Drains and radiators

We all do it. You've probably done it at least once today already; much to my shame, I know I have. Gordon Brown (texture like sun) did it earlier this week and it might end up costing him the UK election. No, I'm not referring to talking in a Scottish accent. I am instead talking about the noble art of back-biting, gossip or just plain old bitching. Talking about other people behind their backs, the kind of talk that usually takes the form of derogatory slander, must be one of the most universally popular pastimes known to man.

I read an article today on just this topic, an article inspired by Gordon Brown's pre-election gaffe of calling a Labour Party supporter a bigot once he thought he was out of range of the microphone. In it, the writer espoused a number of theories as to why we indulge in such behaviour, my favourite being the one in which our lives are viewed as dramatic productions. We play out the roles given to us and we have a centre stage where we assume that we are being observed and a backstage area which we think is hidden from public view. When engaged in formal social interaction we have to remain 'in character' for the benefit of the audience (everybody else), but Mr Brown's 'bigot' remark or your slagging off of your boss to your colleague at the water cooler are examples of backstage personas.

Every workplace is, to a greater or lesser extent, afflicted with this type of behaviour, and in a small school like the one here in Kangiqsujuaq it's hard to avoid it and even harder to avoid being sucked in by it. Jacob and I were discussing this issue along with the article I read, and we came up with the idea that perhaps schools should have two staffrooms: a bitching staffroom and a non-bitching staffroom. This idea also has an added benefit, in that staff might be so self-conscious about entering the room with the sign above the door marked 'bitching' that they would have to enter the non-bitching one instead, thus diminishing the problem with the minimum of effort.

Even in such a multi-staffroomed school though, back-biting would not disappear; human nature dictates otherwise. I remember a prize-giving speech at my old school in the UK in which the guest speaker declared that most people in life fit into one of two categories: they are either drains or radiators. Radiators bring light and joy into a room whilst drains suck the life out of everybody in it. That speech has stuck with me over the years and I think the speaker was spot on; think of everyone you work with, and I bet you could draw up a list of drains and radiators pretty quickly.

The speaker concluded his speech by urging all present to go forth and be life's radiators rather than life's drains, and it's advice I've always tried to follow. As I alluded to earlier though, sometimes it's hard to stay on such a righteous path, and I'm very aware that I've been all too easily led astray of late, so much so that I now avoid our staffroom unless I really have to go there. We only have one, you see...

But there I go, straying off that road again. I told you the path of righteousness was a difficult route to follow.

Two weeks notice

It's official; I'm leaving the North.

I have my ticket, and in two weeks' time I will be back home in the south.

Permanently.

As I mentioned a few posts ago, this moment has been coming for a while now, but yesterday I finally confirmed my intentions with the powers that be and today I received my travel itinerary. Most things happen very slowly in the North, but in my life events are now moving on apace. The number of teaching days that remain are in single digits - so even I can count them on my fingers - and just two weekends sit between me and my final flight.

I know I'm going to be feeling some mixed emotions over the coming days - in fact I'm already feeling them - but I'm glad to have finally made an irrevocable decision and I know in my heart that it's the right one. I've said before in these pages that my time in the North has changed my outlook on life, and whilst I really do believe that my experience has been largely positive, I also feel that the misanthrope inside me is edging ever nearer the surface, especially this year, and that can't be a good thing.

Consequently, my repatriation to the south, and to Melanie in particular, is coming just at the right time I think, and as much as I'm going to be looking back over the next few weeks, now is really a time to be looking forward. There will be many changes ahead and all the routines I've established will need to be broken, but it's all for the greater good.

The countdown has begun...

Don't try this at home

Ben, who teaches math and science to my class, took his lesson outdoors today - it was a balmy -1 degrees outside - and aside from the temperature I was impressed by two things in particular. Firstly, his audience swelled dramatically as a result, which says something about the ratio of students who are actually in the school building when they are meant to be compared with those whose aren't, and secondly...well, there can't be many science lessons that take place with a backdrop like this one!

Oh, and in case you were wondering, in light of the fact that we don't have a cloud of volcanic ash lingering over our part of the world at the moment, Ben was trying to create our own alternative version by dropping increasingly large chunks of sodium into a bowl of water. The end result was pretty impressive and one was left with the thought: just how many outdoor science lessons take place in Iceland?

A clash of cultures?

