Organic-Ally

Liar, liar

2012-01-24T17:04:00.005Z

Some weeks ago I dealt with a young man from the Horn of Africa. I came this close to throttling him.

He slumped into my office and started off straightaway with "I want to know what benefits I am entitled to".

[Why should he be "entitled" to anything? He has not contributed a penny to the British economy.]

He told me he was being given some benefits in another part of the country and so clearly he was "entitled" to those benefits. But his JSA (JobSeekers Allowance) was stopped because the woman at the Job Centre said as a student he is not looking for a job and should not be entitled to JSA.

This woman is right. Otherwise every college student would be claiming JSA but these students are not really prepared to leave their courses to work.

The point is without his JSA his Housing Benefit (paying rent) and Council Tax Benefit (paying council tax) were also stopped. So this poor chap had to move in with his sister. Previously he had "his" own little flat.

[It is not YOUR flat. We the taxpayers are paying for that flat.]

I was distressed because every time I followed a line of inquiry (having gone outside to seek help from my supervisor, and returned to ask further questions) this young man changed his story.

Time and time again he changed his story until I felt that he had been telling me nothing but lies, wasting my time.

First he was receiving JSA in Yorkshire. Then he was not receiving JSA in Yorkshire. [We wanted to establish why a benefit approved in Yorkshire was withdrawn where we are.]

First he put in an appeal for a decision to strip him of his benefits. Then he did not put in an appeal, "but something was submitted at the Job Centre". [We could help in advising on the appeal procedure, hold his hand a bit, if he did appeal.]

First he said his college had "given them everything" to prove that he was attending class for less than 16 hours a week. Then his college merely told him to photocopy information in the college prospectus. [Previously I've seen letters written by colleges on headed paper to support their students. Why did his college not do the same?]

Throughout the interview he was also going, "But I am entitled to this," "I should be entitled to that." At one point he asked for a lawyer to help him fight his case.

And who would pay for the lawyer?

In the end we decided that we would help him if he would do steps 1,2,3, etc. and gave him a slot to see an adviser.

Then the pièce de résistance (for want of a better phrase but I think you get my drift). Just before he left my office I passed on my manager's advice, "Well, if you are only studying for 14 hours, there's nothing to stop you looking for a part-time job." [This is what most foreign students do. They are allowed to work up to 20 hours a week, and most do.]

His reply was, "There are no part-time jobs out there. They are all full-time jobs."

Liar. Complete liar.

Everyone else tells us that there are only part-time jobs, offering a few hours here and there, but far fewer full-time ones.

And he just shot himself in the foot: If there are full-time jobs and he cannot, or refuses to, take up a full-time job, then he is NOT a JobSeeker by definition and therefore should not be given JSA. Simple.

My young friends at church work for minimum wage at bars, restaurants, cleaning, etc. for pocket money whenever they can. (They also have parents who pay tax, unlike this young man.) This young man could do the same but refuses to.

He much prefers to "sign on", pretend to look for a job or two to fulfil his "job-seeking" obligation under JSA, continue to complete his course at college, and expect the taxpayer to give him a nice little flat meanwhile. [It is pretence because he has clearly stated that he was not going to give up his college course even he was offered a job.]

What makes him think he is entitled to certain benefits in the first place?

He is "entitled" to money if he is being owed money. By insisting that he was "entitled" to benefits suggests that he was being owed benefits. The taxpayer pays these benefits. He is in effect saying that taxpayers (yes, people like me) owe him these benefits.

As a taxpayer and volunteer, I really resented his arrogance in saying that I owed him these benefits. I do not owe him money and do not feel obliged to help someone like him. So his stance that he was "entitled" to something for doing nothing, worse, by pretending to be a jobseeker, does not help his case.

Claiming benefits fraudulently is a crime. Perhaps I should have warned him.

Today I checked. This young man did not bother to show up for his appointment. Why was I not surprised?

He wasted an advice slot that could have gone to someone else needing urgent help.

20/1/12 Update: Out of curiosity I looked up the college at which this young man said he was doing a diploma in engineering. The only engineering diploma courses on their website require full-time study. So how he could argue that it is for 14 hours a week is quite beyond me.

Homeless in London, who cares?

2011-12-20T13:40:00.002Z

My clients yesterday included a 44-year-old mother of four who suffers from incontinence and told me that "I am claiming [benefits] for them [husband and sons]".

She's one of the thousands the government is trying to move off Incapacity Benefit (she was classed as severely disabled) back into work (JobSeekers Allowance). However because no one in the family works, for her to lose her benefits would mean the family would struggle to survive.

This is despite one son and husband also claiming benefits. She "claims for them" in the sense that she is entitled to most. When I probed further she said that she is a bit embarrassed by her problem and so does not feel that she could work.

She also mentioned depression. I wonder if the depression is a result of her not working or her reason (excuse?) not to work. Similarly her son who trained as a plumber could not find a job -- and is depressed -- and so has signed on.

Before I met this lady I didn't think incontinence is such a big problem that it would be categorized as "severely disabled". Let's put it this way: us women are "incontinent" for a week in every four, dripping blood, and we manage to remain in work.

It appears that this lady is not using the right kind of support, using sanitary pads instead of incontinence aids, to control her problems (smell, eg). She's only 44. She has another 27 years, possibly more, to state retirement age.

Twenty-seven years! That is a long time. She could do so much during this time. People are known to have got their PhDs by the time they are 27, for crying out loud.

Her grown up son who trained as a plumber, he's sitting at home waiting for a job to come to him. Is this a symptom or a result of the welfare state?

Why does he not go to solicit for business? Everyone is looking for a good plumber. Why not ask to work for someone for free, a charity for example, helping to fix plumbing for old people? He sits at home collecting his JSA, and gets depressed.

Worklessness in this country contributes to poverty, not of the pocket, but of the soul.

Another client arrived from France and went to claim benefits the following day. And was rejected. He had been thrown out by his wife*. I don't know the details.

Nepali woman who does not speak a word of English wearing very "blingey" glasses. She applied for pension credit and was awarded it for several months. Then some hardworking civil servant (hurrah! there is at least one) finds out that she is not actually eligible.

Her daughter has sponsored her visa. Her daughter has undertaken to maintain her. Somehow someone told her that benefits were to be had if she applied. Now she's slapped with an "overpayment" bill. We advised on how she could settle the bill.

I had to warn her that if she made too big a fuss, they could just deport her.

Student next, paid an enormous amount of money to a "college" offering something like an "MEP" (Masters Entry Programme). This young man spoke with such a heavy accent I could hardly understand him. The college threw him out, saying that he was not a good enough student. They also dismissed about half his class. Student wants his money back. This is, believe it or not, a consumer issue.

Room got a bit cold, so I shut the window. Big mistake.

My next client was a man who has been sleeping rough. He had not washed for two weeks. He came in and promptly removed his shoes to show me his problems.

He arrived in this country on a spouse visa. His wife is supposed to support him. But somehow he managed to antagonize her enough she threw him out*, and this man has also been given conditional police bail -- whatever that means. He had come in two weeks ago and another volunteer tried to help him. And now he's back.

[*Women are so keen to throw out their husbands, it seems. Why?]

Because he has "no status" in the country he is not entitled to any benefits. So some "charities" would not touch him as their costs could not be recouped from government departments. We rang around, my manager and I, and I finally found a nice young lady who advised that he could get to a day centre the following day where they would give him some food, he could have a shower, wash his clothes, and they might even be able to give him shelter.

"Uhm, what if he has a history of violence?" YMCA has rejected him on that basis, so I thought I should check.

Lady checked. "Uhm, yes, it's OK. We love everyone here."

I managed to stop myself asking, "Are you, by any chance, a Christian charity?"

CEO gave us permission to give him money for a night at a B&B. Manager had also made him a cup of tea and given him some food.

I hope this man managed to get to the day centre and I hope they are able to shelter him. But it led me to think: If his wife promised to be responsible for him, but is not, should she be given the bill when he is finally sorted out?

Why should I, as the taxpayer, pick up her bill?

I came home and looked up the day centre and discovered that they are indeed a Christian charity. There was something in the way that lady spoke, or something she said, which gave the game away.

I also cannot get over the smell.

What have you done today to make you feel proud?

2011-11-07T14:19:00.000Z

Warning: This is a brag post, originally written for a Singapore audience.

My son, his mate and I enjoy watching the comedy series "Miranda" in which Miranda's friend (and employee) often holds up a mask of Heather Small and mimic her singing "What have you done today to make you FEEL proud?"

Yesterday I went to bed thinking that I really toted up well.

First, a meeting with fellow social scientists outside academia. It was a group I started – by accident – some years ago and now it has grown, nearly 400 members! Was able to encourage those present.

Then on the way home – my train, for which I was careful to buy a first class ticket to ensure a seat after a tiring meeting, was cancelled – I was squashed into a Tube train whereupon a man with a beard, long hair, a very large ring in his nose, dirty finger nails, on a walking stick asked my fellow social scientist and myself whether the train was going to MK.

He, too, was supposed to be on my cancelled train, but got shoved into this other train instead.

My colleague got off the train but this man – let's call him Mick – leeched on to me. Meanwhile husband was on the phone trying to get 'live' information on the internet and telling me how to get home.

We were directed to make a change at station X at which anxious people were trying to get information as to how to travel. The platform staff were trying to be helpful but they, alas, did not seem to have the up-to-date information.

The electronic board said 17:15 was "on time" whereas I was told on the phone (and another passenger apparently knew too) that it was cancelled. What to do?

Husband on phone said, go to platform 3. Train due in. I walked over to platform 3 as quickly as I could while Mick hobbled along, trying to keep up.

More confusion on this platform. Even bigger crowd. Mood still harmonious though. People were anxious, not angry. Londoners are used to such delays. Unlike in Singapore, a train that is delayed by six minutes does not get reported in the papers.

Husband on phone, "There should be a train coming in at 17.19. It's the late-running 16:44. Get on that one."

I could hear on radio of staff on platform receive the information from control at a station upstream, "Train leaving that platform, should be at station X soon."

Husband on phone, "Your 17:19 should be arriving any second now. You might need to push your way in. I'll hang on to make sure you're on."

Me, "No. If I need to push in I need both hands. Call back in five minutes."

Train on platform. Mick said, "O no! It's one of those trains with a big drop from the platform. I made sure Mick got onto the train and followed." We actually found seats across each other.

Husband on phone, "Are you on?"

Me: "Yes."

Husband, "Your train should arrive at 17:32. I'll be at the station to pick you up."

