1979 in the snow

My idea of heaven: listening to Randy Bachman in my warm kitchen on a cold snowy Saturday night, with good TV coming up and an interesting library book waiting. No electricians, no Kevin or Ed or JM, just me in my beat-up house with its new electric lights and its new electric doorbell that's so faint I can hardly hear it, but it's there. At least 3 things on TV coming up at 9. Just had to get up and dance to "Operator" by Manhattan Transfer, an old fave.

This afternoon, I went to see a play called 1979, by Michael Healey. I knew it was about Joe Clark's brief government, but since my memoir takes place mostly in 1979, I thought it might have insights about that time. Well, it was about Joe Clark's brief time in government, and most upsettingly, it features an actor portraying a politician for whom I have a particular loathing, Stephen Harper, as a young man. The play wants to show us that Clark, in some ways, is our Jimmy Carter, a man almost too good to be a politician, with too much decency and integrity to survive the venal corridors of power. It brings back Flora MacDonald, John Crosbie, and Pierre Trudeau and mourns the end of the red Tories, Progressive Conservatives who were probably to the left of many Liberals today. With discussion about the huge recent victory of Margaret Thatcher and the rise of the far-right looming in the distance. Poor Joe - so untelegenic. Remember Diefenbaker? Imagine him being elected these days? I don't think so.

Anyway, rather depressing, especially because even hearing the name of S. Harper makes me want to take a shower. But I walked home in the falling snow, going via the library to return the disappointing Beatles book and getting out one I'd ordered, Out on the Wire: the storytelling secrets of the new masters of radio, by Jessica Abel.

So much to do, so little time. Did not go to the women's march, did no work today at all, just enjoyed being alone in my house in the snow. And that's enough.