Last day - home tomorrow!
Tina has a bad night's sleep - again.
We pack early and put luggage into storage.
We go on a morning city tour with 5 stops:
1. Little India - walking down Clive Street!
2. "Colonial" heart - Supreme Court, Town Hall, Merlion and Singapore River
3. Chinatown including the oldest Hindu temple (Sri Mariamman Temple)
4. a jewellery factory
5. Singapore Botanic Gardens, but especially the National Orchid Garden.
Good tour apart from the jewellery factory.
Lunch is in the mall under our hotel in New York, New York ("start singing the blues"). which has items on the menu such as Freedom Fries and Give Me Liberty sandwiches.
Then it's a taxi out to the airport which has free wifi so I type this.
Later ...
Long wait at airport - another 6 hours.
Flight OK; Tina slept more than on the London to Singapore flight - I slept less. Hard landing which took everyone by surprise.
A few hours at Auckland domestic terminal and am typing these last 5-6 sentences as they have free internet. Coldish (9 degrees C) and raining heavily. We both feel dirty.
Plane delayed but we finally have our hour flight home. Kirsten and Isaac not at airport but rescued by Bruce Kensington. When we arrive at our house there is a surprise - Helen has arrived on Friday night. So we have virtually all the family here - with Marcus to arrive on Sunday (which he does and takes Helen back to Wellington).
We give out our presents but we get unexpected presents in return. Kirsten gives us passport covers whilst Helen has printed out the entire blog and put it into a book. I was going to do this but she has done it for me.
Kirsten has made a magnificent fish pie for dinner. Surprising sight to see Helen sitting on the sofa hand sewing! She is assisting with the costumes for a Wellington play. Who knew she could sew?
Friday, July 10, 2009
Thursday 9 July
Two days to go!
Tina wakes at 11.30 and orders room service.
Light out 1.30am.
Light back on 1.48am as I can't sleep. Read another chapter of my book.
Light out 2.08am! SLEEP
Alarms wakes me (first time in two days that I have heard it) at 7am.
I go on a trip around the island:
1. First stop is Tiger Balm Gardens with the 10 Courts of Hell (Haw Par Villa). The tiger balm owners made their fortune and built a palatial home with strange gardens/statues. Their home was bombed by the Japanese and it was regarded as bad luck to live in it again so they built elsewhere and donated the gardens to the Singapore Government. As they travelled the world they had statues made of things they saw. An interesting collection! The Courts of Hell are the scary punishments awaiting you if you do bad things such as not eating all the food on your plate! Or pay your taxes. All the punishments involve painful death and I wished they were an option when Helen was small and would not eat her mashed spuds!
2. Next is Kranji with its dam, Straits of Johor and 2km to the Malaysian city of Johor Bru (to give it its modern spelling - Johore Bahru is the old spelling I learnt at school) and the invasion beach. The main stop here was the CWGC cemetery which was, as usual, immaculate.
3. Nice lunch at Sembawang Park.
4. Bright Hill Buddhist Temple - huge and outstanding. Every child should be brought here to see how they should lovingly treat their parents! Oh I wish!
5. Last stop, and the main reason I went on this trip was the Changi Prison Museum and replica chapel. Very moving. Got some great quotes for teaching. Had a bad fall and staff and tour guide wanted to call an ambulance but I had been waiting 9 years to see this place (I didn't visit in 2000) so hobbled on.
Saw replica of Johor battery.
Heavy downpour which lasted minutes and cleared up.
Bus going along road and forced to stop behind a car which had just stopped. The driver of the car was being nice because an Iguana was crossing the road. We all sat there. Coming in the opposite direction was a police car and it ran the Iguana over!!! The man in the car was furious. He got out and wrote the police car's number down and he went to help the Iguana which wasn't dead. We moved on.
I SAW A PIECE OF LITTER!!!! It was blowing across the road. No doubt the police will get the piece of paper, look for a name on it or look for fingerprints on it!!!
Tina had a good day. Interestingly the only session she told me about was the last session, "Thinking About Retirement"!!! That's supposed to be my plan!!!
It's cliche time as we go to Raffles Hotel and Tina has a Singapore Sling in the Long Bar. The amazing thing about this place is that on every table and on the bar are huge boxes of peanuts in shells and people just shell them and throw the shell on the floor. The floor is a real mess but certainly adds character. Tina, being well brought up, is reluctant to drop her first shell but once her inhibition is overcome she drops with the best of them.
We then go for dinner in the Long Bar Steakhouse. We sit at our table and Tina does what every woman everywhere does - she places her bag on the floor. No, no, no - a small chair is brought and her bag has its own chair!
Here are some appetizers from the menu:
Tomato Soup flavoured with Gin (!!!)
Live Canadian lobster - $S98 - yes, for an appetizer!
Spring lobster - $S102
Most expensive main is Australian Wagyu grain fed with marbling of 8 Tenderloin 180grams at $S148!
We have Australian Black Angus grain fed marbling 0-2 Rib Eye, 250g at $S60!
The house red is a Cabernet from France!
My entre of shrimps came with eyes and feelers - I got them to take them away and shell them for me.
Total bill = $S305. Hey, it's our last meal.
________________
From today's Singapore paper:
A 37 year old Malaysian man who made headlines 3 years ago when he married a 106 year old woman has been arrested on drugs charges. Madam Wook said that her husband took her money, sold her jewellery and he car without her permission to buy heroin. The anti-drugs agency said they had received complaints from members of the public who say Muhammad beating the elderly woman. Their marriage in 2006 was her 21st and his first. At the time her said it was "God's will" that they got married and "Through her I can deepen my knowledge of religion"
Tina wakes at 11.30 and orders room service.
Light out 1.30am.
Light back on 1.48am as I can't sleep. Read another chapter of my book.
Light out 2.08am! SLEEP
Alarms wakes me (first time in two days that I have heard it) at 7am.