Mick continued to make conversation with me across the train. Other passengers looked on with interest. Was tramp-like Mick harrassing this tiny Chinese woman? I felt they were all watching to make sure I was alright.

The man next to Mick was clearly an ex-Gurkha. He wears a uniform with a badge "Security" emblazoned on it. (A number of ex-Gurkhas are in the security sector in the UK.)

Girl next to me got off. Mick came to sit next to me. Mick had been very keen to tell us on the first train that he could not wait to get home to his flat in MK. He had gone to London for a "demo" for animal rights.

I asked him where he lived before MK. He uhmmed and arhed which suggests that he had just been taken off the streets, or released from supported housing (for mentally ill?), or even perhaps from prison, but he was "doing well". I had, as if on auto-pilot, put on my CAB hat and wanted to make sure that he was being looked after as well as looking after himself.

So the questions came fast: why the walking stick? Orthoarthritis since he was 16 or 17. How old is he? About 39. Is he taking his medicine? He stopped because the pain comes back one the drugs wear off. He just bears with the pain." I thought, "Hmm, should I ask if he was on cannabis?" Time and place for everything, my dear. The train is not the right place.

Is he with a GP? Which council is looking after him? Does he get to do much? So I learned that he gets "lonely, you know" and he repeated how pleased he was to be travelling with such good company. Earlier he had given me his number so that my vegetarian colleague could call him. Now he tells me I should put his number on my phone, too.

No, I won't, I said. "Why not?" It's falling apart. "O! But you'd put it in your next phone." I didn't commit.

Then I said he should stop smoking. Told him I could smell it a mile away. What a waste of money. "I know, but I have cut down a lot," and threw me a sheepish look.

He told me he is into art (I really hope it's art, and not graffitti). I said he should make himself useful, do something with his art. "Do something nice for someone every day."

He said he tries to do that, indeed. Mick might smell, but he speaks very good English, and very polite. If indeed he was on cannabis his intellect had only be slightly dulled by its use.

We reached our station at the end of the line and was thrown off the train. I walked away quickly, wishing him a safe journey home. He waited as I went through the gates to say "Goodbye!".

I think Mick was chuffed that two complete strangers (describing us as "very pleasant ladies") trusted him enough to continue a conversation with him. Would he do something to make himself useful? I don't know and might never know. But I certainly hope so.

Outside my "chauffeur" was waiting patiently and we got home, had a short break and we were off to a church fireworks party.

There we met PO and his dad. PO has just lost his mum. His dad had been married for nearly 60 years. Put another way, he had been married for longer than I have been alive.

For Christmas "dinner" we usually gather people we know who have no close family to go to, or people who are new to the country. So a number of nationalities have graced our table at Christmas.

[What would Jesus do? In the parable of the banquet the rich man invited those who were not likely to reciprocate his invitation. This is also partly a result of my own experience of Christmas in this country as a single person. Friends went home to their families and I was on my own, lonely and very cold.]

We had asked PO and his dad this time knowing that the first Christmas after the death of a loved one is always difficult. PO's dad was not sure whether he wanted to accept the invitation just incase he wanted to be able to have a cry. Later on he grabbed me by the shoulders and said "Christmas. Thank you for the invitation. Yes, we will be there."

Tears welled up and he gave me a long, long hug. I comforted him as I have comforted others by confessing that it took me four years before I could speak of the death of my father without crying.

When we left the party – husband was "smoke damaged" by then , from being the "lighter" of fireworks – PO's dad gave me another long hug, and still more tears.

At the end of the day I took stock and thought: It does not take much to bring happiness to those around us. A word of encouragement. Kind words. An offer of hospitality.

Perhaps I must remember to ask myself at the end of each day the words of Heather Small: what have you done today to make you FEEL proud?

Parents who (don't) try: Three cases

2011-09-02T09:25:00.006+01:00

On Thursday mornings before I set out for my stint at the local CAB my son often tells me, "Hope you don't get too many benefits cases."

He knows how I detest having to deal with benefits clients who say, "I'm entitled to this. Do this for me. NOW."

Today I was incensed that a client has had his benefits stopped. This man is a refugee from an African country. He has four young children. He was on unemployment benefits and housing benefits because of that.

He decided that he needed to improve his English and signed up for a college course (ESOL Intensive) and did so well that he passed his exams before the end of his course. However as a result of the 15 hours he was studying, plus some mistake made by some civil servant (who turned this into 16 hours), he was deemed "unavailable for work" and therefore his JSA was stopped, leading to his Housing Benefits (which pays his rent) being stopped as well.

Now his landlord is threatening eviction because he has insufficient funds to pay his rent.

A man tries to improve his language skills to improve his chances of finding employment and he is penalized. Now it is going to take at least 50-100 civil servant hours, I imagine, to set it right.

Who really benefits from this? The civil servants, paid by your and my taxes, who are making sure that they still have jobs to go to.

Then my husband tells me he was in a similar situation many, many years ago and took the council (or relevant government department) to the tribunal and won. They then awarded him a fat cheque for arrears in his benefits.

His defence: If they could find him a job he would leave the (accountancy) course he was studying to take up the post. As they could not, he was going to improve his chances of being an accountant instead of sitting at home to watch TV. (He later had a successful career in finance.)

In other words it was OK for someone to receive JSA and vegetate at home. As soon as they try to improve their employment chances they get penalized.

Clever system, innit?

Case 2. Mother with four young children, running wild. A fellow volunteer was trying to help the mother but the children were taking turns to be difficult. The oldest, about eight years old, was trying, but failed, to keep control.

Our reception room was empty. I told the five-year-old to sit on one chair. I told the four-year-old to sit on another chair in another corner. I told the oldest responsible sister to sit in another corner.

I gave the two younger ones colourful brochures. Obviously they could not read. I told them to "count the pages, count the different colours" on the brochures. I told them that their bottoms must remain on the chairs as their mother was being helped. I left them with no adult supervision.

A few minutes later I checked and the five-year-old was kneeling in front of it. At least he had not moved alway from the chair. I told him to get back on, and he did, unhappily. He complained that his older sister was not counting.

I retorted with I had not told her to count, did I? Older sister said she would like to read the brochure he was holding. Told five-year-old to walk over to older sister if he wished to, and give her his brochure. He did and came back to his own chair and climbed back onto it. I gave him another brochure.

I went into the interviewing room twice (when the other volunteer was out) to tell the mother that her children were sitting still and quietly, and that they would be telling her "numbers" when she goes out.

"Thanks," she said with a big smile. She looked very tired. I felt really sorry for her.

The last time I looked in before I left (to tend to my own child) after having left the children on their own, the children were all in their chairs.

I wonder if these children have ever had an adult speak so sternly to them.

Case 3. GP waiting room with my son. GP running very late. Mum with two daughters and a young son came in. We had no peace from that moment on.

At no time did the mum attempt to get her son (maybe two and a half) to sit down or behave. It was the older girl who tried to control him. They kept laughing at the things he did.

I imagine what a terror this young boy would be at school. He did not understand boundaries and the mother did not even act when he was in danger. My son nearly knocked him over when he opened the door but I saw at the last moment through the glass panel that the little boy was on the other side.

I said to little boy as I left, "Perhaps it is bottom on chair time?" The mother glared at me.

Outside my son said, "Mum, you should have let me open the door onto him. It might have been better for all present."

I think my son was right.

But what can you do for families where, culturally, the male child is obviously venerated? How soon before this boy would be bullying his older sisters? How soon before he would be making unreasonable demands and know that he could get away with it because he is THE boy in the family?

In defence of David Starkey

2011-08-14T19:07:00.031+01:00

Wrote this piece for my friends in Singapore: my perspective of what Mr Cameron called the "sick society".

David Starkey in using the phrase "The whites have become black" has been branded a "racist".

I am no fan of Mr Starkey. As a social scientist from outside the UK, one who is not weighed down by the guilt of British colonialism (but is in fact a product of it), one who is colour-blind except when it is culturally significant, I feel that Mr Starkey is only using this statement to make a "shortcut" to what I had alluded to in my original blog piece referenced above.

There is something in the black African/West Indian/Caribbean culture/s that is preventing their younger generations from benefitting from all the resources thrown at them in the UK. The same is happening amongst a certain class of young white generations.

Taxpayers should be keen to ascertain what exactly are the factors (fatherlessness, lack of disciplinary boundaries, benefits culture, lack of role models/role model substitutes, etc) driving this and come up with solutions. And soon. Before another generation is "wasted".

To shout "racist" every time a cultural reference is made does not make the problem go away. On the contrary. This is an ostrich mentality. It stifles discussion and does no one any favours.

Put it this way, if research shows that black people are more prone to certain diseases, and further studies show that this is due to their diet, would it be racist for the researchers to flag up this problem by saying, for example, "black (or white, Chinese, Turkish, whatever) people should reduce the consumption of abc as it increases their chances of contracting xyz"?

To muzzle those who wish to spread this message by crying "racist" is to ensure that the people group concerned are forever doomed to poor health because no one would dare, or is allowed to, speak the truth.

Likewise to sweep obvious facts under the carpet on spurious cries of "racist" is to condemn a people group forever, to ensure that they would never enjoy the trappings of happiness and success now reserved for those outside this group.

Was David Starkey being racist on Newsnight last night?

If David Starkey is racist then so is everybody

Sourdough Bread

2011-08-13T20:49:00.001+01:00

After building up my sourdough starter for two weeks (details in the next post, perhaps) I was very excited about making my first sourdough loaf. The diary was cleared.

This was my starter in the morning. The volume has reduced from its evening time high, as you might have noticed from the "tide marks", but still bubbling when viewed from the top:

I am trying to followed a "recipe" from Dan Lepard in a newspaper and combining that with a recipe by Daniel Stevens (River Cottage No. 3).

Emptied most of this into a mixing bowl, added 500 strong wholemeal (because I don't like eating white) flour and about 300ml tepid water and mixed into a ball.

Left it for 10 minutes. Then decided (perhaps wrongly) that it probably needed a little more water. Added what I thought was about two teaspoons of salt, but probably much less.

Left this for about two hours and it became like this.

Notice the holes on the surface.

Removed this onto an oiled surface and kneaded it for a bit. Not a lot, and returned it to the bowl.

Waited for 2 to 3 hours for it to become like this.

Sprinkled lots of flour onto a tea towel and placed it into a casserole dish as I have no proving basket. Took the dough out and kneaded it. Asked for husband's help in getting some more flour to stop it from sticking too much. Put it first in the casserole dish. Realized the dish is too small. Got husband to bring out his grandmother's old roasting dish.

