Thursday, April 28, 2005

The Game

The name of the game is to wait. You are required to have boundless amounts of patience and patience here indeed is a virtue. Unfortunately, it's not just patience that you need. Sometimes, the first time you roll the dice, you get a pair of perfect sixes. Sometimes, you could spend the rest of your life rolling the dice, only to find out that the sixes have been dug out of the dice and you're never going to get the double sixes. But for most, you have to wait, to patiently roll the dice till you get the doubles. Unfortunately, most times that you're going to do this, you're not going to end up with the double sixes but with a whole big bag full of disappointment. So, not only do you need patience to wait, you need that bounce back mechanism to get back to the table again, to dare to roll the dice again, knowing full well, you could fail yet again and to know that you have to pick yourself up and do it again. Why subject yourself to that? Well, once you've chosen to play this game, there's no way out. You can't say you'll give up, because there's no way to give up. You just have to keep going, you just have to keep getting disappointed, with no control of it in your hands at all. You could suggest that you roll it without any sort of expectation at all. It's impossible. You know you're looking out for the double six, so while the dice are spinning, you'll keep on watching, keep on hoping and 80% of the time, you'll be disappointed, then you have to take a deep breath and start all over again. (the math here isn't supposed to add up)And so the story goes.

I'm really not good at playing this game.

I sometimes question the wisdom on embarking on this painful and sometimes cruel game. Note to those out there considering the game, self-absorbed bliss might be a much less painful game to play.

Ondine tossed this thought in at 08:31

0 thoughts...

The Week Away

This week is course week. That means a few things.

1. I don't have to go to school.
2. I get to climb out of bed when Dan leaves for school.
3. I leave the house at half 8 to get to the course by 9. Well, usually a few minutes after 9.
4. I get to have lunch at a mall instead of the hawker centre across the road from school.
5. We're holed up most of the day, doing excruciatingly painful things to the brain like thinking about critical thinking.

What I like about it.

1. I get to watch Friends first thing in the morning while I read the paper and have breakfast.
2. I get to bring back a huge iced tea back from lunch.
3. I get to walk around during lunch and look at things I might buy but very obediently do not.

What I dis-like about it.

1. Leaving at half 8 is wonderful if it were in another country, or at the end of the year. At this point, it is blisteringly hot and I'm drenched by the time I get to the train station and then again when I get to the centre where the course is.
2. People who like talking and don't allow you to get a word in edgewise the entire day.
3. The great scary lady who sits in the back sometimes. Then I can't entertain myself by sending SMSes to the various people that I keep in touch with through the day.
4. The exhaustion at the end of any of the given days.

As I was walking home yesterday, I was marvelling at the fact that I was almost home just 20 minutes after we disbanded. But it also occurred to me that a regular office job would require the same type of hours, likely more, everyday and for a moment, I was grateful for my job where once or twice a week, I finish at ridiculous hours, but most times, I get home at a civil hour that allows me to go for a run and perhaps get dinner from scratch instead of the MSG laden hawker food we resort to most of the time.

This week, there hasn't been running. Neither was there any last week, so I feel quite icky. I shall attempt to next week after the very sinful weekend that is coming up. We're driving up to KL for basically cheap food, probably not shopping but it's not being ruled out, especially in my current mood and more importantly, to regain some sanity in our lives that is Week 6 of Term 2.

Ondine tossed this thought in at 08:08

2 thoughts...

Sunday, April 24, 2005

Lobster Bisque

I've always been told that I had bizarro dreams, but seriously, nothing tops the dream I had last night. Not when YM had puppies or when my mother mysteriously morphed into her mother. It started off with me going on a course that I really am on for.

In the dream, I had completed the course and had returned to school. My colleagues, as they do in reality, had used the the time that I had been away to play a prank on me. This wasn't a regular prank though. It didn't consist of them putting porn on my computer as a screen saver or lining up all my markers as if they were candles on a birthday cake. It came in the form of first, guppies.