Warning: this post may contain images that might cause distress amongst animal lovers and devotees of Fox's Glacier Mints

It is not without a sense of irony that as I write a post about the school's culture day, Jacob and I are currently watching 'Family Jewels with Gene Simmons' on TV, having earlier sat through 'Sober House with Dr Drew.' There's more culture on the mouldy piece of cheese in my fridge than in either of those programmes. They're not shows that either of us would normally watch, but neither of us could be bothered to reach for the remote so, consequently, we were sucked into the sad , lonely and sometimes grotesque lives of others for the best part of two hours. Come to think of it, that pretty much sums up your experience when reading this blog...

But I digest.

As I was saying before I interrupted myself, it was culture day at the school today, the one day in the year that's set aside to celebrate the traditional ways of life in a Northern town. I always enjoy days like this, but I'm not sure how I view the fact that just one day is devoted to celebrating and promoting a culture that is being swamped and overrun by southern mores...I'll leave you to decide your own opinion on that one. I think that's a debate for another time.

Culture day here was very different to the one I experienced in Inukjuak. Here, all the action took place outside, and after two or three hours of milling around everyone had gone their separate ways. In that time though we were able to examine an igloo that had been built by Mark Tertiluk, the centre director at the school, and a second igloo was constructed during the course of the morning. Many of the children - and some of the staff - went sliding, either on plastic sleds, their bottoms or even on sealskins (or any combination of the three), there was some impromptu throat singing and, of course, there was the requisite smörgåsbord of country food, Arctic Char and walrus on this occasion.

If indeed these are to be my final couple of weeks in the North then I guess this will be the last time I get to experience Inuit culture in such a way, and I feel privileged to have the chance to be involved in such an intimate way. I only hope that the incessant march of western 'culture', Gene Simmons, Dr Drew and all, doesn't mean that future generations, both Inuit and quallunaat alike, are denied that chance.

The final furlong

Horse racing has little or no profile in Canada, but back in the UK it was Grand National day yesterday, and whilst I have never been the greatest of gamblers I always enjoyed a bet on the National. Some years I would study the form and make the whole thing a very scientific process, some years I would just go by the horses' names; I even dreamt the winner one year and yes, it won! As you may have guessed though, I didn't put much money on that year - I always went by the adage of 'never gamble more than you can afford to lose', which kind of defeats the whole purpose of gambling really, but there you go - and consequently here I am, still eking out an honest living.

The way I make that living, and where I make it, is all about to change though. Although nothing is signed, sealed and delivered just yet, it would seem that a new career at King's Town School beckons, and consequently, after four years in the North, I've now entered what looks like being my final four weeks here. There are going to be many instances of 'doing something for the last time syndrome' over the coming month and, who knows, I may well have done some things for the last time already.

Whilst working in the North has brought with it many frustrations, I have by and large enjoyed my experience. I have seen and done things that I would not have seen and done otherwise, and I have met people the like of who I would never have had the chance to meet in my normal walk of life. Since leaving the UK some five years ago the North has very much become 'my Canada', and I know that my outlook on many things in this life of ours has been changed as a result. Without wishing to sound pretentious I think I am a better person for it all or, at the very least, a different person; perhaps it's best left up to others to decide on whether different is actually better.

For everything there is a season though - it's normally winter up here - and, for a number of reasons, I think the time is now right for change. A full five years after moving to Canada it would seem that enough dues have now been paid to have earned Melanie and I the opportunity to be living and, hopefully, working together again, and whilst I have always been very much aware of my 'geographical impotence' up here, a series of recent, unfortunate events in the lives of my friends and family has done much to bring that awareness into even sharper focus. As I said at the start of this post, I have never been much of a gambler. Any move, be it career or physical, is always going to be something of a gamble, and I am about to do both. On this occasion I'm happy to roll the dice though, and I'm prepared to deal with the outcome, whatever it may be.

Parting is such sweet sorrow

No sooner had she arrived than she was gone.

I saw Melanie off at the airport this morning, and although it's only seven weeks until I'll see her again it feels like an eternity at the moment. We had a wonderful ten days together but it all went by so quickly; it only seems like yesterday that we were (contemplating) eating archaeologically significant bars of chocolate and antique almond cookies.

The fare was far more palatable on Wednesday night, when we attended the official opening of the new student residence - the Nasivvik. Many of the Kativik School Board's great and good were in town for the event, and after the seal skin ribbon was cut we were all invited inside for some (mercifully short) speeches and some (mercifully abundant) food. Roland, Annie-Claude and all the students did a wonderful job in preparing the building to receive such a large number of guests, and I was surprised by just how many of the dignitaries I knew or, failing that, knew me.