I go on a trip around the island:
1. First stop is Tiger Balm Gardens with the 10 Courts of Hell (Haw Par Villa). The tiger balm owners made their fortune and built a palatial home with strange gardens/statues. Their home was bombed by the Japanese and it was regarded as bad luck to live in it again so they built elsewhere and donated the gardens to the Singapore Government. As they travelled the world they had statues made of things they saw. An interesting collection! The Courts of Hell are the scary punishments awaiting you if you do bad things such as not eating all the food on your plate! Or pay your taxes. All the punishments involve painful death and I wished they were an option when Helen was small and would not eat her mashed spuds!
2. Next is Kranji with its dam, Straits of Johor and 2km to the Malaysian city of Johor Bru (to give it its modern spelling - Johore Bahru is the old spelling I learnt at school) and the invasion beach. The main stop here was the CWGC cemetery which was, as usual, immaculate.
3. Nice lunch at Sembawang Park.
4. Bright Hill Buddhist Temple - huge and outstanding. Every child should be brought here to see how they should lovingly treat their parents! Oh I wish!
5. Last stop, and the main reason I went on this trip was the Changi Prison Museum and replica chapel. Very moving. Got some great quotes for teaching. Had a bad fall and staff and tour guide wanted to call an ambulance but I had been waiting 9 years to see this place (I didn't visit in 2000) so hobbled on.
Saw replica of Johor battery.
Heavy downpour which lasted minutes and cleared up.
Bus going along road and forced to stop behind a car which had just stopped. The driver of the car was being nice because an Iguana was crossing the road. We all sat there. Coming in the opposite direction was a police car and it ran the Iguana over!!! The man in the car was furious. He got out and wrote the police car's number down and he went to help the Iguana which wasn't dead. We moved on.
I SAW A PIECE OF LITTER!!!! It was blowing across the road. No doubt the police will get the piece of paper, look for a name on it or look for fingerprints on it!!!
Tina had a good day. Interestingly the only session she told me about was the last session, "Thinking About Retirement"!!! That's supposed to be my plan!!!
It's cliche time as we go to Raffles Hotel and Tina has a Singapore Sling in the Long Bar. The amazing thing about this place is that on every table and on the bar are huge boxes of peanuts in shells and people just shell them and throw the shell on the floor. The floor is a real mess but certainly adds character. Tina, being well brought up, is reluctant to drop her first shell but once her inhibition is overcome she drops with the best of them.
We then go for dinner in the Long Bar Steakhouse. We sit at our table and Tina does what every woman everywhere does - she places her bag on the floor. No, no, no - a small chair is brought and her bag has its own chair!
Here are some appetizers from the menu:
Tomato Soup flavoured with Gin (!!!)
Live Canadian lobster - $S98 - yes, for an appetizer!
Spring lobster - $S102
Most expensive main is Australian Wagyu grain fed with marbling of 8 Tenderloin 180grams at $S148!
We have Australian Black Angus grain fed marbling 0-2 Rib Eye, 250g at $S60!
The house red is a Cabernet from France!
My entre of shrimps came with eyes and feelers - I got them to take them away and shell them for me.
Total bill = $S305. Hey, it's our last meal.
________________
From today's Singapore paper:
A 37 year old Malaysian man who made headlines 3 years ago when he married a 106 year old woman has been arrested on drugs charges. Madam Wook said that her husband took her money, sold her jewellery and he car without her permission to buy heroin. The anti-drugs agency said they had received complaints from members of the public who say Muhammad beating the elderly woman. Their marriage in 2006 was her 21st and his first. At the time her said it was "God's will" that they got married and "Through her I can deepen my knowledge of religion"
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Wednesday 8 July
Week 12! Three days to go.
We both wake at 3am; at 3.30am I take my book and go sit in the bathroom and read; at 5am I make a cup of tea fro us both; at 5.30am I eat cashew nuts from minibar as I am ravenous. I fall asleep and I guess Tina does to. I finally wake up at 9.45 and she has gone to her conference.
She is so tired she skips the last session.
I go for a “duck” tour – amphibious vehicle that cruises the water and then drives on land. Not as interesting as I hoped it would be.
I then go to Fort Canning in search of the Battle Box. If my new career as a travel writer doesn’t work out then I think I have a future as a wedding photographer. As I was climbing the steep slopes (aching with every step - my taxi driver had no idea where it was so just dumped me at the side of the road) I came upon a wedding party and they asked me to take some shots. So I framed them under an arch making sure I had balance (Martin, the feng shui wedding photographer) and hadn’t cut off any heads or feet. They were happy with the results so I guess I have a future.
Then it’s into the Battle Box which is similar to Churchill’s War Cabinet underground rooms we saw in London. I didn’t visit this in 2000 so was one of my must-dos this year.
Back to the lovely air con of the hotel room. Tina is resting (but awake). We make plans for an expensive meal at Raffles (next door) and, of course, a Singapore Sling. She says she will have a few minutes sleep. This is around 5.30pm. At 10.30pm (!!!) I go and find the only food place open in the mall and have the worst burger of my life (avoid Mos Burgers if you are ever in Singapore). Come back and I am writing this at 11.10pm and there is no sign of life. So that was Wednesday night!
PS she woke up at 11.30pm, did work emails (true professional!) and ordered chicken satay from room service!
__________________________________
Again, from the Guardian, here is an article by Ian Whitwham that all teachers can relate to! It’s about parents’ nights (what we call parent-teacher interviews) and seeing where kids get it from. Enjoy.
Another parents’ meeting rolls around. I’ve been attending them as a pupil, teacher and parent. They’re not easy gigs. I was a pupil at Royal Grammar School in the 50s and parents’ meetings were no fun at all. I was scared. Mother was petrified. She’s left school at 12 and regarded my masters as Old Testament prophets. They sat in rows like crows in robes of academe. We moved along their severe patrician stares. “Tus” Shepherd – geography – gave us 10 seconds of his attention.
“Wigwam? Who? Ah! Yes! Satis! Good on Venezuela.”
“Thank you.”
“Next!”
“Chunk” Jones – French – just raged: “I would rather teach a vegetable!’
Mother thanked him for his deliberations – and had a quiet sob. We tottered off for a few more callous judgments and left punch drunk with insult.
Well, we teachers don’t scare parents any more. They scare us. Their children’s failure is often our fault. “Why is our Nigel underachieving?”