The dish looks like this.

And like this from the side. Perfect, I thought. It even has a lid to keep the dough from drying.

At least 2 hours later, and I kept checking and flouring the sides of the tin, we got this.

The holes on the surface (as noted in Stevens' book) were very reassuring. From the side it appears to have risen reasonably well.

Time to turn on the oven. Whacked up the temperature to its highest. Put a roasting tin in the bottom, and a baking tray in the middle. A baking sheet would be better, but I don't have one. Boiled up water.

Then came the tricky bit - and DISASTER!

Oven came up to temperature. Removed the tray. Tried to tip the dough onto the tray. But it got stuck. Had to scrape off some dough with a spoon. What I saw on the tray was a flat, flat bit of dough, DEFlated. The tray had cooled and I reshaped the dough into something more of a loaf shape with even more flour. My heart had sunk with the dough.

Nevertheless it went into the oven and I put boiling water into the bottom roasting tin. This produced steam which is supposed to give the loaf a nice crust. The water dried out faster than I expected. So, more water next time.

20 minutes on the highest temperature and then down to 180 degrees C for another 20 minutes. It rose quite a bit -- thankfully -- in the hot oven. And finally:

We could not resist having a bit for dinner. (It was morning when I started this bread and it was dinner time when I got the loaf out).

Yup! Good size bubbles. Crust was good. A bit sour, but mostly BLAND. I really needed some 25g of salt. But as I was mixing recipes, and this is my first go, I think I can be forgiven.

We plan to eat this very rustic bread with a hearty soup tomorrow.

Would I bake another sourdough loaf? Of course -- I do have a jar of sourdough starter now. But I would probably do a few things a bit differently. Starting with using more salt to counter the sour taste.

Salt and leaven (yeast). What did Jesus say about its use in our daily lives?

Charlie Gilmour -- what is a "privileged" upbringing?

2011-08-04T14:09:00.000+01:00

When I read how his mum tweets about how he was being locked up for 23 hours a day, my heart bled for her.

But not for long.

Instead I found myself mulling over what is meant by a "privileged upbringing".

Was young Gilmour privileged on the basis that he has a loving mother and stepfather?

Was young Gilmour privileged because he was given every material need?

Was young Gilmour privileged to be an above-intelligent person (assuming that as he had gone to Cambridge)?

In court it was argued in mitigation that young Gilmour behaved the way he did because he faced rejection from his birth father. He was drugged up to the eyeballs when he was swinging from the Cenotaph.

Would my biographer (if I had one) also describe me as having a "privileged background"?

On the basis that my mother never worked, and never made us do any household chores. Though she was criticized by the extended family for being so, her response had always been, "I want my (six) children to concentrate on their studies."

Was I privileged because I observed sacrifice on the part of my parents?

Was my biggest privilege that of having a father for whom my every achievement was "not good enough", leaving unsaid the words "Child, you can do better. I know you can do better."?

And then I looked at my own child. Would they say, when he's 21, or 61, that he too had a "privileged upbringing"?

At this point of my life when my son would soon be out of my hands and I'm trying to find employment, I am finding that I have become quite unemployable.

The past 11 years of caring for son (and the husband who was quite ill for years) has left a big gap in my CV.

I don't mind not having a guitarist for a husband, I really don't. But in mulling over this I suddenly realized that part of me wished I could be described like Mrs Gilmour as "author", but I am not that, though I write a lot.

Like my mother who sacrificed much of her life doing the mundane things in life so that her children could focus on studies and therefore upward mobility, I realized that I have sacrificed an opportunity to develop my academic career.

Make professor at 60? No chance. Return to my alma mater to teach? Dream on.

We cannot choose our parents. (Mine turn out to have very little education but they learned to educate themselves, learned to read Chinese!)

But we can choose how we parent.

I stuck around because husband was often in too much pain to get out of bed. I had to reassure our son that Dad was OK. Then I cried my own tears of fear in private.

Then son had a spell of trouble at school. Everything was going too slowly for him. I stuck around to help him get over that difficult patch. And he is a much happier, more assured person these days.

Maybe they would describe my son as having a "privileged upbringing" after all, not because his mother is a professor, but that she did sacrifice time, career, travel, fame, whatever, so that the family could move on together.

Just as his father sacrificed his dream of retiring at 40 to play golf, and instead continued to work (despite the illness) to pay the bills.

We cannot choose our parents, but we can choose how we parent. Perhaps we should take it one step back and say, "We can choose (carefully) whom we wish to parent with."

Only then can we hope to reduce the number of Charlie Gilmours -- with or without privileged upbringings -- to ensure that we meet the needs of our children where they are.

This might be news to some: Sometimes parenting requires making sacrifices.

Baking Bread

2011-05-17T18:20:00.006+01:00

I've put the following together for friends (especially from Singapore) who have taken an interest since I wrote about making bread. I had borrowed a couple of bread books from our local library and looked at various sites on Internet. Not a bread machine in sight, I'm afraid. I started when I need to take out my frustration and there was no turning back.

Then I read this article.

It does not take all that long to knead, but you must be patient with waiting for the dough to rise. I now gather all the ingredients together before starting and can get a lump of dough ready for first proofing within 20 minutes.

It's cheaper to buy a packet of yeast rather than the 7g sachets. In the UK and if you have room, you could also have bigger bags of flour delivered. You could then opt for locally-grown and/or milled flour.
===========
For Basic White Bread
Ingredients

• 625g strong (bread making) white flour (Sorry, don't know which or where brands are available in Singapore. If you have information, please add to comments. See link at bottom of page.)

• 1½ teaspoons salt

• 2 teaspoons sugar

• 3 tablespoons sunflower oil (or 3 tablespoons butter)

• One sachet (usually 7 g) or 1½ teaspoons of quick action yeast

• 400 ml of warm water. I normally put about 400ml in my 1000W microwave for a minute, take it out to check that it’s warm, but not hot, or you will kill the yeast. Tip some water out and add cold if necessary. Also, I have never used the whole 400ml.

Method

1. Add all the dry ingredients into a large bowl. Give it a good quick stir (with fork, knife, hand, whatever, doesn’t matter).

2. Add the oil. (At this point I normally let the oil left on the measuring spoon to drip slowly onto my ceramic board which I use for kneading the dough. I found that oil on the board is better than flour to stop it sticking.)

3. “Rub in” the bits of flour that will now stick to the oil. Again oil is easier to use than butter.

4. Add the water. I normally add it in in about three go’s LEAVING a little water in the jug. As my mum used to say, “You can always add more, but you cannot take it off” (when adding soya sauce to food).

5. Mix the ingredients by hand in the bowl until a dough is formed. Have fun! This is when it gets gooey. Make sure flour on the bottom and sides are incorporated. Dough is ready when it all sticks together quite nicely.

6. Lift the dough out and knead it on the work surface for 10 minutes. The dough might be very sticky for the first couple of minutes. If it continues to be difficult to knead, a little extra flour can dry the dough up a bit. Usually by the end of kneading, whatever dough is stuck to your fingers would also be incorporated. I suspect that friends in Singapore might wish to do this on a cool surface, like a marble slab.

7. KNEADING: (Source: the bread book by Sara Lewis, 2003, page 16) – This is essential to mix and activate the dried yeast and to help stretch the gluten in the flour so that the bread can rise fully. Begin by turning the dough out on to lightly floured surface. Stretch the dough by turning the front half away with the heel of one hand while holding the back of the dough with the other hand. Fold the stretched part of the dough back on itself, give it a quarter turn and repeat for five more minutes, until the dough has been turned full circle several times and is a smooth and elastic ball.

8. Once kneaded return the dough to the bowl (don’t wash out your rolling-out board yet) and leave it to rise in a warm (not hot, Singaporeans please note) place. Most recipes tell you to cover with oiled cling film. Being anti-plastic I use wet tea towels. Let the dough rise to twice its size. It could take, for me, more than an hour. I normally set the clock and concentrate on doing something else.

9. When the dough has doubled in size, “punch it out”. You will hear the air escaping. Turn it out on to your rolling-out board, scraping the sides if necessary.

10. At this stage I would normally divide the dough into two lots. One lot is kneaded again, very quickly, and rolled into a long roll about 1½ times the length of the loaf tin. Fold the ends under to make it fit into a slightly greased loaf tin (500g/ 1 lb). If you do not have a loaf tin, just make one big “cob” and put it on a lined baking tray. The rest is divided into six smaller or four larger rolls, kneaded quickly, shaped and placed on a lined baking tray (I use a baking tray liner).

11. Cover with tea towel as before and leave to rise a second time, this time for a much shorter period. This is usually 30 minutes for me. At the 10-minute mark, it’s time to put the oven on: 200 deg C.

12. Once the bread has doubled in size, or reach the top of the loaf tin, remove the cloth and place straight into pre-heated oven.

13. For a loaf, bake for approximately 12 minutes, then cover loosely with foil, and bake for another 18 minutes (ie 30 minutes in all). For the rolls, I put 8 minutes, cover with foil, and then bake another 7 minutes (15 minutes total)

14. Remove from the oven and turn out with oven gloves. If you tap on the base of the rolls/loaf they should sound hollow. This is an indication that the bread is complete.

15. Allow to cool on a wire rack.

Granary bread

625g strong granary flour

3 tablespoons butter (or oil)

2 teaspoons salt

4 teaspoons brown sugar

1½ teaspoons fast-action dried yeast

400ml warm water

Wholemeal bread

325g strong wholemeal flour

300g strong white flour

3 tablespoons butter (or oil)

1½ teaspoons salt

4 teaspoons caster sugar

2½ teaspoons fast-action dried yeast

400ml warm water

============

I hope you found this useful. Tell me how you got on.

The "personalized" bread roll I made for my son:

This information might be useful for Singaporean friends.

Kookaburra gay your life must be: one Christian view

2011-04-28T16:07:00.002+01:00

When my son was born I had this inordinate fear, an overwhelming fear, totally illogical fear, that he would be gay (not in the "happy" sense).

After years of parenthood now I realize that even if he did decide to be gay, I as a parent, would still love him. I would not abandon him.

My Christian response to this debate is -- and I am not ashamed to say that I am a committed, Bible-believing Christian -- this is how I imagine God would respond to homosexuals. He still loves them nonetheless. They are still his creation, and he loves them one and all.

Some Christians shorten this principle as "hate the sin, love the sinner".

Of course it is not nice to be called a sinner, but that is what we are, if we believe in what the Bible says about our "fallen nature".

