A firm alarm is never a welcome interruption (except I suppose when there really is a fire). A fire alarm is especially offensive in the middle of the night when one is sleeping. This morning for example we were unexpectedly awakened at 4:45 AM by a fire alarm. Earlier in the evening while dining at table we had endured a similar impetuous fire alarm. There was fortunately no readily apparent reason for the fire alarm on either occasion, either inside or outside the apartment in the hallway.  We have three fire detectors each of which has its own voice warning of “FIre Alarm” in addition to a screeching sound. When one device gets going, the others follow suit similarly (though thankfully not in unison). I suspect the customary early morning tranquillity enhanced today’s irritation.

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What a marvellous inducement to tranquillity and thoughtfulness it is to call upon one’s favourite pieces of music on command. Just part of the Apple Music catalogue which from the beginning has inspired me. To date I have 297 songs from which to choose; some I have deleted (not because I didn’t like them but because I was listening to the same song too often). Now I find many of the selections I have never heard entirely.

This is an eclectic selection of music derived from Apple Music “Listen Now”. It figures coincidentally many pieces which have been notable to me throughout my life. Otherwise there is no theme intended apart from what the algorithms betray. L. G. William Chapman, B.A., LL.B., Key Largo, Florida, Winter 2022 – 2023

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When arising each morning either of us tries to remember to lower the middle blind of the floor-to-ceiling front windows immediately adjoining my Gibbard mahogany desk whence I overlook the green meadow and flowing river. We face 120°SE 45°13’22” N76°10’41″W, Missisippi Mills, ON 130m Elevation. The sunshine is only obstructive through the centre window from which the radiant light is cast upon my MacBook Pro. By late afternoon – when I resume my literary endeavours and when I am accustomed to the support of a chilled triple espresso and 2.0 mL THC – I am obliged to raise the middle blind to get the full picture.

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For many years – as I have only lately come to realize – I have unwittingly disparaged those among us who are “homebodies”; that is, a person who likes to stay at home, especially one who is perceived to be unadventurous. Very often the proclivity is engendered by marriage, child birth or some other commonly recognized domestic situation which translates the erstwhile vagabond or brassy socialite to stay-at-home mom or dad. Within this newly acquired corralling there is regularly sustained at least some feature of the wayfarer, whether tobacco, alcohol or legal cannabis.

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People talk. We all do it. It isn’t however until you hear of them talking about you that the smarting topic purchases any particular weight. Talking about you behind your back adds all the more kindling to the ignition. How an aspirate loves an audience! Lord it over the down-trodden fellow!

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Let us say you have for whatever reason a vast amount of land. Before England’s thriving development of the woollen industry (involving as it did the taxation of exports in the hands of foreign merchants), land ownership was the predominant feudal source of income for the Crown (that is, the current king). As a result limitations upon ownership were of interest and consequence. Whether the device were to extend the period of real or “vested” entitlement (against which the Rule against Perpetuities applies) or to promote the legal fiction of what we now call a “corporation” that is, a legal person that has perpetual existence and never dies (against which the law of mortmain applies), the conclusion is that ownership of land can never be forever undetermined; and, that violation of that status cannot by any interpretation limit the Crown’s privilege of taxation or, in the event of indeterminable ownership, the Crown’s privilege of escheat (reversion to the crown where prior owner dies without heirs).

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It feels as though it has been a long day. I was awake with my feet on the hardwood at eight o’clock this morning. Denis is always up and at it by that time. Indeed far earlier. For me it represents an early morning moral imperative. I should add that we turned off all the lights last night not much later than ten o’clock.  I never sleep well because of my neuropathy and whatever else is currently affecting me. On occasion I have attempted spuriously to quell my paranoia about staying in bed beyond the recommended 8 hours/night by arguing that it is a privilege of age. Nonetheless the Protestant Work Ethic always wins in the end!  As a result I rather applaud myself for my purity this morning!

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It wasn’t until the British enacted the Constitutional Act in 1791 that Ontario would be known as the land upstream from the St. Lawrence River, or Upper Canada, and Quebec considered the land downstream from the St. Lawrence River, known as Lower Canada.

Almonte’s first settler was David Shepherd, who in 1819 was granted 200 acres by the Crown to build and operate a mill. The site became known as Shepherd’s Falls.

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We lunched at the club today.  The Mississippi Golf Club. In the clubhouse on the Mississippi River in the Village of Appleton across from the serene and exclusive Glen Isle. I recall having had years ago from Glen Isle clients who although unconventional were nonetheless kind and generous. They were an elderly couple who, rightly or wrongly I cannot now recollect, took exception to the ambitions of a local property owner and developer. Like most people in remote, rural, idyllic environs – especially riparian – they had their idiosyncrasies and predictable conventions.  As well they might! I too feel commited to my Elysian view upriver without the benefit of feudal entitlement.

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Ship money, in British history, was a non-parliamentary tax first levied in medieval times by the English crown on coastal cities and counties for naval defence in time of war. It required those being taxed to furnish a certain number of warships or to pay the ships’ equivalent in money. Its revival and its enforcement as a general tax by Charles I aroused widespread opposition and added to the discontent leading to the English Civil Wars.

Apparently there has forever been a price to pay for seaside dwelling. This historical reference to ship money is but a reminder of the allure to me of the Atlantic Ocean. One of my first expressions of this nautical enchantment – aside from having attended Dalhousie law school au bord de la mer in Halifax, Nova Scotia – was the acquisition of a ship’s bell.

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