I dare not suggest that it’s because he’s a clot, idler, buffoon – or less than a vegetable. And has bonkers parents. I must be kinder. Out goes start insensitivity; in comes positive empathy. Out goes brute directness; in comes caring waffle.
I’m all for it. I’ve gone more pastoral. I’m less brutal but probably still prone to snap judgments. Here you come – harassed, single, bewildered, desperate, poor, louche, stifling, guilty, divorcing, pushy, sad, mad, smug or maybe seeking asylum. Here come the “helicopter” parents. Or the “stretchers”, spoilers, disowners, bullies. Tories in Gucci and Guardian liberals in Gap. I look at you all and make cartoons of your kids. I try not to but I do.
Most of the time I enjoy parents’ reports meetings. They are necessary and useful and I can be honest. But sometimes I must lie. I’m caught in family conflicts and cannot always be neutral. Especially with Mr and Mrs Mania and their son Dave.
I once taught Mr Mania. Well, I didn’t. He bunked. Just like his son Dave. Dave is a chip off the old block but a bit worse. Dave’s levels are more inferno than curriculum He’s begged me to “big him up”. “My dad, Sir. He’s fucking mad! He’ll kill me!! Tell ‘im I’m good!” He isn’t. Dave has lately traduced most of the received decencies of western civilisation. Still, I do a few euphemisms.
“He has energy.” (So has Satan.)
“He displays initiative” (So does Tony Soprano.)
Mr Mania still thinks I’m too soft, “’it ‘im!” he roars.
Mrs Mania looks like my mum used to. Dave looks at his boots. Then he’s carted down a corridor and walloped. Rather loudly. My fault. I have grassed him up. Poor Dave …
Or Mr and Mrs Tulip – without their daughter Echo. I’ve been dreading this. They sit before me. Daggers drawn. He is pale and wan and has a cancelled face. She is lustrous and molten and looks like Maria Callas. Echo is busy blowing her GCSEs and has been bunking off with an emo musician. I have sent messages home to this effect. Mrs Tulip didn’t get them. She’s been bunking too – with her lover.
“Why have I not been informed!” she screams at her husband at Level 11. He is, apparently, deficient in most areas – spiritually, emotionally and physically. Especially physically. Testicle-shrinking stuff. He offers me a whey-faced smile. I do a men’s group nod. I stare at a pot plant.
“I am a passionate woman!” She is now quite sulphurous. “I need serious attentions.” I seem to have become a branch of Relate (Martin’s comment after looking in Google: Counselling, sex therapy and relationship education supporting couple and family relationships throughout life). I mumble that Echo’s recent essay on Blake’s symbolism displayed considerable insight.
“What do you know! You’re like him! You’re a man! A worm!”
She storms out
Poor Echo …
Or poor Lucy Crumlin and her son Charlie. She brings her baby in a pram. She’s a single mother and has been up since dawn and is bone tired with auxiliary nursing and cleaning and her son. She nearly smiles. She’s desperate. Charlie’s in trouble. Big trouble. He’s running drugs down the Westway (Martin’s comment: look it up in Wikipedia – there’s a bleak photo, description and how the location has been used in modern songs). I gaze at his mock results. Ds and Es. I can’t tell his mother this. Charlie is bright. He must get his GCSEs. He must escape King Hell Mansions (Martin’s comment: more humourous articles can be found by putting this title into Google). He never will. Lucy begs me to help. She begs me for a bit of hope. It is all beyond her. I lie a lot. She knows this. I’ll try to see him for extra lessons. She thanks me. She has tears in her eyes. She leaves. Poor Charlie. Poor Lucy, too.
It can wear you out.
Dave. Echo. Charlie. Snapshots of terror and chaos and dysfunction. But most children survive or succeed against so many odds because of – or despite – their families.
We both wake at 3am; at 3.30am I take my book and go sit in the bathroom and read; at 5am I make a cup of tea fro us both; at 5.30am I eat cashew nuts from minibar as I am ravenous. I fall asleep and I guess Tina does to. I finally wake up at 9.45 and she has gone to her conference.
She is so tired she skips the last session.
I go for a “duck” tour – amphibious vehicle that cruises the water and then drives on land. Not as interesting as I hoped it would be.
I then go to Fort Canning in search of the Battle Box. If my new career as a travel writer doesn’t work out then I think I have a future as a wedding photographer. As I was climbing the steep slopes (aching with every step - my taxi driver had no idea where it was so just dumped me at the side of the road) I came upon a wedding party and they asked me to take some shots. So I framed them under an arch making sure I had balance (Martin, the feng shui wedding photographer) and hadn’t cut off any heads or feet. They were happy with the results so I guess I have a future.
Then it’s into the Battle Box which is similar to Churchill’s War Cabinet underground rooms we saw in London. I didn’t visit this in 2000 so was one of my must-dos this year.
Back to the lovely air con of the hotel room. Tina is resting (but awake). We make plans for an expensive meal at Raffles (next door) and, of course, a Singapore Sling. She says she will have a few minutes sleep. This is around 5.30pm. At 10.30pm (!!!) I go and find the only food place open in the mall and have the worst burger of my life (avoid Mos Burgers if you are ever in Singapore). Come back and I am writing this at 11.10pm and there is no sign of life. So that was Wednesday night!
PS she woke up at 11.30pm, did work emails (true professional!) and ordered chicken satay from room service!
__________________________________
Again, from the Guardian, here is an article by Ian Whitwham that all teachers can relate to! It’s about parents’ nights (what we call parent-teacher interviews) and seeing where kids get it from. Enjoy.
Another parents’ meeting rolls around. I’ve been attending them as a pupil, teacher and parent. They’re not easy gigs. I was a pupil at Royal Grammar School in the 50s and parents’ meetings were no fun at all. I was scared. Mother was petrified. She’s left school at 12 and regarded my masters as Old Testament prophets. They sat in rows like crows in robes of academe. We moved along their severe patrician stares. “Tus” Shepherd – geography – gave us 10 seconds of his attention.
“Wigwam? Who? Ah! Yes! Satis! Good on Venezuela.”
