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 I discovered early on – my first trip to the UK to be exact – that people here can have incredibly outdated, stereotyped views of what it’s like to be non-white, and when I moved over here, got a lot of the same old stereotyped views from people back home of what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.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
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...?
Friday, January 04, 2008
Happy Anniversary
Book of the Week: The Narrows by Michael Connelly
Time flies when you’re having fun and when you look back at the years, you can’t believe you’ve come this far, this soon.
Mum and Dad celebrate 39 years of marriage today. I love you so very much, guys. It doesn’t feel that long ago that we were marking your 25th, and before we know it, it’ll be your 40th. I’ll be home for that. It’s going to be special! Must do big do.
My blog is a year old today. Seems like just yesterday that I started it – you know you’re getting old when a year seems to go in a blink of an eye. I hope I write a lot more this year than I did last year. I certainly plan to. I must.
Factoids of the Week:
The 40th year of marriage is known as the ruby anniversary.
Anniversary comes from the Latin anniversarius, from the words for “year” and “to turn” – meaning returning yearly.
Time flies when you’re having fun and when you look back at the years, you can’t believe you’ve come this far, this soon.
Mum and Dad celebrate 39 years of marriage today. I love you so very much, guys. It doesn’t feel that long ago that we were marking your 25th, and before we know it, it’ll be your 40th. I’ll be home for that. It’s going to be special! Must do big do.
My blog is a year old today. Seems like just yesterday that I started it – you know you’re getting old when a year seems to go in a blink of an eye. I hope I write a lot more this year than I did last year. I certainly plan to. I must.
Factoids of the Week:
The 40th year of marriage is known as the ruby anniversary.
Anniversary comes from the Latin anniversarius, from the words for “year” and “to turn” – meaning returning yearly.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Feeling Broody
Book of the Week: The Narrows by Michael Connelly
Lovely fun half-day at work, and the best part is that I’ll get two days off in lieu of it. Dashed off a quickie on Philip Riddle getting an OBE, though after sending it in discovered that I needn’t have gone to the trouble of trying to get a quote from VisitScotland because it won’t be used in tomorrow’s paper anyway. And then it was away to Forth Park in Kirkcaldy to speak to two mums from Dunfermline about their little girls who were born yesterday. The babies looked so cute and cuddly, my biological clock almost detonated like a time bomb. Don’t know if it’s just my hormones going crazy (tail end of the wrong time of the month) or because babies are adorable and generally have that effect on people, but I just went all mumsy-like. And then I got a call from Hoon, and, after I calmed down from freaking me out (because she hardly ever calls me over here), got talking about kids. This has so far been a very pro-kid day. I need a mental contraceptive.
On a less scary note, I’ve decided that I want to go to Egypt for my anticipated mid-life crisis birthday this year. Should tick all the boxes to help me get over turning 36: it was probably the first country (civilisation?) to register on my consciousness (I knew more about ancient Egypt at five than I did of Malaysia), it’s got all the stuff I’m interested in, it’s a country I’ve never been to, and part of a continent I’ve yet to set foot on. So yeah. Definitely Egypt. Achievement of a lifelong dream and a hell of a lot more of life lived. As I can’t see myself getting too much time off, a week in Cairo will have to suffice – I’d much rather try to do one place in depth rather than run around like a headless chicken trying to see everything (don’t get me wrong though, I do WANT to see EVERYTHING in Egypt).
This must be some kind of record for me – three posts in as many days. I must be on a roll. The new year period really does fill one with renewed zeal and resolve. Watch me degenerate from this point.
Factoids of the Week:
Egypt has a literacy rate of only 58%.
Only 4% of the country is arable farmland. But the annual flooding of the Nile deposits some 40 million tons of silt, replenishing the topsoil.
Antony and Cleopatra were ugly. Researchers from the University of Newcastle examined a 2000-year-old Roman coin with the images of the famous lovers and found that Cleopatra had a pointed chin, thin lips and sharp nose, whilst Antony had bulging eyes, a thick neck and a hook nose. The researchers say the ancient Roman writers back their claims: while Roman writers describe Cleopatra as intelligent and charismatic, with a seductive voice, tellingly, they do not mention her beauty.
The earliest known surgery was performed in Egypt around 2750 BC – although there are remains from the early Harappan periods which show evidence of teeth having been drilled dating back 9000 years.
Ramesses II (“the Great” – a.k.a. the Moses pharaoh) lived to the age of 90 – the oldest pharaoh in history.
Lovely fun half-day at work, and the best part is that I’ll get two days off in lieu of it. Dashed off a quickie on Philip Riddle getting an OBE, though after sending it in discovered that I needn’t have gone to the trouble of trying to get a quote from VisitScotland because it won’t be used in tomorrow’s paper anyway. And then it was away to Forth Park in Kirkcaldy to speak to two mums from Dunfermline about their little girls who were born yesterday. The babies looked so cute and cuddly, my biological clock almost detonated like a time bomb. Don’t know if it’s just my hormones going crazy (tail end of the wrong time of the month) or because babies are adorable and generally have that effect on people, but I just went all mumsy-like. And then I got a call from Hoon, and, after I calmed down from freaking me out (because she hardly ever calls me over here), got talking about kids. This has so far been a very pro-kid day. I need a mental contraceptive.
On a less scary note, I’ve decided that I want to go to Egypt for my anticipated mid-life crisis birthday this year. Should tick all the boxes to help me get over turning 36: it was probably the first country (civilisation?) to register on my consciousness (I knew more about ancient Egypt at five than I did of Malaysia), it’s got all the stuff I’m interested in, it’s a country I’ve never been to, and part of a continent I’ve yet to set foot on. So yeah. Definitely Egypt. Achievement of a lifelong dream and a hell of a lot more of life lived. As I can’t see myself getting too much time off, a week in Cairo will have to suffice – I’d much rather try to do one place in depth rather than run around like a headless chicken trying to see everything (don’t get me wrong though, I do WANT to see EVERYTHING in Egypt).
This must be some kind of record for me – three posts in as many days. I must be on a roll. The new year period really does fill one with renewed zeal and resolve. Watch me degenerate from this point.
Factoids of the Week:
Egypt has a literacy rate of only 58%.
Only 4% of the country is arable farmland. But the annual flooding of the Nile deposits some 40 million tons of silt, replenishing the topsoil.
Antony and Cleopatra were ugly. Researchers from the University of Newcastle examined a 2000-year-old Roman coin with the images of the famous lovers and found that Cleopatra had a pointed chin, thin lips and sharp nose, whilst Antony had bulging eyes, a thick neck and a hook nose. The researchers say the ancient Roman writers back their claims: while Roman writers describe Cleopatra as intelligent and charismatic, with a seductive voice, tellingly, they do not mention her beauty.
The earliest known surgery was performed in Egypt around 2750 BC – although there are remains from the early Harappan periods which show evidence of teeth having been drilled dating back 9000 years.
