Book of the Week: Death Message by Mark Billingham
We finally had the weekend we had talked about for years last Saturday: a night at the Scotsman hotel. It’s been on the to-do list since 2006 or something, so it’s been a long time coming, but man, was it worth the wait. A lush executive room that smelled absolutely delicious, with Highland Aromatics toiletries, flat-screen TV, DVD, five different kinds of tea and coffee, views over North Bridge towards Calton Hill... nice. There were all these little touches that made it extra-special/posh as well, like those leather-bound books by the bedside that looked like they had been pinched from the private library of a 18th-century mansion, and Monopoly (Edinburgh version) under glass on the side table. We spent most of the weekend indoors just enjoying the room, with a couple of excursions out for walkies and food.
Oooh... speaking of food, it was a pig-out weekend. Started with the Mosque Kitchen round the corner from George Street (our excitement at hitting somewhere that was so much like eating in a Malaysian back street was the cause of the only downer, a £30 fixed penalty fine for forgetting the parking ticket). It was a bloody cold morning and the hot pilau rice with sag aloo (for Gareth) and vegetable curry (for me) went down a treat. Later that evening, it was duck (for Gareth) and fish (for me) at the North Bridge Brasserie. And to end the day, a box of Hotel Chocolat (which had fortuitously arrived in the post before we left home that morning).
The Scotsman was a wonderful building to explore. It has loads of character and I could only imagine what it must have been like to have worked there when it was still a newspaper HQ. All that polished marble and mahogany and walnut panelling... the editors’ rooms must have been a dream. Though after what the doorman/porter Ivor told us, it might not have been such a fab place to work, not when there were separate entrances for ordinary staff and directors. Ivor also gave us a tour of the hotel (penthouse £1200 per night; Japanese businessman came in one day, said he’d heard there was a penthouse, looked at it and took it for 12 nights). Loved the stainless steel pool in the basement. Very chic / romantic / cool in that play of light and dark sort of way.
My only regret of the weekend was that we didn’t get to do any walking. The sun was shining, there was a nip in the air, the sky was silvery-dark in that beautiful Scottish landscape backdrop sort of way... perfect photo- walk weather. But maybe I’m nitpicking. There’ll be plenty of time for walks (or so I hope) now that the winter thaw has set in and spring is getting underway.
Anyhoo... so that’s the Scotsman done, another item crossed off the list. I’ve been thinking about what I enjoy doing, what I want to do more of, and what I’d like to achieve this year. Also known as resolutions. Like levels in a Super Mario game, they are imminently achievable, but getting there can often be frustrating with a ridiculous number of obstacles along the way. I know I can get all this done this year; I just have to be focused. It’ll be interesting to come back to this at the end of the year and see how I’ve done. So here we go, in no particular order...
Blueprint 2010
1. Get my NCE.
2. Learn how to ski / snowboard.
3. Learn how to sail (get RYA Level 2 Dinghy).
4. Go camping at least twice.
5. Bag at least five Munros (Ben Nevis being one of them).
6. Complete the Fife Coastal Path (only 62 miles to go).
7. Get full UK driving licence.
8. Lose at least 10 lbs.
9. Get country count up to 30 (currently at 26).
10. Make at least three new friends.
Wish me luck.
Factoids of the Week:
The Scotsman was launched on January 25 1817 (what would have been Robert Burns’ 58th birthday) as a liberal weekly newspaper by William Ritchie, a lawyer, and customs official Charles Maclaren. It started off as a weekly Saturday paper with a price tag of 10p and a circulation of 300. It became a daily in 1855.
It was the first British newspaper to run special early-morning trains from Edinburgh to Glasgow. Trains had a carriage with the newspaper’s livery, and with the time lapse from publication to arrival in Glasgow being just 70 minutes, Weegies could sit down over breakfast with their Scotsman at the same time as Edinbuggers.
The 190ft-high purpose-built Scotsman office on North Bridge (now the hotel) was built at a cost of £500,000 (about £40 million in today’s money) and completed in 1905.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Newton's Three Laws of Motion: Crash Course
Book of the Week: Want To Play? by PJ Tracy
A little bit more of life lived this weekend: sledging, and in proper winter wonderland fantasy style to boot. I would almost go as far to say it was my perfect winter weekend: lots of together time, the great outdoors, perfect weather conditions, plenty of fun (and exercise, although you wouldn’t know it) and good food.
Woke at the ungodly hour (for a Saturday) of 7.30am and after a gruelling journey to Syed’s (two buses, as the car’s fuel injection system is still getting fixed) at 8am to pick up the sledge, we walked along the cycle path to the hill behind Queen Margaret Hospital. It was very cold and quiet, with just the odd dog-walker out on the morning pee run. Made for wonderful walking and was snowy all down the path, with a few flakes falling. A gorgeous wintry scene and beautiful study in perspective as well, with the bare trees lining both sides of the path.
Luckily for us, because it was relatively early, we had the hill all to ourselves. (Being a bit rusty at sledging, it was a good choice. At least we wouldn’t have to go far if we needed the A&E.) But man. Nothing really prepared us for what was essentially a 35° slope... with all of 30ft of flat at the bottom to stop in before you hit the hedges with their hard little twigs and branches like witches’ fingers waiting to poke your eyes out (and there was just as good a chance of you flying out into the main road heading up to the hospital). Gareth went first, after 1) tucking his socks in so his trouser legs wouldn’t turn into snow tunnels and 2) a few deep breaths and oh-oh-ohhhhhhh!-ing. He missed the gorse bushes in the middle by about 2ft.
My turn. I didn’t move for ages. Newton’s First Law of Motion. I simply sat there, sounding slightly manic as I continued to giggle hysterically / nervously. I looked down and thought... gee, this is a really slippery slope... and I’m on this slightly curved, polished bit of plastic... with no brakes or steering except my body weight. (Segue into Second Law of Motion here.) I felt a lot like I usually do about three seconds into a pant-wetting rollercoaster ride, you know, after you’re strapped in and the monster lurches into an upward climb and you know you’re getting closer and closer and closer to the drop... anyway, barring a couple of rather hard bumps on the way down (coccyx and arse still sore), I made it down in one piece. Missed the gorse bushes but nearly careered into the evil witch hedges at the bottom. And I didn’t even scream. Hyperventilated, yes, but no screams.
After about 10 or so runs, we got a bit tired of that particular slope (a hard climb up for less than 100m of down-time) so we caught the bus to Rex Park. It was much chillier in Dunfermline, for some reason, and I was very glad I had that last-minute footie reprieve. It was only about 10.30am but it would really have ruined my morning thinking of having to spend my afternoon on that cold wind tunnel of a terrace, especially when there was so much snow to be enjoyed (the odd few flakes signalled the start of more to come, which would only have made me doubly frustrated).
Rex Park was glorious. We got in through a hole midway along the fence (being too lazy to walk all the way down to the top/bottom) and, given that the park is full of gentle, rolling mounds, didn’t have to go far to find a slope. The curving paths running around the edge of the park made fantastic sledge runs – the gradients ensured you went at speed, but were not so steep that you had to double-check that you had already made out a will. Being paths, they were virtually bump-free so you went like the clappers, yet had sufficient challenging twists and turns. And they went on for absolute miles (well, more like 250m, but when you’re on a sledge, that’s what it feels like.)
And here we come to why this was the perfect winter weekend for me. We had the park and (the paths) all to ourselves. Almost on cue, when we started the first of our dozens of runs, it started to snow properly. Lightly at first, then more and more flakes came down. It got so heavy that, while coming down the 45° Prayer Hill (so called because apparently that’s the last thing you do before you go over the lip) we had the illusion of sledging into hyperspace à la the Millennium Falcon. There were plenty of whoaaaaas and ohcrapohcrapohcraps and tumbles and laughing.
We sledged for nearly two solid hours at Rex Park, and all the while the snow came down. It was just beautiful. My wintry outdoors dream come true. Unfortunately there are no photos – precisely because we knew exactly how things would pan out, we wisely left the camera at home, where it would remain in one piece. Otherwise there would certainly have been a snapshot or two of my very impressive Abominable Snowman impersonation, following a particularly spectacular crash into a snow bank at the bottom of Prayer Hill (Second Law of Motion in action). Perhaps it was just as well it was the only run where we didn’t try going doubles on the sledge (more Second Law of Motion, and no doubt the end result would have been particularly painful – Third Law of Motion).
We managed to finally tear ourselves away at lunchtime and headed to Khushi’s for a hot, delicious meal of fish curry (for me), chicken jalfrezi (for Gareth) and mushroom pilau, topped off with coconut cream smoothies (banana, almond and cinnamon for me, pineapple for Gareth). It was immensely satisfying, given that all we had had for breakfast was a sausage roll each. Unfortunately something must have disagreed with us because we spent the next hour or so in the toilet after we got home. But the afternoon wasn’t a complete loss as we spent it flumping on the sofa watching cheesy movies (Catwoman!!!) and reading (I finally finished The City of Dreaming Books, which was excellent – how can you not like a book that’s basically an adventure about books, reading and writing?)
On Sunday, I scored another first when I went into Edinburgh (to exchange my faulty Zamberlans): I noticed that the Water of Leith had frozen over – gulls were walking on the surface, and a yellow folding chair stuck out from the surface (it IS Leith after all). It didn’t register initially, and I thought it looked grimier and oilier than usual. It didn’t register initially, and I was very happy when it finally clicked that I was looking on a frozen river. What a difference 24 hours makes. By the time I got on the train home, the thaw had started and the snow was turning to slush. But the forecast is that this is just a respite, and that more wintry weather is on its way. I can only hope it snows, and heavily, here. There are lots more winter wonderland fantasy memories I want to build.
Factoids of the Week:
The cycle path mentioned above forms part of the North Sea Cycle Route, a 6000km-long route which goes through seven countries (UK, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Norway). There’s an adventure for ya!
Apparently, this is the coldest winter in the UK since 1963. The coldest night of the winter was on January 7, with temperatures between -8 and 0°C in most parts of the country. The coldest place was Altnaharra, where it dropped to -22.3°C.
A little bit more of life lived this weekend: sledging, and in proper winter wonderland fantasy style to boot. I would almost go as far to say it was my perfect winter weekend: lots of together time, the great outdoors, perfect weather conditions, plenty of fun (and exercise, although you wouldn’t know it) and good food.
Woke at the ungodly hour (for a Saturday) of 7.30am and after a gruelling journey to Syed’s (two buses, as the car’s fuel injection system is still getting fixed) at 8am to pick up the sledge, we walked along the cycle path to the hill behind Queen Margaret Hospital. It was very cold and quiet, with just the odd dog-walker out on the morning pee run. Made for wonderful walking and was snowy all down the path, with a few flakes falling. A gorgeous wintry scene and beautiful study in perspective as well, with the bare trees lining both sides of the path.
Luckily for us, because it was relatively early, we had the hill all to ourselves. (Being a bit rusty at sledging, it was a good choice. At least we wouldn’t have to go far if we needed the A&E.) But man. Nothing really prepared us for what was essentially a 35° slope... with all of 30ft of flat at the bottom to stop in before you hit the hedges with their hard little twigs and branches like witches’ fingers waiting to poke your eyes out (and there was just as good a chance of you flying out into the main road heading up to the hospital). Gareth went first, after 1) tucking his socks in so his trouser legs wouldn’t turn into snow tunnels and 2) a few deep breaths and oh-oh-ohhhhhhh!-ing. He missed the gorse bushes in the middle by about 2ft.
My turn. I didn’t move for ages. Newton’s First Law of Motion. I simply sat there, sounding slightly manic as I continued to giggle hysterically / nervously. I looked down and thought... gee, this is a really slippery slope... and I’m on this slightly curved, polished bit of plastic... with no brakes or steering except my body weight. (Segue into Second Law of Motion here.) I felt a lot like I usually do about three seconds into a pant-wetting rollercoaster ride, you know, after you’re strapped in and the monster lurches into an upward climb and you know you’re getting closer and closer and closer to the drop... anyway, barring a couple of rather hard bumps on the way down (coccyx and arse still sore), I made it down in one piece. Missed the gorse bushes but nearly careered into the evil witch hedges at the bottom. And I didn’t even scream. Hyperventilated, yes, but no screams.
After about 10 or so runs, we got a bit tired of that particular slope (a hard climb up for less than 100m of down-time) so we caught the bus to Rex Park. It was much chillier in Dunfermline, for some reason, and I was very glad I had that last-minute footie reprieve. It was only about 10.30am but it would really have ruined my morning thinking of having to spend my afternoon on that cold wind tunnel of a terrace, especially when there was so much snow to be enjoyed (the odd few flakes signalled the start of more to come, which would only have made me doubly frustrated).
Rex Park was glorious. We got in through a hole midway along the fence (being too lazy to walk all the way down to the top/bottom) and, given that the park is full of gentle, rolling mounds, didn’t have to go far to find a slope. The curving paths running around the edge of the park made fantastic sledge runs – the gradients ensured you went at speed, but were not so steep that you had to double-check that you had already made out a will. Being paths, they were virtually bump-free so you went like the clappers, yet had sufficient challenging twists and turns. And they went on for absolute miles (well, more like 250m, but when you’re on a sledge, that’s what it feels like.)
And here we come to why this was the perfect winter weekend for me. We had the park and (the paths) all to ourselves. Almost on cue, when we started the first of our dozens of runs, it started to snow properly. Lightly at first, then more and more flakes came down. It got so heavy that, while coming down the 45° Prayer Hill (so called because apparently that’s the last thing you do before you go over the lip) we had the illusion of sledging into hyperspace à la the Millennium Falcon. There were plenty of whoaaaaas and ohcrapohcrapohcraps and tumbles and laughing.
We sledged for nearly two solid hours at Rex Park, and all the while the snow came down. It was just beautiful. My wintry outdoors dream come true. Unfortunately there are no photos – precisely because we knew exactly how things would pan out, we wisely left the camera at home, where it would remain in one piece. Otherwise there would certainly have been a snapshot or two of my very impressive Abominable Snowman impersonation, following a particularly spectacular crash into a snow bank at the bottom of Prayer Hill (Second Law of Motion in action). Perhaps it was just as well it was the only run where we didn’t try going doubles on the sledge (more Second Law of Motion, and no doubt the end result would have been particularly painful – Third Law of Motion).
We managed to finally tear ourselves away at lunchtime and headed to Khushi’s for a hot, delicious meal of fish curry (for me), chicken jalfrezi (for Gareth) and mushroom pilau, topped off with coconut cream smoothies (banana, almond and cinnamon for me, pineapple for Gareth). It was immensely satisfying, given that all we had had for breakfast was a sausage roll each. Unfortunately something must have disagreed with us because we spent the next hour or so in the toilet after we got home. But the afternoon wasn’t a complete loss as we spent it flumping on the sofa watching cheesy movies (Catwoman!!!) and reading (I finally finished The City of Dreaming Books, which was excellent – how can you not like a book that’s basically an adventure about books, reading and writing?)
On Sunday, I scored another first when I went into Edinburgh (to exchange my faulty Zamberlans): I noticed that the Water of Leith had frozen over – gulls were walking on the surface, and a yellow folding chair stuck out from the surface (it IS Leith after all). It didn’t register initially, and I thought it looked grimier and oilier than usual. It didn’t register initially, and I was very happy when it finally clicked that I was looking on a frozen river. What a difference 24 hours makes. By the time I got on the train home, the thaw had started and the snow was turning to slush. But the forecast is that this is just a respite, and that more wintry weather is on its way. I can only hope it snows, and heavily, here. There are lots more winter wonderland fantasy memories I want to build.
Factoids of the Week:
The cycle path mentioned above forms part of the North Sea Cycle Route, a 6000km-long route which goes through seven countries (UK, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Norway). There’s an adventure for ya!
Apparently, this is the coldest winter in the UK since 1963. The coldest night of the winter was on January 7, with temperatures between -8 and 0°C in most parts of the country. The coldest place was Altnaharra, where it dropped to -22.3°C.
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Gung-Ho New Year Blogging Spurt Part 2
Book of the Week: The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers
Man, I wonder how long this New Year resolution will last...??? I'm shocking even myself with this frenzy of posts!
Anyhoo. The New Year weekend has been most unadventurous but very relaxing. Yesterday after a breakfast of fried eggs on rolls (very tasty, made by Gareth – he is becoming so domesticated!) we headed off to Dunfermline to spend our Christmas vouchers, specifically to find machine-washable suits from M&S (Gareth) and get wasted in Trespass/Mountain Warehouse and Waterstone's (me). Getting there was an absolute nightmare – there had been some snow overnight and the slope going up the East Port to the Kingsgate was total mush. The wheels on the Clio were spinning and spewing slush all about (one of the downsides of a small car) and after all that trouble getting parked there wasn't even a wide selection of suits in store. The High Street was all slushy and icy and we had to be very careful making our way to Mountain Warehouse. Alas, couldn't really find anything I wanted there but I did get a new pair of water/windproof trousers at Trespass – can't wait to get out there and sled!
After navigating our way safely across the melting Siberian wasteland that was the High Street we popped into The Pancake Place for munchies – it's always been a place that I've wanted to try because it looks so warm and inviting. It was bustling and we got a table with a street view – very cozy especially with the arrival of a sudden snow flurry. The food didn't disappoint – Gareth had the Bookmakers' Sandwich (fried mushrooms and onions on steak, yum!) and I had the stovies (tasty, could have been better – I always expect it to be a take on potatoes dauphinoise), but the service left a lot to be desired. Food took a while to arrive, staff seemed just happy waiting about the counter, no communication between kitchen and service resulting in food sitting around (our pancakes were apparently “just off the griddle” but were getting cold by the time they arrived). Not entirely sure if I'd go back again, unless I was in the area and absolutely starving.