What would Jesus do? (WWJD?)

We read in the Gospels that Jesus associated with those who are the lowest of the low in his time on earth: the prostitutes, the lepers, the tax-collectors. Indeed, those who are not sick do not need a doctor. [I am thinking, should I underline "do not need a doctor"? ]

Some people ask, "Why are you Christians so homophobic, so hung up on a person's sexual orientation?" My response to this is I have no problems with anyone's sexual orientation. But the Bible does not condone sex outside marriage, full stop. It does not matter whether this be premarital sex, extra-marital sex, homosexual sex, or sex with animals, etc.

Just as the Bible forbids theft, whether this be stealing biscuits from a supermarket, paper clips from your employer, or money that your friend, client, taxpayer, investor, etc has entrusted to you, it is theft.

Of course a "gay agenda" scares me. It scares me stiff.

Recently a gay couple went to a B&B in Cornwall run by a devout Christian couple. They state clearly on their website that only married couples are allowed to use the room with the double bed. The gay couple arrived and when the B&B owners realized that this was not the "married couple" they expected, offered them separate rooms.

The gay couple sued for discrimination. In court the gay couple won because the judge deemed that the right of the couple to protection from discrimination was stronger than the B&B couple's right to religious faith and conscience.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/religion/8288916/Inside-a-most-un-PC-BandB.html

There are lots of B&Bs who would have gladly let this couple share a bed. Why they deliberately chose a B&B which clearly states that it is run by a Christian couple on Christian principles, I will never understand.

If I am a meat eater I won't choose a "vegan B&B" and then complain they refused to serve me meat. Why did this gay couple go and "kachow" this Christian couple? I don't go to a gay bar and complain I can't find a straight guy there.

I don't wish Singapore to come to that where churches are forced by law to hire out rooms to Satanists or face the full wrath of discrimination legislation.

However, as a Christian, I won't have a problem voting for VW.

Let me rephrase that: In a truly democratic system I have no problems with voting for VW even if he is gay if I know that he would represent my voice better than the alternative candidate.

Simple. In a truly democratic system I can -- Singaporeans please note -- vote him out at the next election!

Elected MPs are not, if I may borrow a slogan from the Dog Trust*, "a dog"; they are not for life. (*A dog is for life, not just for Christmas.)

Let's say I, as a Christian, am a bit uncomfortable about a candidate's sexual orientation (that has absolutely no bearing whatsoever on his/her abilities as an MP) gives this person a chance. He gets into parliament. He speaks on my behalf. I am happy. I vote him back.

Then he begins to push for the "gay agenda". I am not happy with that. I write to him, "Please stop," I say.

He says, "Cannot. I cannot act against my conscience. The rights of gay people are very important to me."

Then I can vote him out. I can gather as many people as possible who would vote him out. I might have to start my own "Christian Democratic Party" to succeed, but that is the whole point of a democratic system.

Wish-list: Candidates must stop saying to opposition candidates "What is your track record?" This is a non-argument.

How can a candidate who has not yet been in parliament talk about a "track record"?

It is like my own experience of being "over-qualified and under-experienced". Impressive CV when it comes to education, internship, practical experience, etc. But no track record of being in a paid job.

Who would employ such a person?

You see, unless you are a government scholar, bonded to serve the government, most of us in the real world would have, at some time or other, experienced the pain of not being offered a job because "we have no track record".

Until an enlightened employer comes along to say, "I see the potential in you," and makes you an offer.

Remember, "no track record!" is a non-argument. Voters must think as prospective employers. After all, MPs are indeed the employees/servants of the electorate.

Incidentally I read in the Bible (Matthew 20:25-28) yesterday Jesus teaching his disciples:

25 Jesus called them together and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. 26 Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, 27 and whoever wants to be first must be your slave— 28 just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

MPs' salary: Is Confucius out of fashion today?

2011-04-27T17:22:00.000+01:00

In my last visit to Singapore I (or rather my sister) managed to retrieve an old plastic folder of my newspaper clippings. I used to write letters to the local press (nothing's changed) as well as occasional "Analysis" pieces for the Sunday Times.

In my folder I found a clipping from 7th April 1985, a letter entitled: If we took the Master at his word. Back then we were admonished by a senior statesman to follow a "Confucian ethic".

I attach the text of this letter in full below:

===========

It was interesting to have a People's Action Party Member of Parliament quote Confucius in support of Confucius policies.

For if we are going to take Master Kung at his word, life in Singapore would be very different.

For example, the Sage teaches that there should be no distinction of classes in education. If we accept that, streaming must go.

Leonard Hsu, in The Political Philosophy of Confucianism, writes: "Equity, in Confucius philosophy, condemns favouritism, partisanship, and selfishness in administration."

"The government should help the insufficient and deplete the abundant in order to maintain the level of balance. The poorest people in the state should be respected, and the noblest people should not be flattered."

On the question of salaries and due recognition, the Analects, one of the Four Books of Confucian teachings, records the following: "The Master does not mind failing to get recognition; he is too busy doing the things that entitle him to recognition."

"The Master said (the good man) does not grieve that other people do not recognise his merits. His only anxiety is lest he should fail to recognise others."

"Concerning the head of state or family, I have heard that rulers should not be concerned that they have not enough possessions and territories, but should be concerned that possessions are not equally distributed; they should not be concerned that they are poor, but should be concerned that the people are not content."

On the question of ministerial salaries, let us be reminded by the Chung Yung (usually translated as The Doctrine of the Mean), another of the Four Books, "it is possible for a poor officer to give up voluntarily his position and emolument."

If the poor officer can give up his meagre salary, what more he who has 30 times that to spare?

If only we could follow Confucius to the letter, there wouldn't have been those long Parliament reports and Saturday night movies* need not be shown on Sunday mornings.

=================

*This reference is to the TV schedule being distrupted by extended parliament sittings.

Clearly, Confucius and his myriad teachings: being gracious (being the junzi), the emperor being given the "Heavenly Mandate" to rule, and the setting right of the five relationships, etc. these have fallen out of fashion.

I was struck by how relevant this letter is despite it being 26 years old! Does that make me a woman of vision? Or simply old-fashioned.

Here in the UK we have a debate "in reverse". The British PM earns £145,500. But many CEOs and senior civil servants in the local council, BBC, and QUANGOs earn much more than that. See link.

Basically these people, unlike CEOs in the private sector, do not have to worry about income or making a profit, but are paid an incredible amount of money to spend it! Taxpayers have no choice but to pay the local tax and TV license fee, but the people earning these inflated incomes are not accountable to the taxpayer.

I personally feel that CEOs of local councils have no moral right to earn such amounts. They will be totally unemployable outside the civil service. What they have is a thick address book, a good network, and they do the "merry-go-round" moving from one council to another, getting a higher and higher pay each time, thereby pushing upwards the average salary. Ludicrous.

OK, I have to concede that we cannot expect these self-serving individuals to have any Confucianist principles. What to do?

Interestingly, I spotted another letter in my folder, dated 21st July 1985. It expresses my surprise and discomfort at the closure of the Singapore Monitor.

It was particularly bizarre for me as a senior staff member of the Sunday Monitor had just rung, a few weeks before, to try to get me to write for them instead of the Sunday Times.

We learned that the paper was facing a financial blackhole to the tune of $20million, or some staggering figure like that (if I remember correctly). My letter expresses how the closure was so sudden that allegedly even the editors were kept in the dark. The staff also did not have a chance to up their productivity or stage a management buyout, etc.

Guess who was at the helm (the CEO, no less) of this newspaper?

I give you a clue. His initials are MBT.

Singapore GE 2011: A view from overseas

2011-04-26T09:41:00.006+01:00

The excitement over the forthcoming General Election in Singapore is palpable, even where I am, miles away from home.

It reminded me of the elections between 1981 and 1984, when I was often worried over whether an increase in bus fares would mean I could not afford to eat, given my meagre income giving private tuition as an undergraduate.

I don't remember much of elections since then, and in particular in 2006.

2006 was when (1) my son had the most difficult time at school before his special education needs were identified, (2) my husband was very ill, and (3) my business was in its infancy.

It has been said of British politics prior to 1997 when the Labour Party came into power, that it was not that the electorate wanted Conservative rule, but that there was no "credible opposition".

I remember how every time the then PM John Major came on radio I switched it off. His "back to basics" rhetoric was torn to shreds as minister after minister, politician after policitican was exposed as a hypocrite.

The Labour Party remained in power while the Conservative party was in disarray, going through several leaders in the course. Likewise I was so affronted by the lies and spin of the Labour government that every time Blair or Brown came on radio I switched off. Enough! I cried to myself. Enough of those lies.

Again Labour remained in power only because the Conservative Party did not constitute a "credible opposition" until last year where though they won more votes in total, the constituency boundaries were drawn in such a way that they could not form the government.

Of course in the lead-up to our last UK election we had the "expenses scandal". In Singapore ( where there is no corruption, remember?) I understand that the ministers have awarded themselves a 30% pay rise. This, you must agree, is a first-class way of preventing corruption.

We have been introduced to opposition candidates whom many now feel make up a "credible opposition" come May the 7th.

Interestingly, many of these candidates are men and women of a certain age. They are, to a great extent, self-employed. Professionally they have proven themselves.

I wonder if they have only now come forward because they have observed that to do so earlier would lead to professional suicide.

They have seen how the likes of JB Jeyaretnam have had to suffer the pain and ignominy of being imprisoned and bankrupted. Have they bided their time in anticipation of an uphill struggle ahead?

For years the ruling party have resorted to mudslinging come election time. "Ad hominem" (character assassination) arguments do not work any more. The Singaporean electorate have grown up and have become quite fed up with this. Singaporeans want a clean fight.

It amuses me that whilst the ruling party champions the virtue of foreign talent and Singaporeans working abroad, when faced with a "returnee" billed as a "star catch" by a opposition party, they question his credentials.

Singaporeans who, for whatever reason, have been living abroad can only be good for local politics. Singaporeans exposed to other parliaments, whether "First World", "Third World" or none at all, can offer a fresh and useful perspective.

Eg I would express caution when it comes to a debate on minimum wage and a comprehensive welfare state because I know this is not working. Here in the UK I am paying the heavy price of a welfare state that has lost its moral bearings.

In a 'previous life' I had to introduce Mr MBT to interactive educational software via touch-screen technology. The preparation for his visit required rehearsals because "we must not let the minister wait for the lift". So colleagues were detailed to ensure that the lift doors would be open when Mr MBT stepped out of his ministerial car.

