaphorical mothballs; does anyone actually use mothballs any more? Other than male moths? Who knows? Who cares?

Happy Halloween.

Room with a view

Now here's something you don't see every day; I looked out from my classroom window yesterday, and what did I see? That's right, a giant cucumber.

Or at least half a giant cucumber.

My life is never dull.

What were they thinking?

I just saw a commercial on TV.

It was for a mattress company called Sleepy's.

Their slogan was "Give the sheep a rest and get a good night's sleep."

Shall I tell them or will you?

Gone to the dogs

As I am sure you are aware, husky dogs have traditionally played a central role in Inuit life, and whilst the Honda and Ski-Doo have long since replaced the dog team as the preferred form of transport in these parts, many huskies continue to be kept as pets. Some huskies are still bred to race though, and events such as the Ivakkak cross-Nunavik race (similar to the Iditarod in Alaska) are highlights of the cultural and social calendar.

Basically what I'm trying to say is that there are an awful lot of dogs in town, and with such numbers come the inevitable strays. Many are friendly, and will tag along with you as you walk, but every now and again you will come across the odd renegade stray, and life then becomes just that little bit more interesting.

One of my work colleagues was confronted by such a stray recently, and for a few minutes she was forced to do her best impression of one of those police dog handlers that you sometimes see at displays; you know, when they wear huge 'Michelin man' padding on their arms then get their expertly trained dog to attack them. Trouble was, she had no assistance from the Michelin man! Luckily, the man who drives the sewerage truck was on hand to help beat her canine assailant into retreat before any real damage was done - not quite the Milk Tray Man I know: that's how things are done up here - but Cujo is still on the loose, somewhere.

Twice this week I've been followed by a rather imposing looking stray husky on my way to work, and whilst my perambulations about town have so far been uneventful, I get the worrying feeling that it's only a matter of time. Dominick tells me that you should look at a dog's tail to work out what mood they're in, but it's the other end that I'm worried about. Oh well, best summon some of that British stiff upper lip, I guess. Now, what would Barbara Woodhouse do...?

The ultimate houseboat

Hello dear reader! It's good to be back online after a weekend when Shatner Net was at its Kirk-esque best (or worst, depending on your opinion).

Thought I'd let you into a little secret about our houses up here. Rather than building them on site, we have a deal with Ikea who ship them in for us on the big container ships. Most arrive flat-packed, but on rare occasions they are shipped in ready-built, as evidenced in this rare series of photos:

All we need now is some lingonberry jam and a bag of meatballs.

Much ado about nothing

In case you didn't know, we had an election here in Canada yesterday - if you only get your news from CNN, you wouldn't know - the result of which left the nation in almost exactly the same position as it was before the vote. Prime Minister Stephen Harper continues to head a minority government, albeit with a slightly reduced minority than before (if that makes sense), and the general feeling here is that the entire exercise was a waste of time and money, especially given the current financial climate. And our friend, Mark Canada, didn't make it. Guess he'll have to go back to Mr Universe.

The turnout was just 59%, the lowest figure since Confederation in 1867, and that goes to illustrate the general level of apathy that seemed to exist around the whole process. Although I've lived here for more than three years now, I'm still an 'outsider' in many respects, and the political process is one example; I can't vote until I become a Canadian citizen, although I have now been here long enough to make an application.

In my role as a political outsider, it's my observation that this voter apathy must be caused, in part, by the distinct lack of charisma shown by the leaders of the main parties here. To be a successful leader you must be able to inspire the masses; inspire them to get up and vote for you in the first place and then to inspire them to back your policies once you've been elected. It would seem that the 'inspiration factor' is not prevalent here at the moment, a view that is supported by the wistful remembrances that so many Canadians have for the likes of Trudeau and Chretien.

With all this in mind, I would like to suggest that there is in a fact a perfect candidate for Prime Minister out there, and the party that could secure his services would surely win by a landslide. He would make sure that the nation's institutions were run to code, and he'd get it all done in the space of an hour (including commercial breaks). Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the next Prime Minister of Canada:

Mike Holmes will Make It Right!

It's grim up North...

Well, following a brief scare back in September, it looks as though winter is finally upon us up here. It's been a grey, dank, blustery day today (like Manchester in July), and as I write the snow has now started to fall in earnest. And in Inukjuak. I've always wondered where 'Earnest' is, as they always refer to it on the news: 'fighting has begun in Earnest', 'the election campaign has begun in Earnest', and now 'winter has begun in Earnest.' Not quite sure where it is; think it might be in Saskatchewan.