Coming home we were both struck down simultaneously by a sudden case of the runny jobbies – might have been the eggs. I was especially struggling to hold it in, and all we wanted to do was get home and into the toilet. So it REALLY didn't help matters that, thanks to the snow flurry, the street coming down to the flat had even more slush. It was really quite scary and, for me anyway, a case of nearly shitting ourselves – didn't know if the Clio would go first or we would. It was just skidding along downhill despite Gareth applying the brakes – and after what seemed like a spell of car-in-slow-motion, finally got it to the kerbside. It was a right butt-clencher as we inched our way down slowly to the junction and to the flat (and seeing a couple of cars in front and behind us spinning like tops on the slush while we were at it).
This morning – woke up bleary-eyed (result of playing Indiana Jones: The Adventure Continues on the Wii till 2am) to more snow. About a couple of inches of fresh powdery snow fell during the night – really loved seeing everything blanketed in white again after the melt of the past week. Was supposed to be -10°C last night too. Caught the train into Edinburgh and went for the first service of the year at St Giles' Cathedral – first time we'd both done it. The minister spoke on 'A River Runs Through It' – given that it was the New Year sermon, it was fittingly about time (micro-time and macro-time), how the years bear down on us, and how we conquer the end of our time (death) if we have God and believe in Christ. Not a bad sermon overall but I felt he could have rounded it off better, come to more conclusions – as it was it felt like a lot of clever quotations on the passage of time from learned men throughout history.
Went for lunch at Wannaburger (also another first – never been in there) and had Mos Burgers which were very good. Melted cheese, fried onions and mushrooms on a Scottish beef patty in a toasted sesame seed buns (mine had free extra toppings of pickles, Cajun spices and jalapenos). Then hit Princes Street where Gareth got two suits at M&S and I got a new pair of walking boots – they're comfortable, sturdy and robust, but I think they're a tad heavy. I've yet to find anything half as good as my favourite Adidas ones, which I've been mourning since 2005 when they had to be cut off following my ankle fracture. Sob. We also got a couple of DVDs and books (which is slightly insane considering how many we got over Christmas).
And now here we are at home all cozy, especially in the knowledge that neither of us needs to be in the office tomorrow (though I'll be working from home on my stories, top of the list being the New Year babies). It hasn't been very outdoorsy but I'm not complaining. Not really anyway. Still think the only thing that could have made this weekend more fun would have been more walking... or sledding...
Factoids of the Week:
Even if I don't post anything else for the rest of the year, this should see my trivia quota right through to the next Olympics. For its New Year's Day 2010 edition, the BBC's Magazine Monitor compiled a rather splendid list of the “100 Things We Didn't Know Last Year”. Among the titbits for your delectation are:
Using both hands to read Braille achieves an average speed of 115 words a minute, compared with 250 words a minute for sighted reading.
Triple Olympic gold winner Sir Chris Hoy was inspired to cycle by ET. He started riding in BMX competitions as a seven-year-old after being inspired by the movie.
DJ/musician Moby is related to novelist Herman Melville and was named after his most famous creation.
You can hiccup while asleep.
John the Good was bad and William the Bad was good.
In camel-racing the jockeys are electronic robots.
The bubonic plague still exists. Apparently, it still kills a few hundred a year, and the pneumonic plague can kill within 24 hours.
Indonesia is the world's largest exporter of edible frogs – 5000 tonnes a year. About a billion frogs are taken from the wild for human consumption every year and about a third of all amphibians are listed as threatened species.
The brain chemical serotonin causes locusts to swarm.
Naked rambling is legal in Switzerland.
Being born with additional digits (fingers/toes) is called being polydactyl.
The Channel between Dover and Calais froze over in 1673.
Paraskavedekatriaphobia is the fear of Friday the 13th.
The average number of friends is 150. (This got me a bit depressed.)
Monkeys floss. Researchers from Japan have observed female monkeys in Thailand showing their young how to floss their teeth, using human hair.
Holding your hands up on a rollercoaster stretches the torso, enhancing the physical sensations.
'YR' was an abbreviation for “your” in the 17th and 18th Century too.
Parts of cremated bodies are recycled. Nails and pins from the coffin, prosthetic hips et al joints survive the furnace and are traditionally been buried in a dedicated plot on site or, more recently, have been collected for recycling.
A broken heart is known as Takotsubo cardiomyopathy and it can be cured.
There are 19 countries in the G20.
Farting is a bookable offence in football.
Being sorry originally meant to be distressed and sad.
Paper can be made from wombat excrement.
Five trees make an orchard.
Wine varies in taste from day to day.
Many mosques in Mecca point the wrong way for prayers. (This REALLY made me laugh.)
An outbreak of swine flu in 1976 killed one person but a vaccine to combat it killed 25. (Gareth will be well pleased to read this...)
Britain once sent an envoy with a quadruple-barrelled name to Moscow – Admiral Sir Reginald Aylmer Ranfurley Plunkett-Ernle-Erle-Drax.
Youth hostelling was invented in Germany in 1912.
A tribe in Bolivia has a festival of violence, called the Tinku, to settle disputes.
Franco had one testicle.
Britain had animal welfare laws before it had child welfare laws.
Wayne Allwine, the third man to voice Mickey Mouse, was married to Russi Taylor, the woman who did Minnie's. He had voiced Mickey for 32 years, longer than anyone else, at the time of his death in May 2009.
Stabbing in the buttocks has its own verb in Roman dialect – punctitate.
In the 1970 US Census, the number of people who said they were aged over 100 was about 22 times the true number.
Canada used to border Zimbabwe – 2.5 billion years ago.
More than half of all Patels in the UK are married to people born Patel. (Hmmm...)
Streetlights cause problems for bats. In travelling to feeding grounds, they avoid hedgerows illuminated by streetlights and scientists say this could cause them to use longer and less safe routes.
Scotland has the lowest age for criminal responsibility in Europe: eight. (So why I still see so many gawpy inbred teen yobs up at court every week is beyond me.)
Buddhist monks sleep upright.
Chilli can be used as a weapon in crowd control.
Tennis legend Fred Perry was also table tennis world champion, at 19.
The keffiyeh, a chequered scarf worn mostly by Arab men, and made famous by Yasser Arafat, is now mostly made in China. (Go, China!)
Trousers used to be called unmentionables (from around 1823).
The best place to put a wind turbine is in Orkney – average wind speed 5.75m/s.
Brahms liked his audience to clap in between movements.
The best Italian saffron is made from crocus flowers picked at dawn.
It's always “esq” and never “esquire” as a written honorific.
A third of England's coastline is inaccessible, due to lack of full access to walkers.
Bees warn other bees about flowers where dangers can be expected.
Bristol is the fourth most visited city in England.
You're as likely to be hit by lightning as killed by a mentally ill person.
Only about one or two in 200 people with autism have a savant talent, or exceptional ability.
North Korean dictator Kim Jong-il has a water slide in his garden.
Emoticons in the East are the right way up (^_^).
The UK population grew more in 2008 than at any time since 1962.
With 24.1 births per 1,000 people in 2007, the village of Cambourne, in Cambridgeshire, has a higher birth rate than India and China.
The crease under your buttocks is called the gluteal fold.
Nasa gave moon rocks to more than 100 countries following lunar missions in the 1970s.
Married couples used to always sleep apart. Sleep specialist Dr Neil Stanley says that historically we were never meant to share our beds, and that the modern tradition of the marital bed only began with the industrial revolution, when people moving to overcrowded towns and cities found themselves short of living space. Before the Victorian era it was not uncommon for married couples to sleep apart – in ancient Rome, the marital bed was a place for sexual congress but not for sleeping.
There are so few redheads in Mexico they often greet each other in the street.
Sportswear firms Adidas and Puma have had a 60-year feud.
Banana skins can take two years to biodegrade.
The only woman ever in the French Foreign Legion, Susan Travers, was British.
Ken Livingstone was twice rejected for a cameo in EastEnders – to promote a recycling campaign while he was still mayor.
Homes are 4°C warmer, on average, than 50 years ago.
In the early days of barcodes, there was a plan for round ones.
Male life expectancy in the UK goes up by about three months every year.
William Pitt's dying words in 1806 were about House of Commons catering: “Oh, for one of Bellamy's veal pies.” According to Parliament's website, John Bellamy, the deputy housekeeper, set up “a snack bar, or grill” for MPs' and peers' dining in 1773.
The city of Bath, in Somerset, was referred to as “The Bath” until the 19th Century.
Tattoos can be done with a person's ashes.
The BBC rejected Sesame Street in 1971 because it was “too authoritarian”.
French babies cry with an accent.
Teeth grinding is known as bruxism.
And finally (though not on the list)... the most-read story on the BBC in February last year was about the UK's worst snowfall for 20 years. Personally, I hope this year goes one better...
Man, I wonder how long this New Year resolution will last...??? I'm shocking even myself with this frenzy of posts!
Anyhoo. The New Year weekend has been most unadventurous but very relaxing. Yesterday after a breakfast of fried eggs on rolls (very tasty, made by Gareth – he is becoming so domesticated!) we headed off to Dunfermline to spend our Christmas vouchers, specifically to find machine-washable suits from M&S (Gareth) and get wasted in Trespass/Mountain Warehouse and Waterstone's (me). Getting there was an absolute nightmare – there had been some snow overnight and the slope going up the East Port to the Kingsgate was total mush. The wheels on the Clio were spinning and spewing slush all about (one of the downsides of a small car) and after all that trouble getting parked there wasn't even a wide selection of suits in store. The High Street was all slushy and icy and we had to be very careful making our way to Mountain Warehouse. Alas, couldn't really find anything I wanted there but I did get a new pair of water/windproof trousers at Trespass – can't wait to get out there and sled!
After navigating our way safely across the melting Siberian wasteland that was the High Street we popped into The Pancake Place for munchies – it's always been a place that I've wanted to try because it looks so warm and inviting. It was bustling and we got a table with a street view – very cozy especially with the arrival of a sudden snow flurry. The food didn't disappoint – Gareth had the Bookmakers' Sandwich (fried mushrooms and onions on steak, yum!) and I had the stovies (tasty, could have been better – I always expect it to be a take on potatoes dauphinoise), but the service left a lot to be desired. Food took a while to arrive, staff seemed just happy waiting about the counter, no communication between kitchen and service resulting in food sitting around (our pancakes were apparently “just off the griddle” but were getting cold by the time they arrived). Not entirely sure if I'd go back again, unless I was in the area and absolutely starving.
Coming home we were both struck down simultaneously by a sudden case of the runny jobbies – might have been the eggs. I was especially struggling to hold it in, and all we wanted to do was get home and into the toilet. So it REALLY didn't help matters that, thanks to the snow flurry, the street coming down to the flat had even more slush. It was really quite scary and, for me anyway, a case of nearly shitting ourselves – didn't know if the Clio would go first or we would. It was just skidding along downhill despite Gareth applying the brakes – and after what seemed like a spell of car-in-slow-motion, finally got it to the kerbside. It was a right butt-clencher as we inched our way down slowly to the junction and to the flat (and seeing a couple of cars in front and behind us spinning like tops on the slush while we were at it).
This morning – woke up bleary-eyed (result of playing Indiana Jones: The Adventure Continues on the Wii till 2am) to more snow. About a couple of inches of fresh powdery snow fell during the night – really loved seeing everything blanketed in white again after the melt of the past week. Was supposed to be -10°C last night too. Caught the train into Edinburgh and went for the first service of the year at St Giles' Cathedral – first time we'd both done it. The minister spoke on 'A River Runs Through It' – given that it was the New Year sermon, it was fittingly about time (micro-time and macro-time), how the years bear down on us, and how we conquer the end of our time (death) if we have God and believe in Christ. Not a bad sermon overall but I felt he could have rounded it off better, come to more conclusions – as it was it felt like a lot of clever quotations on the passage of time from learned men throughout history.
Went for lunch at Wannaburger (also another first – never been in there) and had Mos Burgers which were very good. Melted cheese, fried onions and mushrooms on a Scottish beef patty in a toasted sesame seed buns (mine had free extra toppings of pickles, Cajun spices and jalapenos). Then hit Princes Street where Gareth got two suits at M&S and I got a new pair of walking boots – they're comfortable, sturdy and robust, but I think they're a tad heavy. I've yet to find anything half as good as my favourite Adidas ones, which I've been mourning since 2005 when they had to be cut off following my ankle fracture. Sob. We also got a couple of DVDs and books (which is slightly insane considering how many we got over Christmas).
And now here we are at home all cozy, especially in the knowledge that neither of us needs to be in the office tomorrow (though I'll be working from home on my stories, top of the list being the New Year babies). It hasn't been very outdoorsy but I'm not complaining. Not really anyway. Still think the only thing that could have made this weekend more fun would have been more walking... or sledding...
Factoids of the Week:
Even if I don't post anything else for the rest of the year, this should see my trivia quota right through to the next Olympics. For its New Year's Day 2010 edition, the BBC's Magazine Monitor compiled a rather splendid list of the “100 Things We Didn't Know Last Year”. Among the titbits for your delectation are:
Using both hands to read Braille achieves an average speed of 115 words a minute, compared with 250 words a minute for sighted reading.
Triple Olympic gold winner Sir Chris Hoy was inspired to cycle by ET. He started riding in BMX competitions as a seven-year-old after being inspired by the movie.
DJ/musician Moby is related to novelist Herman Melville and was named after his most famous creation.
You can hiccup while asleep.
John the Good was bad and William the Bad was good.
In camel-racing the jockeys are electronic robots.
The bubonic plague still exists. Apparently, it still kills a few hundred a year, and the pneumonic plague can kill within 24 hours.
Indonesia is the world's largest exporter of edible frogs – 5000 tonnes a year. About a billion frogs are taken from the wild for human consumption every year and about a third of all amphibians are listed as threatened species.
The brain chemical serotonin causes locusts to swarm.
Naked rambling is legal in Switzerland.
Being born with additional digits (fingers/toes) is called being polydactyl.
The Channel between Dover and Calais froze over in 1673.
Paraskavedekatriaphobia is the fear of Friday the 13th.
The average number of friends is 150. (This got me a bit depressed.)
Monkeys floss. Researchers from Japan have observed female monkeys in Thailand showing their young how to floss their teeth, using human hair.
Holding your hands up on a rollercoaster stretches the torso, enhancing the physical sensations.
'YR' was an abbreviation for “your” in the 17th and 18th Century too.
Parts of cremated bodies are recycled. Nails and pins from the coffin, prosthetic hips et al joints survive the furnace and are traditionally been buried in a dedicated plot on site or, more recently, have been collected for recycling.
A broken heart is known as Takotsubo cardiomyopathy and it can be cured.
There are 19 countries in the G20.
Farting is a bookable offence in football.
Being sorry originally meant to be distressed and sad.
Paper can be made from wombat excrement.
Five trees make an orchard.
Wine varies in taste from day to day.
Many mosques in Mecca point the wrong way for prayers. (This REALLY made me laugh.)
An outbreak of swine flu in 1976 killed one person but a vaccine to combat it killed 25. (Gareth will be well pleased to read this...)
Britain once sent an envoy with a quadruple-barrelled name to Moscow – Admiral Sir Reginald Aylmer Ranfurley Plunkett-Ernle-Erle-Drax.
Youth hostelling was invented in Germany in 1912.
A tribe in Bolivia has a festival of violence, called the Tinku, to settle disputes.
Franco had one testicle.
Britain had animal welfare laws before it had child welfare laws.
Wayne Allwine, the third man to voice Mickey Mouse, was married to Russi Taylor, the woman who did Minnie's. He had voiced Mickey for 32 years, longer than anyone else, at the time of his death in May 2009.
Stabbing in the buttocks has its own verb in Roman dialect – punctitate.
In the 1970 US Census, the number of people who said they were aged over 100 was about 22 times the true number.
Canada used to border Zimbabwe – 2.5 billion years ago.
More than half of all Patels in the UK are married to people born Patel. (Hmmm...)
Streetlights cause problems for bats. In travelling to feeding grounds, they avoid hedgerows illuminated by streetlights and scientists say this could cause them to use longer and less safe routes.
Scotland has the lowest age for criminal responsibility in Europe: eight. (So why I still see so many gawpy inbred teen yobs up at court every week is beyond me.)
Buddhist monks sleep upright.
Chilli can be used as a weapon in crowd control.
Tennis legend Fred Perry was also table tennis world champion, at 19.
The keffiyeh, a chequered scarf worn mostly by Arab men, and made famous by Yasser Arafat, is now mostly made in China. (Go, China!)
Trousers used to be called unmentionables (from around 1823).
The best place to put a wind turbine is in Orkney – average wind speed 5.75m/s.
Brahms liked his audience to clap in between movements.
The best Italian saffron is made from crocus flowers picked at dawn.
It's always “esq” and never “esquire” as a written honorific.
A third of England's coastline is inaccessible, due to lack of full access to walkers.
Bees warn other bees about flowers where dangers can be expected.
Bristol is the fourth most visited city in England.
You're as likely to be hit by lightning as killed by a mentally ill person.
Only about one or two in 200 people with autism have a savant talent, or exceptional ability.
North Korean dictator Kim Jong-il has a water slide in his garden.
