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Showing posts from 2009

I'm a busybody

I was just walking along minding my own business going over in my mind my plans for the rest of the day when I noticed something being dropped from a window across the road. Little boy had thrown a toy out from his first floor window. The ground was strewn with soft toys and books. Next a framed photograph was hurled out. I thought his mum is not going to like that. Maybe she does not know that this is happening. So I crossed the road and rang the bell, and knocked. It was a house that had been converted into two flats so maybe no one heard me. I asked the boy in blue pyjamas where his mum was, was she asleep, was she not well, etc. He attempted to give answers but they were not very coherent. Maybe she's lying unconscious and needed help. The boy indicated that he wanted back something he had thrown out. The window was not secured at all and there was every possibility that he would climb out. Immediately my training on child protection, etc. kicked in. I told him to stay where he

Repairs and Renewals

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We were very late in getting our accounts to the accountant for tax purposes this year, largely due to husband's drawn-out illness. I really hate the time of year when we have to do the trial balance for the business. As my friend, who's really more into these matters than I, says they don't call it a TRIAL balance for nothing. One item that came up was "Repairs and Renewals". It got me thinking as we've had so many this year in the house. Son tore a large-ish hole in his pyjamas, "But they are my favourite!" So Mum (ie me) ended up mending (ie repairing) it. There was one week several items of textile (I can't remember what now) needed either repairs or buttons sewn back on, etc. I was actually quite proud of myself: instead of chucking these items out, we (ie I) repaired those. The washing machine went wonky. Do we buy a new one or have it repaired? It turned out that husband has bought insurance cover on its repair. Great! One phonecall was a

The Story of Tuit

Recently I received some information from Janne, founder of Tabitha, and read this story. I'm copying and pasting the lot to show how we can make a real difference in the lives of those, often far away from us, who only want a chance to help themselves. ============ November 2009 Dear friends and partners, This week marks the end of the first UN held Khmer Rouge trial of Duch – the infamous head of Toul Sleng – a torture and death chamber of more than 14,000 Khmers. Duch has said he is guilty and he has said he is sorry, but these words have little meaning for the survivors for he also says “I was just following orders”. There is no remorse. When I started Tabitha Cambodia back in October of 1994, the wounds of this brutal regime were still open and raw. Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge were still active in many parts of the country. People were struggling to make sense out of their losses – losses which included family, homes, education and their very fabric of society, their faith. We

Get the adrenaline going

Husband was back at work yesterday, the first time in five weeks. He had taken two weeks off to coincide with son's half-term break so that we could do all sorts. A visit to granny had to be cancelled because I had put my back out two weeks before, and granny herself had had her wrist in a cast. OK, so we booked tickets for the special exhibition at the British Museum. Of course son had to manifest another cold on that Wednesday morning. He recovered after a couple of days of rest, as usual. But husband copped it. Friday he struggled to get to the hospital for his ultra-sound scan because his consultants wanted to be sure that his liver was OK. He came home exhausted. Ironically liver was OK but he was exhausted from the cold symptoms. He was in bed most of the weekend. Monday, we thought his cold was over. Tuesday it was my turn to get this cold. Wednesday husband was at the clinic because his cough was bad, his temperature was fluctuating and he was not in very good nick. Pleuris

Tough Love: Look at my Face! (Part 2)

Chatting with husband at lunch (still recovering ever so slowly from pneumonia) it transpired that our son had been smacked not once -- as I thought -- but twice. Husband recounted how he had to smack son when he was much younger after doing exactly what he had been warned not to do. It's like, "You do that one more time and you will be smacked." Son did it one more time and immediately -- smacking is only effective if it's immediate -- and was smacked on the back of his hand. "I had to do it only once. Never had to do it again," he said. And of course there is this other thing about "always carry out your threat". It must have been something quite serious to warrant a smack. Back to Organic-Ally . Become our fan on Facebook .

Tough Love: Look at my Face!