“Thank you.”
“Next!”
“Chunk” Jones – French – just raged: “I would rather teach a vegetable!’
Mother thanked him for his deliberations – and had a quiet sob. We tottered off for a few more callous judgments and left punch drunk with insult.
Well, we teachers don’t scare parents any more. They scare us. Their children’s failure is often our fault. “Why is our Nigel underachieving?”
I dare not suggest that it’s because he’s a clot, idler, buffoon – or less than a vegetable. And has bonkers parents. I must be kinder. Out goes start insensitivity; in comes positive empathy. Out goes brute directness; in comes caring waffle.
I’m all for it. I’ve gone more pastoral. I’m less brutal but probably still prone to snap judgments. Here you come – harassed, single, bewildered, desperate, poor, louche, stifling, guilty, divorcing, pushy, sad, mad, smug or maybe seeking asylum. Here come the “helicopter” parents. Or the “stretchers”, spoilers, disowners, bullies. Tories in Gucci and Guardian liberals in Gap. I look at you all and make cartoons of your kids. I try not to but I do.
Most of the time I enjoy parents’ reports meetings. They are necessary and useful and I can be honest. But sometimes I must lie. I’m caught in family conflicts and cannot always be neutral. Especially with Mr and Mrs Mania and their son Dave.
I once taught Mr Mania. Well, I didn’t. He bunked. Just like his son Dave. Dave is a chip off the old block but a bit worse. Dave’s levels are more inferno than curriculum He’s begged me to “big him up”. “My dad, Sir. He’s fucking mad! He’ll kill me!! Tell ‘im I’m good!” He isn’t. Dave has lately traduced most of the received decencies of western civilisation. Still, I do a few euphemisms.
“He has energy.” (So has Satan.)
“He displays initiative” (So does Tony Soprano.)
Mr Mania still thinks I’m too soft, “’it ‘im!” he roars.
Mrs Mania looks like my mum used to. Dave looks at his boots. Then he’s carted down a corridor and walloped. Rather loudly. My fault. I have grassed him up. Poor Dave …
Or Mr and Mrs Tulip – without their daughter Echo. I’ve been dreading this. They sit before me. Daggers drawn. He is pale and wan and has a cancelled face. She is lustrous and molten and looks like Maria Callas. Echo is busy blowing her GCSEs and has been bunking off with an emo musician. I have sent messages home to this effect. Mrs Tulip didn’t get them. She’s been bunking too – with her lover.
“Why have I not been informed!” she screams at her husband at Level 11. He is, apparently, deficient in most areas – spiritually, emotionally and physically. Especially physically. Testicle-shrinking stuff. He offers me a whey-faced smile. I do a men’s group nod. I stare at a pot plant.
“I am a passionate woman!” She is now quite sulphurous. “I need serious attentions.” I seem to have become a branch of Relate (Martin’s comment after looking in Google: Counselling, sex therapy and relationship education supporting couple and family relationships throughout life). I mumble that Echo’s recent essay on Blake’s symbolism displayed considerable insight.
“What do you know! You’re like him! You’re a man! A worm!”
She storms out
Poor Echo …
Or poor Lucy Crumlin and her son Charlie. She brings her baby in a pram. She’s a single mother and has been up since dawn and is bone tired with auxiliary nursing and cleaning and her son. She nearly smiles. She’s desperate. Charlie’s in trouble. Big trouble. He’s running drugs down the Westway (Martin’s comment: look it up in Wikipedia – there’s a bleak photo, description and how the location has been used in modern songs). I gaze at his mock results. Ds and Es. I can’t tell his mother this. Charlie is bright. He must get his GCSEs. He must escape King Hell Mansions (Martin’s comment: more humourous articles can be found by putting this title into Google). He never will. Lucy begs me to help. She begs me for a bit of hope. It is all beyond her. I lie a lot. She knows this. I’ll try to see him for extra lessons. She thanks me. She has tears in her eyes. She leaves. Poor Charlie. Poor Lucy, too.
It can wear you out.
Dave. Echo. Charlie. Snapshots of terror and chaos and dysfunction. But most children survive or succeed against so many odds because of – or despite – their families.
Tuesday 7 July
Tina wakes to alarm and then falls back to sleep. I didn’t even hear it.
Breakfast on 70th floor – cautious peek out to spectacular view (especially of harbour) and then quickly turn to face the interior walls; back to window.
Tina goes to conference. “Met some people, had a good day, need half an hour’s sleep” is her summary.
I book a round-the-island including Changi Prison tour for Thursday, read, mooch around mall, type and sleep … and sleep some more. When I was last here (2000) I missed doing two historical things with Changi being one of them.
Quick dinner (Subway!) and then go to the excellent Night Safari at Singapore Zoo. Note to Helen, Rachael Hannah’s mum goes on this too. After the tour I have my feet nibbled at for 15 minutes by Doctor Fish. Hundreds come to your feet like a magnet and nibble away the dead skin. It’s like a small vibration feeling except when some go to the middle of your sole; then it’s just ticklish. Tina only lasts the trial 5 minutes – I thought she was made of sterner stuff!
Lastly, I have my photo taken with a small python.
Hot and humid all day – people at the zoo at 10 in the evening were commenting that their hair was dripping wet.
Late night by the time we get back to hotel. But no washing is done (“The novelty has worn off.” Tina).
______________________________________________
Two items from a populist English paper:
1. Sue Williams, an artist from Swansea, has been given a £20,000 National Lottery grant to explore cultural attitudes to female buttocks. Mrs Williams will create plastercast moulds of women’s bottoms. “The project is taking on issues around the bottom.” Sue says. Let’s hear it for the poor blokes who have been making a serious study of the female backside for the past 5,000 years. And all entirely free of charge.
2. Too many hours in the saddle can affect a man’s fertility. If a man cycles 186 miles a week he damages his sperm. I reckon if a man cycles 186 miles a week it damages his marriage. All that silly headgear, fuchsia skintight lycra and pale hairy legs on show. Offices are full of men who cycle into work and have to make the walk of shame to the Gents. Cycling is emasculating our men. No wonder the sperm go on strike.