Emoticons in the East are the right way up (^_^).
The UK population grew more in 2008 than at any time since 1962.
With 24.1 births per 1,000 people in 2007, the village of Cambourne, in Cambridgeshire, has a higher birth rate than India and China.
The crease under your buttocks is called the gluteal fold.
Nasa gave moon rocks to more than 100 countries following lunar missions in the 1970s.
Married couples used to always sleep apart. Sleep specialist Dr Neil Stanley says that historically we were never meant to share our beds, and that the modern tradition of the marital bed only began with the industrial revolution, when people moving to overcrowded towns and cities found themselves short of living space. Before the Victorian era it was not uncommon for married couples to sleep apart – in ancient Rome, the marital bed was a place for sexual congress but not for sleeping.
There are so few redheads in Mexico they often greet each other in the street.
Sportswear firms Adidas and Puma have had a 60-year feud.
Banana skins can take two years to biodegrade.
The only woman ever in the French Foreign Legion, Susan Travers, was British.
Ken Livingstone was twice rejected for a cameo in EastEnders – to promote a recycling campaign while he was still mayor.
Homes are 4°C warmer, on average, than 50 years ago.
In the early days of barcodes, there was a plan for round ones.
Male life expectancy in the UK goes up by about three months every year.
William Pitt's dying words in 1806 were about House of Commons catering: “Oh, for one of Bellamy's veal pies.” According to Parliament's website, John Bellamy, the deputy housekeeper, set up “a snack bar, or grill” for MPs' and peers' dining in 1773.
The city of Bath, in Somerset, was referred to as “The Bath” until the 19th Century.
Tattoos can be done with a person's ashes.
The BBC rejected Sesame Street in 1971 because it was “too authoritarian”.
French babies cry with an accent.
Teeth grinding is known as bruxism.
And finally (though not on the list)... the most-read story on the BBC in February last year was about the UK's worst snowfall for 20 years. Personally, I hope this year goes one better...
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Gung-Ho New Year Blogging Spurt
Book of the Week: The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers
I had to work on Hogmanay and after I came home we spent an uneventful evening in typical couch potato style, watching TV (we both got lots of cartoon DVDs for Christmas – Dogtanian and Willy Fogg for Gareth and the X-Men and Justice League for me), before heading up to Dalgety Bay to look for a good spot to watch the celebratory fireworks over Edinburgh. We first tried the Harbour Drive development (fantastic views of the Forth and the bridges, but not so good towards Edinburgh), then down Moray Way to Lumsdaine Drive and Donibristle Gardens (views completely blocked by houses) before finally parking by the Dalgety Bay Sailing Club – fabulous panorama of the Edinburgh skyline. It was horribly romantic: a clear, bright sky and full moon overhead (the next time we'll see a full moon AND a partial eclipse is in 2400), a riot of colourful fireworks across the water, ships blowing their foghorns on the Forth. And all I could think of was... gee, I hope we don't catch any radium particles. Oooh... discovered how to use the "starry night" function on the Lumix too and got a couple of good photos. Unfortunately wasn't quick enough to capture the glowing orange lights in the sky that hovered over the Forth... probably Chinese lanterns but wonder if they could be aliens? Might have planned to visit Earth but decided to go home after finding everything was shut for New Year.
I've resolved to do something on New Year's Day each year now, rather than vegetate at home – don't want the day to be for me like it is for a lot of people in these parts, one of the year's "forgotten" days, because they're all too busy recovering from hangovers. So we went out for a good tramp around Culross, during which we discovered two castles – Blair and Dunimarle – within a stone's throw of each other. We use this road regularly, yet had not known they were there until yesterday. Really enjoyed the walk – had the paths largely to ourselves and only saw maybe four other people the whole time. Wasn't too bright and just enough sunshine to make it a clear, wintry day. It was a bit hairy at times with some sections of the route completely covered in ice (and don't even get me started on the horse shit outside Blair Mains Farm) but overall a lot of fun, with the only sounds being the crunch of snow underfoot. Saw an interesting sign for "Plague Grave" on the return path through the conifer forest – am sure there's an interesting story there – and have made a mental note to come back to the fields on Culross Moor for sledding the next time we get heavy snowfall!
Came home, had a lovely steaming plate of chilli and rice made by Gareth (he's getting on so well with his house-husband training!) then sat back for an enjoyable evening with Doctor Who (David Tennant's gone, WAAAAH!!!) , Gavin and Stacey and plenty of coochies. All in all, a quiet, relaxing and enjoyable weekend – it sounds soppy but as long as we're with each other, we're happy. And thanks to the weather, Dunfermline v Raith this afternoon has been cancelled as well – so I get the afternoon off! Yay!
Factoids of the Week:
Culross saw its last outbreak of plague in 1645 and the "Plague Grave" might have been the resting place of a girdle-maker and his family. A recumbent burial stone last seen in 1953 supposedly bore a shield, crown and hammer (insignia of the girdlesmiths) and the inscription, "Here lyes Robert, Agnes, Jeane, Baids, children was to ...I C ... (girdlemak)er bvrges of Cvlros (who departed) af this Lyf in the Visetaseon 24 Septr. Ano 1645". But by 1960, the area had been planted with conifers and no trace of the grave could be found.
Culross is associated with St Kentigern, a.k.a. St Mungo, the patron saint of Glasgow. The legend goes that a princess (and future saint) named Theneva or Thenaw, daughter of King Lleuddun of Gododdin (somewhere in the modern-day Lothians) was seduced by the legendary Owain mab Urien and fell pregnant before marriage. Her family threw her from a cliff (said to be Trapain Law) but she survived the fall and soon met with an unmanned boat. She got in and it sailed her across the Forth, landing at Culross where she was cared for by St Serf, founder of Culross, who became foster-father of her son, Mungo.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Thanks for the memories, 2009
Book of the Week: The City of Dreaming Books by Walter Moers
Well, here we go again. I have been very, very bad at maintaining this blog this year. I did plenty, saw plenty and experienced so much, yet barely posted any of it. Highlights have definitely been going back for the folks' 40th anniversary in January, then having the family visit for three weeks, and all the travelling I did either with Gareth, the family or with both together (week in New York, long weekend in Zadar, the couple of weeks over in London, Paris and Ireland - again - a brief weekend in Germany, another two weeks in Japan and another long weekend in Madrid). And my first proper snowy winter (white Christmas, yay!). Maybe I'll find some time to blog about all of it at some point. I'm feeling quite annoyed and a bit sad that I didn't, because I know I should - I already have enough trouble trying to remember things the state my memory is in, and I still I didn't. I always say this at the end of the year, but I don't seem to stick to it. That's my one regret for the year. Apart from that, it's been fantastic.
Well, here we go again. I have been very, very bad at maintaining this blog this year. I did plenty, saw plenty and experienced so much, yet barely posted any of it. Highlights have definitely been going back for the folks' 40th anniversary in January, then having the family visit for three weeks, and all the travelling I did either with Gareth, the family or with both together (week in New York, long weekend in Zadar, the couple of weeks over in London, Paris and Ireland - again - a brief weekend in Germany, another two weeks in Japan and another long weekend in Madrid). And my first proper snowy winter (white Christmas, yay!). Maybe I'll find some time to blog about all of it at some point. I'm feeling quite annoyed and a bit sad that I didn't, because I know I should - I already have enough trouble trying to remember things the state my memory is in, and I still I didn't. I always say this at the end of the year, but I don't seem to stick to it. That's my one regret for the year. Apart from that, it's been fantastic.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
London Calling
Book of the Week: see previous post.
This post should really have preceded the previous one, but I hadn’t got round to writing it before I got the news that made me so glad and relieved. It’s just cascading happiness around here just now – getting news like that just makes everything pale in significance, and nothing and no one, no matter how annoying or incompetent, can get you down.
Dad being OK really capped off a great weekend – Gareth and I just returned from our second wonderful one on Sunday night. Apart from being really put out by his insisting on holding the handrails on stairs and escalators (all those germs!!!!!!!), it was a great three days.
Took a half day on Thursday and caught the 3pm train to Kings Cross – unfortunately, our seats were on the wrong side of the train so we couldn’t watch the coast go by, but we had fun fiddling about with the videocam and eating Mini-Eggs. One stuck-up auntie kept looking at us – probably jealous that she had to squeeze her biggish arse next to someone else and was facing backwards, whereas we had an entire table to ourselves. But alas, we had to give up our cushy seats at York when almost an entire trainload piled on after their train was cancelled. Ah well. It was good while it lasted!
Kings Cross was less grotty than I remembered it – the last time I was there was 2006 when the folks came over – probably due to the lack of boards and works going on. Our hotel, the Jesmond Dene, was just two minutes away across Euston Road on Argyle Street. Very cosy, warm and welcoming Georgian townhouse – bedroom a bit small (double bed was a foot short, I’m sure of it) and no en-suite but came with breakfast. Everything excellent value and clean showers (extremely important when you’ve forgotten your flip-flops). Certainly recommend it.
Went back out and checked out St Pancras – it really is an amazing building. The neo-Gothic façade is just spectacularly overwrought and the inside has this lovely airy spaciousness. Think we both went a bit mental when we saw there was a Neuhaus store there as well… but we were very good and refrained from stuffing our faces. Found a wee Japanese restaurant, Mai Sushi, by accident – while Gareth got his bottle of water at WH Smith, I sneaked a peek at the Time Out London and found Swizz Szechuan on Chalton Street, which really appealed to me. However, when we got there, it was quite packed and the menu didn’t look all that appetizing – but there was Mai Sushi across the street. Went back through Kings Cross and became the proud owners of an Oyster card each.
We hit the London Eye first thing on Friday and although London at our feet was a visual feast, it made me feel a bit sad that I hadn’t experienced it sooner. I just felt like it was… meh. Another tourist attraction. Ditto the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. I was so overwhelmed when I saw them for the first time in 1996 – on Friday, it was just… Huh. OK. Houses of Parliament. Like I’ve said before – travel doesn’t seem to excite me any more. I wonder if I can get therapy for this, do mental exercises to get myself psyched up about places and sights and adventures again. We then walked down the Victoria Embankment to Charing Cross, where I had hoped to surprise Gareth with Davenport’s magic shop, but dang it, he’d been there before. So we hopped on the tube at Embankment to the Natural History Museum.
Now the NHM is a place I’ve always wanted to visit. Well, at least I did until all this enthusiasm drained out of me a few years ago. If I’d visited even just five years ago, I would have gone absolutely bonkers. Wow! Wow! Cool! I love it! OH MY GOD! Oooh… (mental orgasm there). As it was on Friday, it was more, hmmm yeah, nice. I would have been photographing everything, from the diplodocus in the entrance hall to the stuffed hummingbirds, and worrying if there was enough time to take it all in. But it just wasn’t awe-inspiring enough, through no fault of its own (and I greatly fear nothing will be any more for me). But there was no time to worry; it was getting on for lunch, which was horribly expensive at the NHM, and such small portions – but we made up for it that night when we went back to Mai (Japanese food is turning out to be a standard highlight of our trips these days).
We started our NHM tour proper post-lunch with the Earth Galleries. I loved the fossils, especially the ones of the plesiosaurs and the dolphin-like ichthyosaurs. The cast of the archaeopteryx found in Germany got my heart racing too – such a famous fossil. And the giant crocodile skull was amazing. As big as I am tall! Checked out the Creepy-Crawlies and mammals before going for tea (another regular feature of our trips), then nipped in early into the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition. Really enjoyed that. Some astounding images. Made me very jealous. Also went in early to the Darwin exhibition, which celebrated the 200th year of his birth. It was surprisingly entertaining and informative – the “mouth on legs” frog was funny. Both well worth the entrance tickets for the amount we learnt. (Didn’t know it was finches that got Darwin thinking about evolution.) Went back to Victoria Embankment afterwards, primarily for me to take shots of the London Eye at night, then went back to the hotel. Very sore feet.
The next morning, we found ourselves stuck at Kings Cross – Saturday at 9.30am is SO not a good time – when we discovered our Oyster credit had all but been spent getting around. So we waited in line to top it up – the queues were unbelievable. When we finally got past them, the first place we zoomed off to was the British Museum – site of my first mental orgasm. As usual, it didn’t do anything for me. Nothing does any more. As I told Gareth, I think I need a kid to get myself excited about these things again. See the world through the eyes of a child, and enjoying introducing its wonders. Perhaps that is one way to be refreshed. (No, that is NOT a hint.) Just that you know you’re getting blasé and jaded when you go to the bloody British Museum, and you aren’t instantly filled with this uncontrollable urge to tear around and see the looted wonders of the ancient world in all their magnificence. One of the world’s greatest museums, one of the richest repositories of archaeological treasures, and all I could think of was, gee, my feet are sore, and oooh is that a raspberry tart? That was just so depressing, and such a contrast to the first time I was there, when I hardly saw anything for all the swooning – this time I didn’t see anything at all for the nonchalance.
Anyway, we dumped our bags at the museum (because we’re clever that way – didn’t want to lug them around London, and the lockers were free as well) and went to St Paul’s. Didn’t see anything of it – just walked around the gardens looking for directions to get to the Millennium Footbridge to the Tate Modern. Quite disappointed that it didn’t sway. Would have been quite an experience. The Tate Modern – can’t really comment on it as we only really saw the giant spider sculpture (which left me quite revolted after I saw the handball-sized white foam “eggs” under its body) before heading to Southwark Cathedral. I really enjoyed this bit of the day – didn’t really know about the cathedral before this nor read nor remembered much of what I’d read previously in Lonely Planet. It felt very much like other cathedrals, in the way of vaulted ceilings and arches, but what made it special was the choir singing in the back the whole time we were there. The acoustics were just superb – when I went round back I counted only 18 of them, but how the sound carried! Absolutely angelic harmony as well.
The Borough Market right next to the cathedral was another find. Couldn’t help thinking how much Mum would enjoy this place – must bring her here when they visit. The sights and smells were quite something – I really loved the buzz! Made me wish I had lots of money to spend – the place gave me a serious case of greedy eyes. Oysters on the shell, with a twist of lemon and Tabasco; fresh fruit smoothies; all manner of cold meats and cheeses; sweets and pastries (felt a bit like the Egyptian spice market in Istanbul – all those free Turkish delights); tons of fish and vegetables (one stall was dedicated to just mushrooms – mmmm!); and that huge black steaming wok of paella! It left me feeling extremely hungry and wishing I had four stomachs. Then headed back to the British Museum, where we had some nibblies and tea, collected our bags and hopped on a Chiltern Railways train to Beaconsfield, where Chris picked us up – it was Shelley’s birthday and the food was great (first time we had meatloaf) but the house was even better. To be £200,000 in debt over an enormous four-bedroom house with front and back gardens in the very middle English commuter belt is not a bad financial situation to be in.
On Sunday we came back up after lunch at the Crown in Amersham, and once again, were on the wrong side of the train (bah!) and had the table to ourselves most of the journey. A very perasan guy who got on at York kept placing a sheaf of papers rather strategically on the table, in all likelihood trying to show that he had made it as a contestant onto “A Question of Genius”. Didn’t have to feign disinterest. Got beef curry in a tin from M&S and was very impressed when I had it with pasta – it tasted just like Yeo’s back home. Called home, said a little prayer for Dad with Gareth, had a fitful sleep – then woke up to the good news.
The other nice thing to happen on Monday was that I interviewed Stuart MacBride, who not only seems like a very genial sort of chap, but a very humorous one as well. Made me want to head to the nearest Waterstone’s and get a copy of his latest book. Doesn’t seem to take himself too seriously – I liked that he bothered to explain why he calls himself a “write-ist” as opposed to a writer, author or novelist. Too worthy, too intellectual, sounds like they know what they’re doing. Write-ist sounds like someone who is winging it and will be found out. I feel like that at work sometimes. Maybe I should start calling myself a report-ist.
On Friday, we are off to Mallaig for Wonderful Weekend Number Three on the top-rated train journey in the world (beating even the almighty Trans-Siberian and the Cuzco-Puno and Cuzco-Macchu Picchu lines). Will keep all cameras rolling.
Factoids of the Week:
The London Underground is the world’s oldest underground railway, and Baker Street is the world’s first tube station. It was also the first underground railway to operate electric trains.
The Underground runs on 400km of track and has 270 stations, and is the longest metro system in the world by route length.
The Angel station has the longest single escalator rise in western Europe.
The longest distance between two stations is 6.26km, between Chalfont & Latimer and Chesham on the Metropolitan line. The longest distance between two underground stations is between Caledonian Road and Kings Cross St Pancras on the Piccadilly line.
The shortest distance between two stations is 100m, between Charing Cross and Embankment. (We know, we walked it!)
Waterloo is the station with the most escalators – currently 25.
This post should really have preceded the previous one, but I hadn’t got round to writing it before I got the news that made me so glad and relieved. It’s just cascading happiness around here just now – getting news like that just makes everything pale in significance, and nothing and no one, no matter how annoying or incompetent, can get you down.
Dad being OK really capped off a great weekend – Gareth and I just returned from our second wonderful one on Sunday night. Apart from being really put out by his insisting on holding the handrails on stairs and escalators (all those germs!!!!!!!), it was a great three days.
Took a half day on Thursday and caught the 3pm train to Kings Cross – unfortunately, our seats were on the wrong side of the train so we couldn’t watch the coast go by, but we had fun fiddling about with the videocam and eating Mini-Eggs. One stuck-up auntie kept looking at us – probably jealous that she had to squeeze her biggish arse next to someone else and was facing backwards, whereas we had an entire table to ourselves. But alas, we had to give up our cushy seats at York when almost an entire trainload piled on after their train was cancelled. Ah well. It was good while it lasted!
