Just Delaying My Chores...

An observation since I've started to go into Central London a few times a week for nearly 2 months now:

Ramai mamat cina suka pakai cermin mata macam aku pakai and depa semua suka pakai bag sandang LV.

kuang kuang kuang

Yup. Believe it or not I've seen quite a few of these around in London. Is it a trend with these folks?

Well....it was just an observation....just wondering if anyone out there has spotted these guys walking around...:)

Anyway, four and half years of not working and I was recently painfully reminded of why I used to hate going to work.

BOSSES

Let me describe one that I have (ehem) recently...met...

emotional.takes out stress on staff.annoying.absolutely incompetent when it comes to financial management.actress.bitches about staff in front of other staff.makes empty promises.annoying.always talks highly of her/himself.annoying.blardy damn annoying.

Sound familiar to you?

I guess that's because apparently all bosses have these traits (a conclusion I made after talking to some other friends who are unfortunately working)....

Well...that's not being fair and you and I both know that but I'm just going to leave that sentence there anyway...(just to blow off some steam here, people - just let me be!)

Enough of that.

Another little observation: Rich people don't know how to raise their kids. Apparently.

Isn't it such a cliché though?? Alah anak orang kaya....memanglah perangai macam tu..

But I've seen it again and again! And I'm asking myself why must it be that way? Some of the parents are really good, intelligent and hard working people and yet...

If ill behaved and immoral kids come with the package - I'd rather not have all that money.

Honestly.

Sorry guys...this blog entry will definitely fall under 'Ramblings' - just had to let it out somewhere..

And another thing...

What's up with everyone talking about brands nowadays..??? This brand, that brand, I want to buy this brand, oohh..I'm saving to buy that brand...

And in these dark days of the economic depression too...

I don't know...brands just don't do it for me. Tried them once or twice but they just don't give me a high.

Nope.

And then I watched this on Youtube (saw it first linked from littlemuffins' blog):

Watch

And it strengthened my feelings on the matter....

And if there's a trend going on out there..well, I'm happy to be left out of it.

What I want to say to the people out there is: think. don't just follow.

Hey..But that's just me.

Enough rambling for now.

Aidil Adha 2008

It's been a long time since I've been to a masjid for solat jemaah.

Even for sembahyang raya.

It's either Little H was not ready.

Or Mr S wanted to be quick because he had to go to work straight after - so the kids couldn't go, therefore I couldn't.

Or we were all late, what with all the prep done the night before - which is a real shame...

But these are not excuses for me to skip the whole thing...I will always just do it at home if I couldn't make it to the masjid...

But that's not the same is it?



Anyway, this raya had been different.

Well, Mr S still didn't get any leave because too many people in his office were off already for some exams...but at least he got a few hours off in the morning for prayers.

And because I didn't prepare anything at all for raya this time - didn't bother because we had two invites that evening and even the day before and Mr S would be working the whole day anyway - I was well refreshed in the morning and was quite determined to go.

Yup...it's been so long that the beautiful voice of the imam reciting the verses made me cry.

It was good.

And I felt good.

There was no takbir raya before or after the solat. Just a quick explanation of the solat before we started and the peaceful sermon afterwards in which the imam encouraged us to recite the takbir as much as we can for three whole days..But I thought it was a really good sermon. It wasn't too long and it was clear and concise - about peace and humility.

I realised then that I'm parched for this kind of thing. I mean, really...I've not been to a majlis ilmu for a long, long time. Mr S is lucky as he gets his dosage from the Jumaat prayers.

So I'm thinking maybe I should just go to the mosque on Fridays...I mean, the kids will be at school, the mosque is a mere 10 minutes walk away...and I see women go there on Fridays all the time...

I'm just thinking...maybe I should.

But anyway, after the prayers Mr S went to work and I went straight to the kitchen - I had an order for some lopis and kasui for that evening and I wanted to bake a cake to bring to my friends' later after Mr S comes home - which was at about half six later in the evening and only then, we finally 'celebrated' raya haji this year with food and friends.

That's all.

But it was a good Aidil Adha to me nevertheless.

Don't Like The Cold

It's cold.

Yesterday it was hailing and during the weekend there was some snow. In between, there was rain, rain and rain and add the freezing wind to that equation....

That is why I only go out when I send and pick the kids from school and the madrasah.

Talking about the cold, I have a friend who I have always tried to persuade to come and work in the UK but he had always refused with the same reason...

Tak tahan, he said. The winter is too cold. The weather is so gloomy and depressing and you get so lonely that you just want to crawl under that duvet and let the tears come until you fall asleep..before you have to haul yourself up to go to work again and go through the whole thing again tomorrow.He's tried it before you see, and you can offer him any kind of money - he would still say no.

Money can only get you so much happiness but when the loneliness and depression hits...

He's a single guy so I guess I can understand how lonely it can get here when it's winter - when you don't really fancy going to the pubs with the mat saleh, when all you wanna do is to go home but there's no one to go home to..

Hey, the weather can really pull you down here.

Anyway, this cold season, I have an extra grief on my shoulders..or should I say, on my fingers.

The joints on my fingers throb. They feel cold to the touch and some parts feel like they are swelling a bit although truthfully I don't really see any increase in their various sizes. My mother had arthritis or something of that nature when she was in her 40s so I can say that this thing is in our family's genetic make up.

I guess.

Mr S said it's because of the iced drinks I failed to resist just the week before the throbbing came. As I really don't drink ice that much and the previous few weeks I have been trying to finish the bag of ice cubes in my fridge, I'm inclined to believe him.