Yes, guppies. They had taken the sink out of my room- this was my old room in my grandma's house that had a sink in the bed room. Anyway, they had taken that out and replaced it with a trough of guppies. Unfortunately, my dad (like he did, years ago when I tried to keep a tadpole in my stoppered sink), came and pulled out the stopper to let all the water flow. He claimed that it would breed mosquitoes. Before I could retort that the guppies would eat the mosquito wrigglers, the water had drained and the guppies were wriggling and squirming at the lack of water at the base of the trough. Weird.

Fast forward and I'm going to bed. I have an uneasy feeling that there's something wrong with my bed so with superhuman strength only present in dream world, I lift up the mattress, only to find that there is a miniature beach under my bed. Soft sand and sandcastles complete with flags. But it doesn't end there. I see what looks like a crab stick (one of those red and white crab sticks you find in California handrolls)and tug at it. It is not a crab stick... a HUGE red lobster is attached to that crab stick. The crab stick is in fact one of its tentacles. So yes, there was a huge metre long lobster under my bed, complete with pincers and its flapping tail.

I tell myself rather logically in the dream that it's ok, it's not going to attack me because no one has ever been known to die from a lobster attack and it wouldn't have a reason to kill me since I don't even eat its kind. Almost telepathically, the lobster responds by very menacingly waving its claws in my direction which sends me running out of the room and having the spider man ability to scale a fireman's pole, out of the reach of the giant lobster.

At this point, I am transported back into the staff room and my colleagues are asking me if I enjoyed the lobster sashimi they planned for my return. That is when I realise that I was having an out of body experience because part of me was still watching the lobster look for me from my very high perch.

So I woke up this morning, extremely puzzled and wondering if indeed there was a lobster hidden under my bed. I doubt it, but if there was, Dan would be very pleased with being able to eat all the lobster sashimi he wanted to. I will just need to head out and buy some wasabi.

Ondine tossed this thought in at 09:21

2 thoughts...

Friday, April 22, 2005

Brain Pain

The most painful thing you could do as a teacher, apart from marking 200 very badly written essay scripts in a span of 2 weeks, is to meet the parents of these essay writers and tell them in the most diplomatic of ways that their child isn't really doing that well.

And to make it even worse, for me anyway, is to have to conduct this entire exchange in Chinese.

Today was the dreaded Meet the Parents Session. And I'm in school still at half 8 at night. We used to hold these things on Saturday afternoon, but since Saturdays are now embargoed, we hold everything on Friday evenings so that means everytime there's something like this, I end up missing pilates *growl*

So, I sit at this table, with my class number prominently displayed and await visitation from anxioua parents. Unfortunately, my college, being a heartland college of sorts yields parents who do not speak English too well. Unfortunately for them, I don't speak Chinese too well. So, it's a chicken and duck situation (not the one with prostitutional connotations, the other chicken and duck. Also, not the chick and duck from F.R.I.E.N.D.S).So in my flailing Chinese, I valiantly try to hold prescriptive conversations like

"Your son has got a good mind, but his grammar foundation is weak. So, when he writes, his ideas can't be brought across clearly."

"Your daughter is very high strung and anxious. On top of that, she is very shy so it's very difficult to find out what she doesn't understand. Ah, but don't worry, she will eventually do well in her final exams"

"Don't worry, let me tell you the format of the paper and what your child needs to do in order to do well in the examinations... "
and then go on to outlying the entire syllabus for the subject and the different types of questions that appear.

"The local universities' entry criteria are as follow..... This is how you calculate your child's entrance score..."
... here indicates a deep breath and a five minute struggle to explain the intricacies of university admission.

At the end of that, I received some very loud applause from my colleagues who were impressed that my brain did not implode because of the effort, although I did announce quite loudly after that that MY BRAIN PAIN!