That is not how the majority of us Singaporeans live.

How many of us have found it impossible, come lunch hour, to get into a lift to take us to the ground floor? How many of us have resorted to taking the "up" lift to a higher floor in order to take us down so that we could brave the hot sun walking to the nearest hawker centre?

So, when was the last time people like Mr MBT had to wait for a lift?

When was the last time politicians had a door slammed in their faces by another ungracious Singaporean?

When was the last time they sat down at a hawker centre or food court and experience the ugly practice amongst Singaporeans of reserving seats with tissue paper while people eating on their own cannot find a place to set down their tray of hot food?

Part of me feels sorry for these politicians because, of course, when you become famous, or become a minister, this freedom to live an ordinary life is not always possible.

When politicians and ministers come to a point where they cannot move around freely, let the current candidates take note, they must surround themselves with trusted friends who can do this and report accurately, make use of every feedback channel to listen, and then act accordingly with a clear conscience.

Any way, here are my other thoughts, for what they are worth:

"Parliament" is pronounced "paR-le-ment", not "pa-lee-men". OK, Nicole, take note!

I was very impressed by the woman PAP candidate who comes from a Mandarin-speaking background (her parents are Nantah graduates). Is it because she learned English properly, ie. as a second language, or by immersion in America (or wherever it was her parents were based)?

Please sounD youR enD consonaNTS. If your poiNT is importaNT, say iT. It heLPS to sloW down.

Y-O-U-T-H is "youth", not "yoof".

P-A-R-T-Y is "paR-ty" not "pah-ty".

We "take" someone (eg children) TO somewhere there (eg Legoland). We "bring" something FROM somewhere else to here.

I was quite tickled by how the likes of Tan Jee Say, who speak very good English, would switch to Singlish complete with the accent.

And please stop nodding your head incessantly at the end of answering a question and saying "ya". It reminds me of those nodding dogs some people put in the back of their cars!

Wrt to opposition switching parties I have this to say: people switch parties when they feel that they cannot, with a clear conscience, go along with what that party stands for. This is to be taken as an expression of one's integrity and honesty, not a negative point.

Unless of course that candidate is "shopping around" for a party that would reward him/her with privileges not obtainable elsewhere (eg a ministerial post). It's a bit like athletes shopping for a country they could represent because they are not really top-class in their own countries.

When I first came to the UK I was still very hung up on personalities when it came to elections. That was the Singaporean upbringing in me.

Now I understand that in a First World parliament, party manifestos are important. When it comes to a vote, MPs vote along party lines except when a "free vote" is allowed on matters of conscience.

I am tempted to fly back to cast my vote, but alas! it appears that it is another walkover in my Gee-Arer-See.

Mudslinging makes potatoes grow

2011-04-24T20:10:00.000+01:00

The potatoes in my garden are going berserk. Every time I see new leaves I cover them with compost (as per instructions).

If I put compost on it last thing at night, new growth appears the following morning. If I cover it with compost in the morning, the leaves break through again by the end of the day.

New leaves appear despite the compost. Or is it because of the compost?

I’ve been baking my own bread. In the temperate clime here it takes a long time for bread dough to prove (rise). But when it has risen to the right size, it takes but a few minutes to bake, and then soon we can tuck into delicious warm bread.

When it’s the season for potatoes to grow, nothing would stop it once it finds moist, fertile ground.

Fed with alternative views via the internet and watered by rising dissatisfaction, the political ground in Singapore is fertile for opposition growth.

The ruling party might dig up the dirt and heap it on the opposition. But mudslinging and dirt (as compost is but organic material that has rotted down) only promote even greater growth.

I don’t have to remind you that potatoes grow underground.

As the opposition has been biding its time, proving (pun intended) itself to be worthy (or not, as the case might be), so too like bread, it would not take too long for it to be ready to form a government, or at least that alternative voice.

Wishing you, my beloved Singapore, the wonderful aroma that promises the delight of freshly baked bread. Soon.

PS: Is it not ironic that in these 20 years I have been able to participate in all local, mayoral and general elections as well as the forthcoming referendum on AV (Alternative Vote for Proportional Represenation) in the UK but cannot take part in an election in my native Singapore?

Big Society, Small Mind

2011-04-01T16:59:00.001+01:00

It's been a long while since I last posted. Together with all the usual busy-ness of life during this time of year I had been doing my weekly stint at a local charity which gives advice on all areas of life. (This means I have less time to run my business, but never mind.)

Of course we are not know-it-alls. We merely have the resources to point people in the right direction. Some folk who come in need more help than others. For these we spend more time with them and help with writing letters, making phone calls, etc.

My role in this charity is to assess within as short a time as possible how we might (or not) help the "client".

We get all sorts. People asking about neighbour disputes over boundary fences, pensions and how these affect their current benefits, whether they are genuinely required to pay underpaid taxes because HMRC completely fouled up, domestic violence, how to apply for benefits for 19-year-olds, etc.

We get the few odd-balls, for want of a better word. People who want to just have a talk, eg I've applied for x number of jobs in the last y number of weeks, and not a single reply. Can you tell me whether the job market is really that bad?

One man who finally decided to divorce his wife was so glad for some guidance we gave he put quite a substantial donation into our collection box. He needed reassurance, some advice regarding a legal matter, and you could see the relief on his face when we helped him to separate the two issues.

But two weeks ago I very nearly quit. For the second week running I had a 'run' of clients wanting to know where they stand with regards to their benefits application, etc. We are a charity. We have nothing to do with the various government departments that push one bit of paper to another, and then on to another department, only for it to be lost in the post, etc.

But they come, constantly, "Please, I have no money to live on this week, what has happened to my application?"

I don't know.

You also have those who tell you, "I'm entitled to this [benefit] and that [benefit]. I went to the office, and they tell me I'm OK, but I get the letter that tells me I get nothing. What is happening?"

I don't know.

Some get really rude when after we had given them the advice and clear directions as to what to do. "But why are you not helping me? Previously when I came here always someone helped me. Make a phone call and you get the answer."

Me: "Here's the number given to you. Call and find out what the situation is."

Client: "No. They won't give me an answer. You people have to give them a call, and then they give you an answer."

Me: "Are you saying that the people at the council are not giving you the answers? Are you saying that they would only give an answer if someone from here speaks to them?

Client: "Yes. Always I call and they don't help me. You people call them, they would give you an answer."

That really made my blood boil.

First, I didn't like being referred to as "you people". "Look!" I said, "I am only a volunteer. I don't get paid for trying to help you. My role here is not to make phone calls for you."

Second, I was furious that local council employees who are supposed to be public servants, paid by my tax money, seem not to be doing their job. Why are they not giving this man the answers he deserves?

So on the one hand I pay these servants, and on another I pay this man (his benefits via my tax), but the lazy public servant has caused this man to come to me to say, "You people are not helping me."

Why should I be taxed to the hilt and be insulted by this client whose benefits come out of my taxes?

The following week I had a woman who claims to be single, with three children, with a query about her housing and impending eviction. Of course the taxpayer is already paying her housing benefits, council tax credit, child benefits, child tax credits, etc.

She asked me whether I knew anything about "banding" in the homelessness jargon. "No," I said, and she rolled her eyes in disgust.

I wanted to say, "Sweetheart I've not received a single penny of benefit from this country. How do you expect me to know? I have not even received Child Benefit because it was too complicated for me as a foreigner to claim, so it has been given to my husband.

"Incidentally I am contributing towards your benefits, so don't sound so high-and-mighty." (I learned later from the case notes that actually, she had not been telling us the whole truth! And yes, I would still like to find out how in a community that considers it acceptable to stone a woman caught in adultery she could have three children when claiming not to be in a relationship.)

When I got home after this session I had to bake bread. I needed to punch out my anger and frustration. How dare these people talk to me like I am their servant when their livelihood depends on people like me who fund their benefits?

Here I am trying to do my Big Society and all I meet are small minds like these.

Thankfully the last session (yesterday) was so different. I met some really nice people who were grateful for the help, advice and information we were able to provide.

I am, however, continuing to make my own bread. My baking skill has risen a lot in my boys' estimation as my bread proved to be a great success!

Revolutions, some random/rambling thoughts

2011-02-27T16:00:00.004Z

First Tunisia, then Egypt and now Libya is at the brink as I write. People power.

Gaddaffi sees himself as a revolutionary leader, not a president, and so cannot resign, as the people demanded.

Revolutionary leaders ought to be respected for their vision, for their fortitude and for their ability to bring about revolution and surviving. When we look at the east Asian countries, not excluding Singapore, we see historians having rather nice things to say of leaders who took us out of colonial rule, hailing these as "fathers" of the nation.

Problem is such leaders, after being comfortably in unopposed power (dictatorship?) for years often forget that whilst the nation might owe them a lot, the nation does not owe them EVERYTHING.

The rot sets in when such leaders begin to see and appropriate their nation's wealth as their own. They start enriching themselves, and their families, blurring the line between what belongs to the nation and what belongs to the individual. Worse, they bring in laws to institutionalize such blatant corruption.

The people will acquiesce, usually for as long as they are happy and reasonably well-fed plus a little bit of room to give them a sense or myth of well-being.

But then the day comes when "enough is enough" and the revolt begins.

So the likes of Gaddaffi have better take note.

New Hope

2011-02-11T14:55:00.002Z

Yesterday was a difficult day. At my CAB session I had a young man who refused to leave my room because he had no money.

What was I supposed to do? I am only a volunteer here. I have done all that I could to help him, as the last person he saw did, but if he did not help himself to resolve the situation he was in, what could we do?

Do we let him keep coming back and beg for emergency money?

Then you realize that at the coalface of this "Big Society" answers are not always easy.

Today was a much better day. On the day that we read of 50% of five-year-old boys are falling behind, I had six (SIX!) new mothers at our Toddler Group.

Many are first-time mothers. It was especially interesting (encouraging, even) to see two mothers using the "time-out" for misbehaving two-year-olds. There is hope.

I also noted to a childminder that one of her charges was really good at looking after himself (took off his coat, hung it up on another child's pushchair). It appears that he was not like that when he first came to her.

Nobody taught him how to do things that children his age should be able to do. Now he shows that he could start looking after himself.

Made me think, again, that perhaps some children are better off being taken care of by such experienced childminders who give them structure, discipline and self-esteem whilst the mother works to earn her keep.

The alternative could be a child at home 24/7 with a mum who's watching TV, smoking and/or on the phone constantly while the child is left to TV, computer and junk food.