I suppose I've been in the North long enough now to establish a reputation of sorts, and whilst reputations are not always justly earned or bestowed, it was certainly heartening to learn from various sources that my work of the past four years has been viewed in a positive light. My probable (permanent) departure in May was common knowledge - word travels fast in these parts - and I guess I should take it as a complement that no-one I spoke to wanted me to leave, but despite the fact that you should never say never, all things being equal my life in a northern town has just seven weeks left to run...

They don't make 'em like they used to

I wish all Mondays could be like this.

We had just the second snow day of the school year today, and although we did have to be in school this morning, it's rather nice to start the week without having to teach. I say 'snow day' but it was more accurately a 'wind day' because there was no new snow but very high winds; gusts reached 120 km/h and I saw at least three witches blow past my classroom window before I came home at lunchtime. No cows though.

In other news, our food cargo finally arrived! We picked the boxes up from the airport on Saturday and to our great surprise all the contents remained intact. As a result I now have a wonderfully stocked fridge and larder, and the challenge ahead of me is to eat everything before I head back south in May. Melanie will be able to help me until she leaves on Friday, but then it's all down to me. It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it.

We also enjoyed two rather nice breakfasts at the Residence, courtesy of Roland, over the weekend and after the first (on Saturday), we went for a walk around town, stopping at the Northern store en route to pick up some chocolate to fuel our perambulation. We chose a couple of After Eight bars, deeming them to be of a suitable post-breakfast nature, but we didn't check the date on the wrapper (you know what's coming next, don't you?).

The weather closed in during our walk and we didn't get round to eating them, but we decided instead that they would accompany our coffee upon our return home. Fortunately, we did remember to look at the wrappers before we opened them, and it was a good job too.

October 14 2006.

And they weren't even on sale. In fact, they've been in the North longer than I have, and one wonders just how long they would have remained on the shelf had we not picked them up. There's a bunch more in the store, and when the wind dies down I shall venture forth and exchange our antique chocolate for something manufactured in this decade. In the meantime, I guess I'll just have to start work on the fridge...

The Bionic Residence

Students from all over Nunavik come to Kangiqsujuaq to further their education, and we have about fifteen out of town students here at the moment. Most of them are taking either Secondary 6 (college preparation) English - the course I teach - or Secondary 6 French, but one or two come here to complete their high school studies. In the smaller communities in Nunavik the number of students who actually stay in school is often so small that it doesn't warrant running Secondary 4 or Secondary 5 classes, and in those cases if there are any students who want to finish their schooling and graduate they can do so either by enrolling in adult ed classes or by coming to Kangiqsujuaq.

Up until this week these students were accommodated in a residence next to the school, and whilst this building was adequate it was little more than a shack, and the living conditions were somewhat cramped, to say the least. A new residence building has been under construction for almost two years though, and yesterday was the day when the students finally got to move in. The new building is named Nasivvik, and whilst there isn't a direct translation this means something like 'the place where you can see far,' which is apt on two levels; the studying that takes place there will hopefully allow the students to increase their opportunities in life, expanding their view of the world in the process, but the building's relatively elevated position also gives its occupants a wonderful physical view of the town, the bay and its mountainous surroundings.

The new residence could not be more different from its predecessor; in fact, it's more like a hotel - those of you reading this post who have worked in the North will instantly recognize it's structure as being almost identical to the co-op hotels - and whilst I'm not at liberty to say how much it cost, let's just say that back in the 1970s you could have built a Bionic Man on the same budget.

I'll take some photos of the interior of the new residence next time I'm there, and I'll make sure to post a few of them right here; that way, our Canadian readership can see just where their tax dollars are going...

Working from home

So, the first post of 2010 and the blog goes into its third calendar year of operation. Quite what the new year will bring is anyone's guess, but for the time being I'm enjoying an extra week at home. I have a further appointment with the dentist on Friday and I am not now due to fly back North until Monday, all of which is something akin to a late Christmas present (except the dentist part). I recently found out that my colleagues in Kangiqsujuaq got snowed/fogged in before Christmas, and some of them didn't get home until the 23rd; as a result the start of school has been put back a few days, so I won't be the only one returning to work a little later than planned.