So I'm not touching ice in the cold season ever again.

It started long before the piano came, mind. I was quite worried that I wouldn't be able to play after all and it would just be one of those ironic episodes in my life - I save to buy a piano which fate suddenly rendered me unable to play.

Wouldn't that be just hilarious?

But alhamdulillah, it hasn't been so. Everyday now I take primrose oil, calcium and glucosamine sulphate - supplements, I have been told that can help me with my problem - but I need istiqamah, said my mum, to make it work.

And so far, thank god, so good. With my family history though, I don't think I should ever stop taking these pills. Ever.

Still, I am thankful to Allah that it is under control at the mo and even when I do feel the throbbing, I thank Him for small mercies.

Thinking about what my mother went through - believe me, it really could be worse.

Making Friends

Making friends is a skill kids learn at a very young age.

So as adults, we should be really good at it since we have had years of practice.

Agreed?

After all, after only 3 years of doing my own cooking and my own baking, I am getting pretty good and more importantly, pretty confident at producing edible stuff from my
kitchen. So surely at the age of 30+ I should be a master of 'friendship building' and a specialist in 'the art of making friends'?

No, not at all.

It's not the same when it comes to making friends, is it?

Back at home, where one is surrounded by people who speak one's language, practice the same religion and tradition and when one goes to work - surrounded by perhaps, people of the same level of education and skill, one might find it easier to make friends...

...as compared to here, where one is surrounded by people who doesn't speak one's language, doesn't REALLY practice the same religion and definitely not the same tradition and when one goes to work - surrounded by perhaps, people of the same level of education and skill, but have a different way of doing things, a different way of thinking and definitely different ideals.

Thus, the reason why, over here, one looks for people from one's own country and one's own religion and culture to make friends with.

Most of the time.

Anyway, I do it so that I can cakap Melayu. Bosan la asyik kena cakap omputih je ni..Dengan anak kena cakap omputih, keluar rumah cakap omputih, TV cakap omputih. Internet cakap omputih. Bloody fed up with cakap omputih ni.

I know I can write pretty well in the language but when it comes to speaking it...I tend to be a little bit formal.....I think. And that's no good when you're trying to make friends.

Mr S and I have been trying to increase our circle of Malaysian friends lately. We have a group of people that we're good friends with but we realised a long time ago that we weren't happy to be close to just a few people. We want to have lots of friends and know a variety of people and we want to socialise a lot. What we don't want to do is to belong to a little 'clique'.

The problem is, Mr S and I are both pretty shy and reserved people. I know, Mr S can be clearly seen as a 'shy-guy' but one would never guess that I am the shy type as well. Suffice to say, we have not learnt a lot about making friends at all, all this time.

But both Mr S and I have been 'forcing' ourselves to come out of our shells and honestly, it's been a learning experience.

In the pursuit of new friendships these last few months, we have met quite a few people. We have tried to open up and be friendly - paste a smile on our faces, ask polite questions, try to make conversations - even invited them to our home. Some of the things that we had to do weren't easy for us but we tried.

And it has been good.

It's funny though, how some people just don't want to make friends.

Not many, just a few people we met. These are the types of people, when you meet them at gatherings, they don't put on a friendly face, they don't ask questions about you i.e. they don't show any interest to know you..they just want to talk to their own circle of friends and can't even be bothered to maniskan muka at you. Some people are just satisfied with their own group of friends, I guess...

But I find it funny lah...

After all kitakan sama-sama duduk di perantauan...ramah2 kan lah mulut and manis-maniskan lah muka tu....It's not such a huge community, after all.

Tak paham sungguh. Tapi..entah2 depa pun malu kot....tak tau lah...

But still, it has been good. I don't know what was the perception of people about me but what's important is that I tried and I quite enjoyed myself.

All I wanna say for now is, bring on more people! I want to improve my lousy friendship making skills...

He he he..pathetic.

Raya has been good

Yup.

Although on the first day of raya - we celebrated raya on Tuesday - Mr S had to go to work as it was his last day in the office.

That's right. Mr S has moved to another company - into the industry, so to speak. But already he's complaining about his new job - boring, he said.

Men.

I myself would never complain if my work was repetitive or unexciting, IF my salary and perks were good. But not Mr S. That's the reason he ended working in the UK in the first place.

Anyway, thank God some friends came for raya while Mr S was at the office and some friends invited us over too and we went beraya as soon as Mr S came back from work - with lots of stuff and cards from his office mates - so it was a 'raya' for us nonetheless, alhamdulillah.

I made 5 types of kuih raya and friends from Malaysia gave 4 other types so we had plenty of kuih raya to go around and so I thought I really should invite lots of friends around this raya.

Plus, we had a sort of house re-decorating period during Ramadhan.

Suddenly I felt so desperate to make the house feel like a home instead of just a roof above our heads. Somehow I was contented all this while simply to leave the house as it is - alah..this is not our own place and we wont be staying here for long pun.. was the attitude.

Not anymore.

I was tired of living in a 'rumah sewa' environment. I reached the point where I felt that I didn't belong anywhere - not back in Malaysia and not in my own home. So we made some changes. Bought some furniture. Put up new curtains. Bought frames and hung up some pictures and a large mirror. Some plants and fresh flowers to spruce up the place a bit. Even dug very, very deep and dragged out what little talent I had for art and painting and produced some 'artwork' to be hung on my walls...ho ho ho. Couldn't find anything that we really, really like at the shops for the price that we liked so decided to just paint my own!