Ah, just some thought based on my observations.

Chinese: whispers, new year, me

2011-02-03T15:21:00.003Z

Yesterday I was listening to Today in the morning and someone used the term "chinese whispers" (re: how suspect treated in Bristol murder) and I felt very uncomfortable. Affronted. Why "Chinese"?

Should I make a complaint to BBC and campaign for a ban on the use of "Chinese whispers" with its negative connotation? (Just kidding.)

It's the new Chinese lunar year today and I am quite excited (but tired). I am salivating at the pictures posted by friends on FB.

The eve of Chinese New Year is when families gather for the Reunion Dinner. I remember having to wait for hours for sister to come back from her nursing shift and/or father from his new year's eve haircut.

Then we tuck in. Ah! I enjoy most the thrill of putting on my new pyjamas. Mum could not always afford to buy me new clothes -- going-out clothes -- but she would always used to buy me pyjamas (they were very cheap). So I give my son new pyjamas, too.

Except that his cost a bit more. Few people do the traditional open-front pyjamas and he won't wear anything else.

I couldn't take part in any of the festivities this year. But I was thrilled when my family phoned on Saturday. They were having a pre-New Year's eve reunion and I spoke and saw everyone present via video link.

I've also been making pineapple tarts. It is tedious making these tarts.

Why do I make these tarts?

Because it affirms my Chineseness, and in particular my Singapore Chineseness. It's not something you could buy at Chinese supermarkets run by Hong Kong Chinese.

And because my son tells me, "You're not Chinese."

So once a year I have to reinforce the message that mum is Chinese, Singaporean Chinese, and we have traditions. He likes most the custom of giving hong bao, cash put in decorated red envelopes.

I'm tired because I'd just spent a long morning at CAB where I've been trained to do gateway interviews to help all those who come through the doors. I meet all sorts of interesting (and sometimes frustrating) individuals.

Working at home is great. Up to a point. I need to go out and meet real people, people from all walks of life sometimes.

Xin nian kuai le! Wan shi ru yi!

(Happy New Year! May all your wishes come true!)

Reflecting on relexology (and a golf ball)

2011-01-09T14:23:00.004Z

In my late parents' flat was a stone that was often left underneath a chair in the living room.

I remember my father being given that stone (nearly six inches long) by a friend soon after we moved to the Tanglin Halt flat. He said to rub his feet on the stone for good health.

I was only very young then and I thought: was there magic in this stone? how could rubbing one's feet on this stone give one good health? Father didn't actually use it as instructed. It was just there, left there, for years and years.

At university I remember a lecturer talking about traditional medicine. He spoke disparagingly of such, referring to "a bit of dried bark". How could we place our faith on the healing powers of a bit of dried bark when we have the whole backing of science on antibiotics, etc.?

You see, where I was growing up, we revered everything that was "scientific". The west was scientific, so we revered it. Anything that was non-western and/or non-scientific was deemed superstition and backward.

And I had a really bad headache at work once. An Australian colleague suggested that I should rub the bottom of my big toe. She then gave me some literature on reflexology. That was Lana G.

The next time I had a bad headache at home I studied Lana's chart and rubbed my big toe. I could not believe how badly it hurt. From then I begin to think there is some connection between rubbing the soles of one's feet and general well-being.

It was a good few years later when I started living in the UK that I began to learn more about traditional medicine. Strange as I actually grew up with a lot of TCM (traditional Chinese medicine) around me.

My father was a "quack" as we used to tease him. His housewife customers at the market where he sold pork used to come to him for advice on certain aches and pains.

Father recounted often how even the "big doctors" could not cure my sister's bad headache (migraine?). He then made her wash her hair in water (more like stock) from boiling a huge amount of ginger, and her head pain disappeared.

Periodically he made mum brew various types of horrible tasting medicines for us to drink. Because he saw that we were this, that or other, and needed to have our "qi" balanced.

Any way it was in the UK that I learned more about ayurvedic medicine, aromatherapy, etc, and slowly I moved away from my distrust in that "bit of dried bark". Seeing these "alternative therapies" in the light of TCM in a more holistic way, I decided that I must stop being so dismissive about traditions that have been tested for thousands of years.

Somewhere along the line I had my first reflexology massage in Singapore. I was taken by surprise when the man who did the massage could tell me about my frequent complaints. Just by observing the way I grimaced in pain as he massaged the soles of my feet.

My husband found relexology too painful and never went back. But he does massage my feet infrequently. We are amazed at the number of times when he would find a painful spot and we'd check it against a chart I have, and it pointed to the problem I was feeling.

Lately I came up with the idea of using a golf ball to "reflex" my feet. It rolls about. It's fairly solid. It's readily available.

I can only say I am amazed at how it pinpoints pain in the feet which corresponds to the part of the body that required attention. It hurts a lot, but if I keep rolling the ball with my foot/feet in that area I feel quite a lot better when I stop, after five minutes or so.

And I imagine that is what that stone in my parents' flat was all about.

Taking what is not yours is ... stealing

2010-12-05T20:11:00.010Z

This time every year we run a Christmas party for the children and their parents/carers who bring them regularly.

We provide party food for the children and the adults are asked to bring food or give £3 towards food. We give each child and adult a Christmas present.

The money for the food and presents comes from what is left over from the £1.50 we collect every week, after we have provided drinks and biscuits for both children and adults, craft materials for the children, etc. We also invest in new toys and equipment regularly.

Mdm P is a parent who usually arrives quite late. Sometimes after I've put my moneybox away and I would say, "Pay next week." But she'd forget to pay the following week, especially if someone else was standing in for me.

In fact, even if she did come early-ish, she would shuffle about, taking ages to look for her money. Sometimes I have to confront her (which I find very embarrassing) to say, "Have you registered?" and she would claim that she had "forgotten" to pay me.

Also, she has friends calling on her virtually every week come coffee time. And without asking for permission -- even as a courtesy -- she would invite her friend/s to get a coffee and biscuits.

We are not a miserly lot, but we have seen her walking away with a stack of biscuits about four inches high. Whatever she does not finish, she takes away.

We wondered at one point if she was so poor she could not pay the £1.50. If this was the case we would waive her payment, as we have done with another family where the father had not found employment for some time.

However we noticed that Mdm P could afford to send her child to the most expensive nursery in the area. So though she is a non-working mother, she obviously is not short of money.

Last Friday, before she arrived, we had a young mother with multiple body piercings come in saying she had been invited by Mdm P to the party.

What? How dare she invite someone to our Christmas party?

We said she (Mdm P) shouldn't have done that because we did not have a present for the child, etc. The mother looked annoyed and scowled at me. If I were her I would have left at this point. But she stuck on.

We asked her if she intended to attend regularly. She said "no". Which means she would not be contributing towards this party after the event either.

In the end we decided that it was not very Christian not to let this young woman stay. (No room at the inn and all that.) We found an old Christmas present for her little girl.

Then Mdm P arrived. I was busy making sure the hall was set up correctly for the second part of the programme (called the "changeover").

When the children and parents came back from the other hall I noticed that Mdm P had brought along ANOTHER friend (AF) AND a teenage girl (TG), presumeably the daughter of this AF. These two were at Toddlers the week before. (Why was the teenager not at school?)

For child protection reasons we have strict rules about signing people in. Also in case of fire, I need to account for all those signed in. Just drifting in like these two women did was not acceptable. Mdm P knew that.

Nevertheless they sat down and started tucking into the food.

Word came to me that some other mother(s) have complained that Mdm P should not have brought her friends (two adults, one teenager, one toddler). I was given the task of telling Mdm P off.

I waited for the right moment and did. Mdm P justified it by saying that her friends brought food. That is, they did not come empty-handed, and so were just eating their fair share of the food.

OK, I gave her the benefit of the doubt on this matter, and reported it to my "boss". It was not possible to prove that her friends did bring food. I only noticed that they did not stop eating. TG was constantly going back to the table to get more food.

I was also detailed to hand out gifts to the mums and dads and carers who come regularly.

Mdm P and friends watched me carefully. Then when I was called away to see to another matter and a young lady was standing in for me, they cornered her.

When I returned to my station my young assistant (YA) told me that TG had asked for a gift. She tried telling her that it was only for those who came regularly. TG apparently told my YA that her niece comes regularly and therefore should be given a gift.

When I returned to my station TG had the cheek to come back to ask for an exchange of her gifts saying she preferred the one with the purple toiletries. At this point though I hadn't be given a full account of what went on, I had the impression that she should not have been given a gift at all.

I asked, "Who's your niece who comes regularly?"

TG gave a name. It was not a name I recognized. AF (her mum?) corrected her. Suspicion: it was not her "niece". TG held on to her gift which I had refused to exchange. I should have just taken it back at that point.

Her mum said, "You could swop." Meaning TG could swop with Mdm P. (Confirmation: Both Mdm P and TG had taken a gift.)

This morning I had the chance to speak with my YA who told me that TG had told her "her niece comes regularly" but was ill that day and so should be able to collect a gift. Then YA told me that the older women were with her, telling the same story, and practically snatched the gift from her hands.

It was an utter and blatant lie. Not only did the TG lied. The older women with her colluded.

Whatever for? For a Christmas gift worth £5 that we were giving away!

On one hand I felt that if they were so desperate then they need those toiletries much more than I do. On the other, I realized that they were stealing, plain and simple.

If this girl were to go into the store next door, take those toiletries and tell security that her mum usually shops there, would they let her leave with those toiletries?

I am minded to make Mdm P pay. When our sessions resume I shall ask her to pay £1 or 50p extra every week until we get our £5 back.

Dilemma: Should I, as a Christian, quibble over £5? Or do Mdm P and her friend and TG and the other mother (with piercings) who came to the party need to be told they are simply taking from someone who had paid for those things. In other words, they have been stealing?

Has anyone told them that this is not a "something for nothing" society? Or were they doing this because they are so used to a "something for nothing" society?

Do they think that just because we are a church they could come in and take advantage of us?

I have been very patient with Mdm P. She has refused to cooperate where her child's discipline is concerned. This group is not benefitting her daughter at all. If we continue to be so generous with her, is it equivalent to casting pearls before swine?

There have been times when people say to me, "You are a church, aren't you?" as if just because we are a church they could take advantage of us.

Eg when they try to pay £1.50 in 1p copper pieces, I kid you not. I would say I am not obliged to take more than 20p in coppers and they would say, "You are a church ...."

We may be representatives of God's church, but we are not doormats. Do not step all over me.

Should I or should I not make Mdm P pay up for the toiletries TG took?