This morning at breakfast, husband still off sick, asked son due for a History exam this morning: "What is the middle name of Alexander the Great?" Son: Uh, uhm, "the"! So delightful he is now. Yet there was a time before he was out of nappies when he would keep pushing the boundaries. Well, he still does, actually. For reasons I cannot remember he was told he was not to cross the line between the hall and the living room. Maybe it's the staircase that we thought could pose some danger. What did our young man do? He walked up to the line/boundary and threw his toy into the forbidden area. Would Mum let me go out there to retrieve my toy? He looked at us and waited for a reaction from us. Can't remember what we did, probably ignored him. And he learned when mum and dad set boundaries, those remain as boundaries. Once while he was still toddling he took to biting, purely out of mischief. He was told off sternly, "Do not bite!" And every time he appro

Tough love: do your children a favour

I stole this from The Telegraph . I've found myself saying to my husband what joy our silly-stage nine-year-old is bringing us. Every day. The proof of the pudding is when he turns 13, 15, etc, really. Meanwhile I am finding great joy in watching him grow up slowly but surely in learning to be more and more independent and learning greater responsibility with each passing day. This article reminded me of "the cane". When growing up in Singapore, "the cane" was ubiquitous in households with young children. This was usually hung up high on a hook on a wall in the living room. Do/Did parents use the cane? Of course. But only once. The cane, when properly used, needs to be used only once, if at all, in the life-time of a child. Before that, parents and carers would point and say, if you misbehave, disobey or did something that might endanger yourself or someone else, the cane will be used. After it had been used -- once, if at all -- parents point at the cane and s

No respect, no morals, no trust - welcome to modern Britain

No time to think (cold symptoms linger, husband has pneumonia and flu, bah!), so only this to support what I think (when I have time and energy to think). No respect, no morals, no trust - welcome to modern Britain sp

(Butt) Out of Africa

Sometimes we feel guilty even thinking such thoughts: People in Africa are starving from famine. But giving them food and money alone is not going to help them. Why is it that knowing that famines will occur they do nothing about it? Why is it that governance and infrastructure remain so bad in so many countries on that continent that the people cannot help themselves? Why are women still treated as bearers of children and objects for sex? Why don't they start educating their people and women especially in order that they could reduce their population issues? How is it that for countries which are supposed to be so poor they cannot feed themselves every time there is drought, leading to famine, leading to displacement, leading to atrocities, etc, etc. that the governments (or some sort of ruling elite) have money to go to war? That their wives and children can afford the best clothes and shop in the most expensive stores in London, Paris, etc? I have written about women , education

Granny Smith loves her Postie (part 2)

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What a relief I saw my postie this morning! It's the same guy. Last week I had the privilege of receiving a proper letter. Not a bill, not a statement, not a flyer to the "Office Products Buyer" with an offer, but a letter. It's from a women's charity helping women suffering domestic violence. It was asking for a donation for a November fund-raising event. Since I had also been very much involved with the local women's centre I really wanted to do my part. I decided to send on two new sets of Hemp Table Napkins embroidered with my original designs for their raffle. When I say 'original' I mean I use either my own or a non-copyrighted idea/concept and then digitize it using my embroidery software, going into the tiny details of the stitchwork to get the 'picture' right. This usually involves hours and hours of painstaking and finger-squeezing mouse-work. The two sets of colour-co-ordinated Christmas theme Table Napkins are as follows: (Unfortun

This Granny Smith loves her postie but ....

Earlier this year I found myself running to catch up with my postie to give him some Divine Easter Eggs, the dark chocolate ones. He accepted those with a great smile on his face. Then I realized that that was the second time I'd given him Easter eggs. I've had the same postie for TWO years. That is quite a record around here. Every time I get used to one face he/she goes on another walk. The impending postal strike is very frustrating. Last week someone from Business Link rang to find out how my business was doing. Well, apart from the fact that: they closed the sub-post office which means I have to drive to the next nearest post office, thus having to limit my despatch to twice a week the unabated rise of postage costs without a corresponding rise in customer service I could weigh and buy the correct postage online and stick it on my parcels but I still have to queue to get proof of posting just in case my parcels get lost* Royal Mail losing my orders and sending me at least