Much of this week has seen me sorting out a variety of financial paperwork, the type of stuff that makes you wish you were an ostrich with a suitably deep bucket of sand nearby, but it has to be done and it's much easier for me to do it whilst I'm still in the south. Melanie went back to work on Monday so my house husbandry is also extending to washing, cleaning and cooking, the latter of which is currently inspired by Julie & Julia, a film which I was reticent to watch when Melanie rented it on Monday but that I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed. Speaking of movies, my other favourite of the holiday has been Tarantino's Inglourious Basterds, which must be as cinematically removed from Julie & Julia as Amy Winehouse is from sobriety; if Christoph Waltz doesn't get an Oscar nomination for his role as Colonel Hans Landa then there is simply no justice in this world.

For now though it's back to the finances, and an impending walk in the snow to the bank. Tim Hortons is inconveniently at the other end of town, but fortunately I feel in the mood for taking the scenic route today...

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.

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.

The surreal life

One of the projects I'm currently working on in class is a poetry unit where we are examining the lyrics of rock and pop songs. Not the most original idea I know, but it's a good way to introduce concepts such as simile, metaphor, alliteration and irony - none of which are all that familiar to my students - and so far everything seems to be going well. It also allows me to go off on Dead Poets Society style tangents, although I haven't had any students standing on desks yet and referring to me as their Captain. Give it time though...

I started out with Eleanor Rigby, standard fare in a project such as this, and we've also listened to If You Could Read My Mind, a heartfelt song by Gordon Lightfoot that those of you in the UK might remember from Trigger Happy TV. I like to branch out on left field limbs as well though, and I also had my students listen to Empire State Human by The Human League today, which I'm pretty certain has never hit the airwaves north of 60 before. It was quite a surreal experience to see my Inuit students listening to a piece of seminal late seventies British synthpop but they seemed to like it, and I'm now planning the next instalment of my lyrical mystery tour.

Ernie The Fastest Milkman In The West, perhaps...?

Not so rotten swines

As is often the case in situations such as these, a little extra time has thrown new light on the whole pregnant-staff-must-leave scenario. It seems that the Quebec government is in fact only strongly recommending that pregnant teachers take themselves out of the workplace, and it is up to the individual to make their own decision. As a result we are not now going to (immediately) lose all the staff in question at our school, but we are still going to lose our principal. The school board already has a number of potential replacements lined up though, so it does not look like yours truly will have to take over in the hot seat.

Shame, because once the winter sets in a hot seat would be a really nice thing to have.

Rotten swines

As of yesterday, the provincial government in Quebec has thrown our school, and many others in the North, into turmoil. In light of the extinction event that is H1N1, a snap decision has been made to remove all pregnant staff from the workplace in Northern communities, with immediate effect. We have three pregnant staff at our school, coincidentally all female, all of whom were due to go on their respective maternity leaves after Christmas, but following yesterday's decree from Quebec City, all of them are now persona non grata within the school building. When you consider that one of the 'swine flu three' is our principal, this plunges the school into even greater chaos, especially because, due to the school's small size, we have no vice-principal to pick up the reins.

At the time of writing it even looks as though the staff in question are to be forcefully repatriated to the south on Monday, although this isn't yet certain. Our principal and her husband rent out their home in the south whilst they're working here, so goodness knows what they're going to do if they have to return home at such short notice. Mangers and inns, anyone?

This whole situation seems to have been brought about by events in Manitoba earlier this week, when a number of aboriginal reserves were sent flu-readiness medical packs that contained a number of body bags. There was outrage in these communities, with claims that the government were not treating the flu properly there and were expecting numerous fatalities as a result, and this outrage was exacerbated by accusations of cultural insensitivity, as preparing for death in such a way goes against the beliefs of the First Nations in question.

Despite governmental apologies and explanations that these medical packs contain body bags as standard, whether they are delivered to Toronto, Ottawa or Wasagamack, the controversy remains, and Quebec's proclamation on Friday seemed to come as a knee-jerk reaction to all the fuss. The (mis) treatment of aboriginal communities in Canada is a hugely sensitive issue, both politically and morally, but the irony here is that the forcible removal of teachers who are willing to stay is not only going to impact on the lives of the teachers themselves but also on the lives of the populations of the aboriginal communities in which they work.

We shall no doubt learn more about the whole situation on Monday so until then, watch this space; who knows, in a few days maybe Melanie won't be the only Principal in the family!

Here we go again...

Greetings!

It's been a while I know, but I'm now writing to you from Kangiqsujuaq. It only seems like yesterday that I arrived but I've actually been here a week now, and over the course of the coming days, weeks and months I'll keep you posted about life up here.

I've already chalked up a few 'firsts' in my life in the short time I've been here: this is the most northerly place I've ever visited and the first time I've been 'north of 60', it's the first time I've ever had to teach in August, and it's also the first time I've lived next to a golf course! Yes...there is actually a golf course here, but more of of that in the days to come!