Making good accounts

2010-11-27T21:33:00.001Z

This time of year, every year, I dread having to do my accounts for tax purposes.

I am fairly numerate, but when it comes to accounting, I wallow in the abyss between the debits and credits.

My dear husband, trained in accounting, thankfully tolerates sitting down with me to sort out the numbers. Always we row over my poor book-keeping(??), my lack of analysis, and ... O dear!

So last year, for Christmas, I was given Book-keeping for Dummies which I attempted to read, and even did exercises, etc.

Last Saturday we sat down to do the accounts.

I had made a start on the Trial Balance and the numbers on various bank accounts were adding up properly, etc. But still I managed to put some DRs and CRs in the wrong columns -- which he spotted, and I failed to find a record of my last payment to the accountant (!).

But, BUT, we managed to balance the account without getting too cross with each other. Whew!

Profit/Loss? Apparently I made a tiny, teeny profit, not enough to buy a half-decent handbag.

But I was surprised at the amount paid out on items like storage, postage, courier, stationery, website maintenance, consumeables, TAX, etc. apart from the actual goods purchased.

If I were not trading and crafting, even with this low turnover, it would mean even lower revenues for the purveyors of these goods and services, and therefore possibly more unemployment.

And so, multiply this by the number of small businesses up and down the country.

OK, we're not the Middletons with our barn in Berkshire or wherever. But one day I know our little business will grow.

The point is small businesses like ours go quite a long way in keeping other businesses going. And we certainly pay our taxes.

I could very well do nothing and make a zero contribution to this society.

But I've chosen to run Organic-Ally to do our bit for the environment, to promote ethical business ideas, fair trade, and to support co-ops such as KV Kuppam (via Bishopston Trading) so that consumers this end of the globe could actually make life better for producers on the opposite end.

When I relate this to what's happening in the wider economy and in particular after watching "The Trillion Pound Horror Story" I come back again and again to: We must make (or grow) things to sell.

We must encourage small businesses, and give these small businesses time and opportunity to grow.

When I first came to this country nearly 20 years ago I noticed that manufacturing had declined. I was told the service/finance sector was the way to go. This country cannot compete with India and China in terms of labour costs.

Whilst that argument about China/India might be true, the service/finance sector has also failed us.

We must return to making things to sell to customers who want those things. Not just antique Chinese vases.

I also wonder how much the UK welfare system has sapped the entrepreneurial vigour that was so much a part of this nation.

I read of young people, graduates, school-leavers trained in hairdressing, eg, saying, "If I don't get a job I would have to sign on."

And I think back to my first graduating from university with no job in sight (and no welfare state). What did we do? We took on whatever jobs were available.

I worked at two-and-a-half jobs at any one time because I needed to support my family, plus I had a Rotary Club student loan to repay.

So I was part-time oral history interviewer, part-time university tutor, and freelance newspaper columnist. This last I became because I was fearless (shameless?) in bombarding editors with unsolicited articles.

Not quite a "manufacturing" job, I know, for I was trained in manufacturing ideas (including ideas that sell newspapers) rather than ... handbags.

If I were trained as a hairdresser I would definitely look to starting my own business.

Most interestingly some of my friends started a little craft business. OK it lasted only until they found a "proper" job. But it was their spirit of enterprise that impressed me. And I am sure it was this spirit of enterprise that impressed their eventual employers.

So why don't our young school-leavers think about starting their own business? Why does "business" seem a bad word to some people? What do young people in similar situations in countries with no welfare provision do?

I know parents who own shops who do not wish their children to remain shopkeepers "because it is such hard work". They would rather their children get a job in an office.

How do I say to such parents: "I worked in an office, too. From 8.30am to whenever. Sometimes all weekend. Made so much money I had not time to spend it." (I even needed a personal shopper to buy my clothes.)

We need businesses to generate revenue, to feed other businesses, to create employment.

What must this country make (or grow) to sell?

I would think not those things that the Chinese (and note I am an ethnic Chinese) can make cheaper and faster. But products that depend on changing the whole outlook on consumerism.

I don't believe we should spend our way out of the recession. But I think we really must evaluate our buying/spending patterns.

Finding that balance between buying organic/conventional, sustainable/disposable, fair trade/cheap and plentiful, supporting the local/global is not at all easy.

If I do not need another handbag it's probably only because I only buy good, well-made, handbags.

See also: Workshop, not Casino

Giving a Good Account (2)

2010-11-27T16:03:00.003Z

Isn't it ironic that someone who does not know how to take good pictures to profit from market-place websites like Etsy should have one of her photos featured in the local papers?

Sadly it was the photo of my 'little brother' "Big Ben" in a tribute page.

We looked at our photos of Ben. They are either of him with hands in his pockets or arms around a little baby.

The photo here is actually one of him with our new-born son ten-and-something years ago.

We knew then that he would have made a good father, and we were right. Sadly his daughters now won't have him around any more.

Our prayers are with your family, Ben.

The tax system explained in beer

2010-11-25T09:18:00.002Z

This was going round the Internet. There is no certainty over its authorship, and the piece has been called a "hoax" and all that. Still it is worth reading, methinks.

When pondering the question of taxes and the structure of our tax system in general please refer to this explanation using the language of Beer !!

Suppose that every day, ten men go out for beer and the bill for all ten comes to $100.

If they paid their bill the way we pay our taxes, it would go something like this;

The first four men (the poorest) would pay nothing.
The fifth would pay $1
The sixth would pay $3
The seventh would pay $7
The eighth would pay $12
The ninth would pay $18
The tenth man (the richest) would pay $59

So, that's what they decided to do.

The ten men drank in the bar every day and seemed quite happy withthe arrangement, until one day, the owner threw them a curve ball.

"Since you are all such good customers," he said, "I'm going to reduce the cost of your daily beer by $20". Drinks for the ten men would now cost just $80.

The group still wanted to pay their bill the way we pay our taxes.

So the first four men were unaffected. They would still drink for free. But what about the other six men - the paying customers?

How could they divide the $20 windfall so that everyone would get his fair share?

They realised that $20 divided by six is $3.33. But if they subtracted that from everybody's share, then the fifth man and the sixth man would each end up being paid to drink his beer.

So, the bar owner suggested that it would be fair to reduce each man's bill by a higher percentage the poorer he was, to follow theprinciple of the tax system they had been using, and he proceeded to work out the amounts he suggested that each should now pay.

And so the fifth man, like the first four, now paid nothing (100%saving).
The sixth now paid $2 instead of $3 (33% saving).
The seventh now paid $5 instead of $7 (28% saving).
The eighth now paid $9 instead of $12 (25% saving).
The ninth now paid $14 instead of $18 (22% saving).
The tenth now paid $49 instead of $59 (16% saving).

Each of the six was better off than before. And the first four continued to drink for free. But, once outside the bar, the men began to compare their savings.

"I only got a dollar out of the $20 saving," declared the sixth man.

He pointed to the tenth man, "but he got $10!"

"Yeah, that's right," exclaimed the fifth man. "I only saved a dollar too. It's unfair that he got ten times more benefit than me!"

"That's true!" shouted the seventh man. "Why should he get $10 back, when I got only $2? The wealthy get all the breaks!"

"Wait a minute," yelled the first four men in unison, "we didn't get anything at all. This new tax system exploits the poor!"

The nine men surrounded the tenth and beat him up.

The next night the tenth man didn't show up for drinks, so the nine sat down and had their beers without him. But when it came time to pay the bill, they discovered something important. They didn't have enough money between all of them for even half of the bill!

And that, boys and girls, journalists and government ministers, is how our tax system works.

The people who already pay the highest taxes will naturally get the most benefit from a tax reduction.

Tax them too much, attack them for being wealthy, and they just may not show up anymore.

In fact, they might start drinking overseas, where the atmosphere is somewhat friendlier.

David R. Kamerschen, Ph.D.
Professor of Economics.

For those who understand, no explanation is needed.
For those who do not understand, no explanation is possible.

Giving a good account

2010-11-22T08:12:00.005Z

Yesterday was a very sad day at church.

Last Sunday we heard that we cannot put God in a box as we looked at the passage in the Book of Samuel and the way the Ark of the Covenant was treated and feared.

The congregation was bowed by the news of a serious house fire that left one of our church leaders and his wife (a paediatrician) in ICU.

Later that day we learned the news that Ben, a Microsoft engineer, had been called home. Smoke inhalation had led to cardiac arrest. And the young man who first came to our church 11 years ago, spent Christmas with us, gone away, come back, got married, had children, was now back in the arms of Jesus.

Yesterday was the first day back at church together for many of us.

There was such an outpouring of grief. Ben was special. Ben was much loved.

I spent time with his mum last Friday.

O, how we cried.

"Why? Why? Why did God take him at the prime of his life? Why did He not take me instead?" Ben's mum cried.

We will never understand. I could, and can, only feel the pain of a mother's heart.

Ben was her miracle baby. He grew up so well, so strong, so tall. (We called him "Big Ben". He kept walking into the light fixture in the middle of our sitting room.)

Most of all, he grew up strong in the knowledge of his loving heavenly Father despite ... despite his own father's irresponsible ways.

What mother wishes to say "goodbye" to a child like this? The child whose flesh and bones were knit in her very own body?

But why the grief from all those who had the privilege of knowing Ben, even for just a little while?

Because he was special. Because he was much loved. Because people only have good things to say about him.

And I am sure, this boy-young-man-husband-father who did not have a bad bone within him, would be able to give a good account of his own life when we come before God's throne.

Rest in peace, brother Ben. We will keep an eye on the wife and the two little girls you left behind.

Rest in peace.

Tributes paid to Santosh Benjamin-Muthiah who died in Wealdstone fire

See also follow-up post

My sister is sixty! Or what is poverty?

2010-11-07T18:46:00.010Z

I find it hard to believe that. My eldest sister. Sixty.

And she spent four hours working at McDonald's today, because the manager there could see that her work ethos was so different from that of Generation Y (or X or Z?). But she had a run-in with a much younger staff member who did not realize that she was a champion french fries fryer whose "just-in-time" technique was exemplary.

Sister has a full-time job in accounts. She 'retired' and started doing some hours at M's, but was soon offered a job elsewhere. M's called her up, asking her to work Sundays.

Actually Big Sister is very good at audit/accounts but never quite bothered to get her accountancy qualifications. I remember her talking for hours on the phone trying to explain to her best friend the difference between debits and credits, assets and liabilities.