Kings Cross was less grotty than I remembered it – the last time I was there was 2006 when the folks came over – probably due to the lack of boards and works going on. Our hotel, the Jesmond Dene, was just two minutes away across Euston Road on Argyle Street. Very cosy, warm and welcoming Georgian townhouse – bedroom a bit small (double bed was a foot short, I’m sure of it) and no en-suite but came with breakfast. Everything excellent value and clean showers (extremely important when you’ve forgotten your flip-flops). Certainly recommend it.
Went back out and checked out St Pancras – it really is an amazing building. The neo-Gothic façade is just spectacularly overwrought and the inside has this lovely airy spaciousness. Think we both went a bit mental when we saw there was a Neuhaus store there as well… but we were very good and refrained from stuffing our faces. Found a wee Japanese restaurant, Mai Sushi, by accident – while Gareth got his bottle of water at WH Smith, I sneaked a peek at the Time Out London and found Swizz Szechuan on Chalton Street, which really appealed to me. However, when we got there, it was quite packed and the menu didn’t look all that appetizing – but there was Mai Sushi across the street. Went back through Kings Cross and became the proud owners of an Oyster card each.
We hit the London Eye first thing on Friday and although London at our feet was a visual feast, it made me feel a bit sad that I hadn’t experienced it sooner. I just felt like it was… meh. Another tourist attraction. Ditto the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. I was so overwhelmed when I saw them for the first time in 1996 – on Friday, it was just… Huh. OK. Houses of Parliament. Like I’ve said before – travel doesn’t seem to excite me any more. I wonder if I can get therapy for this, do mental exercises to get myself psyched up about places and sights and adventures again. We then walked down the Victoria Embankment to Charing Cross, where I had hoped to surprise Gareth with Davenport’s magic shop, but dang it, he’d been there before. So we hopped on the tube at Embankment to the Natural History Museum.
Now the NHM is a place I’ve always wanted to visit. Well, at least I did until all this enthusiasm drained out of me a few years ago. If I’d visited even just five years ago, I would have gone absolutely bonkers. Wow! Wow! Cool! I love it! OH MY GOD! Oooh… (mental orgasm there). As it was on Friday, it was more, hmmm yeah, nice. I would have been photographing everything, from the diplodocus in the entrance hall to the stuffed hummingbirds, and worrying if there was enough time to take it all in. But it just wasn’t awe-inspiring enough, through no fault of its own (and I greatly fear nothing will be any more for me). But there was no time to worry; it was getting on for lunch, which was horribly expensive at the NHM, and such small portions – but we made up for it that night when we went back to Mai (Japanese food is turning out to be a standard highlight of our trips these days).
We started our NHM tour proper post-lunch with the Earth Galleries. I loved the fossils, especially the ones of the plesiosaurs and the dolphin-like ichthyosaurs. The cast of the archaeopteryx found in Germany got my heart racing too – such a famous fossil. And the giant crocodile skull was amazing. As big as I am tall! Checked out the Creepy-Crawlies and mammals before going for tea (another regular feature of our trips), then nipped in early into the Wildlife Photographer of the Year exhibition. Really enjoyed that. Some astounding images. Made me very jealous. Also went in early to the Darwin exhibition, which celebrated the 200th year of his birth. It was surprisingly entertaining and informative – the “mouth on legs” frog was funny. Both well worth the entrance tickets for the amount we learnt. (Didn’t know it was finches that got Darwin thinking about evolution.) Went back to Victoria Embankment afterwards, primarily for me to take shots of the London Eye at night, then went back to the hotel. Very sore feet.
The next morning, we found ourselves stuck at Kings Cross – Saturday at 9.30am is SO not a good time – when we discovered our Oyster credit had all but been spent getting around. So we waited in line to top it up – the queues were unbelievable. When we finally got past them, the first place we zoomed off to was the British Museum – site of my first mental orgasm. As usual, it didn’t do anything for me. Nothing does any more. As I told Gareth, I think I need a kid to get myself excited about these things again. See the world through the eyes of a child, and enjoying introducing its wonders. Perhaps that is one way to be refreshed. (No, that is NOT a hint.) Just that you know you’re getting blasé and jaded when you go to the bloody British Museum, and you aren’t instantly filled with this uncontrollable urge to tear around and see the looted wonders of the ancient world in all their magnificence. One of the world’s greatest museums, one of the richest repositories of archaeological treasures, and all I could think of was, gee, my feet are sore, and oooh is that a raspberry tart? That was just so depressing, and such a contrast to the first time I was there, when I hardly saw anything for all the swooning – this time I didn’t see anything at all for the nonchalance.
Anyway, we dumped our bags at the museum (because we’re clever that way – didn’t want to lug them around London, and the lockers were free as well) and went to St Paul’s. Didn’t see anything of it – just walked around the gardens looking for directions to get to the Millennium Footbridge to the Tate Modern. Quite disappointed that it didn’t sway. Would have been quite an experience. The Tate Modern – can’t really comment on it as we only really saw the giant spider sculpture (which left me quite revolted after I saw the handball-sized white foam “eggs” under its body) before heading to Southwark Cathedral. I really enjoyed this bit of the day – didn’t really know about the cathedral before this nor read nor remembered much of what I’d read previously in Lonely Planet. It felt very much like other cathedrals, in the way of vaulted ceilings and arches, but what made it special was the choir singing in the back the whole time we were there. The acoustics were just superb – when I went round back I counted only 18 of them, but how the sound carried! Absolutely angelic harmony as well.
The Borough Market right next to the cathedral was another find. Couldn’t help thinking how much Mum would enjoy this place – must bring her here when they visit. The sights and smells were quite something – I really loved the buzz! Made me wish I had lots of money to spend – the place gave me a serious case of greedy eyes. Oysters on the shell, with a twist of lemon and Tabasco; fresh fruit smoothies; all manner of cold meats and cheeses; sweets and pastries (felt a bit like the Egyptian spice market in Istanbul – all those free Turkish delights); tons of fish and vegetables (one stall was dedicated to just mushrooms – mmmm!); and that huge black steaming wok of paella! It left me feeling extremely hungry and wishing I had four stomachs. Then headed back to the British Museum, where we had some nibblies and tea, collected our bags and hopped on a Chiltern Railways train to Beaconsfield, where Chris picked us up – it was Shelley’s birthday and the food was great (first time we had meatloaf) but the house was even better. To be £200,000 in debt over an enormous four-bedroom house with front and back gardens in the very middle English commuter belt is not a bad financial situation to be in.
On Sunday we came back up after lunch at the Crown in Amersham, and once again, were on the wrong side of the train (bah!) and had the table to ourselves most of the journey. A very perasan guy who got on at York kept placing a sheaf of papers rather strategically on the table, in all likelihood trying to show that he had made it as a contestant onto “A Question of Genius”. Didn’t have to feign disinterest. Got beef curry in a tin from M&S and was very impressed when I had it with pasta – it tasted just like Yeo’s back home. Called home, said a little prayer for Dad with Gareth, had a fitful sleep – then woke up to the good news.
The other nice thing to happen on Monday was that I interviewed Stuart MacBride, who not only seems like a very genial sort of chap, but a very humorous one as well. Made me want to head to the nearest Waterstone’s and get a copy of his latest book. Doesn’t seem to take himself too seriously – I liked that he bothered to explain why he calls himself a “write-ist” as opposed to a writer, author or novelist. Too worthy, too intellectual, sounds like they know what they’re doing. Write-ist sounds like someone who is winging it and will be found out. I feel like that at work sometimes. Maybe I should start calling myself a report-ist.
On Friday, we are off to Mallaig for Wonderful Weekend Number Three on the top-rated train journey in the world (beating even the almighty Trans-Siberian and the Cuzco-Puno and Cuzco-Macchu Picchu lines). Will keep all cameras rolling.
Factoids of the Week:
The London Underground is the world’s oldest underground railway, and Baker Street is the world’s first tube station. It was also the first underground railway to operate electric trains.
The Underground runs on 400km of track and has 270 stations, and is the longest metro system in the world by route length.
The Angel station has the longest single escalator rise in western Europe.
The longest distance between two stations is 6.26km, between Chalfont & Latimer and Chesham on the Metropolitan line. The longest distance between two underground stations is between Caledonian Road and Kings Cross St Pancras on the Piccadilly line.
The shortest distance between two stations is 100m, between Charing Cross and Embankment. (We know, we walked it!)
Waterloo is the station with the most escalators – currently 25.
Monday, March 02, 2009
And again I say rejoice!
Book of the Week: See previous post.
Today I got the news I have wanted, but was always afraid I wouldn’t get, ever since the morning of November 26. Dad is now officially in the Big R. No new lesions. No new growths. No anything. All Clear. I am so grateful and I am so happy. I know it’s early days yet but to hear this at the first scan post-op is tremendous and such a boost. I am sure it’s not just the family who are rejoicing and relieved, I know for a fact that there are so many, many dear friends out there and back home, who have been praying hard all this time, giving thanks as well. Thank you, Lord. Thank you, all.
Factoids of the Week:
One in three of us will be affected by cancer during our life. We’ve already been directly affected twice. I don’t ever want to have to do it again, or wish it on anyone.
One in every nine women will develop breast cancer at some point in her life; more than 45,000 cases are diagnosed every year, or around 125 a day. It is the most common cancer in the UK and the leading cause of death for women aged 34 to 54.
Every year, 300 men in the UK are diagnosed with breast cancer.
Lung cancer is the most commonly diagnosed cancer in the world. In the UK, it is the second most-frequently occurring cancer, accounting for one in seven new cases, with nine of out 10 linked to smoking.
Bowel cancer, also known as colon, colorectal or rectal cancer, is the third most common cancer in the UK.
Today I got the news I have wanted, but was always afraid I wouldn’t get, ever since the morning of November 26. Dad is now officially in the Big R. No new lesions. No new growths. No anything. All Clear. I am so grateful and I am so happy. I know it’s early days yet but to hear this at the first scan post-op is tremendous and such a boost. I am sure it’s not just the family who are rejoicing and relieved, I know for a fact that there are so many, many dear friends out there and back home, who have been praying hard all this time, giving thanks as well. Thank you, Lord. Thank you, all.
Factoids of the Week:
One in three of us will be affected by cancer during our life. We’ve already been directly affected twice. I don’t ever want to have to do it again, or wish it on anyone.
One in every nine women will develop breast cancer at some point in her life; more than 45,000 cases are diagnosed every year, or around 125 a day. It is the most common cancer in the UK and the leading cause of death for women aged 34 to 54.
Every year, 300 men in the UK are diagnosed with breast cancer.
Lung cancer is the most commonly diagnosed cancer in the world. In the UK, it is the second most-frequently occurring cancer, accounting for one in seven new cases, with nine of out 10 linked to smoking.
Bowel cancer, also known as colon, colorectal or rectal cancer, is the third most common cancer in the UK.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Fabulous February
Book of the Week: Watchmen by Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons (OK, not really a book so much as a graphic novel... but at least I’m reading!)
Wow. Nearly the end of February already. It’s true then – time really does fly when you’re having fun. Or get old(er).
Let’s see – it’s been a pretty good month. I became an aunt (again) – Jo’s kid Arianna was born on January 30. Looks just like her dad from the photos. Though when she squints she kinda looks like her mum. Made me feel all broody. Some day we’ll see Mishmish. I hope.
On the same night, on this side of the world, Gareth and I went to see Sandi Thom at the Carnegie Hall. We had listened to Smile, It Confuses People during two weeks of driving around Kiwiland in 2007, but I honestly could not remember anything besides I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker (which I thought was Punk Rock Girl for ages – just the emphasis, I guess). We had a great time, even if I did come out a little deaf. Catchy tune upon catchy tune, and after the gig we listened to the CD all the way home. No, repetition doesn’t always bore us.
Had new PCs and story filing/editing system installed on February 12. Was really a) pleased because no longer have to endure embarrassment by not being able to access information prior to interviews; b) pissed off because installation was done on our work time, as opposed to doing it after working hours, which led to c) even more pissed-offness, because Mr Big made us all come back in on Saturday to “make up for Thursday”. And when it came around, he was in for just the half day. Just as well we hadn’t made any plans for Valentine’s Day. Luckily, didn’t miss much of the England-Wales match either.
Next day, went into Stirling and got a bunch of new winter clothes at Mountain Warehouse and Tiso (mostly for myself) before going into Glasgow for a wee taster of what lay ahead the coming weekend. Got a congratulatory card for Jo, picked up tickets for Religulous at the Glasgow Film Theatre, picked our way along Sauchiehall Street (actually most of it was in Jessops checking out digital SLRs), saw The Strange Case of Benjamin Button at Cineworld, hit Wagamama for dinner, went to Borders for a good sexy browse, went back to Wagamama because had left card behind on table, before rounding off the day with Religulous. It was all right. A few good jokes, but as ever, the Jews and Christians made easy targets. Would like to have seen Bill Maher asking the imams about taqqiya... or a few really hard-hitting questions about Muhammad’s personal life. Starting with getting married to a six-year-old.
On Friday, we started the first of our four Wonderful Weekends, which we will have on the trot throughout February and March. Went through to Glasgow after work and hung out in Borders while waiting for Gareth to finish his movie with Graeme. We then went to Wagamama (again!) for a late dinner – lovely yasai chilli men (for me) and yasai laksa thingy (for him). Checked into Travelodge Braehead (£80 for two nights, a steal) where we finally went to bed at... must have been 2am before we fell asleep.
Next morning, went for breakfast at Braehead Centre (big ham and mushroom pancake for me) and got a pair of gloves each (I also got a free bottle of contact lens fluid from the nice man at Optical Express – must have been my dazzling good looks) before heading to Xscape. WHOO!!! Real “fake” snow! It was great! I couldn’t wait to get going. Unfortunately my excitement was tempered some by having to wait around for someone to take us onto the slopes. But someone finally did turn up at exactly 11.15am – and even then Gareth and I couldn’t jump in right away because we didn’t have right-sized helmets on... bah. Curse of the squiffy heeds.
But after that it was all systems go. Was a bit worried as I jumped into an ice slide for the first time – could see myself crashing into the wooden sideboards and meeting the same sort of end as Dracula – but man, it was cool! In more ways than one – we both got snow into our shoes, up our pants, on our bums... honestly, it got everywhere. The only thing we didn’t enjoy about it was the dip right before crashing into the foam blocks. And crashing into the foam blocks, come to think of it. Newton’s Third Law of Motion. After about half a dozen gos at manoeuvering, I finally got the hang of How Not To Get Whiplash by trying as best as possible to hit the wall side-on first.
After our 45 minutes were up, we had barely time to catch our breath before we went on the sledging. Oh wow. So much fun. Gareth had always talked about taking me sledging down Cockleroy but now that we live on the other side of the water, that seems a bit far away. If you’re going to risk quadraplegia zooming down a slippery slope at 30mph, you might as well do it close to home. That’s why we went 50 miles out. The sledging area itself wasn’t that amazing, maybe a 10-degree, 50m-long slope – but the rush came from trying to dodge other sledgers and not run over three-year-old tots (who, in addition to not being able to steer very well, were also, due to Newton’s Second Law of Motion, going like grannies on a B-road).
Just about sprinted back to the Travelodge to get changed into fresh clothes – I was paranoid that my socks would be frozen to my ankles and the paramedics would peel off a swathe of skin as they sliced the wool off – but we did get a fantastic cardio workout, what with all the climbing up slopes. Went back to Xscape for lunch (a superb garlic prawn farfalle for me – or to give it its proper Wild West Weegie name, “bowtie pasta”) before thawing our bums out at Paradise Golf, where I scored my first hole-in-one in my first game of miniature golf. We were both really pegged out by 4pm, so chilled out with some hot chocolate and apple and raspberry crumble before heading back to the Travelodge for a power nap before dinner. Still couldn’t feel our bums at that point. Mental note: must get proper snow/ski pants.
Mile-long traffic jam on M8 on our way in but made our 6.30pm appointment at Borders, went to Nanakusa (had been agitating for a Japanese all day despite the visit to Wagamama the previous night – or maybe I just needed a massive noodle fix) where I had a massive, but very daintily presented, plate of sushi (it came on a “bridge”). Went back to Odeon the second week in a row to watch Hush – I think Mum and Dad would probably enjoy it, but it just annoyed me, with all its “thriller-horror” cliches. Right twat of a hero, scary old house, planted backstabber... all the typical plot twists.
Lazy Sunday morning fry-up at a Wetherspoons on Sauchiehall Street before hitting Mountain Warehouse (acting on mental note) and Borders again. Lovely roast beef and Yorkshire pudding dinner in Clackmannan on way home. All in all, it was the near-perfect weekend – just those draggy loose bits of thread on the edge of Gareth’s jeans drove me mental. Walked ahead of him all day so I didn’t have to see them if I happened to look down.
Weather-wise it’s been a better winter than usual. It snowed a few times in January – very happy – though couldn’t enjoy it as much as I would have liked despite staying home because I was feeling absolutely crap. It snowed the night we came home from Religulous so I put on my new winter clothes and went out for a gambol. Also enjoying the longer days – glad not to wake up/go to work/come home in the dark. The really good programmes on TV are helping as well – am really enjoying Being Human to the point where I caught myself thinking, I wish the box set were out already so I could just watch it all at a go.