Ramesses II (“the Great” – a.k.a. the Moses pharaoh) lived to the age of 90 – the oldest pharaoh in history.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Not A Good Start...
Book of the Week: Just starting on The Narrows by Michael Connelly
The first 24 hours of 2008 haven’t exactly been very good. First there was a minor spat this morning – it was assumed I was in a bad mood when I really wasn’t – which, naturally, got me pissed off AND in a bad mood, not least because I didn’t want to start the New Year on such a crap note, and having a wee argument isn’t the first thing you want to do after waking up. (I can’t help it! I have a grumpy face! Either that or I think I need to lighten up.)
And then, on the way back from Clackmannan after dinner, I realised that not only am I going to be in a new marketing questionnaire age category this year – I’ll no longer be in the target 18-35 group but be one of the 36-45s. AUUUUGH! And not just that… I’m also getting scarily close to 40. Only four more years! It’s not like it’s just dawned on me that I’ll be 40 – I’ve been aware of it even since I turned 30 – but that it’s so close now just freaks me out. Doesn’t help that the last six years have just zipped past. I foresee a mid-life crisis every birthday for the next four years.
God. I’m depressed.
Factoids of the Week:
Only 53% of the population of China speaks Mandarin (or to be precise “can effectively communicate” in the language).
The average duvet is home to 20,000 dust mites. This is turning out to be a great New Year, isn’t it? I’m going to sleep really well tonight...
Books used to be bound in human skin. And the condition of being born without an ear is called microtia.
Dogs can have two noses. Still cute and cool, though they do look a bit like the love children of Miss Piggy and something out of science fiction.
The first 24 hours of 2008 haven’t exactly been very good. First there was a minor spat this morning – it was assumed I was in a bad mood when I really wasn’t – which, naturally, got me pissed off AND in a bad mood, not least because I didn’t want to start the New Year on such a crap note, and having a wee argument isn’t the first thing you want to do after waking up. (I can’t help it! I have a grumpy face! Either that or I think I need to lighten up.)
And then, on the way back from Clackmannan after dinner, I realised that not only am I going to be in a new marketing questionnaire age category this year – I’ll no longer be in the target 18-35 group but be one of the 36-45s. AUUUUGH! And not just that… I’m also getting scarily close to 40. Only four more years! It’s not like it’s just dawned on me that I’ll be 40 – I’ve been aware of it even since I turned 30 – but that it’s so close now just freaks me out. Doesn’t help that the last six years have just zipped past. I foresee a mid-life crisis every birthday for the next four years.
God. I’m depressed.
Factoids of the Week:
Only 53% of the population of China speaks Mandarin (or to be precise “can effectively communicate” in the language).
The average duvet is home to 20,000 dust mites. This is turning out to be a great New Year, isn’t it? I’m going to sleep really well tonight...
Books used to be bound in human skin. And the condition of being born without an ear is called microtia.
Dogs can have two noses. Still cute and cool, though they do look a bit like the love children of Miss Piggy and something out of science fiction.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Memories of 2007
Book of the Week: Just finished The Poet by Michael Connelly. Very enjoyable.
I’m sitting here in my flumpy clothes, relaxing at home after a day that just flew by at work (six stories on West Fife recipients of New Year’s honours – barely saw the hours go by). I’ve just had a couple of lovely, warming Mathieson’s pies and a pack of chicken-and-herb Super Noodles, which had a similar effect. Gareth and I are keeping an eye on World’s Strongest Man, enjoying each other’s company but simultaneously doing other things – I’m writing this and he’s trying to finish his Wasgij puzzle.
We’re basically unwinding, but I’m aware – in the sense that you’re aware of something important that needs to be done, like packing your clothes for a last-minute trip tomorrow – that it’s New Year’s Eve (sorry, Hogmanay, as this is Scotland). Another three hours and we’re into 2008. I’ll be 36 – third cycle of the Chinese zodiac – and it’s scary how the last six years have just zipped by. It feels like not too long ago that I was 30, only halfway to the third cycle, and next year (two and a half hours now) I’ll be there. It’s true – once you hit 30, your life just slips past without you noticing it. I mean, half my life ago I was in Lower Six.
But I think I’ll leave that for my actual 36th birthday. No point getting ahead of myself and having another mid-life crisis before it’s due (it’ll only be my… umm… sixth, I think). Right now, on the threshold of a new year, I think I should be in a more contemplative mood and reflect on the year past. It’s one that’s gone by in the blink of an eye – quite possibly the fastest in my mind. And here are my memories.
January
Uncle Leong’s death and funeral dealt the family an emotional blow.
Adopted Coconut.
One of the most depressing Chinese New Years of my life – the loss of an uncle compounded by being told some very devastatingly hurtful things by someone I love very much. It made me think that moving to Scotland was a good move after all.
On the bright side, found out that the first Lee baby would be born in June.
February
After months of hassle, finally got my Fresh Talent visa – on way to becoming bona fide UK resident!
March
Gareth stopped over in Malaysia on his round-the-world trip. Had a good two weeks meeting the dogs, my relatives and seeing Kuantan.
Went to Cambodia and had that familiar “a little more of life lived” feeling. Hadn’t had that for a long time. Angkor Wat blew our minds. It was very hot and dusty, but the Coconut Dream smoothies we had at our guesthouse more than slaked our thirsts.
April
Found home for Coconut. Had fears and reservations about Minni and family initially, but I now know that it was the right choice. They’ve really spoiled him. He even has a new friend, Rocky!
Went to New Zealand. I think I left it 10 years too late to truly have that “a little more of life lived” feeling – in 1997, it would have gone into overdrive. Too many pseudo-uber-cool culture-travel wannabes (you know, the “I’m a traveller, everyone else is a tourist” types) killed it for me I think. Must go back, this time without the dizzying whizzing around.
Tidied up all my belongings in one week. My whole life, over the last 15 years, reduced to 18 boxes. Made me wonder if I had actually accumulated anything of real value.
Arrived Scotland to officially begin new life.
May
Started new job. Two weeks later, had my first experience of the self-important, pompous windbags scattered throughout West Fife.
Madeleine McCann went missing. SNP voted into power in Scotland.
Had our first archery lesson together at Cluny Clays.
Turned 35. Officially middle-aged now. Worked on my birthday for the first time in seven years. Went to Room With A View at the Forthview Hotel and tried the mind-blowing monkfish wrapped in Parma ham.
June
Went to Kelvingrove on a cold, rainy afternoon. Fabulous. Learnt so much!
Stayed in a castle! Dream come true! Didn’t feel too castle-y – more Scottish country house with lofty ambitions – but fact remains: have stayed in a castle. Enduring memory is of Gareth not telling me how spooked he was after watching Dr Who, to the point of seeing nasty thingies in the window panes. But then again, he was the one who’d read that the castle was haunted, not me.
Stopped at Pitlochry and met Jane’s daughter Amy Bo for the first time.