(Click on photo to enlarge)

The village is very beautiful, and you are very aware that you are living in a natural amphitheatre, with imposing mountains surrounding you on three sides. As for the spelling, I'm none the wiser as I've seen at least three different variations since I've been here, but the most common seems to be Kangiqsujuaq (no 'r'), so we'll stick with that from now on.

Thanks to Melanie I've had some boxes of food arrive so I'm not starving, but my cargo from Inukjuak is yet to materialise, so just like last year I've been living out of my suitcase for the past week. I packed more pairs of underpants in my suitcase than I did last year, but I've just about run through the whole range of combinations afforded to you by a couple of pairs of jeans and two or three T-shirts. I've also no internet or phone at home yet, and with my TV stranded somewhere between here and Inukjuak, my evenings have not been all that exciting. I suppose I could devote myself to my work....

For the time being I'm using the internet at school, but when one considers that my house here is a mere stone's throw away from the school (it really is - I've tried!), I suppose there are far worse hardships in the world. Posts will become more regular once I'm hooked up at home, but keep looking in as I'll still try to update on a fairly regular basis. Until next time....

(Click on photo to enlarge)

Taking care of business

Hope you enjoyed the Catchphrase clip from yesterday - poor Marita really doesn't know what's going on, does she? - but I should warn you that some of the links that are presented at the end are pretty explicit. Sorry if you've already viewed any of them and got a bit of a surprise as a result, but I wonder how many of you are now going to go back in order to see what you missed? My warning is obviously lost on people like you, a bit like the red triangle that Channel 4 used to display in the corner of the screen to alert any unsuspecting viewers that the program they were watching contained 'adult' content. Now, how many extra viewers did that attract?...

But I digest.

It was the longest day today, and after a few long days of my own at the storage unit I have now officially given up on sorting it out until Melanie arrives next month. I've told her to bring some extra storage unit fairies on the plane with her, but apparently they're not good flyers - ironic, given that they have wings - so they probably won't make the trip.

I'm still keeping busy though. Later this week I should be receiving my contract offer for next year's work, and it's 99% certain now that the course will be moved to Kangirsujuaq, as I hinted at last month. Last year I had to wait until the end of August until I received my contract offer so it's good to be getting it all sorted out early this time, but I've learnt that I will have to return North by August 17th, which is almost three weeks earlier than I anticipated. Now, before you raise your eyebrows in indignation over the fact that I will still have had a three month holiday, going back so soon almost halves the time that Melanie and I will have together once she gets here, which is most disappointing.

However, this situation could still change as there may yet be a further twist in the path that the forthcoming year might take. Melanie and I applied for jobs at a number of schools earlier this year, mainly in the spirit of keeping irons in the fire, but having heard nothing back from any of them we both assumed that the fire had gone out. There must have been a few glowing embers remaining though, because one of these schools contacted us out of the blue on Friday, and this morning I had a telephone interview with them.

I can't really say too much at this stage as I'm not sure what's going to happen next, but I can reveal that this was the first ever interview I've done in my pyjamas (very Canadian; pyjamas are seen as legitimate everyday clothing over here), and I will tease you with the information that if we were offered posts at this school (and accepted them), I'd have to change the title of the blog to Life in a Western Town, or something similar. Intrigued? I'll give you more news when I can, but I have to go now as a show called Impact is about to start on TV. It's 'a two part sci-fi drama about the moon on a collision course with Earth' which, as those of you who know me well will realise, is a show with my name written all over it. Now, which national monument is going to get it first?

Fetes accomplis

For the last couple of days I've been kept busy undertaking the arduous task of clearing out the storage unit that we rent (why do we have have so much junk?), but now I've finally got a couple of minutes to bring you up to speed on my weekend. Firstly, I got to see my friend, Chris Koster, in concert on Friday night. Chris is an inordinately talented musician; his music deserves to reach a far wider audience than it already does, and Friday night's show saw Chris and his band in top form (I'm not being paid to write this, honestly). Go check out his website - if you visit the 'music' section, you can download a few tracks - and in the meantime here's an acoustic version of Montreal:



The following day saw a complete change of pace as I attended Maplecrest-Sempar's school fete. It was a splendid occasion, and the many highlights included throwing wet sponges at Milo, riding a horse and getting to sit inside a Bison armored personnel carrier that had been brought to the fete by two army officers from the base in Kingston. They had just come back from Afghanistan, and whilst I may not agree with the reasoning behind why we actually sent troops there in the first place, I have ultimate respect for the men and women who have to do the fighting. They also showed us some video shot when their convoy came under fire in Afghanistan, which only served to raise those respect levels a further notch higher.