Only last Friday we were out walking on the beach in shirtsleeves, such is the changeability of the weather in these parts, and local opinion is divided as to whether the snow will settle, but it would seem as if that is it for us now.

Not sure where 'Shirtsleeves' is either. Alberta, maybe..?

Tamaani talks

It's always easy to be critical, far more difficult to be complementary; as Alexander Pope so poetically put it, 'to err is human; to forgive, divine.'

With this in mind, I'd like to draw your attention, dear reader, to the comment left by Alain Lance in reference to my post 'Connection interrupted.' It would seem that progress is being made regarding our internet connection up here, so I would like to complement the powers that be for their efforts and I will keep you informed as to any further news. Maybe this is a victory for the power of blogging...?

End of an era

As I'm sure our non-Canadian readers will know, hockey (ice hockey to Brits) is Canada's national sport (technically it's lacrosse, but we'll conveniently ignore that fact for the moment), just as it's soccer in England and drinking in Ireland. Now, this past week has marked the opening of the new hockey season, and it has also marked something of the end of an era. CBC's Hockey Night In Canada is the premier hockey show over here as well as being the world's oldest sports-related programme still on air - to call it a national institution would be something of an under-statement - and after forty years the show has decided to change its theme tune.

I say decided, but it would really be more accurate to say forced, because the reason for the change was a copyright dispute with the theme's publishers, resulting in the commissioning of a new theme via a nationwide competition. The new music has been written by a schoolteacher from Alberta, and speaking as a relative outsider with no emotional ties to the old theme, I must say that I like it (I also think that it sounds not unlike Jean Michel Jarre's Rendezvous IV). See what you think; the first clip is of the old theme, and the second is of the new one:





The whole issue has been a major talking point over here, and although it has not quite forced parliamentary debate (there is the little matter of an election coming up, after all), emotions have run high in some quarters. Many Canadians view the old theme as the nation's second national anthem, and apparently some mischievous tour guides have been known to pass it off to visitors as the national anthem. The old theme will live on though as CTV, a rival network to the CBC, has bought the rights to the music for its own hockey coverage, but even taking this fact into account, it certainly is the end of an era for hockey fans all over Canada.

I want to be elected

Now here's a funny story...

I've been trying recently, with varying degrees of success, to get my students interested in the forthcoming general election (as I write, polling day is just one week away). To this end, I have some information about the candidates for Nunavik posted on the wall in my classroom, and last night two of my colleagues, Dominick (who we've met on the blog before) and Dave (who we haven't - hello, Dave!), were reading it on the way out. Much to our amusement, the Liberal candidate goes by the the extraordinarily appropriate name of Mark Canada, although I think he must have changed his name by deed poll (he was previously Frank Canada).

Anyway, the discussion moved on as we made our way down the stairs and towards the front door, and Dom and Dave's conversation (in French) ended with Dave chanting 'Harper, Harper, Harper!' (Stephen Harper being the current, Conservative, Prime Minister) as we reached the door and bumped into...Mark Canada!

If Alanis Morissette had been there she would have undoubtedly exclaimed 'well, isn't that ironic?' which would have led the rest of us to respond 'no, Alanis, it's just a coincidence.' But I digest...

Seriously though, what are the chances, eh? (did you notice my lapse into Canadian then?). Dave quickly recanted his support for Prime Minister Harper, and we learned that Mr Canada (gosh, he now sounds like a contestant in Mr Universe; 'ladies and gentleman, please welcome our next contestant, Mr Canada!') was on a whistle stop tour of Nunavik in a bid to drum up some last minute electoral support. I duly booked some of his time in order that he come and speak to my students, and this morning his whistle stopped in my classroom, where he outlined his party's plans for the North.

Such a visit is quite a big deal in an area of the country where politicians normally fear to tread, and as one of my students commented, you might not agree with his politics but credit to him for making the trip. Whether he'll gain any extra votes as a result of his enterprise is up for debate, but one thing is for sure; Dave will always look twice before he uses the stairs in future!

OMG! You're such a good debater!

I have to admit that I have been fascinated by the ongoing U.S. election campaign, or more precisely, the television coverage given to it, or even more precisely, CNN's coverage. Last night was the Vice-Presidential debate, and the level of pre- and post-analysis served up by CNN had to be seen to be believed. Despite all this coverage though, I think this chart serves as the best summary of Governor Palin's performance (click on the chart to enlarge it):

Those of you who saw the debate will realise just how accurate this is!