On the career front – resolve building by the hour now to quit job. Already at that point in my life where I don’t want to waste time on anything that makes me pissed off, miserable or generally feeling all-round negative. Getting really annoyed with work, people at work, system at work – it’s been a right crappy two weeks. The new filing/editing system is driving everyone up the wall - everything takes three times as long (never trust an programme where you can’t copy and paste). Of course, can’t really do anything until visa is sorted (and all the process leading up to THAT entails). Gareth saw a job for press officer at CHAS... let’s hope offers like those are still around in two months.
In the meantime, we plan to make the most of now. (Hmmm... where have I heard that tagline before?) Tomorrow I’m doing a half-day then we’re off to London for the second of our Wonderful Weekends. Can’t wait. We’ve never done it together so really looking forward to it.
Factoids of the Week:
Watched University Challenge this week and have been well impressed by Gail Trimble – very annoying how so many people over here have shot her down. What is wrong with being educated? Knowing stuff? Why in the name of all that is holy (and intelligence is one of them), is intellectual superiority vilified, and ignorance championed? She’s doing a PhD in Latin at Oxford following her first-class honours degree, scored 11As in GCSEs (10 of which were A*) and four As at A-level, for crying out loud - if we had anyone like her on a University Challenge in Malaysia (where no doubt the teams would be all Chinese if contestants were chosen on merit), she would be lauded, offered scholarships, have odes composed celebrating her accomplishments. So this week’s selection is in her honour. She’s smart enough not to let the airhead-worshipping snipes get to her – they can make all the comments she wants about her appearance, because she can lose weight, shave her legs and/or get new boobs, but they’ll still be stupid. You can’t get a brain transplant, after all.
Measure for Measure is the only Shakespearean play set in Vienna.
Leiden, home to the Netherlands’ oldest university, also gave its name to the leyden jar, an early form of capacitor.
The taco terrier is a cross between a toy fox terrier and a chihuahua and originated in Mexico.
In botany the term “etiolated” describes the appearance of a plant which has developed without or been deprived of light.
Hilaire Belloc’s Matilda and Charles Dickens’s Miss Havisham both died in fires.
The four-field rotation of crops adopted in the agricultural revolution and popularised by Charles Townsend involved the successive planting of barley or oats, clover or rye, wheat and turnips.
Wow. Nearly the end of February already. It’s true then – time really does fly when you’re having fun. Or get old(er).
Let’s see – it’s been a pretty good month. I became an aunt (again) – Jo’s kid Arianna was born on January 30. Looks just like her dad from the photos. Though when she squints she kinda looks like her mum. Made me feel all broody. Some day we’ll see Mishmish. I hope.
On the same night, on this side of the world, Gareth and I went to see Sandi Thom at the Carnegie Hall. We had listened to Smile, It Confuses People during two weeks of driving around Kiwiland in 2007, but I honestly could not remember anything besides I Wish I Was A Punk Rocker (which I thought was Punk Rock Girl for ages – just the emphasis, I guess). We had a great time, even if I did come out a little deaf. Catchy tune upon catchy tune, and after the gig we listened to the CD all the way home. No, repetition doesn’t always bore us.
Had new PCs and story filing/editing system installed on February 12. Was really a) pleased because no longer have to endure embarrassment by not being able to access information prior to interviews; b) pissed off because installation was done on our work time, as opposed to doing it after working hours, which led to c) even more pissed-offness, because Mr Big made us all come back in on Saturday to “make up for Thursday”. And when it came around, he was in for just the half day. Just as well we hadn’t made any plans for Valentine’s Day. Luckily, didn’t miss much of the England-Wales match either.
Next day, went into Stirling and got a bunch of new winter clothes at Mountain Warehouse and Tiso (mostly for myself) before going into Glasgow for a wee taster of what lay ahead the coming weekend. Got a congratulatory card for Jo, picked up tickets for Religulous at the Glasgow Film Theatre, picked our way along Sauchiehall Street (actually most of it was in Jessops checking out digital SLRs), saw The Strange Case of Benjamin Button at Cineworld, hit Wagamama for dinner, went to Borders for a good sexy browse, went back to Wagamama because had left card behind on table, before rounding off the day with Religulous. It was all right. A few good jokes, but as ever, the Jews and Christians made easy targets. Would like to have seen Bill Maher asking the imams about taqqiya... or a few really hard-hitting questions about Muhammad’s personal life. Starting with getting married to a six-year-old.
On Friday, we started the first of our four Wonderful Weekends, which we will have on the trot throughout February and March. Went through to Glasgow after work and hung out in Borders while waiting for Gareth to finish his movie with Graeme. We then went to Wagamama (again!) for a late dinner – lovely yasai chilli men (for me) and yasai laksa thingy (for him). Checked into Travelodge Braehead (£80 for two nights, a steal) where we finally went to bed at... must have been 2am before we fell asleep.
Next morning, went for breakfast at Braehead Centre (big ham and mushroom pancake for me) and got a pair of gloves each (I also got a free bottle of contact lens fluid from the nice man at Optical Express – must have been my dazzling good looks) before heading to Xscape. WHOO!!! Real “fake” snow! It was great! I couldn’t wait to get going. Unfortunately my excitement was tempered some by having to wait around for someone to take us onto the slopes. But someone finally did turn up at exactly 11.15am – and even then Gareth and I couldn’t jump in right away because we didn’t have right-sized helmets on... bah. Curse of the squiffy heeds.
But after that it was all systems go. Was a bit worried as I jumped into an ice slide for the first time – could see myself crashing into the wooden sideboards and meeting the same sort of end as Dracula – but man, it was cool! In more ways than one – we both got snow into our shoes, up our pants, on our bums... honestly, it got everywhere. The only thing we didn’t enjoy about it was the dip right before crashing into the foam blocks. And crashing into the foam blocks, come to think of it. Newton’s Third Law of Motion. After about half a dozen gos at manoeuvering, I finally got the hang of How Not To Get Whiplash by trying as best as possible to hit the wall side-on first.
After our 45 minutes were up, we had barely time to catch our breath before we went on the sledging. Oh wow. So much fun. Gareth had always talked about taking me sledging down Cockleroy but now that we live on the other side of the water, that seems a bit far away. If you’re going to risk quadraplegia zooming down a slippery slope at 30mph, you might as well do it close to home. That’s why we went 50 miles out. The sledging area itself wasn’t that amazing, maybe a 10-degree, 50m-long slope – but the rush came from trying to dodge other sledgers and not run over three-year-old tots (who, in addition to not being able to steer very well, were also, due to Newton’s Second Law of Motion, going like grannies on a B-road).
Just about sprinted back to the Travelodge to get changed into fresh clothes – I was paranoid that my socks would be frozen to my ankles and the paramedics would peel off a swathe of skin as they sliced the wool off – but we did get a fantastic cardio workout, what with all the climbing up slopes. Went back to Xscape for lunch (a superb garlic prawn farfalle for me – or to give it its proper Wild West Weegie name, “bowtie pasta”) before thawing our bums out at Paradise Golf, where I scored my first hole-in-one in my first game of miniature golf. We were both really pegged out by 4pm, so chilled out with some hot chocolate and apple and raspberry crumble before heading back to the Travelodge for a power nap before dinner. Still couldn’t feel our bums at that point. Mental note: must get proper snow/ski pants.
Mile-long traffic jam on M8 on our way in but made our 6.30pm appointment at Borders, went to Nanakusa (had been agitating for a Japanese all day despite the visit to Wagamama the previous night – or maybe I just needed a massive noodle fix) where I had a massive, but very daintily presented, plate of sushi (it came on a “bridge”). Went back to Odeon the second week in a row to watch Hush – I think Mum and Dad would probably enjoy it, but it just annoyed me, with all its “thriller-horror” cliches. Right twat of a hero, scary old house, planted backstabber... all the typical plot twists.
Lazy Sunday morning fry-up at a Wetherspoons on Sauchiehall Street before hitting Mountain Warehouse (acting on mental note) and Borders again. Lovely roast beef and Yorkshire pudding dinner in Clackmannan on way home. All in all, it was the near-perfect weekend – just those draggy loose bits of thread on the edge of Gareth’s jeans drove me mental. Walked ahead of him all day so I didn’t have to see them if I happened to look down.
Weather-wise it’s been a better winter than usual. It snowed a few times in January – very happy – though couldn’t enjoy it as much as I would have liked despite staying home because I was feeling absolutely crap. It snowed the night we came home from Religulous so I put on my new winter clothes and went out for a gambol. Also enjoying the longer days – glad not to wake up/go to work/come home in the dark. The really good programmes on TV are helping as well – am really enjoying Being Human to the point where I caught myself thinking, I wish the box set were out already so I could just watch it all at a go.
On the career front – resolve building by the hour now to quit job. Already at that point in my life where I don’t want to waste time on anything that makes me pissed off, miserable or generally feeling all-round negative. Getting really annoyed with work, people at work, system at work – it’s been a right crappy two weeks. The new filing/editing system is driving everyone up the wall - everything takes three times as long (never trust an programme where you can’t copy and paste). Of course, can’t really do anything until visa is sorted (and all the process leading up to THAT entails). Gareth saw a job for press officer at CHAS... let’s hope offers like those are still around in two months.
In the meantime, we plan to make the most of now. (Hmmm... where have I heard that tagline before?) Tomorrow I’m doing a half-day then we’re off to London for the second of our Wonderful Weekends. Can’t wait. We’ve never done it together so really looking forward to it.
Factoids of the Week:
Watched University Challenge this week and have been well impressed by Gail Trimble – very annoying how so many people over here have shot her down. What is wrong with being educated? Knowing stuff? Why in the name of all that is holy (and intelligence is one of them), is intellectual superiority vilified, and ignorance championed? She’s doing a PhD in Latin at Oxford following her first-class honours degree, scored 11As in GCSEs (10 of which were A*) and four As at A-level, for crying out loud - if we had anyone like her on a University Challenge in Malaysia (where no doubt the teams would be all Chinese if contestants were chosen on merit), she would be lauded, offered scholarships, have odes composed celebrating her accomplishments. So this week’s selection is in her honour. She’s smart enough not to let the airhead-worshipping snipes get to her – they can make all the comments she wants about her appearance, because she can lose weight, shave her legs and/or get new boobs, but they’ll still be stupid. You can’t get a brain transplant, after all.
Measure for Measure is the only Shakespearean play set in Vienna.
Leiden, home to the Netherlands’ oldest university, also gave its name to the leyden jar, an early form of capacitor.
The taco terrier is a cross between a toy fox terrier and a chihuahua and originated in Mexico.
In botany the term “etiolated” describes the appearance of a plant which has developed without or been deprived of light.
Hilaire Belloc’s Matilda and Charles Dickens’s Miss Havisham both died in fires.
The four-field rotation of crops adopted in the agricultural revolution and popularised by Charles Townsend involved the successive planting of barley or oats, clover or rye, wheat and turnips.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Welcome To My Worlds
Book of the Week: Anita and Me by Meera Syal
By some fortuitous alignment of both lunar and Gregorian calendars, we will simultaneously celebrate two days of significance two cultures today. Earlier this morning (i.e. night back home), my nearest and dearest on the other side of the world sat down to a scrumptious Malaysian-Chinese family dinner, as they have every year on Chinese New Year’s Eve. And later tonight, Gareth and I will sit down to our very own dinner, which will comprise haggis and mash with caramelised onions and mushrooms in honour of Burns Night.
It’s a meal that I look forward to (not just because Gareth makes the best mash in the world – I was torn between having bangers or haggis with it) and will hold much symbolism for me because tonight, my Chinese roots and heritage truly meet those of my adopted country. And it’s not just any Chinese New Year’s Eve or Burns Night we’re commemorating either: it’s the last day of the Year of the Golden Rat, and tonight marks the 250th anniversary of the Scottish Bard’s birth, the official start of Homecoming 2009. My only regret is that there won’t be anything Malaysian or Chinese on tonight’s menu. Maybe we can toss some five-spice powder or chilli into the mash…
It’s definitely a night worth celebrating. I discovered early on – my first trip to the UK to be exact – that people here can have incredibly outdated, stereotyped views of what it’s like to be non-white, and when I moved over here, got a lot of the same old stereotyped views from people back home of what life is like over here. Basically, at risk of overgeneralising it, the two worlds I live in don’t really know what life is like in the other, despite my attempts to explain it to them. Back home, they still think we only ever eat haggis over here and turkey is the main meal at Christmas. And there are people over here who are amazed (in a patronising kind of way) that I speak such good English. And that’s made me realise how lucky I am – that I am comfortable in both, fit into both (well, perhaps a little better in Malaysia) and love both. Maybe I don’t live enough of the intellectual life, but I just don’t get the whole crisis in exile and struggle for identity thing (see Shirley Lim). In fact, I think it’s a bit contrived. I’ve just finished reading Ireland by Frank Delaney and feel that’s how the subject should be addressed: the pride in what and where you come from and who that makes you.
I’m happy being who I am, with a foot in both hemispheres. I have wee linguistic nuances that I am barely aware of when I’m over here, but get pointed out to me when I’m back home (and vice-versa). I might be oversimplifying it, but I enjoy a good bowl of fishball noodle soup as much as I do cullen skink. I’ve got Gareth eating laksa and spouting Hokkien and lahs, and I’ve got my family (those without borderline diabetes anyway) hooked on the very best Dean’s shortbread. I don’t think I’ve lost any of my identity – in fact, I think living over here has enriched me in every sense, and I’m thankful for that. I’m always going to be a Malaysian Chinese girl, but tonight – tonight, I’m going to celebrate being Malaysian Chinese Scottish. I just wish my family could be here with me. Maybe next year Gareth will go home with me for Chinese New Year and we can have some haggis on the dinner table.
Happy Chinese New Year everyone, and Happy Burns Night!
Factoids of the Week:
The Chinese lunar calendar is believed to date from 2600BC when the Emperor Shih Huang Ti introduced the first cycle of the zodiac. A complete cycle, according to the Chinese calendar, takes 60 years and consists of five cycles (featuring one element) of 12 years (of 12 animals) each.
The 12 animals in the Chinese zodiac, in chronological order, are the rat, ox, tiger, rabbit, dragon, snake, horse, ram, monkey, rooster, dog and pig. The five elements are wood, fire, earth, metal and water.
Robert Burns is the only person outside the Royal family to feature on three special stamp issues. Royal Mail issued commemorative stamps in 1966 and 1996, and the latest edition went on sale on Thursday.
The Selkirk Arms in Kirkcudbright, reputed to be the birthplace of Burns’ Selkirk Grace, has put the poem on the lids of all its toilet seats. Nothing like a bit of reading in the loo, eh.
By some fortuitous alignment of both lunar and Gregorian calendars, we will simultaneously celebrate two days of significance two cultures today. Earlier this morning (i.e. night back home), my nearest and dearest on the other side of the world sat down to a scrumptious Malaysian-Chinese family dinner, as they have every year on Chinese New Year’s Eve. And later tonight, Gareth and I will sit down to our very own dinner, which will comprise haggis and mash with caramelised onions and mushrooms in honour of Burns Night.
It’s a meal that I look forward to (not just because Gareth makes the best mash in the world – I was torn between having bangers or haggis with it) and will hold much symbolism for me because tonight, my Chinese roots and heritage truly meet those of my adopted country. And it’s not just any Chinese New Year’s Eve or Burns Night we’re commemorating either: it’s the last day of the Year of the Golden Rat, and tonight marks the 250th anniversary of the Scottish Bard’s birth, the official start of Homecoming 2009. My only regret is that there won’t be anything Malaysian or Chinese on tonight’s menu. Maybe we can toss some five-spice powder or chilli into the mash…
It’s definitely a night worth celebrating. I discovered early on – my first trip to the UK to be exact – that people here can have incredibly outdated, stereotyped views of what it’s like to be non-white, and when I moved over here, got a lot of the same old stereotyped views from people back home of what life is like over here. Basically, at risk of overgeneralising it, the two worlds I live in don’t really know what life is like in the other, despite my attempts to explain it to them. Back home, they still think we only ever eat haggis over here and turkey is the main meal at Christmas. And there are people over here who are amazed (in a patronising kind of way) that I speak such good English. And that’s made me realise how lucky I am – that I am comfortable in both, fit into both (well, perhaps a little better in Malaysia) and love both. Maybe I don’t live enough of the intellectual life, but I just don’t get the whole crisis in exile and struggle for identity thing (see Shirley Lim). In fact, I think it’s a bit contrived. I’ve just finished reading Ireland by Frank Delaney and feel that’s how the subject should be addressed: the pride in what and where you come from and who that makes you.
I’m happy being who I am, with a foot in both hemispheres. I have wee linguistic nuances that I am barely aware of when I’m over here, but get pointed out to me when I’m back home (and vice-versa). I might be oversimplifying it, but I enjoy a good bowl of fishball noodle soup as much as I do cullen skink. I’ve got Gareth eating laksa and spouting Hokkien and lahs, and I’ve got my family (those without borderline diabetes anyway) hooked on the very best Dean’s shortbread. I don’t think I’ve lost any of my identity – in fact, I think living over here has enriched me in every sense, and I’m thankful for that. I’m always going to be a Malaysian Chinese girl, but tonight – tonight, I’m going to celebrate being Malaysian Chinese Scottish. I just wish my family could be here with me. Maybe next year Gareth will go home with me for Chinese New Year and we can have some haggis on the dinner table.
