Lobster tales

To yesterday's blog about the New York Times columnists, I'd like to add the great work of Nicholas Kristof and Bob Herbert. A friend told me he'd heard that the Times was a billion dollars in debt and would go under. Surely this would be the end of civilisation as we know it. If the paper's in trouble, I'll start to BUY it, I promise, and nag you to do so too.

Tomorrow I'm off to Halifax till Wednesday night. The Halifax Grammar School, which was founded by my father with a few friends in 1958, has been celebrating its 50th anniversary since last year and has asked me to speak about the early years of the school. I remember when Dad came running home to say they'd found a building to use and we all went over to see a little white house on Tower Road.  The wives got together to clean and dust, desks and blackboards were found and so were teachers, and presto, a school that fall.  And now it's monumentally successful, with 500 students and a huge  academic program with lots of arts and sports and two campuses ; I will get a tour of both. If only Dad were with me.

I'm visiting old friends too - with a promise of lobster - and hope to see Muriel Duckworth whose hundredth birthday party I attended last summer. Must be something in the Halifax water.

While I'm away, both my son and Wayson will be here at the house. Wayson is using my place as a quiet study place; he arrived today with six big bags of books, reference materials and desk props.  Now my dining room table looks like a desk at the New York Public Library. For the next few days, if any of you wish to contact Wayson, you know where to find him.  And you'll know where not to find me. I'm somewhere in Halifax with a lot of lobster on my face.