We are the Famous Five

Well, I now have five students, although I must say that I have yet to have them all in the same room at the same time. Consequently, I suppose there is a chance that I just have one or two students with a good line in false noses, glasses and wigs. A bit like Val Kilmer in The Saint.

Oh no, wait a minute...I said a good line.

Quagmire for President?

Any time you turn on the TV here at the moment, chances are that you're going to see either Senator McCain or Senator Obama staring back at you, and the more I see of them, the more I realise who they remind me of:

That's right; the next 'leader of the free world' will either be Glenn Quagmire (from Family Guy) or Pob (a character that will only be of relevance to our UK readers of a certain age). So, who gets your vote: the sex-crazed middle aged man, or the simple minded puppet?

....wait a moment, don't those descriptions sound a little bit familiar?

They say every country gets the leader it deserves!

I Am The Walrus

WARNING - This post contains pictures that those of you with sensitive stomachs may find distressing, and I don't just mean the photos of yours truly.

The return of a successful hunter has always been a time for celebration in the Inuit culture, and in modern times this is still the case, as illustrated by the return of the good ship Kakivak today with its haul of walrus for the community. Seal is the staple marine based catch of substance in the North but walrus, although not the meat of choice for many, makes for a nice change, according to one of my Inuit friends.

The harbour was already busy when we arrived, and the walrus meat was flying off the metaphorical shelves just as fast as the carcasses could be unloaded from the boat. Despite the flurry of activity, there is a distinct sense of order about these occasions, which is just as well considering the proliferation of knives, ulus and cleavers on display. The meat is shared, everyone takes what they need, and the atmosphere is one of controlled excitement.

Many of the locals can't wait until they get home to eat their bounty - like when you'd been allowed to buy a new toy and you just had to play with it in the car on the way home, even though you'd been told not to because if you opened the box when the car went over a bump in the road you'd lose bits down behind the seats and get all upset - so much of the meat is consumed, raw, on site. Inuit sushi, if you will.

Gordon Ramsay, eat your heart out! (especially since someone's probably already eaten the heart out of the walrus). In all truth though, nothing is wasted, and maybe before the school term ends in May I might be able to sample the delicacy that is igunaq - fermented rotten frozen walrus. They bury these huge steaks in summer, when they start to rot, and they freeze in winter. You eat them a year later. Hmmmmm...fermented walrus.

So, a very interesting day all told. It's not often you get to eat out up here, and whilst the menu was somewhat limited, at least the ingredients were fresh. And you certainly didn't want to get on the wrong side of the chef:

He is the eggman. Goo goo g'joob.

On the road again

I had to post this. Just read about a musical road in the States, which plays the William Tell Overture when you drive over it. I kid you not...here's the proof:



Not sure what the road would play if we had one here; maybe 'Whale Meet Again' by Dame Vera Lynn, or anything by Seal...I guess if it was a really long road, it could play the Stravinsky piece that the OSM played when they were here. Have to be a really loooooooong road for that though, and I don't know if anyone would get to the end of it.

There's not a lot going on...

I feel like I've been living in an episode of Corner Gas this week, and whilst this is a reference that will leave all non-Canucks completely nonplussed, those of you who abide in Canada will know exactly what I mean. There's really not been a lot going on, and the week's trickled by like tomato sauce out of a bottle that's been in the fridge for too long. Not one of the modern, squeezy plastic bottles, but a good old-fashioned glass one, the type where you had to slap the bottom really hard to get anything out at all.

School has been slow, Shatner-Net has been slow even by its own slow standards, and the Board have been slow to pay me. In fact, they didn't pay me at all; apparently I didn't officially exist until yesterday, but I've been assured that as I am now real, I will receive some remuneration for my efforts. Probably.

When the boat comes in

Thought I'd share with you the view from my classroom window at school:

The big cargo vessels like this one are a real lifeline for the communities of the North, bringing in all the supplies that are too bulky to be carried by the small DASH-8 planes that are the only other method of transportation from the south. Once the Hudson Bay freezes over though, no ships can get through, which means that for about half the year it's the aircraft or nothing.

In other news...I now have three students (!), and a fourth one is promised any day soon. I wonder if they've been delivered by the boat? Oh, and it snowed again today. Bummer.