Happy Chinese New Year everyone, and Happy Burns Night!
Factoids of the Week:
The Chinese lunar calendar is believed to date from 2600BC when the Emperor Shih Huang Ti introduced the first cycle of the zodiac. A complete cycle, according to the Chinese calendar, takes 60 years and consists of five cycles (featuring one element) of 12 years (of 12 animals) each.
The 12 animals in the Chinese zodiac, in chronological order, are the rat, ox, tiger, rabbit, dragon, snake, horse, ram, monkey, rooster, dog and pig. The five elements are wood, fire, earth, metal and water.
Robert Burns is the only person outside the Royal family to feature on three special stamp issues. Royal Mail issued commemorative stamps in 1966 and 1996, and the latest edition went on sale on Thursday.
The Selkirk Arms in Kirkcudbright, reputed to be the birthplace of Burns’ Selkirk Grace, has put the poem on the lids of all its toilet seats. Nothing like a bit of reading in the loo, eh.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Start Of The Year Thoughts
Book of the Week: The Anubis Gates by Tim Powers
Went back to work today after nearly two weeks back home. I remember this time last year we had just booked our trip to Egypt, and I was getting really excited about going home to Malaysia for Chinese New Year. I remember being so happy when I saw Dad whistling to the birds in the trees and when I met up with so many of my former 5 Sc 1 classmates. I was also sad because it was our first Chinese New Year without Gua Ma. On the whole, the year started with so much promise. But it got a bit more depressing in the second half. We lost Dusty. Then came the week leading up to November 26. And the day before I went back to Malaysia, I felt like quitting my job on the spot after getting so pissed off.
This year’s started wonderfully so far – I spent the first 10 days back home, and what a celebration it was with the folks’ surprise ruby anniversary and Dad being on the mend. I really loved it, but it was good to come back to my other home here too, to Gareth. Before I went away, Gareth and I booked a week in New York in March, and we have a long weekend away in London at the end of February. We could still do the Mongol Rally. We might still go travelling for three months. I’m going to get an extension on my visa. And if Dad gets the news we all want to hear when he goes for his next appointment in February, it will be the most perfect year (not least because it will mean he and Mum will be coming over in August). In fact, I don’t think I could ask for any more – I would happily forgo all else if he gets the all-clear. I would be happy if I could see and hear him in the garden whistling to the birds in the trees like I did last year.
Factoids of the Week:
Not really read anything of interest of late. I probably stumbled across some good stuff in the LP New York guidebook...
Went back to work today after nearly two weeks back home. I remember this time last year we had just booked our trip to Egypt, and I was getting really excited about going home to Malaysia for Chinese New Year. I remember being so happy when I saw Dad whistling to the birds in the trees and when I met up with so many of my former 5 Sc 1 classmates. I was also sad because it was our first Chinese New Year without Gua Ma. On the whole, the year started with so much promise. But it got a bit more depressing in the second half. We lost Dusty. Then came the week leading up to November 26. And the day before I went back to Malaysia, I felt like quitting my job on the spot after getting so pissed off.
This year’s started wonderfully so far – I spent the first 10 days back home, and what a celebration it was with the folks’ surprise ruby anniversary and Dad being on the mend. I really loved it, but it was good to come back to my other home here too, to Gareth. Before I went away, Gareth and I booked a week in New York in March, and we have a long weekend away in London at the end of February. We could still do the Mongol Rally. We might still go travelling for three months. I’m going to get an extension on my visa. And if Dad gets the news we all want to hear when he goes for his next appointment in February, it will be the most perfect year (not least because it will mean he and Mum will be coming over in August). In fact, I don’t think I could ask for any more – I would happily forgo all else if he gets the all-clear. I would be happy if I could see and hear him in the garden whistling to the birds in the trees like I did last year.
Factoids of the Week:
Not really read anything of interest of late. I probably stumbled across some good stuff in the LP New York guidebook...
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Happy New Year
Not exactly the sort of New Year I would have hoped for (I prefer the hugs and cuddles and prolific displays of affection sort) but things can only get better. At least I go home in a bit. Happy New Year anyway. To better blog housekeeping, and, if I may look ahead, to the first day of 2010 being one spent together (REALLY together, not Separate Together) with plenty of I Love Yous.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Hogmanay 2008
So here we are at the end of another year. It seems like not too long ago I was sitting at the laptop going through the memories of the year past (and I vividly remember watching Still Game while at it), but I am not doing it this year for the simple reason that I have been absolutely rubbish at keeping this blog up to date. All I have is bits and bobs, snatches of memories, semi-written posts. What I HAVE been doing the past hour though (besides watching too much of the Spiderman DVD I got for Christmas) is looking through a new folder I have just created, onto which I have uploaded just about all my digital memories of 2008. And it has put into technicolour what a rollercoaster year it has been. It has been a year of extreme highs (Egypt, Priya's visit, walking Hadrian's Wall, the Big Broon Trip to Malaysia) and extreme to the point of being surreal, this-is-not-happening, lows (Dusty, Dad) and everything in between (The Proclaimers, zorbing, Fife Coastal Path, Olympics, Billy Ocean). I never imagined my 36th year could be so turbulent, yet, in a strange way, so alive and intense. It was a year that made me laugh madly yet cry hopelessly. It has been exhausting. I just want 2009 to be filled with good memories. Intense, lived to the full but good memories. Please.
Factoids of the Week:
The last minute of this year will be 61 seconds long. Wonder how that works.
Factoids of the Week:
The last minute of this year will be 61 seconds long. Wonder how that works.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
I'm Going Slightly Mad...
Book of the Week: The Virgin’s Lover by Philippa Gregory
Not posted for a while though a lot has happened. It’s all been too much to take in, all at once too intense and private and emotionally draining to put into words, and I can only hope and pray, and pray. I don’t seem to be able to concentrate – not being overly dramatic here, but I feel increasingly distracted, and my mind drifts even when I try to concentrate. The last month has come with particularly heavy burdens.
Which might explain why I’m reading fluff at the moment. But right before this I completed The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters, by G W Dahlquist – a rollicking, bodice-ripping, erotically charged adventure, if I remember the reviews correctly. A bit confusing at times and I found it quite hard-going at first trying to see the scenes unfolding (not for want of description – maybe I’m just not imaginative enough). And I read another book before that but I can’t remember what it is now.
Which brings me to today’s topic – mental health. I can’t remember as well as I used to, and I’m terrified I may one day be struck down by Alzheimer’s. As it is I feel I have a brain tumour at times. I used to be able to remember whole chapters verbatim (the only way I passed psychology in second year), these days I can’t even remember what I did last weekend. I seem to have aphasia on an hourly basis. It could be that the days and dates just blur into one, but maybe I have oligodendroglioma or something. So when I saw this, my heart leapt – there is hope! I still can’t do Sudoku, but at least my brain’s getting a workout with the daily occasional crossword clues.
The five tasks a day that could protect your mental wellbeing are…
Connecting with family, friends, colleagues and neighbours;
Being active – sports, hobbies, gardening, dancing or just a daily stroll;
Being curious, noting the beauty of everyday moments as well as the unusual;
Learning something – fixing a bike or playing a musical instrument;
Giving to others you meet around you.
I can do that. Here’s to my sanity. (Apparently, there’s a strong link between mental health and debt – half the people in Britain who are in debt have a mental disorder. So that’s reason to celebrate. I’m very sane by that account.)
Factoids of the Week:
More word fun. Have to learn something every day, what. Cool words, these. Today’s theme is phobias, and there are a few odd ones going around…
Allodoxaphobia – Fear of opinions.
Catagelophobia – Fear of being ridiculed.
Cenophobia or Centophobia – Fear of new things or ideas.
Cynophobia – Fear of dogs. (Now that’s just stupid. Dogs are the best!)
Eleutherophobia – Fear of freedom. (Exclusive to Malaysian government…)
Enissophobia – Fear of criticism. (Ditto.)
Epistemophobia – Fear of knowledge. (See above.)
Hypegiaphobia – Fear of responsibility. (Repeat…)
Ideophobia – Fear of ideas. (And again…)
Melophobia – Fear or hatred of music. (Now for a short intermission…)
Metathesiophobia – Fear of changes. (And we’re back to the Malaysian government!)
Methyphobia – Fear of alcohol. (Rare in Scotland.)
Metrophobia – Fear or hatred of poetry.
Neophobia – Fear of anything new. (See Malaysian government.)
Peccatophobia - Fear of sinning or imaginary crimes.
Philophobia – Fear of falling in love or being in love.
Prosophobia – Fear of progress. (Malaysian government again.)
Staurophobia – Fear of crosses or the crucifix.
Stygiophobia or stigiophobia – Fear of hell.
Theophobia – Fear of gods or religion other than your own.
Wiccaphobia – Fear of witches and witchcraft.
Not posted for a while though a lot has happened. It’s all been too much to take in, all at once too intense and private and emotionally draining to put into words, and I can only hope and pray, and pray. I don’t seem to be able to concentrate – not being overly dramatic here, but I feel increasingly distracted, and my mind drifts even when I try to concentrate. The last month has come with particularly heavy burdens.
Which might explain why I’m reading fluff at the moment. But right before this I completed The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters, by G W Dahlquist – a rollicking, bodice-ripping, erotically charged adventure, if I remember the reviews correctly. A bit confusing at times and I found it quite hard-going at first trying to see the scenes unfolding (not for want of description – maybe I’m just not imaginative enough). And I read another book before that but I can’t remember what it is now.
Which brings me to today’s topic – mental health. I can’t remember as well as I used to, and I’m terrified I may one day be struck down by Alzheimer’s. As it is I feel I have a brain tumour at times. I used to be able to remember whole chapters verbatim (the only way I passed psychology in second year), these days I can’t even remember what I did last weekend. I seem to have aphasia on an hourly basis. It could be that the days and dates just blur into one, but maybe I have oligodendroglioma or something. So when I saw this, my heart leapt – there is hope! I still can’t do Sudoku, but at least my brain’s getting a workout with the daily occasional crossword clues.
The five tasks a day that could protect your mental wellbeing are…
Connecting with family, friends, colleagues and neighbours;
Being active – sports, hobbies, gardening, dancing or just a daily stroll;
Being curious, noting the beauty of everyday moments as well as the unusual;
Learning something – fixing a bike or playing a musical instrument;
Giving to others you meet around you.
I can do that. Here’s to my sanity. (Apparently, there’s a strong link between mental health and debt – half the people in Britain who are in debt have a mental disorder. So that’s reason to celebrate. I’m very sane by that account.)
Factoids of the Week:
More word fun. Have to learn something every day, what. Cool words, these. Today’s theme is phobias, and there are a few odd ones going around…
Allodoxaphobia – Fear of opinions.
Catagelophobia – Fear of being ridiculed.
Cenophobia or Centophobia – Fear of new things or ideas.
Cynophobia – Fear of dogs. (Now that’s just stupid. Dogs are the best!)
Eleutherophobia – Fear of freedom. (Exclusive to Malaysian government…)
Enissophobia – Fear of criticism. (Ditto.)
Epistemophobia – Fear of knowledge. (See above.)
Hypegiaphobia – Fear of responsibility. (Repeat…)
Ideophobia – Fear of ideas. (And again…)
Melophobia – Fear or hatred of music. (Now for a short intermission…)
Metathesiophobia – Fear of changes. (And we’re back to the Malaysian government!)
Methyphobia – Fear of alcohol. (Rare in Scotland.)
Metrophobia – Fear or hatred of poetry.
Neophobia – Fear of anything new. (See Malaysian government.)
Peccatophobia - Fear of sinning or imaginary crimes.
Philophobia – Fear of falling in love or being in love.
Prosophobia – Fear of progress. (Malaysian government again.)
Staurophobia – Fear of crosses or the crucifix.
Stygiophobia or stigiophobia – Fear of hell.
Theophobia – Fear of gods or religion other than your own.
Wiccaphobia – Fear of witches and witchcraft.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Summer Solstice Sentiments
Book of the Week: Queen Camilla by Sue Townsend
It has been a very eventful couple of days. Yesterday evening and this morning in particular were especially painful for both of us for extremely personal reasons, but matters were resolved before lunch today and now we look forward to what we hope is a new beginning (and possible future). We will share more of ourselves with each other (which, for me, means an opening up of a deeply private and meaningful part of my life), see how we go from there, and hope (and pray!) we work out. It IS quite scary because things could go so horribly wrong, but we both really want for this to happen and because of that are prepared to work at it – we have so much together, are so good together, want to be together, and could have the rest of our lives together. There’ll be hard choices to make along the way, but we want to give us every chance. We don’t want to lose us.
We had planned to walk the Fife Coastal Path to Aberdour today as our little celebration of the summer solstice, but had to put it aside due to the mental and emotional upheaval of the last 24 hours. It has been something I’ve wanted to do for a long time now and had been looking forward to the walk all week (I just feel I should be outside on the longest day of the year, or it’s just a complete waste of sun), but I can’t say that I’m completely disappointed. As Dad always said, a sign of maturity is the ability to delay gratification. (And the weather was rubbish today, anyway.) What matters is that we’ve got us sorted, and that means so much more. We can always do it another time, and I think the stress should be on “we”. Because we still have a chance to be “we”, and that means everything to me.
Factoids of the Week:
It IS possible to die of a broken heart. The less-than-romantic explanation behind it is that an increased levels of stress hormones in the blood and psychologically induced changes in behaviour brought about by grief can lead to a greater risk of dying from heart attacks, accidents, violence or alcohol-related problems.
There were 29,898 marriages in Scotland in 2006, out of a total of 275,140 in the UK. And with the average wedding now costing £20,000, it makes one wonder if it is even worth getting into all that debt given the following statistics...
Between 2005 and 2006, there were 13,014 divorces in Scotland, out of a total of 148,141 divorces granted in the UK. For all divorces granted, behaviour was the most common fact proven. (On a more positive note: the divorce rate is at its lowest level since 1984.)
In Scotland, there are five grounds upon which to base an action of divorce: adultery, desertion, unreasonable behaviour, separation for two years with the consent of both partners and separation for five years without the consent of the other party.
It has been a very eventful couple of days. Yesterday evening and this morning in particular were especially painful for both of us for extremely personal reasons, but matters were resolved before lunch today and now we look forward to what we hope is a new beginning (and possible future). We will share more of ourselves with each other (which, for me, means an opening up of a deeply private and meaningful part of my life), see how we go from there, and hope (and pray!) we work out. It IS quite scary because things could go so horribly wrong, but we both really want for this to happen and because of that are prepared to work at it – we have so much together, are so good together, want to be together, and could have the rest of our lives together. There’ll be hard choices to make along the way, but we want to give us every chance. We don’t want to lose us.
We had planned to walk the Fife Coastal Path to Aberdour today as our little celebration of the summer solstice, but had to put it aside due to the mental and emotional upheaval of the last 24 hours. It has been something I’ve wanted to do for a long time now and had been looking forward to the walk all week (I just feel I should be outside on the longest day of the year, or it’s just a complete waste of sun), but I can’t say that I’m completely disappointed. As Dad always said, a sign of maturity is the ability to delay gratification. (And the weather was rubbish today, anyway.) What matters is that we’ve got us sorted, and that means so much more. We can always do it another time, and I think the stress should be on “we”. Because we still have a chance to be “we”, and that means everything to me.
Factoids of the Week:
It IS possible to die of a broken heart. The less-than-romantic explanation behind it is that an increased levels of stress hormones in the blood and psychologically induced changes in behaviour brought about by grief can lead to a greater risk of dying from heart attacks, accidents, violence or alcohol-related problems.
There were 29,898 marriages in Scotland in 2006, out of a total of 275,140 in the UK. And with the average wedding now costing £20,000, it makes one wonder if it is even worth getting into all that debt given the following statistics...
Between 2005 and 2006, there were 13,014 divorces in Scotland, out of a total of 148,141 divorces granted in the UK. For all divorces granted, behaviour was the most common fact proven. (On a more positive note: the divorce rate is at its lowest level since 1984.)
In Scotland, there are five grounds upon which to base an action of divorce: adultery, desertion, unreasonable behaviour, separation for two years with the consent of both partners and separation for five years without the consent of the other party.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
First Things First
Book of the Week: Queen Camilla by Sue Townsend
This is going to be a quickie because there’s quite a bit to do this weekend, and I want to get something in for May (myself and the month) – just a few hours of it left.
But suffice it to say that there have been quite a few double firsts scored. On April 5 I went for my first car boot sale, where I was also a first-time vendor. It was in the next village on, and we sold about £60 worth of stuff (mostly DVDs Gareth didn’t want any more – the Cambodian scarves and wraps and whatnots I was hoping to sell were probably just too posh for a car boot sale anyway).
On April 10, Gareth and I hosted our first dinner party. OK, so there were only two guests (Andrew and Laura from work), but it was a dinner party nevertheless. I made our favourite party piece, spag bol, the night before, and it was lovely and infused with that lovely slight sourness you get from tomatoes when the time to serve it up came around. Gareth made his gorgeous rice pudding. A good time was had by all, which only makes me think we really should have guests over for dinner more often.
Then on April 12, we dog-sat Kes while Eddie, Barry and Phil went down to Blackpool for a day trip (nearly three hours down and three hours back up again – if it were me I’d want to stay overnight, but then again it is Blackpool, I suppose). Of course, the first thing Kes did in the flat was have a pee – first time I’ve had to clean that off the carpet – and when we took her out for a walk, it was the first time I had to pick up after a dog using a council poop polybag.