Procession of Inverkeithing Highland Games went past our Parisian balcony. Scooby-Doo and the Incredible Hulk stuck out amidst the tartan.
Went for our first drive together up the East Neuk and had the best fish supper in Scotland in Anstruther. Loved Crail especially and really hope we can have a getaway – or picnic – there soon.
Bruce Festival in Pittencrieff Park. Loved the jousting!
Attended the Riding as part of the opening of the third session of Parliament. Came back and saw myself on STV news. Also got the news about Glasgow Airport and Toby being born.
July
Graduated. Can now officially add the extra five letters after my name.
Stirling – my first real Highland Games!
Hosted our first Couchsurfing guest. A smoker, no less! I must be more liberal and tolerant than I give myself credit for, I think.
August
Went down to Nailsworth to visit Dina, Tim and newborn Toby. Wonder if it was even worth it…? Cirencester was great though.
Stayed the weekend at Lorna’s at St Fillans. Absolutely spiffing Enid Blyton type house with fantastic Highland village atmosphere. Had great fun at the fete. Went walking.
Chris visited. Did Loch Leven and East Neuk. His driving sets my teeth on edge! Must learn to drive before his next visit.
Went to East End Park to see my first football match in the UK. Ever. And it was a UEFA match too – Dunfermline Athletic v BK Hacken. Crap teams, yes, but still... a UEFA match...
September
Went to Stockholm and Gothenburg. Object lesson in how Ikea is not Sweden, and vice-versa. Some places looked more Glaswegian than Swedish. Rough shite Glaswegian, that is, not Kelvingrove.
The upside to the trip was that we had our first experience as Couchsurfing guests, and it was just fantastic.
Started thinking seriously about making a round-the-world trip together without flying. That would be a trip!
October
Went to Pitlochry for the Autumn Festival. One of the most romantic weekends we’d been on. The perfect getaway. Lovely autumnal weather, amusing and engaging entertainment (the sound and light show at Faskally Wood, the ghost tour) and warm, snuggly accommodation.
Also went to see Jane again on the way down. Amy can now walk!
November
Had my best lazy weekend of the year. Morning cuddles, an amazing fried breakfast, a movie, then nothing but books – travel, at Borders.
After 10 years, I finally saw the funeral of Diana in full. I always knew I was a decade behind.
Gua Ma died peacefully in her sleep. Rest in peace. We shall all miss you.
December
Christmas. We did our first “12 Days of Christmas” together – I’d done it for Mum and Dad in the past – and it was really something special. We look forward to coming home every day, but those two weeks really gave us something to look forward to. Sometimes, just to think of it at work was enough to keep me going. I got 12 lovely gifts, none of which was a book neither.
Played Mr & Mrs and discovered that we actually know each other better than we give ourselves credit for. Was a surprise how much we think alike and understand each other.
Benazir Bhutto was assassinated. Still remember 1988, when she was elected leader. How my political views have changed since then.
Worked my first Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve for the first time in seven years. Times like these, I really miss working in Malaysia, with all its public holidays and laid-back time off.
And now I’m celebrating my first Hogmanay as a working girl in Scotland. Not worked for the last two years!
Looking back on our big to-do list, I don’t think we managed to complete a whole lot. I didn’t read enough, for starters. I didn’t travel enough. But putting down what it is I want to do has certainly directed how I spend my time, and has made me do more of what makes me happy. And thanks to that list, I have a lot to look back on this year. I’m sure I’ve missed out a few memories, but those are the ones that stick out in my mind and which will bring many smiles to my heart in the years to come.
Here’s to making many, many more memories in 2008. Happy new year. May we continue to be blessed with love, health, happiness and each other.
Factoids of the Week:
The word Blighty comes from “biyalti”, the Urdu for homeland. From Urdu also came “kushi”, which in time became cushy – comfortable or pleasant.
The trench coat – today a fashion staple – was devised by clothing manufacturers to keep officers warm and dry, and the belt rings were a feature originally used to carry hand grenades.
There are 17 surviving versions of the Magna Carta – which is really several documents rather than just the one definitive charter. And the plural of Magna Carta is Magnae Cartae.
The whale is descended from a raccoon-like creature called the Indonyus.
The Australian town of Eucla has its own time zone – 45 minutes ahead of Western Australia and 45 minutes behind South Australia. Isn’t the maths involved fabulous?!
The Tabula Peutingeriana, a parchment scroll dating from the 12th or 13th century, is the only surviving copy of a road map from the late Roman Empire. It’s housed in the Austrian National Library. I wanna see that. Something to add to the Big To-Do List, methinks...
I’m sitting here in my flumpy clothes, relaxing at home after a day that just flew by at work (six stories on West Fife recipients of New Year’s honours – barely saw the hours go by). I’ve just had a couple of lovely, warming Mathieson’s pies and a pack of chicken-and-herb Super Noodles, which had a similar effect. Gareth and I are keeping an eye on World’s Strongest Man, enjoying each other’s company but simultaneously doing other things – I’m writing this and he’s trying to finish his Wasgij puzzle.
We’re basically unwinding, but I’m aware – in the sense that you’re aware of something important that needs to be done, like packing your clothes for a last-minute trip tomorrow – that it’s New Year’s Eve (sorry, Hogmanay, as this is Scotland). Another three hours and we’re into 2008. I’ll be 36 – third cycle of the Chinese zodiac – and it’s scary how the last six years have just zipped by. It feels like not too long ago that I was 30, only halfway to the third cycle, and next year (two and a half hours now) I’ll be there. It’s true – once you hit 30, your life just slips past without you noticing it. I mean, half my life ago I was in Lower Six.
But I think I’ll leave that for my actual 36th birthday. No point getting ahead of myself and having another mid-life crisis before it’s due (it’ll only be my… umm… sixth, I think). Right now, on the threshold of a new year, I think I should be in a more contemplative mood and reflect on the year past. It’s one that’s gone by in the blink of an eye – quite possibly the fastest in my mind. And here are my memories.
January
Uncle Leong’s death and funeral dealt the family an emotional blow.
Adopted Coconut.
One of the most depressing Chinese New Years of my life – the loss of an uncle compounded by being told some very devastatingly hurtful things by someone I love very much. It made me think that moving to Scotland was a good move after all.
On the bright side, found out that the first Lee baby would be born in June.
February
After months of hassle, finally got my Fresh Talent visa – on way to becoming bona fide UK resident!
March
Gareth stopped over in Malaysia on his round-the-world trip. Had a good two weeks meeting the dogs, my relatives and seeing Kuantan.
Went to Cambodia and had that familiar “a little more of life lived” feeling. Hadn’t had that for a long time. Angkor Wat blew our minds. It was very hot and dusty, but the Coconut Dream smoothies we had at our guesthouse more than slaked our thirsts.
April
Found home for Coconut. Had fears and reservations about Minni and family initially, but I now know that it was the right choice. They’ve really spoiled him. He even has a new friend, Rocky!