I married a generous man. To him, we were fine the way we were but still he acquiesced to my demands. Of course, it was his bank account that had to bear all these expenditures. And he was the one who helped me to hang the curtains, the pictures, the mirror etc etc Thank you Mr S - again! Love you!

So since the house was looking it's best ever since we moved in and we had plenty of kuih raya - we decided to invite friends over - not just the usual suspects but almost everyone we know on this side of London. I cooked loads of food and we had guests over from the early afternoon till about 1 am in the morning. I was tired for days after but it was worth it.

Just some pics for the people back at home...

Pagi raya

Budak-budak datang main Wii on hari raya

Just to show the pics we hung on the wall

And here's the result of 3 nights with paints and brushes - not great but I'm happy about them!

The kuih table during our 'open house' - the main dishes were served in the kitchen as usual!

Some of our guests...

Hey, I'm happy lah...

(Warning: Below are my ramblings. Read to your own peril!)

This Ramadhan has been pretty tiring.

What with school just starting again, and sahur at 3.30am, and not being able to sleep any earlier than midnight. Not to mention berbuka at nearly 8pm at the beginning oh Ramadhan - what a big change from those 4pm iftars during my undergraduate days!

I think perhaps it's time for me to move down under now - they're having a grand time now that they're going to be having winter Ramadhans for quite some time..

But I have so many things to be thankful for too...

I just returned from an iftar gathering at a friend's place actually - these few months have been blessed really because I've made some new friends...yes, somehow we have made connection with some other Malaysians here in London as opposed to the usual suspects and I admit, I am glad.

And Mr S have been kind enough to layan me by buying a few stuff for me from Ikea and I am happy to say that my house now feels more like a home.

And we had such a wonderful summer holiday too. Well, the weather was 1 more thing for me to complain about but we went away for 1 week and a bit and alhamdulillah it was wonderful.

We went to visit some old school friends of mine - in Kingston and in Southampton and another friend from my 'pre-departure course' days in Fareham.

We went to Brighton - stayed over for 2 nights.

We went to the Isle of Wight - also stayed over for 2 nights.

Went to Stoke-on-Trent to buy some china - stayed over at Birmingham for 1 night just to take it easy on that particular journey.

It has been lovely.

Alhamdulillah.

And I am ever so thankful of course to Mr S who made it all possible.

Little H has started full time schooling (reception class) since last week and he has been truly amazing too. He settled in without any problems and in fact, on the first day, after a few minutes of 'helping' him to settle down, I was assured by Little H saying;

"Ok Mama, G-O-O!"

Oh how proud I am of my little boy, even though he still needs some help with his spelling...

And Big H has started his Year 3 and already getting pencil gifts from his teacher for getting the right amount of 'ticks' on his class' Tick Chart.

He is settling down nicely too...alhamdulillah.

And so I walk back home alone from sending the kids to school one day, happy and ready for some me time at home doing the things that I love - i.e. a long hot shower, reading and sitting in front of the computer - when I saw a group of mums - some people that I am acquainted with - standing together chatting.

So I stopped for a bit just to give them my salam and to ask how everyone's doing..

"..So you're free now and you can do what you like?".."

"Yes.." I answered.

"..I'm going to take up Reflexology..yeah..that's what I'm going to do.."
"..I think I'm going to take up a degree.."
"..I'm planning to find some work.."

"What about YOU??"

"Huh...?? Umm..I haven't really thought about it yet. Hahaha."

And I made my excuses but it was too late - the question spoiled my morning and certainly spoiled my peace of mind.

I regret stopping to talk to those women...

Nosy little ******s.

Until We Meet Again

I have always dread going to visit the sick or going to a wake or a funeral.

It is because of the fact that I cannot help myself from crying or feeling very, very sad from watching other people's loss or other people's grief and agony - I am very sensitive and soft at heart you see and I cannot stand to see other people, especially my friends and family suffer.

But isn't suffering and death a part of this life after all and thus we cannot escape from them?

I have not been in the mood to blog for a long time. It has been partly because of Ramadhan and all that but even before that I was in no mood at all to write about anything in this blog because ever since a blogger friend in Coventry had reported in her blog that her husband was at the last stages of cancer, I felt that surely everything that I have to report is so trivial compared to what she has to go through from now on everyday of her life.

We read each other's blogs, you see, and knowing this, I could not with a clear conscience write about anything happy or cheerful, when I know their family is going through a difficult time every day.

You might ask, if she is my very close friend then, for me to feel that way?

The answer to that is no, not really..she is not a close friend although we have met once (and now twice) and I slept over at her house for one night and our families had a wonderful day out together, but that's nothing, really...

I guess when one blogs, one's readers feel that they know one well, even though they really don't (not by a long shot in some cases) and even though they have never met you or they have met you just that one time, they feel like they have known you forever...

But now (Saturday 27/10/07), I feel that I can go on blogging as I have been to visit my friends in Coventry again and as expected, I came back very, very sad but also, I have to say, relieved.

Relieved not because I saw my friend's husband getting better, on the contrary, since the last time we saw him, just less than two months ago, he has changed so very much, no more bubbly and funny but instead so very thin, almost skeletal and he has become very weak and quiet. He was in pain - and such pain it was that he had to be given morphine consistently and as drugs go, he was sleepy and not in the mood to talk.

But still I was relieved.