__________________________________________________
And back to a quality paper.
Is there no end to Twittermania? … But now … a tool to aid the digestion of great literature. Fans of the classics will be delighted or appalled to learn that the New York branch of Penguin books has commissioned a new volume that will put great works through the Twitter mangle. The volume has a working title that will make the nerve ends of purists jangle: Twitterature.
In it, the authors (two 19 year olds) will reduce the jewels of world literature – Dante, Shakespeare, Joyce etc – into 20 tweets or fewer ie 20 sentences each with no more than 140 characters.
The Guardian journalist then helps out by summarising the New Testament in one tweet: Angel gets Mary up duff. Jesus chills for 30 years, gets Messiah complex and is topped. Comes back. Then I saw his face. Now I’m a believer.
Exactly 140 characters!
Breakfast on 70th floor – cautious peek out to spectacular view (especially of harbour) and then quickly turn to face the interior walls; back to window.
Tina goes to conference. “Met some people, had a good day, need half an hour’s sleep” is her summary.
I book a round-the-island including Changi Prison tour for Thursday, read, mooch around mall, type and sleep … and sleep some more. When I was last here (2000) I missed doing two historical things with Changi being one of them.
Quick dinner (Subway!) and then go to the excellent Night Safari at Singapore Zoo. Note to Helen, Rachael Hannah’s mum goes on this too. After the tour I have my feet nibbled at for 15 minutes by Doctor Fish. Hundreds come to your feet like a magnet and nibble away the dead skin. It’s like a small vibration feeling except when some go to the middle of your sole; then it’s just ticklish. Tina only lasts the trial 5 minutes – I thought she was made of sterner stuff!
Lastly, I have my photo taken with a small python.
Hot and humid all day – people at the zoo at 10 in the evening were commenting that their hair was dripping wet.
Late night by the time we get back to hotel. But no washing is done (“The novelty has worn off.” Tina).
______________________________________________
Two items from a populist English paper:
1. Sue Williams, an artist from Swansea, has been given a £20,000 National Lottery grant to explore cultural attitudes to female buttocks. Mrs Williams will create plastercast moulds of women’s bottoms. “The project is taking on issues around the bottom.” Sue says. Let’s hear it for the poor blokes who have been making a serious study of the female backside for the past 5,000 years. And all entirely free of charge.
2. Too many hours in the saddle can affect a man’s fertility. If a man cycles 186 miles a week he damages his sperm. I reckon if a man cycles 186 miles a week it damages his marriage. All that silly headgear, fuchsia skintight lycra and pale hairy legs on show. Offices are full of men who cycle into work and have to make the walk of shame to the Gents. Cycling is emasculating our men. No wonder the sperm go on strike.
__________________________________________________
And back to a quality paper.
Is there no end to Twittermania? … But now … a tool to aid the digestion of great literature. Fans of the classics will be delighted or appalled to learn that the New York branch of Penguin books has commissioned a new volume that will put great works through the Twitter mangle. The volume has a working title that will make the nerve ends of purists jangle: Twitterature.
In it, the authors (two 19 year olds) will reduce the jewels of world literature – Dante, Shakespeare, Joyce etc – into 20 tweets or fewer ie 20 sentences each with no more than 140 characters.
The Guardian journalist then helps out by summarising the New Testament in one tweet: Angel gets Mary up duff. Jesus chills for 30 years, gets Messiah complex and is topped. Comes back. Then I saw his face. Now I’m a believer.
Exactly 140 characters!
Sunday 5 - Monday 6 July
Somewhere, somehow a lot of hours disappeared – along with a lot of sleep!
Sunday started with a leisurely wakeup, breakfast and pack as we had booked a car for 12 noon to chauffeur us to Heathrow. Sure, it was £50 but it seemed a relaxing thing to do. We came down from our room three quarters of an hour early to settle up and sit in the lobby but found the car (a Mercedes) was there waiting for us! So we were at Heathrow very early.
All told we had nearly 6 hours at Heathrow. Tina reclaimed VAT on purchases and she got to see most of men’s tennis final – agonisingly having to leave for boarding when it was 9-9 in the 5th set. The winner was announced on the plane as we were waiting to take off.
As for me I had bought a tote bag crammed with newspapers (30? 40? more?) and I read them at the airport – finding gems.
Oddly, there was no gate advertised for our flight. They said there would be one an hour before the gate opened but nothing. Still no gate time on the board even though the gate was theoretically open. Finally, 30 minutes AFTER the officially opening time the gate number was put on the board and it was the furthest away gate!
The flight was the most turbulent we have experienced. At times it was scary. Apart from this the approximately 12½ hours went by quickly enough as I slept. Tina got a little sleep. I woke up at one stage and there was this giggling face going “I can’t sleep!”
On the flight I decided to firstly listen to the UK top 10 singles in the year Helen was born (1983) and then Kirsten’s year (1984)
Here’s Helen’s (1983):
1. Kama Chameleon – Culture Club
2. Uptown Girl – Billie Joel
3. Red Red Wine – UB40
4. Let’s Dance – David Bowie
5. Total Eclipse Of The Heart – Bonnie Tyler
6. True – Spandau Ballet
7. Down Under – Men At Work – an absolute classic; any song with the word “chunder” in it has to be a good one. I wanted this song for my iPod collection and a wonderful student got it for me from his parents music collection.
8. Billie Jean – Michael (I’m not alive anymore) Jackson
9. All Night Long – Lionel Richie
10. Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This – Euythmics
Two rubbish songs here (6 and 9) and a person I do not like (8).
Now for Kirsten’s (1984)
1. Do They Know It’s Christmas – Band Aid
2. I Just Called To Say I Love You - Stevie Wonder
3. Relax – Frankie Goes To Hollywood
4. Two Tribes – Frankie Goes To Hollywood
5. Careless Whisper (or, given where he was arrested should this be “Carless Whisper” – ha, ha) – George Michael
6. Everything She Wants – Wham!
7. Hello – Lionel Richie
8. Agadoo – Black Lace
9. Ghostbusters – Ray Parker Jnr
10. Freedom – Wham!
Four rubbish songs (5, 6, 7, 10) – I really don’t like Wham!/George Michael and Lionel Richie.