Went to New Zealand. I think I left it 10 years too late to truly have that “a little more of life lived” feeling – in 1997, it would have gone into overdrive. Too many pseudo-uber-cool culture-travel wannabes (you know, the “I’m a traveller, everyone else is a tourist” types) killed it for me I think. Must go back, this time without the dizzying whizzing around.
Tidied up all my belongings in one week. My whole life, over the last 15 years, reduced to 18 boxes. Made me wonder if I had actually accumulated anything of real value.
Arrived Scotland to officially begin new life.
May
Started new job. Two weeks later, had my first experience of the self-important, pompous windbags scattered throughout West Fife.
Madeleine McCann went missing. SNP voted into power in Scotland.
Had our first archery lesson together at Cluny Clays.
Turned 35. Officially middle-aged now. Worked on my birthday for the first time in seven years. Went to Room With A View at the Forthview Hotel and tried the mind-blowing monkfish wrapped in Parma ham.
June
Went to Kelvingrove on a cold, rainy afternoon. Fabulous. Learnt so much!
Stayed in a castle! Dream come true! Didn’t feel too castle-y – more Scottish country house with lofty ambitions – but fact remains: have stayed in a castle. Enduring memory is of Gareth not telling me how spooked he was after watching Dr Who, to the point of seeing nasty thingies in the window panes. But then again, he was the one who’d read that the castle was haunted, not me.
Stopped at Pitlochry and met Jane’s daughter Amy Bo for the first time.
Procession of Inverkeithing Highland Games went past our Parisian balcony. Scooby-Doo and the Incredible Hulk stuck out amidst the tartan.
Went for our first drive together up the East Neuk and had the best fish supper in Scotland in Anstruther. Loved Crail especially and really hope we can have a getaway – or picnic – there soon.
Bruce Festival in Pittencrieff Park. Loved the jousting!
Attended the Riding as part of the opening of the third session of Parliament. Came back and saw myself on STV news. Also got the news about Glasgow Airport and Toby being born.
July
Graduated. Can now officially add the extra five letters after my name.
Stirling – my first real Highland Games!
Hosted our first Couchsurfing guest. A smoker, no less! I must be more liberal and tolerant than I give myself credit for, I think.
August
Went down to Nailsworth to visit Dina, Tim and newborn Toby. Wonder if it was even worth it…? Cirencester was great though.
Stayed the weekend at Lorna’s at St Fillans. Absolutely spiffing Enid Blyton type house with fantastic Highland village atmosphere. Had great fun at the fete. Went walking.
Chris visited. Did Loch Leven and East Neuk. His driving sets my teeth on edge! Must learn to drive before his next visit.
Went to East End Park to see my first football match in the UK. Ever. And it was a UEFA match too – Dunfermline Athletic v BK Hacken. Crap teams, yes, but still... a UEFA match...
September
Went to Stockholm and Gothenburg. Object lesson in how Ikea is not Sweden, and vice-versa. Some places looked more Glaswegian than Swedish. Rough shite Glaswegian, that is, not Kelvingrove.
The upside to the trip was that we had our first experience as Couchsurfing guests, and it was just fantastic.
Started thinking seriously about making a round-the-world trip together without flying. That would be a trip!
October
Went to Pitlochry for the Autumn Festival. One of the most romantic weekends we’d been on. The perfect getaway. Lovely autumnal weather, amusing and engaging entertainment (the sound and light show at Faskally Wood, the ghost tour) and warm, snuggly accommodation.
Also went to see Jane again on the way down. Amy can now walk!
November
Had my best lazy weekend of the year. Morning cuddles, an amazing fried breakfast, a movie, then nothing but books – travel, at Borders.
After 10 years, I finally saw the funeral of Diana in full. I always knew I was a decade behind.
Gua Ma died peacefully in her sleep. Rest in peace. We shall all miss you.
December
Christmas. We did our first “12 Days of Christmas” together – I’d done it for Mum and Dad in the past – and it was really something special. We look forward to coming home every day, but those two weeks really gave us something to look forward to. Sometimes, just to think of it at work was enough to keep me going. I got 12 lovely gifts, none of which was a book neither.
Played Mr & Mrs and discovered that we actually know each other better than we give ourselves credit for. Was a surprise how much we think alike and understand each other.
Benazir Bhutto was assassinated. Still remember 1988, when she was elected leader. How my political views have changed since then.
Worked my first Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve for the first time in seven years. Times like these, I really miss working in Malaysia, with all its public holidays and laid-back time off.
And now I’m celebrating my first Hogmanay as a working girl in Scotland. Not worked for the last two years!
Looking back on our big to-do list, I don’t think we managed to complete a whole lot. I didn’t read enough, for starters. I didn’t travel enough. But putting down what it is I want to do has certainly directed how I spend my time, and has made me do more of what makes me happy. And thanks to that list, I have a lot to look back on this year. I’m sure I’ve missed out a few memories, but those are the ones that stick out in my mind and which will bring many smiles to my heart in the years to come.
Here’s to making many, many more memories in 2008. Happy new year. May we continue to be blessed with love, health, happiness and each other.
Factoids of the Week:
The word Blighty comes from “biyalti”, the Urdu for homeland. From Urdu also came “kushi”, which in time became cushy – comfortable or pleasant.
The trench coat – today a fashion staple – was devised by clothing manufacturers to keep officers warm and dry, and the belt rings were a feature originally used to carry hand grenades.
There are 17 surviving versions of the Magna Carta – which is really several documents rather than just the one definitive charter. And the plural of Magna Carta is Magnae Cartae.
The whale is descended from a raccoon-like creature called the Indonyus.
The Australian town of Eucla has its own time zone – 45 minutes ahead of Western Australia and 45 minutes behind South Australia. Isn’t the maths involved fabulous?!
The Tabula Peutingeriana, a parchment scroll dating from the 12th or 13th century, is the only surviving copy of a road map from the late Roman Empire. It’s housed in the Austrian National Library. I wanna see that. Something to add to the Big To-Do List, methinks...
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Goodbye, Gua Ma
It’s taken me a while to get around to this, but I didn’t really know where to start. But I knew I had to, because it’s something I want to remember – I don’t want to look back on it through a clouded glass in maybe 10 or 15 years to come. It’s a significant coincidence for me, though, that I’m finally getting round to it exactly seven weeks since it’s happened – New Year’s Eve will mark the end of the 49-day mourning period for Gua Ma.
It was about 7.30pm on November 11 that Dad called. We’d just had dinner and I was settling down for the evening, and I started off the conversation by joking if this was one of his “toilet break” calls, since it was about 3.30am back home. When he said he had some bad news, I thought perhaps a family friend had died – and my heart gave a little start just in case it was Dusty or Lucky.
But no. It was Gua Ma. I certainly didn’t expect it. I had always thought of her as a woman death would have to fight hard to take. She was always so strong, so formidable, so indomitable in both body and spirit. So to hear that she had died came as such a shock, I didn’t know how to react. And then it hit home and the dam burst.