Back Out

I was just trying to sit down and it went. Went where? What went? Gone walkabout. My back. I heard a sound that resembled something being crunched, "crrrck," and I could not stand up. Then the memory was only of pain. I must not fall down, I must not fall down, I said to myself. If I fell here and lose consciousness, no one would find me for another, hmm, ten hours. Managed to get to the computer to send a couple of messages, then thought that lying down would help. It helped only insofar as Radio Four sent me to sleep and I forgot the pain for a while. Then I managed to have a phone conversation with husband. Until that point my fear was how do I get my son home from school? Do I call the school and ask them to ask another parent to send him home? Do I request a staff member to make sure he got across the road safely? Then what happens when he gets home? Could I get to the door to open it? What a relief it was that husband said he would come home to pick the son up. Meanwhil

Another new shop

Having been messed around by the Royal Mail a lot recently, selling to outside the UK has been even more difficult. So I'm trying to find another marketplace by opening another shop: Let's see if this works.

Children (and parents) again

This morning I woke to the end of the an interview with Mr Martin Narey. What he said is basically: 'More babies should be taken into care to protect them from poor parents' . I don't think the sub-editor meant "poor parents" as in financially poor, but parents with "poor" parenting skills. This comment was raised following the awful, awful case of two brothers who pleaded guilty of torturing two other young boys. The previous post was referring to this case. Martin Narey speaks the unspeakable. Remember the furore he last raised about 'feral children'? Husband and I discussed this case at length and we said exactly that: take the babies away and put them up for adoption. Yesterday I witnessed two incidents which left me wondering what sort of people become parents. At a busy shopping centre a little girl, perhaps two years old was lying prone on the floor, having a tantrum. The parents -- big people, both bulky six foot something -- and anoth

IDS: Save the mother

Iain Duncan Smith -- not so good at leading the Conservative Party, but makes a lot of sense, maybe too much sense for other spineless politicians -- suggests: Save the mother, and you will save the generations to come Quote: One successful programme in the UK, "Save the Family", believes in taking mothers and children into care so that they can be assisted together as a unit: as they say, save the mother and you save the child. Is there something I could do to help in a programme such as this? Back to Organic-Ally . Become our fan on Facebook .

Binding Religion?

Recently I came across posts which seem to be coming down hard on Christians in Singapore. One that caught my eye was the displeasure voiced by netizens on the suitability of the principal of a church-based junior college, Mrs Belinda Charles, to speak at a Christian conference. It touched me because though Mrs Charles never actually taught me, she was the person who handed me my 'A' Level results many, many years ago. I don't recall her trying to convert anyone to any faith. I penned the following letter to Straits Times , but it was never published. So I am reproducing the contents of the letter here. =============== (Untitled) My Dutch friend Sheila once said, "Only in my car do I feel safe. Then I have the freedom to go any where." Sheila’s freedom comes from all motorists, including herself, obeying the Highway Code, a set of rules. Imagine someone insisting on driving on the wrong side of the road "because it is my right". Likewise when whole commu

He who has been stealing ... Ephesians 4:28

Oooh ah! Harrow boy Michael Portillo has something interesting to say here in: Idle young should be entitled to nothing "In Britain — maybe throughout western Europe — belief in work, vocation, community, family and God have declined together. " He who has been stealing must steal no longer, but must work, doing something useful with his own hands, that he may have something to share with those in need. (Ephesians 4:28) Back to Organic-Ally . Become our fan on Facebook .

Laziest Housewife I might be, but ...

When we take our kid out, we make sure he behaves himself. I remember my sister-in-law saying of her children (now grown up), "Rather they behave badly at home than they behave badly in public." Us Chinese have this notion called jiajiao (literally "education by/in your family" which can be translated roughly as "parenting" or as I prefer "family honour"). So if a child behaves badly, a grandparent is likely to mutter, "Don't do that. No jiajiao ." Those words alone were often enough to stop most young children from misbehaving. So when we go out with son to an event we make sure he is polite. We also help him with his food when he was much younger, and wipe up any spills, etc. to ensure that we do not trouble the hosts too much. Last Friday was a very emotional day for me. I was in tears a lot in the morning. I was finding it hard to get over how our neighbours' eldest son had died so suddenly, and it was his funeral. This dea