That was an hour taken care of; then I decided to listen to the top 10 for when they were 10 years old but I had not heard of most of them!
1993
1. I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That) – Meatloaf (12 minute classic by Mr Loaf whilst the plane was bumping around over Russia!)
2. I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You – UB40
3. All The She Wants – Ace Of Base
4. No Limit – 2 Unlimited
5. Dreams – Gabrielle
6. Mr Blobby – Mr Blobby – hilarious!
7. Oh Carolina – Shaggy
8. What I Love – Haddaway
9. Mr Vain – Culture Beat
10. I Will Always Love You – Whitney Houston
I didn’t know tracks 3-9 – is this when I started to stopped understanding Helen?
1994
1. Love Is All Around – Wet Wet Wet
2. Saturday Night – Whigfield
3. Stay Another Day – East 17
4. Baby Come Back – Pato Banton
5. I Swear – All-4-One
6. Without You – Mariah Carey
7. Always – Bon Jovi
8. Crazy For You – Let Loose
9. Things Can Only Get Better – D-Ream
10. Doop – Doop
This list was worse for me – I only knew number 1! Of course, this was the English top 10 so maybe some of them didn’t come to NZ … or maybe I was/am out of touch. I do know #4 but not by this musician.
Do you remember these songs girls? Well, that took care of 2 hours flight time! For others reading this, how many songs can you hum the tune or sing the first two lines or chorus?
Singapore airport went smoothly and we got a very cheap taxi to the nice hotel – Swissotel (sic) The Stamford, our 41st (and last???) bed over the 3 months. We are in room 4462 – it doesn’t bother Tina but being on the 44th scares the c**p out of me and there is no way I will go on the balcony! Worse, breakfast is on the 70th floor!!!! And this for a person who doesn’t like going up the 2 steps into his classroom! The room is HUGE.
Pouring with heavy rain but hot and humid.
Tina showered and went off to the conference centre (she has an international principal’s conference for the next 3 days) to register. I had a stroll in the air conditioned mall that is attached to the hotel. Saw the most wonderful art at Ode To Art. Sadly, the prices seemed to start at $S5,000! There were two things that caught my eye: a series of 3 paintings of terraced fields that were in 3d if you stood back (the artist uses a syringe to get this effect) and bright red sculptures eg of Mao, young children.
Dinner was quick but nice at The Asian Kitchen. We were the only westerners there but the place was packed with locals so we thought it must be doing something right. Tina cooks better fried rice. On the way back to the hotel we bought a new suitcase for me as my handles are literally falling off. So, I started the trip with a big suitcase and a carry on case and neither will come back to NZ (the small carry on case was dumped at Auckland Airport when I bought a much better case).
Tina does washing of socks and underwear for the last time (she talks so affectionately about her washing machine!). Both exhausted and off to sleep very early.
_______________________________________
In England there is this debate over the value of Shakespeare – I remember the same debate in NZ. Here is a poem from The Independent.
The Phoenix And The Turtle
As TIME ever onward doth hurtle
Through meadows of clover and myrtle
We now wave goodbye
To SHAKESPEARE. But fie!
I forgot “THE PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE”!
There once was a TURTLE and PHOENIX
Which sounds to me quite an obscene mix
But the turtle’s a dove!
It must be about LOVE.
Best then to get out the kleenix …
Its meaning’s obscure: do these fowl
As they die with a fiery howl
Denote LOVE, TRUTH, or BRAVERY
Or RUNNING AN AVIARY
Or laying it on with a trowel?
Who cares? To be frank I’m too busy.
Call time on Old Will. Don’t be quizzical
For poetry, you’ll find,
Pales beside bump ‘n’ grind
So baby, let’s get METAPHYSICAL!
____________________________________________________
From the same paper was an “essay” titled “For Women, Is the Age Of Irony Less Than 50?” Some excerpts.
First go the knees, then goes irony. Sometime around age 50, women start to let go of certain ideas about themselves and fashion. Up till then you can wear lots of silly or brash things, and if you are reasonably fit and attractive or consistently daring, it doesn’t matter. You’re still with the tide. You are allowed to wear your esoteric Pradas, your porkpie hats and coy Lolita socks, and no little voice is going “Heh-heh-heh, you’re too old for that. … Saying goodbye to short skirts and flimsy tops is actually liberating.
Irony is harder to part with – for the simple reason that many of us who are now in our 50s grew up with that kind of cerebral fashion and were happy to have clothes that made reference to ideas, worlds, that only those in our orbit would understand.
Nothing conveys that struggle better than Madonna’s attire in May at the … In addition to wearing a taffeta hair bow that poked up like rabbit ears, she had on a bright blue minidress with a romper hem and a pair of boots that left a crack of skin showing at the top of her thighs.
… many people took the excessiveness seriously and thought that Madonna, who is 50, looked crazy.
Tama Janowitz … wrote … “90 percent of the time designers create a look that is basically unflattering to the female physique unless you are a 20-year-old, six-foot-tall model, in which case it does not make any difference what you have on. Madonna looked stupid in her rabbit ears. Is this because of the times or her age?”
Irony has been an essential ingredient in fashion for at least the last 40 years – in the kinky clothes of Jean Paul Gaultier, in the recontextualizing of drag and vintage styles by Yves Saint Laurent and John Galliano …
Some older women still prefer a look with an edge rather than a polish. And with the economy forcing many to shop in their closets, they’re finding wonderful things. …
Sunday started with a leisurely wakeup, breakfast and pack as we had booked a car for 12 noon to chauffeur us to Heathrow. Sure, it was £50 but it seemed a relaxing thing to do. We came down from our room three quarters of an hour early to settle up and sit in the lobby but found the car (a Mercedes) was there waiting for us! So we were at Heathrow very early.
All told we had nearly 6 hours at Heathrow. Tina reclaimed VAT on purchases and she got to see most of men’s tennis final – agonisingly having to leave for boarding when it was 9-9 in the 5th set. The winner was announced on the plane as we were waiting to take off.