Relieved because I saw in my friend a very strong woman who would not give up and would not let go without a fight, and a fierce and vicious fight she would put up too. I myself had to fight to put on a happy and 'normal' face while talking to her and later to him in the hospital room.

And all that time she spoke calmly, and it was easy for her to smile.

But still, I could not help from crying when we said our goodbyes at the hospital entrance. Her eyes had welled but she did not succumb to tears and I said to her what my thoughts were exactly at the time, "You're a strong woman..."

How brave and strong she is.

But if she was not, then, who would be for their family?

Thus, the reason why I was so relieved.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

I had started to type this entry on Saturday but did not have time to finish and post it and last night my friend had sent us a text - a simple and short one;

"He's gone..."

And those words drove me to tears - for her loss and for her children's. They are so young to understand death and the responsibilities that their mother has to carry now, all alone. But I did not cry for him, as indeed, I think he is in a better place for surely, Allah knows best.

I remember when I last saw my father.

It was on the day that he was scheduled for a by-pass operation, which was on the same day I was scheduled to fly off to the UK to do my A-levels. It was pretty last minute and I could not change my flight date and I had asked my father then whether it was okay or if he wanted me to insist that my sponsors postpone the date of my departure to the UK.

He had said, "Tak apa lah. If anything happens..I go my way, and you go your way..." and he smiled, his usual calming smile.

And I hugged him and kissed his cheeks - which I don't remember ever doing. And I'm glad I did, for even though he passed away a few months later, and I was in the UK at the time and could not kiss his cold forehead just before he is wrapped in white cloth for his burial, at least I did kiss him while he was alive and smiling and his arms had come around to hug me and to pat my back to comfort me and say that it would be okay.

Yes.

After a while, it will be okay, InshaAllah.

After all, the living must go on living.

And life is short after all and no one lives forever.

We just have to be brave and carry on.

Until then.

(*pic taken when we were walking towards the cancer wing in the Walsgrave hospital at Coventry to visit our friends.)

In Sickness, In Health

When one is the sole carer cum maid cum cook cum cleaner cum story teller cum entertainer cum ustazah ajar mengaji cum driver and lots of other 'cums' in one's house, one should not be surprised if everything 'cums' to a standstill when one is sick.

I have been feeling sick these last few days - my right tonsil as of this moment is still swollen and it's hard for me to even bend my head to help my son put on his shoes, what more to swallow food!

At the peak of it, my body muscles felt like I have been running in the London Marathon and I was feeling cold even when I was sweating. And of course, the 'package' would not be complete without the high temperature and splitting headache.

I was, indeed, feeling as sick as a dog.

Today, however, I am feeling a little better alhamdulliah, even with the swollen tonsil, because perhaps a couple of paracetamols has help me to ease the pain a bit.

And thus, this entry.

Mr S has been very kind to me.

Even when he has a lot of work piling at the office and gets a lot of stress from his silly clients on top of the fact that he needs to study for his exams, he managed to send my eldest to school and then take a half day leave to pick him up and after that bring the boys to the pool for my eldest' swimming lesson and then went shopping to buy some groceries and some 'treats' for the 'infirm' and also went to buy some dinner for the kids.

Not to mention the fact that he woke up earlier than usual to make breakfast for the kids and prepared my eldest's packed lunch and his own, washing all the milk bottles and dirty plates before leaving the house in the morning.

It was just for that one day when I was really indisposed but still, I know that he can be even more efficient than me when he needs to be, although he has proclaimed time and time again that his most favourite thing in the world is to 'peleso' i.e. to lie down and watch TV or to lie down and just think of...nothing...

I caught Mr S lying on the sejadah after maghrib prayers last night, just staring at the ceiling.
I asked him what was wrong and he proceeded to tell me about his work problems and his worries about his exams. I just listened and made some supportive comments - hoping that I am helping him to 'release'.

From experience, I know when Mr S starts to act silly and crazy i.e. dancing like a mad man in the room (more than the usual, that is) and making silly faces as a response to all my comments, I know that he's under stress. He has been doing these recently and now there is also the staring at the ceiling routine - which means he's really putting a brave face about everything. Poor, poor Mr S!

There's just one more hurdle, my love. Please, please be strong! I am here and the children too, right behind you, supporting you. Hang on there!

God gives us all our own set of 'tests' in this world. At this moment, mine is this demam and Mr S's is his work and studies - no one's test is 'better' or 'worse' than the other. All we need to do is support one another and inshaAllah we will survive the storm..amin!
__________

I am also very, very thankful for my close friend, F who was so crossed with me when she found out that I was sick and didn't inform her and even called me to tell me off about it!

"Oh..so we're all living in London and should mind our own business issit?" she asked me.

She made my eyes water because we're not even from the same country and yet...

I felt like crying because somebody 'cares enough to be upset' when I did not inform them of my ill health - just when I thought that I was all alone here, except for Mr S, of course, who has so much already on his shoulders!

How lovely it is to have such a friend.

And so the next day, when I met F at my son's school after swallowing a couple of paracetamols and willing myself to dress up and step out the front door to send my son to school - I even drove to the school which is just 5 minutes walking distance - I was not surprised when she was already waiting for me with some food containers.

"I made these for you - so all you have to do is boil rice, ok?" she said. I wanted to hug her but I didn't want to appear too emotional and anyway, I might start to cry..

Thank you, F - for being my friend. (I love you too, you know!)
___________________

When one is living so far away from one's family, one just has to depend on one self and if one is lucky there are other people to look to like one's partner and good friends. But even when I am so very lucky to have these, I wish for that one person whenever I am sick. Even at my age, whenever I am feeling low and out of sorts, it is my mother that I want..