None of this made any easier by the fact that I have a huge blister on the side of my tongue and it hurts. It hurts when I have to speak in class at any speed and volume and the pain is multiplied exponentially when I speak in Chinese because my tongue isn't used to wrapping itself round the Mandarin syntax.

I shall now go rest.

Ondine tossed this thought in at 20:25

1 thoughts...

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

In Other News

Everyone's going to be blogging about the casino and how our consultative government is all a sham, I shall not. Channeling CJ from The West Wing in Take This Sabbath Day-
You know, I have no position on the casino. I try to get worked up about it, it seems like I should. But the truth is, I honestly don't care if we have one or not.

So there.

But I did have tea with an old old friend yesterday from secondary school days and it was brilliant. All it takes to reduce respectable working adults into giggling young school girls, get hold of their friends from days of giggling yore. Guaranteed giggly success.

It was good. We had tea, we reminisced about days when the highlight of our day was racing to the canteen to get ahead of the food line. But we also talked about grown up stuff. Relationships, work, children (having and not having them) but people at Toast were giving us quite an evil look because there were these loud, sudden bursts of laughter. The big haired tai tais were not happy. The couple beside us did not look happy either. But then again, I wasn't happy with them either.

Girl in school uniform, 15 years old the most, with a much older early 20 ish boyfriend who bought her the entire sandwich and iced tea (divine!) meal. Dude, don't you know she's not legal??? Seriously. We caught one couple like that across the road from college sometime back. And when we confronted her about her very 'hum-sarp'* poly-aged boyfriend who had spent our entire lunch stroking her cheek and thigh, she accused us of interfering in her life where it was none of our business. There were many hands itching for some action after that statement.

I have no issue with kids seeing kids. Heck, I was a teenager and thinking about some of the things that I got up to then, still makes me blush now. So, not total disapproval, just more discretion and more brains and a whole lot more respect please! I bet, she doesn't even know how to use the word please! Kids nowsadays!

Anyway, back to my friend. We've known each other for about 16 years and she's way ahead of me in the education ladder, not that I really care. But it was great, someone who knows me from Adam and having so much history with. It felt great to be in secondary school again after all this time even though, I can fully gurantee that I CANNOT fit into THAT school skirt!

Ondine tossed this thought in at 09:06

0 thoughts...

Sunday, April 17, 2005

Yet Another Gem

Questioin: How far does the media promote greed and unhealthy lifestyles?

Part of an answer: These unhealthy lifestles are included in television shows to achieve high ratings by attracting people to watch the show as it climaxes.

Talk about the availability of porn, everywhere.

Ondine tossed this thought in at 22:58

0 thoughts...

Friday, April 15, 2005

The Yearly Occurence

Once a year, I don my running shoes and attempt to streak down the 100 m like I used to when I was in school. Except, I do it as part of the staff race and now, I just run in my sneakers, not bothering to find a pair of racing shoes to slip into. I also don't bother to eat right.

In days past, I would be wolfing enough bananas to feed a colony of monkeys. I would also be carb loading and fruit eating. Now, I indulge in buttery pies as the meal before the run. We had pies from Big Ben. Yum! Usually, I'm not a fan of anything resembling the smell of butter or milk, but these were quite irresistible so I had 2. As did all my other colleagues who were about to run. So, all of us had churny tummies before the run, during the run and straight after the run, proceeded to reception and refreshments to wolf down more food. There was great disapproval from the external track coach we hire.

This was the same guy that insisted, at 14 that I was to eat copious amounts fruit and salad. At 15, that I wasn't to eat meat because it was causing uric acid to build in my joints hence the injuries. At 16, that I should go totally vegetarian much to the great displeasure of my mother as she stood by her fall-ill-once-a-month daughter. At 17, I had broken free, went to college and never looked back and had shoved him into the deep recesses of my mind till one fine day in January, he turns up at my college and he's introduced to me as the new track coach.

Singapore is far too small.