But the big kahuna for me was the long-awaited trip to Cairo, from May 16 to 24. It was a first on so many levels. Egypt was probably the first country and civilisation to register on my consciousness, and to finally go there was just mind-blowing. I was having mental boings all week just thinking about it. I had to go in for a morning at work the day we were leaving, and I still have no idea how I managed to sit there and hammer out a story. I don’t even know where to begin. First trip to Egypt (there will definitely be more to come – I was already planning what to do the second time around halfway through the trip), first time in Africa, first time Gareth and I were going on an intercontinental trip together, first glimpse of the Pyramids up close, first ascent/descent into them – it was just an all-round amazing trip which made for a most memorable 36th birthday (honestly, what a way to mark my third zodiac cycle).
And now more firsts await – all the terribly domesticated, middle-class DIY around the house for starters (three blinds went up this weekend). We’re going to have two couples stay with us within the same week next month. Both my best friend and cousin (and their hubbies) will be visiting AND staying with us for the first time. For Priya, it’s an double first – it’s her maiden trip to Europe, never having been in this part of the world before. Can’t wait. It’s going to be fantastic. Bet you a few more firsts are in store.
Factoids of the Week:
The West Lake restaurant in Changsha, China is the biggest Chinese restaurant in the world. It serves 3500 ducks, three tonnes of fish and seats 5000 diners.
Fife Council runs 1800 vehicles which consume five million litres of petrol annually.
The largest residential development in Europe is Duloch Park, in Dunfermline’s Eastern Expansion. That’s right in our backyard.
Fife also has, geographically, Europe’s largest CCTV system, with 100 cameras covering 12 communities.
This is going to be a quickie because there’s quite a bit to do this weekend, and I want to get something in for May (myself and the month) – just a few hours of it left.
But suffice it to say that there have been quite a few double firsts scored. On April 5 I went for my first car boot sale, where I was also a first-time vendor. It was in the next village on, and we sold about £60 worth of stuff (mostly DVDs Gareth didn’t want any more – the Cambodian scarves and wraps and whatnots I was hoping to sell were probably just too posh for a car boot sale anyway).
On April 10, Gareth and I hosted our first dinner party. OK, so there were only two guests (Andrew and Laura from work), but it was a dinner party nevertheless. I made our favourite party piece, spag bol, the night before, and it was lovely and infused with that lovely slight sourness you get from tomatoes when the time to serve it up came around. Gareth made his gorgeous rice pudding. A good time was had by all, which only makes me think we really should have guests over for dinner more often.
Then on April 12, we dog-sat Kes while Eddie, Barry and Phil went down to Blackpool for a day trip (nearly three hours down and three hours back up again – if it were me I’d want to stay overnight, but then again it is Blackpool, I suppose). Of course, the first thing Kes did in the flat was have a pee – first time I’ve had to clean that off the carpet – and when we took her out for a walk, it was the first time I had to pick up after a dog using a council poop polybag.
But the big kahuna for me was the long-awaited trip to Cairo, from May 16 to 24. It was a first on so many levels. Egypt was probably the first country and civilisation to register on my consciousness, and to finally go there was just mind-blowing. I was having mental boings all week just thinking about it. I had to go in for a morning at work the day we were leaving, and I still have no idea how I managed to sit there and hammer out a story. I don’t even know where to begin. First trip to Egypt (there will definitely be more to come – I was already planning what to do the second time around halfway through the trip), first time in Africa, first time Gareth and I were going on an intercontinental trip together, first glimpse of the Pyramids up close, first ascent/descent into them – it was just an all-round amazing trip which made for a most memorable 36th birthday (honestly, what a way to mark my third zodiac cycle).
And now more firsts await – all the terribly domesticated, middle-class DIY around the house for starters (three blinds went up this weekend). We’re going to have two couples stay with us within the same week next month. Both my best friend and cousin (and their hubbies) will be visiting AND staying with us for the first time. For Priya, it’s an double first – it’s her maiden trip to Europe, never having been in this part of the world before. Can’t wait. It’s going to be fantastic. Bet you a few more firsts are in store.
Factoids of the Week:
The West Lake restaurant in Changsha, China is the biggest Chinese restaurant in the world. It serves 3500 ducks, three tonnes of fish and seats 5000 diners.
Fife Council runs 1800 vehicles which consume five million litres of petrol annually.
The largest residential development in Europe is Duloch Park, in Dunfermline’s Eastern Expansion. That’s right in our backyard.
Fife also has, geographically, Europe’s largest CCTV system, with 100 cameras covering 12 communities.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
My Wonderful Easter Weekend
Book of the Week: Shadowlands by Peter Straub (yup, still there)
Yesterday, Number Two and I went out to the scuzziest street in town (it’s always been in the news at some point or other – but more often of late, no thanks to all the problems with asbestos). Nothing sleazy – it was work. There have been calls from a couple of local councillors to just knock the whole street down and we had to talk to people there about what life was like in the armpit of Fife.
It was a most interesting – and surprisingly, not at all intimidating – experience. I got my first whiff of pot / grass / weed (whatever it was, it was absolutely stinking) when one very stoned out resident came to the door – when he opened the door, I swear you could see the flies in the stairwell drop like… well, flies. The cloud of whatever he had been getting high on came out like a backdraft. I’m surprised he managed to answer as coherently as he did (which isn’t really saying much – and they were mostly yes / no questions anyway, not like I wanted to prolong the interview). After he shut the door, I turned around to Number Two who was at the other door and made a “smoking” gesture just to double-check if I had smelled what I thought I did.
Met people who were just desperate to get out – called the street Fife Council’s “dustbin” – and I could see why. One guy on the top floor had mushrooms growing out of the loft. Another woman related how her partner had broken into the homeless flat across from theirs at least twice, once to stop a woman from being strangled. And apparently, there are needles out back. There’s nothing wrong with the flats – it’s the street that’s the problem. Basically, the hardware’s OK, but the software’s shite. There are a lot of decent people living there who, if they could, would transport their flats somewhere else. Nobody wants to live next to druggies, serial offenders, ex-cons (whose exact crimes are unknown), teenage thugs, or deadbeat parents popping out the next generation of ASBO kids faster than a hen can lay eggs.
I came back almost three hours later feeling in need of a mental and physical soaking in Dettol. I felt dirty, but also incredibly thankful and blessed that I’m living in a clean, warm, cozy flat with decent neighbours – and in a warped kind of way, wishing we could do exercises like this more often, not sit in the office and squeeze an article out of someone who was there (as opposed to our actually being there). Really, some of the stories we heard yesterday!
Post-lunch, Gareth, Wilson (our new Couchsurfing friend from Brazil) and I went for a drive and had a lovely, slow afternoon out exploring Culross. It was quite the barrel of laughs – we made jokes about Wilson not hearing anything through his beanie, played on the teeter-totters, took photos of Gareth on his mobile phone while on an elephant (“It’s a trunk call!”) and Gareth fell off the swing and overstretched his tummy muscles. Stopped to say hi to a doggie and his little old lady owner and met Dougie Vipond. We also went to Koi for a scrummy Japanese dinner afterwards. I’ve especially enjoyed hosting Wilson – I do love spending time with Gareth, but it gives a whole new dynamic to the weekend when someone is staying over. After we got home, I got a secret and kinda special card from Gareth, which contained clues to my very own personalised Easter egg hunt. It was so great!
Today, I went for Easter service. My first church service since I moved over last May. Was never really sure which church the united congregation had chosen to worship in – thought it was St John’s, but of course, as things are wont to turn out when I think something, it was in St Peter’s. It’s really quite a beautiful church. Airy, bright, high ceilings, stained glass windows. Half the time I wasn’t paying attention to the service for gazing at the red and blue lattice pattern behind the altar. The children’s performance (two songs – and repeated!) was a bit toe-curlingly cringeworthy, in that it was obvious they hadn’t rehearsed, didn’t know the words and were obviously not interested in being there. I tuned out and flipped to “Be Thou My Vision”, just to see if I could still remember the words (I can, but just). The purple hymnal was a bit pants, I thought – only treble clef notes, and all single ones at that. It was an Easter service, but it certainly didn’t feel like the Easter services I am familiar with, and fond of. Didn’t have that joyful exuberance that is so evident back home when celebrating the risen Christ.
So, overall, a bit of a mixed bag weekend, but an extremely eye-opening and very fun one. We have a new friend. I got to do something new for work. Went to church. Looking forward to more such weekends in the spring and summer.
Factoids of the Week:
The philtrum is the two wavy lines connecting the bottom of your nose to your top lip.
Posh word for someone who constantly picks boogers: rhinotillexomaniac.
I always thought it was hypochondriac, but there’s another word for people who are extremely concerned about their health: valetudinarian.
Hypocorism is the act or use of giving a pet a name.
The adjective for something which is of or to do with the alphabet is abecedarian.
Yesterday, Number Two and I went out to the scuzziest street in town (it’s always been in the news at some point or other – but more often of late, no thanks to all the problems with asbestos). Nothing sleazy – it was work. There have been calls from a couple of local councillors to just knock the whole street down and we had to talk to people there about what life was like in the armpit of Fife.
It was a most interesting – and surprisingly, not at all intimidating – experience. I got my first whiff of pot / grass / weed (whatever it was, it was absolutely stinking) when one very stoned out resident came to the door – when he opened the door, I swear you could see the flies in the stairwell drop like… well, flies. The cloud of whatever he had been getting high on came out like a backdraft. I’m surprised he managed to answer as coherently as he did (which isn’t really saying much – and they were mostly yes / no questions anyway, not like I wanted to prolong the interview). After he shut the door, I turned around to Number Two who was at the other door and made a “smoking” gesture just to double-check if I had smelled what I thought I did.
Met people who were just desperate to get out – called the street Fife Council’s “dustbin” – and I could see why. One guy on the top floor had mushrooms growing out of the loft. Another woman related how her partner had broken into the homeless flat across from theirs at least twice, once to stop a woman from being strangled. And apparently, there are needles out back. There’s nothing wrong with the flats – it’s the street that’s the problem. Basically, the hardware’s OK, but the software’s shite. There are a lot of decent people living there who, if they could, would transport their flats somewhere else. Nobody wants to live next to druggies, serial offenders, ex-cons (whose exact crimes are unknown), teenage thugs, or deadbeat parents popping out the next generation of ASBO kids faster than a hen can lay eggs.
I came back almost three hours later feeling in need of a mental and physical soaking in Dettol. I felt dirty, but also incredibly thankful and blessed that I’m living in a clean, warm, cozy flat with decent neighbours – and in a warped kind of way, wishing we could do exercises like this more often, not sit in the office and squeeze an article out of someone who was there (as opposed to our actually being there). Really, some of the stories we heard yesterday!
Post-lunch, Gareth, Wilson (our new Couchsurfing friend from Brazil) and I went for a drive and had a lovely, slow afternoon out exploring Culross. It was quite the barrel of laughs – we made jokes about Wilson not hearing anything through his beanie, played on the teeter-totters, took photos of Gareth on his mobile phone while on an elephant (“It’s a trunk call!”) and Gareth fell off the swing and overstretched his tummy muscles. Stopped to say hi to a doggie and his little old lady owner and met Dougie Vipond. We also went to Koi for a scrummy Japanese dinner afterwards. I’ve especially enjoyed hosting Wilson – I do love spending time with Gareth, but it gives a whole new dynamic to the weekend when someone is staying over. After we got home, I got a secret and kinda special card from Gareth, which contained clues to my very own personalised Easter egg hunt. It was so great!
Today, I went for Easter service. My first church service since I moved over last May. Was never really sure which church the united congregation had chosen to worship in – thought it was St John’s, but of course, as things are wont to turn out when I think something, it was in St Peter’s. It’s really quite a beautiful church. Airy, bright, high ceilings, stained glass windows. Half the time I wasn’t paying attention to the service for gazing at the red and blue lattice pattern behind the altar. The children’s performance (two songs – and repeated!) was a bit toe-curlingly cringeworthy, in that it was obvious they hadn’t rehearsed, didn’t know the words and were obviously not interested in being there. I tuned out and flipped to “Be Thou My Vision”, just to see if I could still remember the words (I can, but just). The purple hymnal was a bit pants, I thought – only treble clef notes, and all single ones at that. It was an Easter service, but it certainly didn’t feel like the Easter services I am familiar with, and fond of. Didn’t have that joyful exuberance that is so evident back home when celebrating the risen Christ.
So, overall, a bit of a mixed bag weekend, but an extremely eye-opening and very fun one. We have a new friend. I got to do something new for work. Went to church. Looking forward to more such weekends in the spring and summer.
Factoids of the Week:
The philtrum is the two wavy lines connecting the bottom of your nose to your top lip.
Posh word for someone who constantly picks boogers: rhinotillexomaniac.
I always thought it was hypochondriac, but there’s another word for people who are extremely concerned about their health: valetudinarian.
Hypocorism is the act or use of giving a pet a name.
The adjective for something which is of or to do with the alphabet is abecedarian.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Winds Of Change?
Book of the Week: Shadowland by Peter Straub
Turned on the laptop during the Scotland-England Six Nations match yesterday, and got an even bigger shock than Scotland leading 9-3 at half-time. It was Election Day back home in Malaysia and I reckoned the eight-hour difference would mean it would be about time the results would have started coming in. It was the first time I would not be voting since I became eligible to do so, and what I saw made me wish all the more that I could have been back home to have been a part of it.
For not only had the first winners been announced, the Opposition was actually keeping pace with Barisan for the first time since 1969. It was nail-biting, and, at the same time, a little too heady to the point of disbelief. All the talk and dissatisfaction that has been brewing in Malaysia, particularly in the last 10 years, has usually amounted to naught when it comes to the ballots. But this time, it really did seem that people were going to do something about racial tensions, rising crime and illegal immigration, corruption, nepotism and Barisan arrogance.
And boy, did they do it with a vengeance. They voted the Opposition into power in five states, including the two richest and most industrialised, in Malaysia: Selangor, Penang, Perak, Kedah and Kelantan. There are more Opposition MPs and state assemblymen in power than there ever have been in the near 40 years. Best of all, Lim Guan Eng is the new Penang chief minister, a moral and political vindication if there ever was one. If you are going to stick two fingers up to the Barisan Government for incarcerating you just because you did the right and proper thing of condemning a former chief minister, and a Barisan crony to boot, for statutory rape, this is exactly how to do it in style!
Post-results, Barisan continues to stick its head in the sand. Oh, the people still love us, they just wanted to teach us a lesson. They voted according to sentiment, not according to the merits of the candidates. Yeah, right! Obviously the people forgot just how qualified Barisan candidates are for the job: remind me again, exactly how did Khairy get appointed national football manager... or get loans from ECM Libra (so where did that RM9.2million go, eh?)... or just about get his own constituency by default... oh yeah, because of his qualifications as the First Son-In-Law. And of course, Bung Mokhtar, that sexist, misogynist low-life from Sarawak is only qualified to make depreciating insinuations between leaks in the Parliament House and female anatomy. What merits? BN candidates leave a lot to be desired.
So today, Malaysia wakes up to a new political dawn. No more 91% majority for BN, despite all their dirty tactics, vote-rigging, phantom voters and character assassination. I would have loved to have seen BN just scrape through, but in the meantime a 63% majority will do very, very well. I seriously hope this is not a one-off. For all my bitching about Malaysia, it does have a special place in my heart and I want to see things right. I came here to get away from the shite, but my loved ones still live there. My hope is that there will be greater transparency and accountability in Malaysia, and above all, that we become an inclusive nation, where we are defined by who we are, not who we know or what race or religion we belong to. The people have voted for change, and I am so very proud to be Malaysian today.
Factoids of the Week:
The collecting of postcard is called deltiology.
A thimble collector is known as a digitabulist.
The fear of needles is known as belonephobia.
A gigantic frog that lived 70 million years ago in Madagascar was the size of a squashed beach ball and weighed up to 4kg. Beezelbufo (a.k.a. Frog From Hell) might even have snacked on baby dinosaurs.
Another frog factoid: the Panamanian golden frog communicates with other frogs using semaphore. It waves to signal rivals and mates above the noise of mountain streams.
Turned on the laptop during the Scotland-England Six Nations match yesterday, and got an even bigger shock than Scotland leading 9-3 at half-time. It was Election Day back home in Malaysia and I reckoned the eight-hour difference would mean it would be about time the results would have started coming in. It was the first time I would not be voting since I became eligible to do so, and what I saw made me wish all the more that I could have been back home to have been a part of it.
For not only had the first winners been announced, the Opposition was actually keeping pace with Barisan for the first time since 1969. It was nail-biting, and, at the same time, a little too heady to the point of disbelief. All the talk and dissatisfaction that has been brewing in Malaysia, particularly in the last 10 years, has usually amounted to naught when it comes to the ballots. But this time, it really did seem that people were going to do something about racial tensions, rising crime and illegal immigration, corruption, nepotism and Barisan arrogance.
And boy, did they do it with a vengeance. They voted the Opposition into power in five states, including the two richest and most industrialised, in Malaysia: Selangor, Penang, Perak, Kedah and Kelantan. There are more Opposition MPs and state assemblymen in power than there ever have been in the near 40 years. Best of all, Lim Guan Eng is the new Penang chief minister, a moral and political vindication if there ever was one. If you are going to stick two fingers up to the Barisan Government for incarcerating you just because you did the right and proper thing of condemning a former chief minister, and a Barisan crony to boot, for statutory rape, this is exactly how to do it in style!