My mother is no 'angelic figure' and no mother Theresa, indeed she was a fierce and feared head-teacher, although, she has toned down to a certain degree now! But with a little rub on my back and 'a touch' on my forehead and a cup of hot water mixed with her herbal/traditional medicines - something that she really believes in - I always feel that I'm already on my way to perfect health.

So I wasn't at all surprised when that Hilton girl called for her mum when she was 'ushered' by the police after the recent sentencing..

I wish my mum is here.

But I settled for sending her an sms and asking her to pray for my health. She replied with some advice and I followed them. And the next day she sent another text message informing me that a parcel is already on its way to me, with some medicine she got from the pharmacy.

Thank you mak. Your loving gesture, although it is just in the form of a small parcel with some medicine that I can really just buy here, is much, much appreciated.

I love you and inshaAllah with your prayers, I am on my way to perfect health already.
_________

I know this entry is a little bit chaotic with no real point whatsoever, but my throat is throbbing and my mind is not thinking clearly and I really have to lie down...

Subconscious Memory

Mr S has been using the 'favourites' folder in my youtube account to keep his favourite songs, from our younger years.

Examples of these songs are:


Cintamu Mekar Di Hati - May


Memburu Rindu - Hattan


And others like:

Sentuhan Kecundang - Ekamatra
Dari Sinar Mata - Bumiputra Rockers
Bayangan Gurauan - Rahmat
(Mr S insisted that I make a longer list, by the way, to which I had vehemently refused, of course!)

I will always come out with some sort of barb to show my contempt of his choice of songs - the rock kapak genre, they call it I think, although even this term is pretty new to me, so I am not sure if I'm using it correctly.

He sat in front of the pc for many hours searching for these songs - using up my valuable blogging hours - trying to recall the titles of these songs and the many bands of that time.

And then saving it all in MY account. Ugh..

I had fun 'sneering and ridiculing' (or in more polite terms, mercilessly teasing) Mr S who just grinned and ignored my taunts and kept on asking me whether I remembered this band and that band, to which my answer would be a firm NO!

But of course!

Hmmm....funny thing. With all the sarcasm that gushed from my mouth and my exaggerated show of contempt, to my utter surprise and not to mention absolute annoyance, each time Mr S clicks on a particular utterly repugnant and detestable song and making a great show of 'singing' each song, I somehow was able to 'join' him and even corrected his ever so often self made and impromptu lyrics. In fact I ended up singing most of the songs myself!

But, but, but........HOW??

I think, although I have never really shown any interest in most of these songs, I have subconsciously memorised these songs because I constantly heard them on the radio/tv at the time the songs were popular. And I hardly watched tv during those days at boarding school and I didn't even own my own radio until the last few months of school. Perhaps I heard them from other people's radio in our dormitory and probably subconsciously listened to other people singing them too.

Mr S just looked at me as if he knew it all along.

We just ended up singing the songs together in front of the pc, with me asking Mr S to 'play it again' when I thought we really sang a certain song well, in a duet.....

I'm Sorry I Forgot!

Our wedding anniversary this year had a lovely, lovely date:

And I forgot all about it!

Really do feel like crying...

Mr S remembered but PURPOSELY kept me in the dark because he wanted to surprise me with a gift and he didn't have time to buy one on the day or before that because it was an extended weekend and he had to study at home for his exams and most shops were closed anyway....(phew! that was a long sentence!)

*Excuses, excuses.*




Anyway, if I had remembered, I would have at least cooked something nice for him (since I have no money whatsoever to buy him something nice instead - what's the point of it if I buy and he pays for it, right??)

Instead, on that fateful day, I was feeling tired and lazy and there was some leftover lauk masak kurma in the pot and I just added some chicken into it!!!!

In fact, Mr S was the one who suggested it because he knew that I was just too lazy to cook that day!

Horror!!

I do feel very, very guilty over it but I blame him as well for not reminding me about it AND THEN, rubbing in the fact that I forgot our anniversary and only 'masak lauk kurma semalam tambah ayam je' for him on the special day!

Arghh....!

And he had to buy me that very nice card too, on top of the gift. He really made me feel quite miserable and very, very guilty yesterday!

Because Mr S will be reading this, I would like him to know that I AM SORRY for forgetting such a significant date in our lives and I wish him too, a very Happy Anniversary and I hope that he can forgive me.

(In future, if Mr S doesn't want to be disappointed, please set aside any temptation to surprise and just inform me so that we would at least have a good anniversary dinner, huh?)

Right. I am not really one for love poems but I found this particular one on the net that strikes a particular chord...

So here it is, to you, my horrible but lovely, my darling Mr S...

The Love of My Life
by Manda E I

You've been patient and I thank you a lot,
because very few people seem to have what we've got.

It took a long time to be really sure,
but I am the ailment and you are my cure.

Love without you is a life without love,
like living on earth without the heavens above.

Love without you, is a day without time,
a million years pass and the sun never shines.

My love for you can hardly be told,
It's something you feel but can't ever hold.

Among all these words what I am trying to say,
Is, 'I love you', in that very special way !!

Just Clothes

The muslim mums were gathered in a living room belonging to one of their own, discussing issues and events that recently have affected their lives.

"..I just want my children to wear muslim clothes, you know...to be proud to be muslims.."

Everyone agreed and nodded of course, except for me. Well, I was nodding too but only because I was a little impatient to make my point.