But anyway, for a moment, after the run, I felt that I needed to get some sort of affirmation from him because of the long ago familiar sensations after a run. But I resisted it, walked the other direction and basked in the full knowledge that I could still manage a decent run even with 2 chicken pies wreaking havoc in my tummy.

Ondine tossed this thought in at 23:28

0 thoughts...

First Mums

We did the unthinkable last night. We actually watched First Mums, yet another attempt by the government to get us to procreate. Some bits were actually funny but it really could not make up for the fact that it was a shameless propaganda ploy. You have one of the 'mums', desperate to have kids she is resorting to IVF say in the face of well justified doubts and reservations of her husband- " I already have the 5 C's. Cash- Check! Credit Cards- Check! Car- Check! But kids- No Check!" How more blatant can the government actually get! Seriously, kids are not a commodity to be attained or a trophy to be collected. I am reminded of the trailers to Everybody Loves Raymond on Star TV

Marie: "Don't make me a trophy wife!"
Frank: "What contest in hell did I win??!" That cracked me up, so much!

Anyway, I digress.

When are they going to figure that this isn't going to make me want to have kids? We've talked about this in class a lot. My kids think that since the government has made it so easy to have kids, I shouldn't really have much hesitation. It's taken a lot to put it across to them that it's a personal decision and nothing the government does or say will change that or make me have kids any sooner. I never want to be in the position where when my child asks why I had him or her, the answer would be because the cash incentives were good. The poor kid would be in therapy till he turns 50.

I was born the third child to the family in a time where people were penalised for having more than 2 children. So my parents didn't care two hoots about what the government thought and I shouldn't either. I'm really puzzled as to who is really going to go out there and procreate just because they watched First Mums last night. No doubt, anyone who gets pregnant during the time that the show is being aired will automatically have their pregnancy attributed to the wonderful drama about the joys of motherhood. *gag*

Incidentally, talking about names that playground bullies will mercifully take a part the other day, along the lines of Raffles Napoleon Tan (Real name, I swear!), I thought Tanisha Tan was a funny name which Dan of course disapproved of immediately, egging me to further destroy the possibility of naming any of our children that by declaring that she would be Tanisha Tan Ting Tong. But my perennial favourite is still Darjeeling Tan Oo Long. Just so that I give Dan an aneurysm.

Ondine tossed this thought in at 09:41

4 thoughts...

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Blast From the Past

While I was filling up more paperwork for our eventual Flight of Fancy, I felt that I was walking back through the pages of our lives in Melbourne. And all this, not from looking at photo albums or videos, but just passports.

One of the ridiculous pieces of information that this very expensive adventure requires is a list of all our previous entries into Australia. Seeing that Australia is about the nearest Caucasian country to visit and this isn't including the fact that I studied there, I have about 6 visas in my passport and about 12 entries into and exits out of that land under. Each one having to be carefully and accurately noted, cross-referenced to a specific visa and visa number. Double that, seeing that I am only the 'spouse' in the application and Dan is the primary applicant and you're where I was about an hour ago.

Tedious and frustrating as it was- the ink that was used by Ozzie customs seems to be substandard ink and with the general passing of time has faded into such oblivion that you cannot quite tell the year, much less the month and the day- the specific dates reminded me of a life I'd almost forgotten. Well, I haven't quite forgotten it it just hasn't been in the forefront of my memory in a long while. All of a sudden, I was remembering how chaotic it was to leave and how chaotic but totally exhilarating it was to be back in Melbourne after the flight. It's made me feel sad to have forgotten.

On some subconscious level, we haven't. That's why we're indulging in this nightmare of paperwork. That's why we're planning and saving and tutoring like crazy. But I think sometimes we forget about why we're doing all this. We just do it. Because it's required of us. It's hard to always keep the big picture in full view, not when the everyday demands keep clouding it. And I'm ashamed to say that those demands have clouded it so much that I'd forgotten what I know will make me happy. My bad.