I wept for many things.
For her, because she had lived the last two years of her life in a care home, away from the one that was familiar to her. Her mind was going – the early stages of Alzheimer’s or dementia – and couldn’t take care of herself. But she didn’t understand why she was in care and was always asking to go home. I cried because I wondered if in her reduced state, she had died feeling unloved and uncared for. She had had such a hard life, and it just felt so sad and tragic that in her last days, she had to relive it all over again – as she regressed, she would constantly worry about money.
For Mum, because I knew she would take it hard – she had taken on herself so much of the responsibility of caring for Gua Ma over the last 10 years. Because I knew how difficult it had been for her to make the decision to put her own mother into care. It was like our very own personal version of King Lear. Gua Ma never understood – she always saw it as a betrayal of filial piety, when it was exactly the opposite. Despite all the awful things Gua Ma said to her, Mum never stopped caring for her. It must be double heartbreak to know your parent is deteriorating and is not fully aware of what she is saying, and have to suffer the pain of those very cutting words.
For me, because I had just lost my grandmother, my last link with my past. I’ve only known two grandparents my whole life, and it is so strange, even now, to think that this was someone who had seen me grow up. I certainly didn’t know how long my grandmothers would live, but feel very blessed that there was one for me throughout my adult life. I felt like I had lost a piece of my history. I also wept because it was the second death in the family within a year, and I felt I was losing my loved ones faster than I was ever prepared to let them go.
I was not as close to Gua Ma as I was with Ah Mah, and it was for that that I grieved above all. As a child, I was always reluctant to go visit her, because I thought her bossy, loud and domineering. But as I began to see her with adult eyes, I found her wise, with a sly – and often crude, in the way that only Hakka women can be – sense of humour. She looked out for her family first and foremost, and when I thought of what she went through to bring them up – walking all the way from Kuala Lumpur, losing two husbands, giving up two children and losing another two – I couldn’t help but feel pride and amazement. For 10 years, I’d thought of dragging Josh back home with me on weekends, so we could both talk to Gua Ma and find out more about her, about how she came to Kuantan, about what life was like for the family. It never happened, and it’s never going to happen now. She had a remarkable life, and I just feel so sad that she never really told us about it and that she wasn’t really given the chance to do so. I just hope she knew she was loved.
I used to get really annoyed with Gua Ma at times, but I’m glad she lived as long as she did so I could get to know what she was really like. Even as we celebrated Christmas this year, I thought back to the last one – how fast a year goes by – when she was at our house and clearly enjoying being out of the care home. She was never afraid of speaking her mind, whether asked for her opinion or not – and last year she berated a few of our neighbours for just coming over for the Christmas food and not even bothering to speak to their hosts. She was inadvertently funny and if she found something funny, she’d let out a very hearty, loud guffaw. She had the crudest, most amazing vocabulary when it came to swearing or telling someone else, an attribute that never ceased to amuse and appal us in equal measure. She was incredibly independent – many people in town have an enduring memory of her cycling around well into her 70s (no mean feat given the roads in Malaysia), and after she had her kneecap replaced, she would take the bus in to visit friends. She wasn’t one for sitting around in one place.
I have too many memories of Gua Ma to list, and I think it says a lot that most of them make me laugh. I last saw her alive on April 28, a few days before I left to come here. When I saw her again last month, in the coffin, it just felt surreal. She didn’t look anything like I remembered her. To be sure, in the one year I had been here, she had lost a lot of weight and had had her hair cut short, but she still looked so different. Knowing what we did of her, I almost expected her to sit up and grumble, in the same manner she usually did over restaurant-cooked food, “You paid how much for this coffin? It’s too small! I could make a better one!”
I had done all my weeping on Gareth’s shoulders and on the flight back, and when I looked at Gua Ma, I just felt overwhelming sadness and loss, because of what she would never be able to tell us now, and of what I would never know or tell her. It was a feeling compounded at the funeral. When Ah Mah died in 1993, it was difficult seeing the coffin being put into the grave. But it was even more difficult seeing Gua Ma’s coffin being wheeled into the incinerator at the crematorium. It was a horrible place to be, so bereft of emotion, built to drive home the pain and anguish of your bereavement, it just felt so wrong that a woman who had been so full of life would have her final goodbye there.
As we drove away, the wisps of black smoke floating out the chimney, I thought, that’s my Gua Ma, and said a quiet goodbye. I did the same when we took a boat ride out into the sea to release her ashes the next day. I now understand the poignancy of the act – I found it hard to believe that all that remained of Gua Ma, who was so much larger than life in life, was in two bundles in a basket.
Chinese New Year will feel that little bit emptier when I go home in February. I don’t doubt that it is because I’m over here, away from home, that I can maintain some kind of emotional distance. If I were back home, I would feel the loss more keenly. Yet I do think about how strange it would feels that, if I am ever home again around Cheng Beng, I won’t have a grave to visit and hence, nowhere I can place a sense of Gua Ma. But perhaps that is how it should be. She never could sit still in life – always on the move. I like to think that now, she can be everywhere.
It was about 7.30pm on November 11 that Dad called. We’d just had dinner and I was settling down for the evening, and I started off the conversation by joking if this was one of his “toilet break” calls, since it was about 3.30am back home. When he said he had some bad news, I thought perhaps a family friend had died – and my heart gave a little start just in case it was Dusty or Lucky.
But no. It was Gua Ma. I certainly didn’t expect it. I had always thought of her as a woman death would have to fight hard to take. She was always so strong, so formidable, so indomitable in both body and spirit. So to hear that she had died came as such a shock, I didn’t know how to react. And then it hit home and the dam burst.
I wept for many things.
For her, because she had lived the last two years of her life in a care home, away from the one that was familiar to her. Her mind was going – the early stages of Alzheimer’s or dementia – and couldn’t take care of herself. But she didn’t understand why she was in care and was always asking to go home. I cried because I wondered if in her reduced state, she had died feeling unloved and uncared for. She had had such a hard life, and it just felt so sad and tragic that in her last days, she had to relive it all over again – as she regressed, she would constantly worry about money.
For Mum, because I knew she would take it hard – she had taken on herself so much of the responsibility of caring for Gua Ma over the last 10 years. Because I knew how difficult it had been for her to make the decision to put her own mother into care. It was like our very own personal version of King Lear. Gua Ma never understood – she always saw it as a betrayal of filial piety, when it was exactly the opposite. Despite all the awful things Gua Ma said to her, Mum never stopped caring for her. It must be double heartbreak to know your parent is deteriorating and is not fully aware of what she is saying, and have to suffer the pain of those very cutting words.
For me, because I had just lost my grandmother, my last link with my past. I’ve only known two grandparents my whole life, and it is so strange, even now, to think that this was someone who had seen me grow up. I certainly didn’t know how long my grandmothers would live, but feel very blessed that there was one for me throughout my adult life. I felt like I had lost a piece of my history. I also wept because it was the second death in the family within a year, and I felt I was losing my loved ones faster than I was ever prepared to let them go.