Post-results, Barisan continues to stick its head in the sand. Oh, the people still love us, they just wanted to teach us a lesson. They voted according to sentiment, not according to the merits of the candidates. Yeah, right! Obviously the people forgot just how qualified Barisan candidates are for the job: remind me again, exactly how did Khairy get appointed national football manager... or get loans from ECM Libra (so where did that RM9.2million go, eh?)... or just about get his own constituency by default... oh yeah, because of his qualifications as the First Son-In-Law. And of course, Bung Mokhtar, that sexist, misogynist low-life from Sarawak is only qualified to make depreciating insinuations between leaks in the Parliament House and female anatomy. What merits? BN candidates leave a lot to be desired.
So today, Malaysia wakes up to a new political dawn. No more 91% majority for BN, despite all their dirty tactics, vote-rigging, phantom voters and character assassination. I would have loved to have seen BN just scrape through, but in the meantime a 63% majority will do very, very well. I seriously hope this is not a one-off. For all my bitching about Malaysia, it does have a special place in my heart and I want to see things right. I came here to get away from the shite, but my loved ones still live there. My hope is that there will be greater transparency and accountability in Malaysia, and above all, that we become an inclusive nation, where we are defined by who we are, not who we know or what race or religion we belong to. The people have voted for change, and I am so very proud to be Malaysian today.
Factoids of the Week:
The collecting of postcard is called deltiology.
A thimble collector is known as a digitabulist.
The fear of needles is known as belonephobia.
A gigantic frog that lived 70 million years ago in Madagascar was the size of a squashed beach ball and weighed up to 4kg. Beezelbufo (a.k.a. Frog From Hell) might even have snacked on baby dinosaurs.
Another frog factoid: the Panamanian golden frog communicates with other frogs using semaphore. It waves to signal rivals and mates above the noise of mountain streams.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
We're All Going On A Winter Holiday
Book of the Week: Still not reading...
Last day of work! Whoo-hoo! Just three days more before I leave for Malaysia! Can’t wait to see the dogs and folks and family again. I’ve been thinking a lot about my parents, especially Mummy, in the last few days – just going over all my years growing up, the debt of gratitude I owe them, and how very much I love them. I’m going to make myself an early Chinese New Year (and third zodiac cycle) resolution to tell them more, show them more and just generally make sure they know it.
Also looking forward to seeing my old friends from school again – can’t believe next year I’ll have known quite a few of them for 30 years. Just wish they’d get in touch more often rather than just at Chinese New Year. Ah well. At least a handful of us have a lunch date fixed for next Saturday in Kuantan, and, fingers crossed, there’ll be a better attended high tea in the works in KL some time over the next couple of weeks. Can’t wait to do the Malaysian thing – eat lots and talk rubbish!
Factoids of the Week:
The pika looks like a hamster but is more closely related to rabbits.
Wild yaks are the only herd of grazing animals to inhabit the Tibetan plateau, the highest in the world.
The emperor penguin, the tallest and heaviest of all penguin species, has an average lifespan of about 20 years.
Last day of work! Whoo-hoo! Just three days more before I leave for Malaysia! Can’t wait to see the dogs and folks and family again. I’ve been thinking a lot about my parents, especially Mummy, in the last few days – just going over all my years growing up, the debt of gratitude I owe them, and how very much I love them. I’m going to make myself an early Chinese New Year (and third zodiac cycle) resolution to tell them more, show them more and just generally make sure they know it.
Also looking forward to seeing my old friends from school again – can’t believe next year I’ll have known quite a few of them for 30 years. Just wish they’d get in touch more often rather than just at Chinese New Year. Ah well. At least a handful of us have a lunch date fixed for next Saturday in Kuantan, and, fingers crossed, there’ll be a better attended high tea in the works in KL some time over the next couple of weeks. Can’t wait to do the Malaysian thing – eat lots and talk rubbish!
Factoids of the Week:
The pika looks like a hamster but is more closely related to rabbits.
Wild yaks are the only herd of grazing animals to inhabit the Tibetan plateau, the highest in the world.
The emperor penguin, the tallest and heaviest of all penguin species, has an average lifespan of about 20 years.
Friday, January 25, 2008
The Weekend
Book of the Week: Looking for something new to read after finishing The Narrows by Michael Connelly two weeks ago.
Gareth and I had a wonderful romantic weekend away from January 11-13. It had been something we’d been planning for a while, but it just always seemed to fall through. But e-mail at work, out of the blue, asking if I wanted to go away to Edinburgh for a couple of nights… because he’d checked out hotel prices and The Point were doing B&B for £144 for two nights, was I interested? After my squeals of excitement and enthusiastic yeses – and a quick explanation to colleagues that no, I very much doubted if the boyfriend was going to propose – it was quickly booked.
I couldn’t think of anything else the whole afternoon and was just counting the minutes until it was time to go home. Is there anything more exciting than packing on a Friday after work for a last-minute break? We wolfed down our fish suppers, then drove into Leith. We parked by the bins near our old place, and took the 22 up. It was absolutely freezing but – sappy though it may sound – we felt warm and fuzzy from the whole thought of “time together”. Our short walk up the icy Castle Terrace made us think of our short holiday in Florence, what with falling into our holiday routine of checking out restaurant menus to see if they were good places to eat, and my oohing and ahhing over the views of Edinburgh Castle from the side streets. If I were a tourist, I would have gone snap-happy.
Our room at The Point was cool. No 414. A bit spartan and squint (because it is a converted building), and the bathroom was starting to show signs of wear and tear, but hey – Castle, city and Forth views. Gareth nipped out to get some Coop chocolate chip biccies and hot chocolate, then we turned on the telly and watched Jamie’s Fowl Dinners. It was enough to turn you vegan, but we both like our meat too much so have decided that we are ONLY going to eat free-range chickens and eggs.
We spent the Saturday indulging ourselves. Did the tourist thing and started by walking down to the farmers’ market. It was still very cold, with iced-over puddles and even snow on Johnston Terrace. If we hadn’t already had a scrummy fry-up brunch (the crispy bacon and porridge with honey were to die for), I think I would have gone mad for the lamb burgers. It was just the sort of lazy, luxurious day for them. The smell of the lamb patties and onions on the grill always sends my salivary glands into overdrive – I can only imagine what the doggies there feel. We walked up to Castlehill and checked out the cashmere scarves and sterling silver rings on the High Street (preparation for Egypt), then spent a long, languorous afternoon in Waterstones and HMV. And a mushroom roll and a Bombay Bad Boy for tea, mmm!
For dinner that night, we went to Izzy’s on Lothian Road – our second visit and I’m pleased to say that our opinion of it has improved significantly. I took Gareth there on May 26 last year after I got my first ang moh paycheque, and, while it could be because we had had so much excellent Japanese food in New Zealand, we thought Izzy’s sushi kinda sucked. But their dinner service is simply immaculate – my bowl of fragrant steaming rice and tempura was fantastic. It was a bit of a rushed meal, though, as I wanted to get back in time for the season opener of CSI:NY. (A right cracking episode it was too – Lady Liberty splashed with blood!)
I was really sorry to leave on Sunday, but with the hotel being just across the road from Erogenous Zone, I at least got to check out a sex shop for the first time in my life. (Ann Summers doesn’t count.) Didn’t know what to make of it (perhaps because I’m a bit more grown-up now and less of a sheltered Malaysian schoolgirl), but it didn’t feel as sleazy as I thought it’d be – though I ABSOLUTELY DID NOT touch anything, you know, just in case. Didn’t want to come away with some gloop on my fingers. I suppose some of the stuff in there is, well, kinda sexy if you have certain fantasies or want some adventure-slash-excitement in bed, but for the most part I just found myself laughing. Blow-up sheep. Classic.
Then it was off to Clackmannan for yet another one of June’s always yummy dinners. A lovely weekend on all counts.
In comparison, today was crap. Up at 6.15am, a loooong train journey into Glasgow (£20.30), some last-minute shorthand practice – but I think I’m going to fail anyway. Nerves got the better of me and I struggled to take dictation at 100wpm. I hate it when this happens. I know I can do it, I’m actually quite good at shorthand. I’ve been doing 120wpm the last couple of weeks, but today my hand shook too much and I was way too nervous. Only have myself to blame. So now it’s another month of swotting away at shorthand before I have to go through the stress (and possibly FAILURE) all over again. Bah. At least I have an Indian dinner to look forward to tonight.
Factoids of the Week:
Cairo has more cops per 1000 citizens than any other capital in the world. Wonder why that is?
The Amazon has a greater volume of water than the next 10 largest rivers in the world flowing into the ocean put together.
At its widest point, the Amazon is about 11km wide during the dry season, but during the rainy season, it can be 45km wide as it floods the surrounding plains.
The Amazon river dolphin (or pink river dolphin) is the largest of the world’s five freshwater dolphins. Can you tell we’ve been watching a particular episode of Planet Earth?
Gareth and I had a wonderful romantic weekend away from January 11-13. It had been something we’d been planning for a while, but it just always seemed to fall through. But e-mail at work, out of the blue, asking if I wanted to go away to Edinburgh for a couple of nights… because he’d checked out hotel prices and The Point were doing B&B for £144 for two nights, was I interested? After my squeals of excitement and enthusiastic yeses – and a quick explanation to colleagues that no, I very much doubted if the boyfriend was going to propose – it was quickly booked.
I couldn’t think of anything else the whole afternoon and was just counting the minutes until it was time to go home. Is there anything more exciting than packing on a Friday after work for a last-minute break? We wolfed down our fish suppers, then drove into Leith. We parked by the bins near our old place, and took the 22 up. It was absolutely freezing but – sappy though it may sound – we felt warm and fuzzy from the whole thought of “time together”. Our short walk up the icy Castle Terrace made us think of our short holiday in Florence, what with falling into our holiday routine of checking out restaurant menus to see if they were good places to eat, and my oohing and ahhing over the views of Edinburgh Castle from the side streets. If I were a tourist, I would have gone snap-happy.
Our room at The Point was cool. No 414. A bit spartan and squint (because it is a converted building), and the bathroom was starting to show signs of wear and tear, but hey – Castle, city and Forth views. Gareth nipped out to get some Coop chocolate chip biccies and hot chocolate, then we turned on the telly and watched Jamie’s Fowl Dinners. It was enough to turn you vegan, but we both like our meat too much so have decided that we are ONLY going to eat free-range chickens and eggs.
We spent the Saturday indulging ourselves. Did the tourist thing and started by walking down to the farmers’ market. It was still very cold, with iced-over puddles and even snow on Johnston Terrace. If we hadn’t already had a scrummy fry-up brunch (the crispy bacon and porridge with honey were to die for), I think I would have gone mad for the lamb burgers. It was just the sort of lazy, luxurious day for them. The smell of the lamb patties and onions on the grill always sends my salivary glands into overdrive – I can only imagine what the doggies there feel. We walked up to Castlehill and checked out the cashmere scarves and sterling silver rings on the High Street (preparation for Egypt), then spent a long, languorous afternoon in Waterstones and HMV. And a mushroom roll and a Bombay Bad Boy for tea, mmm!
For dinner that night, we went to Izzy’s on Lothian Road – our second visit and I’m pleased to say that our opinion of it has improved significantly. I took Gareth there on May 26 last year after I got my first ang moh paycheque, and, while it could be because we had had so much excellent Japanese food in New Zealand, we thought Izzy’s sushi kinda sucked. But their dinner service is simply immaculate – my bowl of fragrant steaming rice and tempura was fantastic. It was a bit of a rushed meal, though, as I wanted to get back in time for the season opener of CSI:NY. (A right cracking episode it was too – Lady Liberty splashed with blood!)
I was really sorry to leave on Sunday, but with the hotel being just across the road from Erogenous Zone, I at least got to check out a sex shop for the first time in my life. (Ann Summers doesn’t count.) Didn’t know what to make of it (perhaps because I’m a bit more grown-up now and less of a sheltered Malaysian schoolgirl), but it didn’t feel as sleazy as I thought it’d be – though I ABSOLUTELY DID NOT touch anything, you know, just in case. Didn’t want to come away with some gloop on my fingers. I suppose some of the stuff in there is, well, kinda sexy if you have certain fantasies or want some adventure-slash-excitement in bed, but for the most part I just found myself laughing. Blow-up sheep. Classic.
Then it was off to Clackmannan for yet another one of June’s always yummy dinners. A lovely weekend on all counts.
In comparison, today was crap. Up at 6.15am, a loooong train journey into Glasgow (£20.30), some last-minute shorthand practice – but I think I’m going to fail anyway. Nerves got the better of me and I struggled to take dictation at 100wpm. I hate it when this happens. I know I can do it, I’m actually quite good at shorthand. I’ve been doing 120wpm the last couple of weeks, but today my hand shook too much and I was way too nervous. Only have myself to blame. So now it’s another month of swotting away at shorthand before I have to go through the stress (and possibly FAILURE) all over again. Bah. At least I have an Indian dinner to look forward to tonight.
Factoids of the Week:
Cairo has more cops per 1000 citizens than any other capital in the world. Wonder why that is?
The Amazon has a greater volume of water than the next 10 largest rivers in the world flowing into the ocean put together.
At its widest point, the Amazon is about 11km wide during the dry season, but during the rainy season, it can be 45km wide as it floods the surrounding plains.
The Amazon river dolphin (or pink river dolphin) is the largest of the world’s five freshwater dolphins. Can you tell we’ve been watching a particular episode of Planet Earth?
Sunday, January 06, 2008
We're In Denial!
Book of the Week: Making slow progress with The Narrows by Michael Connelly.
We booked our tickets to Egypt at 11.21am today. It’s absolutely, positively, undoubtedly the most exciting thing I’ve done in a long time and the anticipation is already killing me. This is certainly the most fired up I’ve been about a trip I’ve been for ages and I simply can’t wait. It would be the fulfilment of a life-long dream, the final piece to complete the archaeological jigsaw I’ve had in my head since I was six.
Athens, Rome, Istanbul and, in four months’ time, Cairo. What a 36th birthday this is going to be. I thought sailing under the Golden Gate Bridge for my 32nd would be hard to top, but I can already see the morning of May 17 2008 in my mind’s eye: sunrise over the pyramids at Giza. Sure, we’re only going to be there for a week, but this trip is going to be the Mother of all Birthday Experiences. Mental orgasms and eye candy galore time. Not an exaggeration. It’s trips like these that really give my life meaning.
The trip will involve a few ungodly hours – our flight in arrives at 2am and the flight out leaves at 3.55am – but who cares? It’s Egypt! A trip doesn’t get any more important and/or significant than this. And to psyche ourselves up even more, the both of us get to prepare with a couple of very enjoyable rituals we haven’t done for a while: 1) start a countdown to May 15 (take-off date) and 2) say CANNAE WAIT! every time we think of it (and really mean it!). Yup, I really cannae wait to toot and come in and be in denial.
Oh, and yesterday we saw The Kite Runner. It is an absolutely gorgeous movie. Made me cry. Go see it.
Factoids of the Week:
The Opera House in Cairo, which burnt down in 1971, was completed in five months in 1868 for the inaugural celebrations marking the opening of the Suez Canal. Shame nothing works as fast in Egypt these days... except maybe the touts seeking a quick buck.
Sufi comes from the word “suf”, the Arabic for wool, which is what these semi-mystical whirling dervish types originally wore. One thing that has always puzzled me about these self-denying, suffering-is-good sorts: surely meditation and union with God is easier achieved when your mind is at peace rather than thinking which part of your body you should scratch next...?
We booked our tickets to Egypt at 11.21am today. It’s absolutely, positively, undoubtedly the most exciting thing I’ve done in a long time and the anticipation is already killing me. This is certainly the most fired up I’ve been about a trip I’ve been for ages and I simply can’t wait. It would be the fulfilment of a life-long dream, the final piece to complete the archaeological jigsaw I’ve had in my head since I was six.
Athens, Rome, Istanbul and, in four months’ time, Cairo. What a 36th birthday this is going to be. I thought sailing under the Golden Gate Bridge for my 32nd would be hard to top, but I can already see the morning of May 17 2008 in my mind’s eye: sunrise over the pyramids at Giza. Sure, we’re only going to be there for a week, but this trip is going to be the Mother of all Birthday Experiences. Mental orgasms and eye candy galore time. Not an exaggeration. It’s trips like these that really give my life meaning.
The trip will involve a few ungodly hours – our flight in arrives at 2am and the flight out leaves at 3.55am – but who cares? It’s Egypt! A trip doesn’t get any more important and/or significant than this. And to psyche ourselves up even more, the both of us get to prepare with a couple of very enjoyable rituals we haven’t done for a while: 1) start a countdown to May 15 (take-off date) and 2) say CANNAE WAIT! every time we think of it (and really mean it!). Yup, I really cannae wait to toot and come in and be in denial.
Oh, and yesterday we saw The Kite Runner. It is an absolutely gorgeous movie. Made me cry. Go see it.
Factoids of the Week:
The Opera House in Cairo, which burnt down in 1971, was completed in five months in 1868 for the inaugural celebrations marking the opening of the Suez Canal. Shame nothing works as fast in Egypt these days... except maybe the touts seeking a quick buck.
Sufi comes from the word “suf”, the Arabic for wool, which is what these semi-mystical whirling dervish types originally wore. One thing that has always puzzled me about these self-denying, suffering-is-good sorts: surely meditation and union with God is easier achieved when your mind is at peace rather than thinking which part of your body you should scratch next...?
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