But then again, I think it's also a survival mechanism. If I spent all the time here and in my job wishing I was somewhere else, the level of misery I would be feeling now would be incredibly phenomenal and probably detrimental to me and my job and hence, to me and to Dan. So, perhaps, it is good that while I remember this in my dream state, I don't spend every waking moment obsessing over it. I have better things to obsess about, truthfully.

But it was nice, also to be reminded. It was nice to still remember my old Melly address even if we don't own the house anymore. It was nice to recall the frenzy that went with every departure to Melly and the heavy heart that accompanied every arrival back to manky Singapore. I don't want to sell out. I don't want to forget that, totally. Keep it in a box so that I can function here, yes. But throw it away, hell no.

Hopefully, the end is in sight, behind this mountain of paper work. But I suspect not. The agent is less ept that I had hoped he would be. He hasn't asked us for our digit prints yet. Yup, apparently, that's part of the application procedure, just to make sure that we're not wanted by Interpol.

Ondine tossed this thought in at 22:57

1 thoughts...

Tuesday, April 12, 2005


Has technology become too much a part of our lives?

The invention of a calculator has made our calculations so much faster. In school, nearly all the students own a calculator. Why is this so? It is because they can solve a problem so much faster . Besides, calculator is so easily to use that even a primary school pupils can do it. Some people argue that in primary school, basic numerical methods are still being taught by the school. However, be frank, who will still use the basic method if a calculator is just right beside. During examinations, we will always bring the simple gadget with us and without it, students will start panicking and fanatically ask for help.

I have visions of hyperventilating students with teachers going wild and flinging abacus at one another.

He goes on to discuss how the mobile phone is very important in our lives.

There are no words to describe this except this...F9!!!!!

Ondine tossed this thought in at 16:29

1 thoughts...

Friday, April 08, 2005

Sea Coconut in Heavy Syrup

Nothing can make you swear the way a 567 gm can of Sea Coconut in Heavy Syrup dropping out of your hand onto your foot can.

My mother would have been livid and would have washed my mouth out with soap and then smeared chilli padi all over my lips if she heard the colourful multitude of profanities that burst forth my lips when the side of the can struck my foot at full force.

I have a bruise forming as I type.



Ondine tossed this thought in at 21:10

0 thoughts...

Descriptive Writing.

The product of ten years of decriptive writing.

Student (Trying to explain that she thought this teacher was good looking): That teacher.
Teacher (Confused):Which one?
Student: That teacher who is a lady.
Teacher: There're about 70 lady teachers in this college. What does she look like?
Student: She looks like an American Born Chinese.
Teacher: She loooks...?
Student (hurridely interjects): She looks oriental.
Teacher: She looks American Born or Oriental? They're very different.
Student: Um.. She looks like a Chinese whose been to America.
Teacher: Um, how am I supposed to know what a Chinese that's been to America looks like? Do I look live I've been to Kota Tinggi?
Student: Um.....
Teacher: Does she have big eyes?
Student: No, she doesn't.
Teacher: Ok... did she have small eyes?
Student: Erm, no. They're not big, not small lah. But she looks like she exercises a lot.
Teacher (with a look of revelation): Ah...... that one.

That, was apparently a student, trying to describe me.


Ondine tossed this thought in at 21:08

0 thoughts...


At assembly, many people complimented that I had really pretty shoes. Thank you, I liked them too. They were pretty and funky and totally unconventional for school use. I liked them. Unfortunately, the gods of CB* luck decided that it was just too good an opportunity to miss. So while pacing the aisles as my kids struggled to put coherent arguments on paper, the shoe decided to unglue itself. Broken shoes Looking somewhat like this. The tragedy of tragedies. Not only did it choose the most inopportune time to give way, there was no fixing it. My sweet kids offered a stapler, scotchtape and even glue! Nothing would coax the strap to cooperate just long enough for me to return to my desk. And as CB luck would have it, I was in the classroom furthest away from the office. I counted, it takes me more than 300 steps one way to get from desk to classroom. So, with no other choice and taking the risk of looking extrememly unglam and daft, I took the shoe off and hobbled the 300 steps back to my desk.