I was not as close to Gua Ma as I was with Ah Mah, and it was for that that I grieved above all. As a child, I was always reluctant to go visit her, because I thought her bossy, loud and domineering. But as I began to see her with adult eyes, I found her wise, with a sly – and often crude, in the way that only Hakka women can be – sense of humour. She looked out for her family first and foremost, and when I thought of what she went through to bring them up – walking all the way from Kuala Lumpur, losing two husbands, giving up two children and losing another two – I couldn’t help but feel pride and amazement. For 10 years, I’d thought of dragging Josh back home with me on weekends, so we could both talk to Gua Ma and find out more about her, about how she came to Kuantan, about what life was like for the family. It never happened, and it’s never going to happen now. She had a remarkable life, and I just feel so sad that she never really told us about it and that she wasn’t really given the chance to do so. I just hope she knew she was loved.
I used to get really annoyed with Gua Ma at times, but I’m glad she lived as long as she did so I could get to know what she was really like. Even as we celebrated Christmas this year, I thought back to the last one – how fast a year goes by – when she was at our house and clearly enjoying being out of the care home. She was never afraid of speaking her mind, whether asked for her opinion or not – and last year she berated a few of our neighbours for just coming over for the Christmas food and not even bothering to speak to their hosts. She was inadvertently funny and if she found something funny, she’d let out a very hearty, loud guffaw. She had the crudest, most amazing vocabulary when it came to swearing or telling someone else, an attribute that never ceased to amuse and appal us in equal measure. She was incredibly independent – many people in town have an enduring memory of her cycling around well into her 70s (no mean feat given the roads in Malaysia), and after she had her kneecap replaced, she would take the bus in to visit friends. She wasn’t one for sitting around in one place.
I have too many memories of Gua Ma to list, and I think it says a lot that most of them make me laugh. I last saw her alive on April 28, a few days before I left to come here. When I saw her again last month, in the coffin, it just felt surreal. She didn’t look anything like I remembered her. To be sure, in the one year I had been here, she had lost a lot of weight and had had her hair cut short, but she still looked so different. Knowing what we did of her, I almost expected her to sit up and grumble, in the same manner she usually did over restaurant-cooked food, “You paid how much for this coffin? It’s too small! I could make a better one!”
I had done all my weeping on Gareth’s shoulders and on the flight back, and when I looked at Gua Ma, I just felt overwhelming sadness and loss, because of what she would never be able to tell us now, and of what I would never know or tell her. It was a feeling compounded at the funeral. When Ah Mah died in 1993, it was difficult seeing the coffin being put into the grave. But it was even more difficult seeing Gua Ma’s coffin being wheeled into the incinerator at the crematorium. It was a horrible place to be, so bereft of emotion, built to drive home the pain and anguish of your bereavement, it just felt so wrong that a woman who had been so full of life would have her final goodbye there.
As we drove away, the wisps of black smoke floating out the chimney, I thought, that’s my Gua Ma, and said a quiet goodbye. I did the same when we took a boat ride out into the sea to release her ashes the next day. I now understand the poignancy of the act – I found it hard to believe that all that remained of Gua Ma, who was so much larger than life in life, was in two bundles in a basket.
Chinese New Year will feel that little bit emptier when I go home in February. I don’t doubt that it is because I’m over here, away from home, that I can maintain some kind of emotional distance. If I were back home, I would feel the loss more keenly. Yet I do think about how strange it would feels that, if I am ever home again around Cheng Beng, I won’t have a grave to visit and hence, nowhere I can place a sense of Gua Ma. But perhaps that is how it should be. She never could sit still in life – always on the move. I like to think that now, she can be everywhere.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Perfect Day
Book of the Week: The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins
Watching the Remembrance Day service just now. Very moving – can feel myself tearing up. I’m not even a citizen of this country, but I can feel that deep emotion and pride in remembering the thousands who made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. I like how instead of a sense of Wilfred Owen’s Dulce et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori, people just come to remember and honour their fallen comrades. It’s a national-scale event, but you can see for many, it’s a very personal affair. But this post isn’t about Remembrance Day, it’s about a day I want to remember.
We had the most perfect Saturday yesterday. The weekend really started after a magnificent Indian dinner on Friday night, after which we were supposed to have gone for Tom Stade at the Carnegie Hall, but didn’t, due to my bad sense of timing and food taking a while to arrive. (I wanted to watch the 6pm news on the Commonwealth Games going to Glasgow – yay!) We came home and after some wonderful together time (been a while), had an early night.
An early morning, a leisurely washing of laundry, then it was off to the Dunfermline’s farmers market at the Glen Gates where we had an early but most gorgeous lunch of Arbroath smokies. Absolutely delectable. Literally fresh out of the pit, with juices trickling down the paper as we walked into Pittencrieff Park to look for a seat. It’s been almost a year since we’ve had smokies and these were the very best – Iain R. Spink’s award-winning fillets. Fabulous. My salivary glands are going into overdrive just writing about them just now.
Then we went into Edinburgh to watch 30 Days of Night – not as good as the graphic novel, but still entertaining. Could have been tighter and more suspenseful. There wasn’t enough tension as I’d hoped – I do like a good scare, to the point where I can’t even watch it any more. The last two movies to have that effect on me were The Ring and Blair Witch – I actually switched off the latter about 10 minutes from the end, I was so freaked out. The vampires weren’t as pale or otherworldly or threatening either; they just looked like they had some sort of congenital defect. Gareth made a silly joke though, when Barrow was in flames: “It’s Barrow-in-Furness!”
Post-movie, had a round of rock-paper-scissors to decide whether to watch Ratatouille or go to Borders and do a bit of research for our planned big fat round-the-world trip. (Probably the next biggest step of my life after the decision to move here.) Borders won, and a very good call it was, too – we spend a fantastic two hours at Fort Kinnaird looking at atlases and travel books, and, in my case, cookbooks (I’m getting so domesticated!) and lovely, luscious history books. Found a to-die-for Eyewitness Travellers’ Atlas chocked full of dream routes and columns of sights down the side of each map featured. £70 in bookshops, £45 on Amazon, so you know where we’ll be getting it. I’d forgotten how much fun it was to browse through the travel section. Gotta save up for a very cool AA Truckers GB Road Atlas – 1½ miles to an inch!
The only downside was getting stuck on the bypass for nearly 45 minutes on the way home – went all the way to Tranent and back. When we got home, we went round to Happy Palace for a delicious takeaway – chicken and mushrooms for Gareth, Singapore fried rice (extra spicy, no char siu) for me. Saw a bit of X Factor in-house as well, and the proprietors must have heard us bitching about the lack of prawn crackers because there was a huge-ass bag of them with our order.
