If, like me, you awake on Saturday morning with a thrill of excitement, knowing that Fraser Simpon's cryptic crossword awaits you in the Globe & Mail, you will have felt crushing disappointment this morning. In today's puzzle, the clues don't match the grid.

This isn't the first time it's happened, although it's rare. A few years ago, when I discovered that the grid didn't match I reverse engineered the grid based on the clues provided. (That was back in my pre-toddler days when I had more time!) It was so exciting to be able to share the right grid with all of you. I even got a shout out from the public editor at the Globe & Mail, which was a lot of fun. And it brought me in touch with other cryptic crossword fans, including one named Sally who has been compiling Fraser Simpson's grids for years just in case a mismatch happens. She kindly sent me her library.

So, let's all give Sally a big "Thank you!" Because when I saw the mismatch today, I immediately dug out her old email and located the right grid. I'm happy to be able to share it with all of you. Happy puzzling!

If you grew up in Ontario in the 1980s like I did and you're tackling this Saturday's Globe and Mail cryptic crossword by the great Fraser Simpson, you'll notice two things that other solvers might miss. 

The first is a blatant and, to me, very welcome political commentary in 8 Down: 

"Done with Ford," I snarled (3, 2) 

As with any great cryptic clue, you don't have to know who Ontario Premier Doug Ford is to solve this riddle, which is an anagram. But there's a whole other level of satisfaction if you do. Doug Ford, is the brother of the internationally notorious, and now deceased, crack-smoking Toronto mayor Rob Ford. Among the many, many things Doug Ford is enacting as the newly elected Ontario Premier that are infuriating Ontario residents (especially teachers, which Fraser Simpson is, parents, and anyone else who cares about the education of an entire generation of fellow residents) are extreme cuts to education funding. Experts predict these will have profoundly negative effects on students.

As I've blogged about before, here and here, cryptic crosswords have a long and interesting history of serving as a vehicle for political messages. This is not surprising: setting cryptic crosswords is a form of creative writing, and writers have long found wonderfully creative ways of asserting their political stances, including, more recently in the U.S., the use of an acrostic in the resignation letter of the U.S. President's Committee on the Arts and the Humanities, and the creation of a special two-part "The Writers Resist" episode of the Dear Sugars podcast. 

Now, the Ontario budget cuts are making headlines across the country; you didn't have to grow up in Ontario in the 1980s to appreciate it. But if you did -- if you were a student during the Mike Harris era like I was -- you will be feeling an especially maddening sense of déjà vu.

The second clue that shoots right to the heart of 1980s Ontario kids is 26 Down:

My daughter learned about recycling and reusing at her daycare this week. A tagline for the environmental movement is "Think Globally, Act Locally". 

Culture typically works the same way, though perhaps to our detriment. We make art, we practice culture, here, in our studios, in our homes, but unless we take measures to tune it out, the vast majority of the cultural information we receive is global. My friend and fellow writer Derek once argued that when we are all inundated with the same cultural references, we become homogenous in our creative thinking. I have thought about that for a long time. It's why I think it is so important to not just see the blockbuster movies and read the best-selling books, but to explore local art exhibits, seek out TV shows and films with smaller distributions, discover authors we have never heard of, buy foods from local shops and not just chain grocery stores.

Thank you, Fraser Simpson, for flipping the script, and bringing local Ontario cultural references to the world with today's puzzle.

​​Cynthia, whose sister Sybil commit suicide, was a believer in spiritualism and the occult, and was convinced that the dead send messages to the living, sometimes through acrostics. After the narrator learns of Cynthia’s death, he become frantic, looking everywhere for signs that Cynthia is trying to influence him. He even searches for acrostics. In the end, he finds nothing and is relieved.

Readers are too. Until we realize that the last paragraph contains an acrostic: a message from Sybil herself, telling us that she has been reaching out from beyond the grave to manipulate the narrator’s view of the world from the story’s very beginning.