NHS - Putting Patients Last

Is it coincidental that on this Saturday morning, me groggy from last night's responsibility of hosting an "open house" to members of my church, that I should receive an update from Civitas with reviews of their recent publication Putting Patients Last ? (See eg this .) Earlier this week I had phoned two hospitals to try to re-schedule two appointments. I had been given really awkward times during this summer break when I am a full-time carer for my young son. No, they cannot re-schedule, because it would mess up their six-week targets. In other words, if I don't accept the appointment given, then we all suffer. So I had to make some rather complicated childcare arrangements. Could this policy be a good thing? Last Thursday I turned up just before my appointed 6.05pm and found that I had gone to the wrong hospital. Yes, I felt like a complete idiot. This was because I was seen at one hospital and expected the MRI to be done at the same hospital. It didn't occur to

The Sunday Philosophy Club (not a book review!)

This time last year we were in sunny Singapore. I often borrow some crime fiction books from our local library to take away on such home visits. It helps to settle the jet lag. Last Saturday I took our son to the library so that he could pick up more books for his "reading challenge". Asked absent-mindedly if they have books on the "#1 Detective Agency". I first heard this on radio and was fascinated. The librarian -- maybe she's on HRT now -- said, "Alexander McCall Smith, isn't it?" and then bounced over to the shelf, "Let me show you where they are." "Bounced" is the operative word. I felt obliged to borrow a book or two after this. The Sunday Philosophy Club took my fancy (why? later ...). I started reading this on Sunday evening. I was really chuffed because the author has allowed the heroine Isabel Dalhousie to sprinkle the book with philosophical musings. As I twittered on Monday morning: "Loving the Alexander McCal

Six inches of time and 20 centimetres of parenting left

Son's piano teacher tells us that he has "lazy fingers" and should consider playing the organ. Is he joking or what? Dunno. But some time back he brought to my notice my son's tendency to "swap fingers" and I blogged about it here . Then he organized for us to go to his church where he is organist for son to try out the organ ( here ). The conclusion was son is a 'natural' on the organ. Okay. What do we do? It's good news, but let us not be rash about anything. My feeling then was: thankfully we still have six inches of time. Son was too short to reach the pedals and we will just carry on with his piano and clarinet. He's had a growth spurt. First he was tall enough for us to despatch with the car booster seat. (We highly recommend Freecycle.) Then last week even other parents started telling us that he had "shot up". His mate who has been much the same height as him suddenly looked small. I measured him a couple of days ago and he

I can stand up straight!!

This morning I meditated on the goodness of my Lord. This time last week I could not stand up straight. I was walking around bent over. We figure it was my attempt to put the washing on the line first thing in the morning that did it. A basket of wet laundry is quite heavy after all, for me at least. That is why I once went into an awful strop at Toddlers when there were effectively just two people putting out all the toys and equipment. I could not stand back and not help, but I knew that if I did I would have massive problems the following day. For months we could not understand why I found it so painful to get out of bed on Saturday mornings. We decided that it was the lifting and bending over, etc, on Friday Toddlers that did it. Any way, so I was at CenterParcs, OK with cycling bent over, but walking rather awkwardly. We brought our microwave wheatbag/hot water bottle. It was there on my back pretty much the whole day. Then I slept on it. Tuesday morning I had this fear: what if I

She's only two (Part 2)

This blog post refers: Last Toddlers session this morning for this school year. My son came along to help with the 'money-changing'. He's very good at this. I was wondering if Mum-without-a-clue ("G") would turn up. Childminder ("J") was there and said, "O dear! Maybe she won't come again. But her girl needs to keep coming here." Mum with blonde hair (let's call her "B") arrived. She told me that we have better watch out for "that little girl" ("M"). She could see her, she said. "Where?" I asked. My responsibility was to check in parents and toddlers and any visitors. I need to account for every person who is in the building for health and safety reasons. In the event of a fire I am to blow the whistle, lead the folk to safety. Most importantly I must grab all the attendance cards with me so that I could account for everyone. I hadn't seen M. "There she is in that blue dress." "