As for me I had bought a tote bag crammed with newspapers (30? 40? more?) and I read them at the airport – finding gems.
Oddly, there was no gate advertised for our flight. They said there would be one an hour before the gate opened but nothing. Still no gate time on the board even though the gate was theoretically open. Finally, 30 minutes AFTER the officially opening time the gate number was put on the board and it was the furthest away gate!
The flight was the most turbulent we have experienced. At times it was scary. Apart from this the approximately 12½ hours went by quickly enough as I slept. Tina got a little sleep. I woke up at one stage and there was this giggling face going “I can’t sleep!”
On the flight I decided to firstly listen to the UK top 10 singles in the year Helen was born (1983) and then Kirsten’s year (1984)
Here’s Helen’s (1983):
1. Kama Chameleon – Culture Club
2. Uptown Girl – Billie Joel
3. Red Red Wine – UB40
4. Let’s Dance – David Bowie
5. Total Eclipse Of The Heart – Bonnie Tyler
6. True – Spandau Ballet
7. Down Under – Men At Work – an absolute classic; any song with the word “chunder” in it has to be a good one. I wanted this song for my iPod collection and a wonderful student got it for me from his parents music collection.
8. Billie Jean – Michael (I’m not alive anymore) Jackson
9. All Night Long – Lionel Richie
10. Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This – Euythmics
Two rubbish songs here (6 and 9) and a person I do not like (8).
Now for Kirsten’s (1984)
1. Do They Know It’s Christmas – Band Aid
2. I Just Called To Say I Love You - Stevie Wonder
3. Relax – Frankie Goes To Hollywood
4. Two Tribes – Frankie Goes To Hollywood
5. Careless Whisper (or, given where he was arrested should this be “Carless Whisper” – ha, ha) – George Michael
6. Everything She Wants – Wham!
7. Hello – Lionel Richie
8. Agadoo – Black Lace
9. Ghostbusters – Ray Parker Jnr
10. Freedom – Wham!
Four rubbish songs (5, 6, 7, 10) – I really don’t like Wham!/George Michael and Lionel Richie.
That was an hour taken care of; then I decided to listen to the top 10 for when they were 10 years old but I had not heard of most of them!
1993
1. I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That) – Meatloaf (12 minute classic by Mr Loaf whilst the plane was bumping around over Russia!)
2. I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You – UB40
3. All The She Wants – Ace Of Base
4. No Limit – 2 Unlimited
5. Dreams – Gabrielle
6. Mr Blobby – Mr Blobby – hilarious!
7. Oh Carolina – Shaggy
8. What I Love – Haddaway
9. Mr Vain – Culture Beat
10. I Will Always Love You – Whitney Houston
I didn’t know tracks 3-9 – is this when I started to stopped understanding Helen?
1994
1. Love Is All Around – Wet Wet Wet
2. Saturday Night – Whigfield
3. Stay Another Day – East 17
4. Baby Come Back – Pato Banton
5. I Swear – All-4-One
6. Without You – Mariah Carey
7. Always – Bon Jovi
8. Crazy For You – Let Loose
9. Things Can Only Get Better – D-Ream
10. Doop – Doop
This list was worse for me – I only knew number 1! Of course, this was the English top 10 so maybe some of them didn’t come to NZ … or maybe I was/am out of touch. I do know #4 but not by this musician.
Do you remember these songs girls? Well, that took care of 2 hours flight time! For others reading this, how many songs can you hum the tune or sing the first two lines or chorus?
Singapore airport went smoothly and we got a very cheap taxi to the nice hotel – Swissotel (sic) The Stamford, our 41st (and last???) bed over the 3 months. We are in room 4462 – it doesn’t bother Tina but being on the 44th scares the c**p out of me and there is no way I will go on the balcony! Worse, breakfast is on the 70th floor!!!! And this for a person who doesn’t like going up the 2 steps into his classroom! The room is HUGE.
Pouring with heavy rain but hot and humid.
Tina showered and went off to the conference centre (she has an international principal’s conference for the next 3 days) to register. I had a stroll in the air conditioned mall that is attached to the hotel. Saw the most wonderful art at Ode To Art. Sadly, the prices seemed to start at $S5,000! There were two things that caught my eye: a series of 3 paintings of terraced fields that were in 3d if you stood back (the artist uses a syringe to get this effect) and bright red sculptures eg of Mao, young children.
Dinner was quick but nice at The Asian Kitchen. We were the only westerners there but the place was packed with locals so we thought it must be doing something right. Tina cooks better fried rice. On the way back to the hotel we bought a new suitcase for me as my handles are literally falling off. So, I started the trip with a big suitcase and a carry on case and neither will come back to NZ (the small carry on case was dumped at Auckland Airport when I bought a much better case).
Tina does washing of socks and underwear for the last time (she talks so affectionately about her washing machine!). Both exhausted and off to sleep very early.
_______________________________________
In England there is this debate over the value of Shakespeare – I remember the same debate in NZ. Here is a poem from The Independent.
The Phoenix And The Turtle
As TIME ever onward doth hurtle
Through meadows of clover and myrtle
We now wave goodbye
To SHAKESPEARE. But fie!
I forgot “THE PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE”!
There once was a TURTLE and PHOENIX
Which sounds to me quite an obscene mix
But the turtle’s a dove!
It must be about LOVE.
Best then to get out the kleenix …
Its meaning’s obscure: do these fowl
As they die with a fiery howl
Denote LOVE, TRUTH, or BRAVERY
Or RUNNING AN AVIARY
Or laying it on with a trowel?
Who cares? To be frank I’m too busy.
Call time on Old Will. Don’t be quizzical
For poetry, you’ll find,
Pales beside bump ‘n’ grind
So baby, let’s get METAPHYSICAL!
____________________________________________________
From the same paper was an “essay” titled “For Women, Is the Age Of Irony Less Than 50?” Some excerpts.