It was a good thing that I keep a pair of slippers under my desk on days where my feet hurt and I had no desire of clunking around in my 3 inch Nine West shoes unnecessarily. The not so good thing was, they looked like that.
And I had to spend the rest of the day in and out of class,around school looking like cows died to be on my feet. There is really no dignity in being in public with cows on your feet. None what so ever. Thank goodness it's Friday. We can all afford to look a bit daft on Fridays.

*CB luck- Whatever sense of propriety I have left and me, never quite going through National Service has prevented me from spelling out the acronymn in full, much less lend voice to it. Sufficed to say, it means extremely bad luck that follows you around doggedly and jinxes everything good in your life. We all have CB luck, but in varying degrees.

Ondine tossed this thought in at 16:27

0 thoughts...

Wednesday, April 06, 2005

12 Years

It's taken 12 years but it's finally happened. My college skirt no longer fits.

I don't know why I still have it, but I do and I found it just now, and it no longer fits. A year or two ago, it still did. I remember discovering it then too and trying it on.

It's time to stash it back into the dark confines of my cupboard and hope that the next time I chance upon it, it'll miraculously fit again. I doubt so though.

Sigh. It's taken 12 years and I wish it'd taken longer.

Time to get back on that diet. Darn them french toast and Krispy Kremes.

Ondine tossed this thought in at 22:12

6 thoughts...

A Gathering of Teachers

Message I sent out today while waiting for a briefing to start.

Being in a room full of teachers is quite a put off.

No offence to any of the teachers out there.

Reply to message

Teachers en masse are repulsive.

Once again, no offence meant to the teachers out there, seeing that I am a teacher, I am married to a teacher and I have many good friends that are teachers.

But seriously.

I was at the briefing session for the, get this...wait a minute... wait for it....wait... NATIONAL INTERSCHOOL BLOGGING CHAMPIONSHIPS 2005!!!!

The objectives?

1. To harness new media and technology for pedagogical purposes.
2. To encourage creativity through writing with the use of visuals and images.
3. To allow teachers to learn more about their students through blogging.

So, 2 out of the 3 objectives are for the benefit of the teacher actually. Yes, no doubt it will EVENTUALLY benefit the students, but isn't the blogging supposed to be for them and about them? Why should the objectives be, in local policy speak, teacher centred?

But I guess what else can you expect from something that is jointly organised by the Ministry of Education? Of course there has to be a teaching point to it. Even if, during the briefing, we are told that the rationale behind this is that blogging is a popular tool for teenagers to express themselves and it helps meet the various psychosocial needs of each stage of life. After this was very eloquently read off the slide, great conviction and belief was added in a not so under-tone by the guy muttering "whatever that means...". Yup, I'm totally sold by the idea.

Anyway, there will be a national interschool blogging championships. No stopping it. We've all been given our briefing kits. On one hand, I think it's quite an interesting idea. But on the other, I'm not sure how much I trust any competition whose banner is so uncreatively nationalistic. Yes, red and white. All you needed was a couple of stars and a crescent moon to complete.

And I was right to be put off by the many teachers in the room. Micromanaging is the word that comes to mind. Why question minute logistical issues when this is just a general launch? And what took the cake and made me dislodge my lenses through violent amounts of eye rolling and face-palming was the introducing of the judging criteria.

It comes in two parts. Like everything today, there is the voting part tied to the popularity of the blog and the content and presentation part tied to the pedagogical aspect of it *more eye rolling here, but it is reasonable I guess*. Anyway, trust a teacher to ask about the "weightage" of the judging and how many percent would go to popularity and how much would go to the actual judging by a panel. And on top of that, she wanted a guarantee that the weightage was going to be heavier on the side of the panel.

Can you say exam-mode? And we blame our students for seeing everything in term of exams and grades. Bah!