Came home and watched the rest of X Factor, and continued with our Still Game odyssey after our showers. I’m really enjoying Still Game. It’s very funny, very earthy and very Scottish. There have been a number of quality phrases scattered throughout the episodes – “spooky bitch” and “foosty pish”, to name but two. Like with 24 and Lost (of which we’ve watched five and two series respectively), I’ll be very sorry when we come to the last episode. Then it was aff to bed.
Am about a third through The God Delusion just now. Not really sure what to make of it – Richard Dawkins does make a very persuasive case. I don’t know if I’ll come to any sort of epiphany after reading it, though (just realised that it’s ironic how I’ve just used a word with religious connotations to describe what could possibly be a shift towards a non-religious state of mind). Could say that I’m too far brainwashed, or indoctrinated, or whatever. I don’t see why science and religion are incompatible, I do believe that God exists but at the same time I can see how evolution is a more logical process than intelligent design. Perhaps I don’t have the intellectual capacity to figure it all out, or lack conviction one way or the other. Perhaps I’m more agnostic than I think I am, I dunno.
Factoids of the Week:
The word “pepper” comes from “pippali”, the Hindi word for black peppercorns.
The oldest surviving Indian restaurant in the UK is Veeraswamy in Regent Street, London. Established in 1926, it also claims to be the oldest Indian restaurant in the world… but I’m not sure of that, coming from Malaysia…
Still more reasons dogs are better than cats (like we didn’t already know that!): dogs can have blood of any type if it’s just one transfusion, but cats need to be type-matched. And sniffer dogs can smell out a termite.
Having sex daily can improve a man’s sperm quality and increase their partner’s chances of getting pregnant. Hmmm…
At the other end of the spectrum, a bdelloid rotifer is a pond-dwelling organism that has survived 80 million years without having sex.
Watching the Remembrance Day service just now. Very moving – can feel myself tearing up. I’m not even a citizen of this country, but I can feel that deep emotion and pride in remembering the thousands who made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. I like how instead of a sense of Wilfred Owen’s Dulce et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori, people just come to remember and honour their fallen comrades. It’s a national-scale event, but you can see for many, it’s a very personal affair. But this post isn’t about Remembrance Day, it’s about a day I want to remember.
We had the most perfect Saturday yesterday. The weekend really started after a magnificent Indian dinner on Friday night, after which we were supposed to have gone for Tom Stade at the Carnegie Hall, but didn’t, due to my bad sense of timing and food taking a while to arrive. (I wanted to watch the 6pm news on the Commonwealth Games going to Glasgow – yay!) We came home and after some wonderful together time (been a while), had an early night.
An early morning, a leisurely washing of laundry, then it was off to the Dunfermline’s farmers market at the Glen Gates where we had an early but most gorgeous lunch of Arbroath smokies. Absolutely delectable. Literally fresh out of the pit, with juices trickling down the paper as we walked into Pittencrieff Park to look for a seat. It’s been almost a year since we’ve had smokies and these were the very best – Iain R. Spink’s award-winning fillets. Fabulous. My salivary glands are going into overdrive just writing about them just now.
Then we went into Edinburgh to watch 30 Days of Night – not as good as the graphic novel, but still entertaining. Could have been tighter and more suspenseful. There wasn’t enough tension as I’d hoped – I do like a good scare, to the point where I can’t even watch it any more. The last two movies to have that effect on me were The Ring and Blair Witch – I actually switched off the latter about 10 minutes from the end, I was so freaked out. The vampires weren’t as pale or otherworldly or threatening either; they just looked like they had some sort of congenital defect. Gareth made a silly joke though, when Barrow was in flames: “It’s Barrow-in-Furness!”
Post-movie, had a round of rock-paper-scissors to decide whether to watch Ratatouille or go to Borders and do a bit of research for our planned big fat round-the-world trip. (Probably the next biggest step of my life after the decision to move here.) Borders won, and a very good call it was, too – we spend a fantastic two hours at Fort Kinnaird looking at atlases and travel books, and, in my case, cookbooks (I’m getting so domesticated!) and lovely, luscious history books. Found a to-die-for Eyewitness Travellers’ Atlas chocked full of dream routes and columns of sights down the side of each map featured. £70 in bookshops, £45 on Amazon, so you know where we’ll be getting it. I’d forgotten how much fun it was to browse through the travel section. Gotta save up for a very cool AA Truckers GB Road Atlas – 1½ miles to an inch!
The only downside was getting stuck on the bypass for nearly 45 minutes on the way home – went all the way to Tranent and back. When we got home, we went round to Happy Palace for a delicious takeaway – chicken and mushrooms for Gareth, Singapore fried rice (extra spicy, no char siu) for me. Saw a bit of X Factor in-house as well, and the proprietors must have heard us bitching about the lack of prawn crackers because there was a huge-ass bag of them with our order.
Came home and watched the rest of X Factor, and continued with our Still Game odyssey after our showers. I’m really enjoying Still Game. It’s very funny, very earthy and very Scottish. There have been a number of quality phrases scattered throughout the episodes – “spooky bitch” and “foosty pish”, to name but two. Like with 24 and Lost (of which we’ve watched five and two series respectively), I’ll be very sorry when we come to the last episode. Then it was aff to bed.
Am about a third through The God Delusion just now. Not really sure what to make of it – Richard Dawkins does make a very persuasive case. I don’t know if I’ll come to any sort of epiphany after reading it, though (just realised that it’s ironic how I’ve just used a word with religious connotations to describe what could possibly be a shift towards a non-religious state of mind). Could say that I’m too far brainwashed, or indoctrinated, or whatever. I don’t see why science and religion are incompatible, I do believe that God exists but at the same time I can see how evolution is a more logical process than intelligent design. Perhaps I don’t have the intellectual capacity to figure it all out, or lack conviction one way or the other. Perhaps I’m more agnostic than I think I am, I dunno.
Factoids of the Week:
The word “pepper” comes from “pippali”, the Hindi word for black peppercorns.
The oldest surviving Indian restaurant in the UK is Veeraswamy in Regent Street, London. Established in 1926, it also claims to be the oldest Indian restaurant in the world… but I’m not sure of that, coming from Malaysia…
Still more reasons dogs are better than cats (like we didn’t already know that!): dogs can have blood of any type if it’s just one transfusion, but cats need to be type-matched. And sniffer dogs can smell out a termite.
Having sex daily can improve a man’s sperm quality and increase their partner’s chances of getting pregnant. Hmmm…
At the other end of the spectrum, a bdelloid rotifer is a pond-dwelling organism that has survived 80 million years without having sex.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Go In Peace
Book of the Week: Buried by Mark Billingham
I was on the line this morning when the call came, so Ewan took it. When he passed me the note saying Helen had called, I thought it could be one of any three things:
a) Iain was going home.
b) Iain had got a Marie Curie Cancer Care nurse.
c) Iain had died.
It was c). Around 9.30pm last night, in hospital, instead of at home like he had wanted. It was just so sad, and I felt quite down the rest of the morning because he had died under circumstances quite similar to Uncle Leong’s, in that they were both terminal, given six months to live, and passed away so much quicker than expected. He was the first person I interviewed in hospital.