Puts my battles with the storage unit into a different perspective, don't you think?

Not a happy camper

Well, in the manner of Bear Gryllls or Ray Mears I have emerged from the wilderness unscathed, save for my usual collection of bites which, whilst not as large as last year's, is still sizeable. One bite has swelled to such an extent that it looks as though I have a tumour growing behind my right ear, a fact of which I was not aware until I had spent a good couple of hours socialising at the school's barbecue which took place after we returned from camp. The looks of sympathy mixed with terror that I was getting now make sense.

The trip itself ran smoothly, but despite the fact that we were graced with good weather, I can't say that I really enjoyed myself. I am simply not a happy camper. I view camping in the same way as the albino in The DaVinci code viewed self-flagellation; it is a necessary act of penance that needs to be observed every so often in order that one's sins may be absolved. It is my hope that one uncomfortable night under canvas helps remind me of the relative luxuries I have at home and, as a consequence, makes me appreciate them just that little bit more.

I know I lead a relatively adventurous lifestyle when I'm in the North, but that is all done in the knowledge that there is a reasonably comfortable, heated apartment to come back to at the end of the day. I have helped to build an igloo but I would view spending the night in one on a voluntary basis much in the same way that I view camping. I think houses are a good invention, and one that we should all embrace.

Having said all this though, the students on the trip all seemed to enjoy themselves, and that is the most important thing. If I am around and about this time next year I will undoubtedly offer my services once again, if only to absolve the sins that have have been committed over the previous twelve months.

I'd just better be a good boy this year.

The final curtain (part two)

The remainder of my journey from Montreal to Kingston was 'interesting'. Firstly, the flight goes via Toronto which, if you know your Canadian geography, is somewhat convoluted in itself. Getting to Toronto was fine, but we were then held up for an hour or so by a rather spectacular thunderstorm which deposited so much hail on the ground that it looked like we were back in the frozen North once again.

Eventually the flight left though, and I have to say that I have never been on a smaller plane than this one. There were just 18 seats, nine on each side, and there wasn't even a door to the cockpit. The pilots merely drew a curtain across during take-off and landing, and let us watch them at work during the rest of the flight. Quite what they were doing during take-off and landing that we weren't allowed to see I just don't know, but as long as it didn't involve reading the first and last chapters of Flying For Dummies, then I don't really care.

After a flight that I will simply describe as 'turbulent,' it was a relief to make it back to solid ground, and I now have a little insight as to why the Pope always kisses the ground after his plane lands. Mind you, he does have a direct line to the man upstairs if his flight ever gets into trouble, so I don't really know why he's always so relieved. Maybe God intended to take his pilot's exam on the seventh day, but was just too tired after the hard week he'd had.

But I digest.

The rest of my week has revolved mainly around sleep, paperwork and Tim Horton's, although today I did spend the day at the school in Kingston where I used to teach, Maplecrest-Sempar, which enabled me to catch up with a few old friends as well as develop a lovely head cold as a result of a day's exposure to the grass and pollen which simply doesn't exist in the North. At least I think it's just a cold...

Little has changed on the job front since I last wrote, but I am hopeful of a resolution in the next couple of weeks, so watch this space for details. In the meantime I am now settling in to my new role as man of leisure, although I have to say that part of me does miss my life in a Northern town. I guess I ought to rename the blog now that I'm back home, but I suppose Canada is still pretty northern wherever you are within its borders, so I'll keep it as it is for the time being. I intend to keep the blog going over the summer, although how often I post I can't say yet; depends what shenanigans I get up to, I suppose. Keep checking in though, otherwise I shall get lonely.

Until next time...

Bliz-zard with a vengeance

As I write, Inukjuak is in semi-lockdown as a blizzard sweeps through town. The start of the Ivakkak was postponed and school was closed this afternoon, giving us the other half of the blizzard day that I mentioned in the last post. My house guest, Gail, managed to get her flight out of town, but I think she must have only just made it as I doubt there is anything able to fly now, other than the odd plastic bag, candy wrapper or old lady that I can see swirling past my window. Things are meant to subside during the night so we might be back to normal tomorrow, but there is always the chance that school might be closed in in the morning, so we can but pray.

Pray for school to be open of course; I'm nothing if not professional!