So, the gathering of teachers, makes me question, do I belong to such a group? I'd like to think not. But I hear that if you hang around too long, you too, end up joining the dark side.


Ondine tossed this thought in at 18:14

3 thoughts...

Tuesday, April 05, 2005


I think I'm going to die.

At lunch, eating at the hawker centre, those people who come round to fog for mosquitoes decided to let loose! At lunch time. My lunch had a film of oil on it after.


Ondine tossed this thought in at 14:29

0 thoughts...

Monday, April 04, 2005

Admin Hell

I've been put in charge of this new programme my college is doing for the kids.

So I've had to divide kids according to ability and slot them in with a tutor who hasn't formerly taught them and I've also had to sort them according to alphabetical order and then in order of classes according to the days that they will be in this programme thereafter generating yet another list to inform the current tutors who of their class are going to be slotted into which new classes and creating attendance lists for the tutors in charge of the new programme so that they can keep track of who actually shows up.

If you have a headache, multiply that by ten and that's about where I am right now. It's fun in a mindless sort of way but far too repetitive to be good for my brain cells. I should start marking now, but my brain's shut down from the hell it's just been through.

But happy because I'm listening to Sophie B Hawkins's Lose Your Way. A song that reminds me of Dan and I when we first started going which was incidentally 6 years ago to the day! It feels like much longer than that strangely enough. 6 years ago today was Easter Sunday. I have yet to encounter a 4th of April that was actually a Sunday and for that matter, Easter Sunday. I think when the cosmic alignment works in our favour and actually gives us a 4th of April which IS Easter Sunday, that is when we should throw a big party. According to this, the next one is 2010. Perhaps then? Hopefully in a totally different country.

For now, it's dinner at Hard Rock tonight. So that I can drink copious amounts of iced tea and remember what it was like in North America to be served a free flow of iced tea. Nothing fancy because we do have a wedding anniversary as well. But then again, any reason to celebrate is reason enough. :)

Ondine tossed this thought in at 17:31

0 thoughts...

Sunday, April 03, 2005

Sunday Night Blues

The weekend's passed too quickly and inconsequentially for me to feel anywhere near okay about starting the week tomorrow. I did nothing apart from stand around rather out of place a watch the tires of our Ford get changed. I am proud to announce that we now have Bridgestone GR80 14 inch tires on our car. Yes, I am a girl, but I know my stuff! There was also some work that had to be done, mostly the reading of the entire week's newspaper so that we could set a quiz for the kids come tomorrow. It's fine doing that except my fingers are all inked and grubby now. The good thing about it, I don't feel like we've wasted our newspaper subscription. More often than not, during the week, the newspapers get brought in in the morning, glanced at as we're heading out the door and collect in a pile till the weekend where it's hastily shoved onto the newspaper shelf waiting to be sold to the karang guni* man.

Incidentally, during the week while discussing Crime and Punishment, I discovered that parents of the current generation used the same types of threats to guarantee good behaviour as our parents did. I polled the class and asked how many of their parents threatened them with a visit from the police if they did not stop misbehaving (In local speak, it would go along the lines of "you naughty still, wait I call police then you know!"). Apparently quite a handful. Even those who did not actually have to cower at the thought of being hauled away in a cop car had heard of the threat before. What amused me, but was told was not uncommon, was to substitute the "call police" bit with "sell to the karang guni man".

I think for me, the threat was much simpler. It mostly went along the lines of "misbehave all you want, just wait till your father gets home".

I don't think the future generation of kids would be fearful of either the police or the karang guni man. It is time to look for some other unsuspecting profession to be the butt of all exasperated threats.

Anyway, it's time to retire to bed and sulk at the prospect of waking up early tomorrow.

*Rag a bone man- Person who buys everything from broken television sets to glossy magazines.

Ondine tossed this thought in at 22:21

0 thoughts...

" Far in the stillness, a cat languishes loudly"