Probably because I was reminded how I didn’t go back the weekend before Uncle Leong died, I returned to visit him, with Gareth – and a couple of classic motorcycle magazines – in tow on Monday. It was quite surreal, how badly he’d deteriorated since I saw him on Tuesday. In hindsight, he was already on his deathbed, and it’s quite weird really how one of the first things I said to Gareth yesterday morning was death-related, when I told him that it was 17 years since Mungus died. Even weirder when you consider the title of the book I just finished reading over breakfast this morning.
I only met him twice, but Iain’s death has weighed on my mind all day. I guess I’m having the usual maudlin thoughts about how frail and fragile life is, how quickly it goes by, and how you lose the ones you love sooner than you expect – especially if you take them for granted. I’m also thinking of Helen, about how, in the space of perhaps three hours, she went from wife to widow. (They decided to get married just before Iain died.) I think that encapsulates how quickly things change, and I hope I learn from that how to cherish the people I truly treasure even more, and appreciate and remember the joy they bring, no matter how fleeting.
Factoids of the Week:
Bowel cancer is the second most common cause of cancer death in the UK, affecting both sexes equally.
It’s the third most common cancer affecting both sexes in the UK.
Every year, over 35,000 people in the UK are diagnosed with bowel cancer – or one every 15 minutes.
Every year nearly 16,000 people in the UK die from it – one every 30 minutes.
I was on the line this morning when the call came, so Ewan took it. When he passed me the note saying Helen had called, I thought it could be one of any three things:
a) Iain was going home.
b) Iain had got a Marie Curie Cancer Care nurse.
c) Iain had died.
It was c). Around 9.30pm last night, in hospital, instead of at home like he had wanted. It was just so sad, and I felt quite down the rest of the morning because he had died under circumstances quite similar to Uncle Leong’s, in that they were both terminal, given six months to live, and passed away so much quicker than expected. He was the first person I interviewed in hospital.
Probably because I was reminded how I didn’t go back the weekend before Uncle Leong died, I returned to visit him, with Gareth – and a couple of classic motorcycle magazines – in tow on Monday. It was quite surreal, how badly he’d deteriorated since I saw him on Tuesday. In hindsight, he was already on his deathbed, and it’s quite weird really how one of the first things I said to Gareth yesterday morning was death-related, when I told him that it was 17 years since Mungus died. Even weirder when you consider the title of the book I just finished reading over breakfast this morning.
I only met him twice, but Iain’s death has weighed on my mind all day. I guess I’m having the usual maudlin thoughts about how frail and fragile life is, how quickly it goes by, and how you lose the ones you love sooner than you expect – especially if you take them for granted. I’m also thinking of Helen, about how, in the space of perhaps three hours, she went from wife to widow. (They decided to get married just before Iain died.) I think that encapsulates how quickly things change, and I hope I learn from that how to cherish the people I truly treasure even more, and appreciate and remember the joy they bring, no matter how fleeting.
Factoids of the Week:
Bowel cancer is the second most common cause of cancer death in the UK, affecting both sexes equally.
It’s the third most common cancer affecting both sexes in the UK.
Every year, over 35,000 people in the UK are diagnosed with bowel cancer – or one every 15 minutes.
Every year nearly 16,000 people in the UK die from it – one every 30 minutes.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
The Ides of September
Book of the Week: Dammit already…
Today marks a celebration and a milestone.
Happy 30th birthday! (You know who you are.) I wish for you the fulfilment of all your wildest, dearest, most compelling dreams; friendships that bind hearts and minds; an abundance of love and joy all your life; and a dog to make your life complete.
It was also exactly two years ago that I arrived in Glasgow to read for a master’s degree. And today, I live and work here! (Scotland, I mean, not Glasgow.) It took a leap of faith, and I have been very blessed.
Factoids of the Day:
The building of Hadrian’s Wall began on September 13 122AD.
Michaelangelo began work on ‘David’ on September 13 1503.
Francis Scott Key wrote The Star-Spangled Banner on September 13 1814.
Hannibal Goodwin patented celluloid photographic film on September 13 1898.
On September 13 1899, Henry Bliss had the dubious honour of being the first person in the United States to be killed in an automobile accident.
The temperature (in the shade) at Al-Aziziyah, Libya reached a world record 57.7°C (135.9°F), on September 13 1922.
Chiang Kai-shek was elected president of the Republic of China on September 13 1943.
Super Mario, the best-selling video game of all time, was released on September 13 1985.
Famous people born on September 13 include Milton S. Hershey – founder of the empire of the taste of evil (1857), J. B. Priestley (1894), Claudette Colbert (1903), Roald Dahl (1913), Maurice Jarre (1924), Richard Kiel (1939), Peter Cetera (1944), Jean Smart (1951), Michael Johnson (1967), Shane Warne (1969), Goran Ivanisevic (1971), Stella McCartney (1971), Christine Arron (1973), and Fiona Apple (1977).
And a throw-away birthday one: Ingrid Bergman, Corrie ten Boom, Betty Friedan, King Mongkut, Raphael and Pompey all died on their birthdays.
Today marks a celebration and a milestone.
Happy 30th birthday! (You know who you are.) I wish for you the fulfilment of all your wildest, dearest, most compelling dreams; friendships that bind hearts and minds; an abundance of love and joy all your life; and a dog to make your life complete.
It was also exactly two years ago that I arrived in Glasgow to read for a master’s degree. And today, I live and work here! (Scotland, I mean, not Glasgow.) It took a leap of faith, and I have been very blessed.
Factoids of the Day:
The building of Hadrian’s Wall began on September 13 122AD.
Michaelangelo began work on ‘David’ on September 13 1503.
Francis Scott Key wrote The Star-Spangled Banner on September 13 1814.
Hannibal Goodwin patented celluloid photographic film on September 13 1898.
On September 13 1899, Henry Bliss had the dubious honour of being the first person in the United States to be killed in an automobile accident.
The temperature (in the shade) at Al-Aziziyah, Libya reached a world record 57.7°C (135.9°F), on September 13 1922.
Chiang Kai-shek was elected president of the Republic of China on September 13 1943.
Super Mario, the best-selling video game of all time, was released on September 13 1985.
Famous people born on September 13 include Milton S. Hershey – founder of the empire of the taste of evil (1857), J. B. Priestley (1894), Claudette Colbert (1903), Roald Dahl (1913), Maurice Jarre (1924), Richard Kiel (1939), Peter Cetera (1944), Jean Smart (1951), Michael Johnson (1967), Shane Warne (1969), Goran Ivanisevic (1971), Stella McCartney (1971), Christine Arron (1973), and Fiona Apple (1977).
And a throw-away birthday one: Ingrid Bergman, Corrie ten Boom, Betty Friedan, King Mongkut, Raphael and Pompey all died on their birthdays.
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