"Saying that.." I began, indicating that I see the merit of what she had said or I understand her point. However...

"Saying that," I began again, "what is really 'muslim clothes'?" I had asked. She had obviously meant the jubah for her children and of course the kopiah (although of course, she had other names for them).

I went on, "I mean, I come from a predominantly muslim culture as well, but our clothes are not like that, but they still cover the aurat- we don't need to wear something that symbolizes anything, as long as we cover what we're supposed to cover..."

Everyone was quiet for a few seconds - until one mum - an educated French muslimah - said, "But I think it's important for our children to understand that they're different than everyone else..."

And I understand what she wanted to say. That in a non muslim country like England, we need to instil in our kids that WE are not the same as THEM. WE do not celebrate Christmas or Halloween or Easter even though everybody else celebrates them. And WE do not believe in Father Christmas or Jesus or the tooth fairy even though they are frequently mentioned at school and on the telly.

So, the clothes that we wear may be the first 'signal' for our children.

I agree..

But still, just like the saying that the clothes don't make the man, to me, the clothes also don't make the man muslim. Or more precisely, they don't make a man a good muslim.

I wanted to elaborate on the matter further with the muslim mums but they went on to talk about other stuff so I decided to just keep quiet.

I remember I used to be young and quite blind to my faith. I used to think exactly that - if the man wears a jubah or a kopiah, then he must be a good man. A good muslim man. But I was disillusioned at a very young age, just before I turned 18, when I was 'sexually harassed' by a smiling and good looking man in a jubah and a kopiah too.

It happened in Mekah.

And ironically, it was in a JUBAH shop. Two men manned the shop, one young, the other older. The older man looked pretty 'arab' to me, but the young man looked chinesey. I guessed that he's from one of the ~stan countries where they sometimes look pretty chinese like. They were many of them around in Mekah, I had noticed.

It was like a ritual. After prayers we made our rounds to the shops and bazaars to look for jubahs and what nots to bring back home to Malaysia. Mak was choosing and pointing at the jubahs hanging at the back, completely covering the wall - they were folded nicely so that the pattern around the neck could be seen clearly and they were neatly hung there for all to see.

My two younger sisters were also there, if I am not mistaken - I can't really remember, but at least one of them certainly was there, I think. But they were both a few years younger than I and a lot smaller in size - so I don't think anything happened to them.

At least, I hope not. I never did asked them.

The shop was small and there were a lot of stuff about so as I walked about the shop, looking for anything that caught my eye, the younger man (who was also walking about the shop like any normal shop assistant) and I had to press our bodies to the wall or the piles of stuff on each other's side so that we can move without touching each other.

But somehow, each time I passed by him, his jubah only slightly touching my telekung, I bumped into something else.

And somehow, THAT happened quite a number of times in the few minutes that we were in that shop.

I remember the confusion I felt - apa benda tu?

It felt hard but at the same time it was soft because each time I passed it, it bent and brushed against me, before 'bouncing' back to it's initial position, under the man's garb.

At first I thought it must be his belt jutting out in front of him under his garb...I wanted to just ignore it but it kept bugging me because it happened a few times, almost like the man was doing it intentionally - bumping me with it, I had thought...

Could it be..?? !!

But it couldn't be..!!

Only on the way back to the hotel it struck me. After all, I wasn't a complete innocent - I had started reading those Sidney Sheldon novels from the age of 12 and finished most of them before I turned 15...

I felt my hands, feet and face turn cold and my heart raced loudly in my chest. I was feeling numb and scared but I did not tell a soul. I kept thinking, can't my mother hear my heart beating like timpanis and didn't she notice my face turning white as sheet? But I would never have told her even if she had asked me and until now she doesn't know..

And THAT experience, in Mekah, no less, taught me about how one's clothes do not mean ANYTHING, especially I think, since it happened in the Holy City - where everyone, I have always thought then, is surely more God-fearing than anywhere else.

Blardy hell.

The experience changed my whole perspective of men in muslim garb, coz seriously, anything can lurk under that jubah...

And since then, pious looking clothes never meant anything to me.

They're just what they are.

Clothes.

The Burnt Cake

Did I not say that I am an amateur cook?


In that were 3.5 packets of Philadelphia Cheese and 7 eggs plus all the other good stuff.

It was all my fault, you know - I read the instructions wrongly and turned the temperature knob to 200 degrees C instead of the stated 200 degrees F, which converts to around half of that in Celcius, I think.

!£$^"%$£!^%$"!!!F&*^%$%$£"!, %$£"$"£!%^!

When I smelled something burning from the oven I quickly, very quickly - in fact, in a flash, realised my mistake. It was, of course, too late for me to do anything and I was at the verge of crying and thrashing everything at the same time. I felt so angry with myself that later on, after softly muttering a variety of curses (I AM from Melaka after all, you must remember..), I threw the storybook that I was reading, at my bed room door no less, for the desired maximum BANG effect.

Never did like throwing things when I was angry.

I always thought it as childish, somehow. But I understand the need for some people to do it when they're consumed with wrath - better the vase than someone's face, right? Still, I've always hated what to me, is just a particularly brand of childish behaviour.

Saying that, I had to do something. I warned Mr S of what I was going to do prior to that and he gave me the permission to throw the book, which of course, was one that he paid for, so err, I thought it would be nice if he gave me his permission...

"Pa, aku tension lah..rasa macam nak baling lah buku ni...boleh tak?"
"Ha..baling lah...meh aku tangkap.."