First go the knees, then goes irony. Sometime around age 50, women start to let go of certain ideas about themselves and fashion. Up till then you can wear lots of silly or brash things, and if you are reasonably fit and attractive or consistently daring, it doesn’t matter. You’re still with the tide. You are allowed to wear your esoteric Pradas, your porkpie hats and coy Lolita socks, and no little voice is going “Heh-heh-heh, you’re too old for that. … Saying goodbye to short skirts and flimsy tops is actually liberating.
Irony is harder to part with – for the simple reason that many of us who are now in our 50s grew up with that kind of cerebral fashion and were happy to have clothes that made reference to ideas, worlds, that only those in our orbit would understand.
Nothing conveys that struggle better than Madonna’s attire in May at the … In addition to wearing a taffeta hair bow that poked up like rabbit ears, she had on a bright blue minidress with a romper hem and a pair of boots that left a crack of skin showing at the top of her thighs.
… many people took the excessiveness seriously and thought that Madonna, who is 50, looked crazy.
Tama Janowitz … wrote … “90 percent of the time designers create a look that is basically unflattering to the female physique unless you are a 20-year-old, six-foot-tall model, in which case it does not make any difference what you have on. Madonna looked stupid in her rabbit ears. Is this because of the times or her age?”
Irony has been an essential ingredient in fashion for at least the last 40 years – in the kinky clothes of Jean Paul Gaultier, in the recontextualizing of drag and vintage styles by Yves Saint Laurent and John Galliano …
Some older women still prefer a look with an edge rather than a polish. And with the economy forcing many to shop in their closets, they’re finding wonderful things. …
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Saturday 4 July
Last laundry in London. Set up for Singapore. Tina is even looking forward to her washing machine!
Another hot day, especially the afternoon.
We set off ia early via Tube for Madame Tussauds. I wasn't really interested but I am glad I went. Very impressive especially at the end when there is a cab "ride" though displays called The Spirit Of London. Just as well we went early as there was a queue when we arrived and they opened the door a half hour earlier than their pamphlet said.
We then head back via Tube. Tina goes back to hotel for a relax and to watch the tennis whilst I meet Keith. We make our way to Covent Garden. What a fun place! I thought we were going to some park but the markets, restaurants and street performers gave the area a vibrancy and it was packed. I bought 3 hand painted ties!We saw some excellent street performers. Keith and I walked along the Thames and then made our way back to Victoria for Keith to catch his train to the south coast.
Tina and I go to an Indian restaurant (Millbank Spice) for dinner.
Another hot day, especially the afternoon.
We set off ia early via Tube for Madame Tussauds. I wasn't really interested but I am glad I went. Very impressive especially at the end when there is a cab "ride" though displays called The Spirit Of London. Just as well we went early as there was a queue when we arrived and they opened the door a half hour earlier than their pamphlet said.
We then head back via Tube. Tina goes back to hotel for a relax and to watch the tennis whilst I meet Keith. We make our way to Covent Garden. What a fun place! I thought we were going to some park but the markets, restaurants and street performers gave the area a vibrancy and it was packed. I bought 3 hand painted ties!We saw some excellent street performers. Keith and I walked along the Thames and then made our way back to Victoria for Keith to catch his train to the south coast.
Tina and I go to an Indian restaurant (Millbank Spice) for dinner.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Friday 3 July
Has rained overnight so cooler this morning.
We do our own thing again.
I lug backpack and a huge tote bag to the nearest post office (about 20min away) and send home a 10.5kg box home! Costs 139 pounds - ie over $NZ280!
I walk on to Victoria station, tube to Waterloo with one change and surface train out to Hampton Court and make my way to Hampton Court House School. This school looks old (old buildings) but is private and new. It caters for the kids of the rich who can't fit into other schools. As I stand waiting for the man I have come to meet I see some appalling behaviour from kids and poor parenting (there is a link here, right?). Richard James takes me for a walk around the school grounds and buildings and then we make our way to the Kings Arms for lunch. After speaking with him (part of my sabbatical project) I make my way back into London (a teacher from Girls' High is on the train) and back to the hotel.
Meanwhile, Tina has had a little relax in the morning and then walks to the tour office where she goes on a half day trip to Windsor Castle and Runnymeade (signing of Magna Carter). Great trip except the elderly tour guide gets the timing/sequence all wrong and they are stuck in traffic. What took them 40 minutes to cruise out takes 3 HOURS to cover LESS distance coming back. They arrive over 2 hours later than scheduled. Driver is furious as he misses out on an evening job. Tina is going to make a complaint - imagine if we were going to Phantom tonight! She is steaming when she returns. The driver was nice - he drops her close by the hotel as it is on his way.
She did have a good trip. She bought me a tie!! Is anyone keeping count?
The weather got hot in the afternoon.
We have a meal in our room and Tina catches up on some tennis.
We do our own thing again.
I lug backpack and a huge tote bag to the nearest post office (about 20min away) and send home a 10.5kg box home! Costs 139 pounds - ie over $NZ280!
I walk on to Victoria station, tube to Waterloo with one change and surface train out to Hampton Court and make my way to Hampton Court House School. This school looks old (old buildings) but is private and new. It caters for the kids of the rich who can't fit into other schools. As I stand waiting for the man I have come to meet I see some appalling behaviour from kids and poor parenting (there is a link here, right?). Richard James takes me for a walk around the school grounds and buildings and then we make our way to the Kings Arms for lunch. After speaking with him (part of my sabbatical project) I make my way back into London (a teacher from Girls' High is on the train) and back to the hotel.
Meanwhile, Tina has had a little relax in the morning and then walks to the tour office where she goes on a half day trip to Windsor Castle and Runnymeade (signing of Magna Carter). Great trip except the elderly tour guide gets the timing/sequence all wrong and they are stuck in traffic. What took them 40 minutes to cruise out takes 3 HOURS to cover LESS distance coming back. They arrive over 2 hours later than scheduled. Driver is furious as he misses out on an evening job. Tina is going to make a complaint - imagine if we were going to Phantom tonight! She is steaming when she returns. The driver was nice - he drops her close by the hotel as it is on his way.
She did have a good trip. She bought me a tie!! Is anyone keeping count?
The weather got hot in the afternoon.
We have a meal in our room and Tina catches up on some tennis.
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