cancelling the Globe and Mail

I love much about the paper, and I did it regretfully - just called to cancel my subscription. But they have endorsed Stephen Harper as the best man to lead Canada for the next four years. So that's it between me and the Globe and Mail. Our affair is over.

Obviously they couldn't endorse the hopeless Ignatieff, and such a conservative paper couldn't support radical Jack. They could have maintained a dignified silence and urged people to follow their consciences and vote, or something like that. No, they actively endorsed the man by printing a list of the many fabulous things he has done for the country.

I will miss many columnists, including Jeffrey Simpson and my neighbour Tabatha Southey. I will not miss Margaret Wente. Thank heavens for the Star, a deeply Liberal newspaper which today issued a ringing endorsement of the NDP.

Sunny and warm this morning, and the trees in my yard are covered with buds. In the soft spring air, the fate of my country, still, hangs in the balance.

more wedding and election

Later... There aren't many occasions that are fun to share with both my mother in Ottawa and my daughter on the far side of town. Both got up early, Anna and her roommate Holly at 5 a.m., Mum at 5.45. Anna said, "This wedding was so special because we all watched Diana's funeral in the Abbey, we all know about his loss. So the world can celebrate his happiness. He came through. He's fine."

And my mother said, "The whole thing made me proud to be British." And it's true - what other country in the world could get away with such absurdly anachronistic and yet marvellous and stunningly choreographed pomp and spectacle? A golden carriage drawn by white horses? Uniforms loaded with gold braid? It's like something from a Peter Seller's movie, and yet, there were my two closest girlies, up at dawn and weeping.

I haven't heard a single negative word about it yet.

And more happiness: at the Y I ran into an acquaintance who I know voted for the very right wing Rob Ford in the mayoral election. So today, as a joke, I said, "I guess you're getting ready for vote for Jack Layton."

And he said, "I've already voted, and I did."

"Did what?" I gasped.

"I voted for Layton. He has credibility. I'm sick of dishonest politics. I wouldn't trust those other two guys as far as I could throw them."

He told me that Ford, too, meant what he said and was honest. I thought, how interesting - he's not listening so much to what they say, he just wants to know that they actually mean it. That must be a huge part of the NDP surge - because Jack IS straightforward, honest and believable.

The election ain't over, and the bad news may still hit. But as least it's a very interesting race.

And now back to squeals on the phone. "The dress was perfect!" "Isn't he handsome. And so happy!" "TWO kisses. They're so in love."

giving in to the wedding

Confession at 9.10 a.m.: tears rolling down the face. So much for not giving a damn about the royal wedding. I didn't get up early, just thought to turn on the TV after breakfast, at 8.15, on the off-chance there might be coverage - and found every single channel fixated. Watched them on the balcony and finally got to see a replay of the highlights on French CBC, in French! And then the other channels, going back to the arrivals, the walk down the aisle, the ceremony.

Love it. Just love it, I don't care how ridiculous, sentimental, maudlin. The dress is stunning, she's a lovely, unaffected woman with a beautiful smile, she's - this is very important - a brunette. Loved Harry's messy hair, one touch of normalcy. Hated those absurd hats. Loved her father's face as he walked her down the aisle. Loved how she waved at the crowds before entering the Abbey, how she said, "Oh my!" as she walked out on the balcony and saw the many thousands gathered to cheer her.

The New Yorker has an apt cover this week, the young couple in bed with the covers drawn up to their chins in terror, while around them the Queen, Prince Charles and the press gather to comment, point and stare. I don't envy them, trying to make a marriage under glaring lights. But I wish them well.

Loved the trees in Westminster Abbey. Wish his mother had been there to see it all.

weddings and elections

I swear to God, is there something wrong with me? I find this wedding frenzy utterly incomprehensible. People are getting up in the middle of the night to watch it; the television is crawling with documentaries, docudramas, talking heads; the Star has about 18 journalists in London to cover it ... and all I can say is, who the hell cares? She seems like a very nice young woman and he's a nice young man who suffered a terrible tragedy in his life. I hope they're very happy. Now go away and leave me alone.

Especially with the horror looming - ol' ice eyes, doing his best to say nothing before election day, so the idiotic 35 or 40% who've decided to vote for him don't suddenly understand their mistake. How can people not be revolted by the scandals and lies? But they don't care or notice. I'm concerned that the trumpeting of the polls showing Jack Layton in the ascendant will mobilize reactionary forces like nothing else. Just what we need - a stirring of the hornet's nest of the right wing.

For those of you wanting to vote strategically, here's a fantastic tool, thanks to Avaaz.org, a terrific activist organization to which I've just sent money. My riding is not in question - Bob Rae is a very good man. But my mother's riding in Ottawa is the seat of the vile John Baird, whom Mum is desperate to unseat. According to the Avaaz link below, where you can enter your postal code and receive an instant analysis of your riding's situation, she should vote for the Liberal candidate, who has the best chance of getting rid of her meat-faced bully of a representative. Give it a try yourself. VOTE STRATEGICALLY. Oh hell - just VOTE!

http://www.avaaz.org/en/canada_elections/?vl

click on these

Bruce just sent me the latest entry in his wonderful blog, which recounts his 3-month journey through Europe - and now he's up to our time together in Spain. In his posts, when he mentions a painting or a gallery, you can click on the link he provides.

In this latest post, Bruce wrote this about the Reine Sofia museum in Madrid:

"With the exception of Picasso's stunning Guernica, Beth hated the museum, finding it cold and sterile."

Do you wonder what link Bruce has provided for "cold and sterile"? Click and find out.

And here is a lovely little film about the power of words.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hzgzim5m7oU