I think he was trying to be funny at the time - to help me relax a bit, perhaps. Plus he was also growing rather tired of listening to my complaints about that particular book anyway.

And so, that particular book went air borne.

Of course, the 'maximum effect' came out only as a very dull thud because the book only made it to a pile of Mr S's files and books on the floor. But still, it gave me some satisfaction.

Guess I am really just an immature amateur.

Just in case you're wondering..the cake was edible and it tasted quite good underneath all that carcinogenic black layer. I also made some fresh strawberry sauce for it even though fresh strawberries trigger my asthma - just for the kids.

So at least, there's that.

Bird's Eye View of Home

A friend told me about how he saw his house in Batu Gajah, Perak very clearly in the Google Map so I tried to find my mother's house in Melaka.

Here it is..


The satelite pic is so very clear and I noticed that there were some fires as well in the area (black patch in small pic, inset) - that's the 'normal' open air burning in the area (awful, I know!) - so I am pretty sure that it was a hot day there at the time the satelite took those pics and there were not too many clouds, hence why the pic is so clear.

My mum's house is the one that is not exactly facing the road as my arwah ayah had the house built facing the kiblat. There is a little tarred road that leads to the house from the main road and I can also see so very clearly the four overgrown pine trees in the front garden that my arwah ayah had had planted when the house was first built more than 20 years ago.

Felt a pain in my chest as I was looking at the picture. How I miss home!

Big Sacrifice

After 5 years of researching towards a PhD., a friend has decided to call it quits. It wasn't an easy thing she did. After months of losing sleep and worrying and weighing the issues involved, she decided to throw in the towel, and cried while packing her books.

She just could not do it. She has tried and tried and tried and she was a brilliant student at school and her undergraduate course too but whilst handling 3 little kids and a husband who is also doing his PhD., it was just too much for her little shoulders.

I don't blame her.

It is not easy to study when you have kids. Period.

But it is worse when you're living in London where the living costs (especially the rent) are high and the money your sponsors give you is only really enough for single people or couples without children. It's not easy when your spouse is also doing his PhD and as a wife, somehow, just somehow, you end up doing most of the work at home on top of your own PhD. And don't forget, as a wife and mum to your kids, you are always, always emotionally engaged with your children's ups and downs when your husband, being a man, can simply 'disengage' and block anything and everything and just get on with his work.

I myself did plan to pursue something here - to also take the opportunity to gain something whilst in London. But my mother wisely said 'tak payahlah...sorang-sorang lah belajar. Dua-dua orang nak kejar itu, kejar ini..macammana?'

Wise words indeed, I think. And many of my friends here who are doing their PhD seem to think so too.

I know 4 married people here who are doing their PhDs and many, many times they have been at the verge of giving up everything and just fly back home.

You see, for most of them, their allowance will only just cover their rent here in London. For food, the children, the car and recreation they have to get money from somewhere else. And thus, one of them will have to find some work. And that is not very easy if you don't have the right qualification to your name. And because of the fact that due to the EU agreement, employers are to give priority to the people from within the EU, it gets even more difficult to get 'proper' jobs like what they used to have back home.

But once the non-studying spouse gets a job, who will take care of the baby when he/she goes to work to earn money for the family? Childcare is VERY expensive here. In the end, that job falls upon the shoulders of the one who is really supposed to be studying and working away at the library - but instead is at home trying to type a report on the PC while screaming at the children to be quiet so that he/she can concentrate.

But who said life is easy?

Still, I wonder why the universities in Malaysia send their lecturers here to London with such a pittance for one family to live by. Don't they realise the rent here is sky high (minimum average is around £700)? Don't they realise that because of the lack of funds, their sponsored student's performance will suffer and in the end it may well be pointless, anyway?

The summary to a discussion amongst friends yesterday, all married with children and studying for a better future for themselves and their family was; "If the PhD. is to be achieved, BOTH husband and wife cannot study at the same time. There is no other way about it - one of us (obviously the one who's NOT studying) will have to be worse off after all this. There has to be a BIG career sacrifice and he or she has to be resigned to the fact. Otherwise, not just the studying spouse's performance at the university and the stay-at-home spouse's working career will suffer - the marriage will also take a beating."

After all, if the stay-at-home spouse bears a grudge and keeps on harping about how BECAUSE of the other, he/she has lost out on this and that in her career, what else is bound to happen?

And all the above plus the necessity of the 'tightening of one's belt', of course. (And I mean that in a general way, not just when it comes to food.)

Because for most of the students here who come with their families, life is, indeed, NOT easy.

I hope for their sakes' and mine too that it will all be worth it.

Tube Bloop

The tube was packed full.

None of us got a seat except for my youngest who was comfortably sitting in his stroller from the start and this doesn't count! Everyone who didn't trust themselves not to sway and tumble tried to grab hold of the yellow coloured beams available inside the train. We were standing next to the doors, Mr S was standing beside me and my eldest was standing right in front of me, holding on to the stroller and the beam next to it while the underground train sped to the next station.

I was looking at the beam of hands in front of me when I saw Mr S's fingernails. They were long and albeit they looked clean, were haphazardly cut - typical of Mr S's nails, I thought - he doesn't know how to clip his nails in a smooth and rounded line. They were really quite, quite appalling.

And so I couldn't resist.

I gave his hand that was holding the beam a little slap and shouted above the din;
"Eii... Panjangnya kuku!"

(We always speak Malay when we go out - obviously so that other people won't understand what we're saying. This poses a little bit of a problem however, because my youngest doesn't really understand the language or at least, he acts like he doesn't understand - so we always need to revert back to English whilst speaking to him. Anyway, back to the story..)

And then he looked at me, his eyes dancing, "Tu bukan tangan aku lah!"

And there was another pair of eyes also looking at me - to whom the hand I just slapped belonged to!

Just then, the train slowed down to stop at a station and I quickly looked away, my face hot, and moved around to give way to other people who were leaving or coming in.

Mr S stifled his laugh until we reached our station which was the next one and then he burst out laughing, to my utmost annoyance.

"That's something you should write in your blog!" he said, laughing.

So here it is..

An Old Conversation

Found this in my son's school magazine. Doubt the little boys and girls in the school can really understand the meaning of this..

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by
the things that you didn't do than the ones you did.
So throw off the bowlines,
sail away from the safe harbour.
Catch the trade winds in your sails.
Explore, Dream and Discover.

Mark Twain, attributed.

I suddenly remembered this conversation that I had with my mother a decade ago, when my mother cared to acknowledge that I had a boyfriend at the age of 21, (i.e.my husband).

She had asked me whether I was in a 'serious' relationship.

And when I truthfully answered 'yes' (I can never lie to my mother, you see), she said, " Are you sure you want to be in a serious relationship? There are so many things that you can do in this world before you want to 'settle down'.."

And in all the glory of a young woman blinded by love and her naivety in the ways of the world, I answered, "Of course, I'm sure. I can always do things together with him. That's not a problem..."

And my mother just kept quiet when I answered her so confidently. But even if she did try to persuade me, I doubt that anyone in this world could make the young and hot blooded that I was ever listen to reason anyway...

But what IF she did try to talk me out of any of my decisions and what IF she succeeded? Would I have turned my sails to another direction and caught the racing winds and sailed to a completely different destination?

Funny how this conversation is etched in my mind so clearly now, like it happened yesterday.

Regrets?

No...not me. Just that this conversation means so much more to me now than it had then, definitely.

All The Best To Me

Forgive me, I am in one of my sullen and sorry moods.

The truth is, I am a jack of all trades. I can do many, many wonderful stuff but unfortunately, not ever good enough to make 'anything' out of them.

For example, I can play the piano but I learnt only until grade 6. I got a first class for beginner's French at university and took Japanese at boarding school for 4 years but until now, I can't speak these languages if my life depended on it. I learnt mandarin while in primary school but was never really serious about it. I write a little, cook a little, even sew a little. The list goes on but why does it have to be 'a little'?

I feel, unlike the cakes that I have baked and displayed in this blog, I myself, am only 'half baked'. I am regretful, you see, and the only thing I can do now is ensure that my children will finish everything they start - unlike me.

But recently, I was informed of a chance to finish one of the things that I have started (none of the above, though - I told you the list goes on!). And after staring at the floor for some time to think it over, I have decided to settle it once and for all.

This will require a lot of sacrifice, determination and will from me. But I really want to finish something in my life, so, I must do this.

I MUST, at least, try to finish this.

FIVE reasons

Another tag, unexpectedly slapped on my back by blogger cp1. This will undoubtedly be quite boring because there's nothing funny or amusing at all about the reasons why I blog..

1. Initially, I have to admit, it was just for the thrill of getting my writings 'published'. I should think anyone who thinks that he /she can 'write' would have this dream of being a published writer and blogging has provided this 'exposure' of sorts to the dreamer in me. And I still get excited when people comment on my entries - Wow! People actually read the stuff that I write!

Exhilarating!

2. I hate it when people don't want to share recipes - they just vaguely answer your questions and you 'get it' - they don't want to share. I'm the type who is thick skinned and will ask for recipes and tips about food from anyone whose cooking I have tasted and loved. That's just me. And in return, ask me whatever you like about my food - I will always try to help, if I can. So I blog to share my recipes to the world - albeit they are amateurish and none too perfect at all. But hey, who cares?

3. I live far away from my family, so blogging is the perfect way to update them, especially about the children and about what has been happening to me. There are pictures and stories and thoughts and experiences..hey, blogging is really a cool way to update your friends about everything and anything about you. And especially because I'm so far away, it's really, really nice when my friends and family have blogs too. I cannot stress how comforting it is for me to read my sister's blog and my friends' blogs - because I do miss everyone at home so very much and miss spending time with everyone! Blogging is a way for me to keep in touch.

4. Blogging can also be therapeutic. Sometimes I have thoughts of this and that or I feel angered, amused, annoyed, happy or broody about things and being alone mostly here, I don't have anyone to talk to or to discuss with - most of the time I only have the screen in front of me, and the keyboard in front of it to vent out my thoughts and feelings...

5. Lastly, to show off. Hey, although not all of my cooking turned our well, the ones that do should really go on display. He he he.

No lah, not really.

Cooking all those cakes and dishes that I have made is an achievement for me. I blog them to log them and to share them with my friends, family and the rest of the world. Hey, they've got a big server at blogger.com so why not upload all those pictures that you would never want to forget? So yes, blogging is also like a memory box for me, to put in all the stuff that I want to remember later, be it how my cooking turned out or my children's antics preserved in digital form, with some notes and stories written along with them, as reminders for me.
Truly, blogging is a real gem for me and I treasure this home of mine in cyberspace.

That's it. With this, I tag new blogger BUNNY to tell me the reasons why she is starting a blog. Don't be cross now...