I look back at my young life with great sentimentality today because the talk in the UK this week was -- still -- on cutting public spending. Today Iain Duncan Smith tells us that those on long-term benefits will be forced to do unpaid work in the community.

As you can imagine, uproar from the red corner: that's slave labour, exploitation, unfair.

From the blue corner (or whatever colour corner you choose to call it): about time, too, why should people be giving something for nothing?, three generations of workless households? they need help in being introduced to work, etc.

Incidentally magistrates often sentence minor criminals to unpaid "community work". This week we read of one such "Lazy thug chooses prison over community work 'because he doesn't like getting out of bed'".

Earlier this week BBC journalists went on strike. I personally found it very refreshing. None of that 24-hour dribble (drivel?) speculating as to who was going to say what at which platform. They were protesting against a 25% cut in pensions.

25% of what? 25% of a very large sum would still leave you with 75% of a lot. The BBC licence fee is something we have to pay, or face jail (if I'm not wrong, but of course the prisons are too full now for that).

They quibble over the big bosses having huge pay packets. That, as far as I am concerned, is quite a different issue from their pension cut. Everyone is facing a cut, so why should BBC journalists be different?

My eldest sister's birthday was significant because she was the first person who finished her education at sixteen, went to work in a factory to help support our family, and then learned her trade in audit/accounts in the evenings.

My family was materially poor. There were six of us children and we lived in a one bedroom flat in Tiong Bahru. The flat was kitchen, bathroom, bedroom and a large sitting room. So most of us slept on the floor in the sitting room.

We had one bed -- my parent's. Come evening, the mats -- we didn't even have mattresses then -- were rolled out and we slept on the floor.

We had no wardrobes, except the one dressing table/wardrobe that was part of my mum's dowry. Our clothes were kept in wooden boxes that used to hold vegetables/other goods. Mum collected these boxes from the market and cleaned them out. These were stacked, double decker, under my parents' bed. We each had a different box.

Under the bed, too, was a metal trunk, again from mum's wedding, where she kept some very beautiful dresses that belonged to my cousins. Every so often she would open this trunk to take out new (old) dresses when I outgrew the ones I was wearing.

Come Chinese New Year mum would take a pink dress out of a cardboard box, a very pretty lacey dress, from the wardrobe. How I loved that dress! It was very long when I first wore it. A few Chinese New Years later it got rather short.

Then my parents could not afford the rent and we had to move into Queenstown. Two bedrooms, but a much smaller flat.

We still only had one table. It was our dining table. In the evening the food was cleared away and we sat around it to do homework.

Someone gave us a second smaller bed. Two sisters shared this bed. The rest of us slept on the floor, in the bedroom, in the sitting room, anywhere we found space. Later we could afford mattresses. Then an old bunk bed was donated to us, complete with mattresses. Wow!

Someone else gave us an old wardrobe/cupboard. The sisters now each had one shelf. Such luxury!

When I read of "overcrowding" in this country, I chuckle.

Second sister went into nursing a year or so after she finished school (at 16). Third sister worked and studied in the evenings for five years to qualify as a quantity surveyor.

With the financial burden eased somewhat, Big Brother was able to finish his A Levels, finished his National Service and went into university to study engineering. Second Brother joined the navy and through a circuitous route is also an engineer now.

Yet when we were growing up we did not think of ourselves as poor. We were happy. We had food. We were always clean and tidy.

We might not have TV, but we had newspapers, in two languages. We had Rediffusion and radio, through which I learned my English. Mum collected discarded textbooks and I would read those. An uncle bought us a subscription of Readers Digest which we read avidly.

Ours is a reading family and we read everything we could put our hands on.

We were materially impoverished by today's standards in the UK, but boy! were we rich in our ambition and desire to succeed.

We did not have a choice. When you see your parents working their fingers to the bone to pay for school fees, to buy books at the beginning of the year, to keep us in school uniforms, etc. because nothing came free, you just want to do something about your life.

Yet when I look around me now I see young children considered "poor", with their satellite TV, annual holidays, expensive shoes, and parents not in work, I have to question: what has gone wrong?

My young son stared in disbelief when I recounted how when at university there were days when I literally had no money for the next meal -- only to find my grandmother visiting and giving me some cash "to buy something nice for yourself". Or it happened to be my birthday and aunties gave me small sums of money, as aunties do.

Was I poor? Perhaps. I remember mum telling me I must aim to get to university.

I said, "But we may not be able to afford university."

She said, "Don't worry. If you are good enough, we will find ways to pay for it. There's such a thing called 'scholarships'."

In the end my big brother, a young graduate himself, paid my fees. I worked throughout university to support myself. And yes, I graduated with a (Rotary Club) loan to repay, etc. I had to repay this even when I was jobless, having graduated in the midst of the first major recession my generation has ever seen. (I worked at two part-time jobs until I was awarded a graduate scholarship.)

What this nation needs is not money -- taxpayers' money, ie my money -- poured into a system to "eradicate" material poverty because some will always be poor when compared to others; "the poor you will always have with you", Jesus said.

What this nation needs is blue-sky thinking that will lift the millions mired in their so-called "benefits trap" out of their poverty of ambition.

And a very happy birthday to my sister for her contribution to our family since she was 16, making it possible for the younger siblings to move on to higher education. Wishing you God's every blessing!

Dad, Dad, no Dad

2010-10-29T12:58:00.002+01:00

In my short walk to the Post Office and back I was struck by three family situations.

#1: Little blonde toddler running after balding dad who went, "Come on, catch up with your gingerbread Dad."

#2: Dad and son had just crossed the road and dad had swooped son into his arms. Both having a lovely chat.

#3: Attention drawn to child (about 11-12 years old) stamping and completely destroying a pair of glasses on the ground. It was a family of mother plus three small children plus this lad. They must have just come from the cinema and had been given those pretty sturdy 3-D glasses.

Mum was tending to a much younger child when the oldest child stamped on the glasses.

Mum: "Any why did you have to do that?"

Boy: "Because no one would recognize me."

Mum: "Now pick up those bits and put them in the bin."

I don't know what transpired before this incident. But the look on the boy's face and his manner suggested to me that he needed some help with anger management. Did he feel he was not getting the attention he wanted? Anybody's guess.

Thankfully his mother seems a sensible sort of person.

Time of my life, living in hope

2010-10-15T19:57:00.005+01:00

Earlier this evening I said to "my boys" how I always enjoyed our meal times together.

Son was telling good jokes and giving good reports of life at school. What more do I want?

Had to explain how when I was his age meal times were served over two hours. Because of the wide range of our ages and the two-session school system, my siblings and I never seemed to sit down at the same table.

Either I came home far too late to eat with any of the family (older siblings would have eaten and gone onto evening classes) or I had to eat way too early before I set off for school. That is why I always made it a point that our family sat down together for meals.

No TV. No books. And lately no talk about Lego and computer games.

We're at the end of our first half-term. There has been many changes, not least of all that son is walking to and from school by himself.

He's supposed to be at a 'silly age'. But he's also getting more and more responsible and I AM NOT COMPLAINING.

For example, he's up at 6.40am, checks that I have finished showering and then turns on his own shower.

He takes his own breakfast things back to the kitchen. Without my telling him.

He changes into his school uniform, makes his bed, etc. and gets himself ready for school without my prompting, well, apart from reminding him to have a fresh handkerchief. He likes one particular handkerchief more than others, it seems.

He still needs reminding about packing his games and PE kit sometimes, but he does it all by himself.

At the appropriate time he would tell me (as I am busy answering emails), "I think it's time to go to school," and he goes.

When he comes home from school he eats a snack (usually a variety of biscuits) and moves on to his homework. Yesterday he came home and announced that he had finished his History homework during lunch break at school.

My reaction: "But you must play! You must give yourself time to play at break."

"It's OK, Mum. I did play at first break."

Since their homework was doubled this year it is good to see how he is managing his time.

Today he tells me that he is bringing his work with him on our short holiday so that he could revise. I said I'd rather he did not do that as I wanted us all to have a relaxing time.

I'll let him bring his books. Whether or not he actually revises will be up to him.

My only question is when would I start to find him doing his piano and clarinet practice without my reminding him! I live in hope.

This morning I saw a young mother struggle to change her baby's nappy. The daughter was going through the "I am not going to lie still" stage.

My son went through that stage. He was always big for his age. So changing his nappy was physically exhausting and I often ended up in tears.

You cannot reason with a big baby, and I lived in hope that he would grow out of it.

He did.

And as I witnessed a grandmother then change her toddler's nappy -- and this little girl kept still -- I told the first mother to watch.

See, they do grow out of it.

Talking to some of the younger first-time mothers I was surprised that many have never heard of the "terrible two's". O well, never mind. They will soon learn about it.

The point is I am having the time of my life, enjoying my still-sensible son at a point when he is well able to look after himself but before he becomes a stroppy teenager.

And I live in hope that the relationship we're building up would mean that he would at least treat me with trust and respect when his stroppiness sets in.

Husband and I are eternally grateful to our friend who spoke at our church wedding. The message we came away was "give each other space".

I wonder if the "giving space" principle also works on teenagers. If we gave him space, would he give us respect?

In fact we are going to give him so much space that we might live in a different country altogether! We'll see.
======
And then 16/10/10 husband chanced upon this report: Are middle class parents driving their children to depression?

This is why we (together) opted for me to stay at home. Until he was about three years old, our son saw his dad for three minutes every evening before he was put to bed. (Sometimes Singaporeans call this process "put to sleep". Parents don't mean an intention to kill their offspring, let me assure you.)

The full attention son received from me led to other issues, but that is a different story. The point is, this was noticed and we could intervene as soon as possible.

Children are only children once. Let them enjoy their childhood.

26/10/2010: One in 10 families NEVER has an evening meal together

Economics Nobel Prize Winners

2010-10-12T08:46:00.002+01:00

Woohoo!

And what are they saying? Apparently:

"governments need to cut benefits and tackle restrictive practices and regulations in the labour market to boost employment levels".

What does this mean? Minimum wage, maximum hours, and everything in between?

Right.

Original report here.

Who would win the Nobel Prize for saying that "ethical" employment practices would benefit all?

Sitting still -- whose job is it to teach?

2010-10-11T19:39:00.003+01:00

Sunday morning and having breakfast with son. Somehow we drifted into a discussion on asking the right questions.

My point was as we grow up and are being introduced to new knowledge, knowing the right answers is important.

But as we progress up the learning ladder it is not knowing the answers but knowing which questions to ask that matter most.

It is the case in research. The whole point of research is finding the answers. What answers we find is directly correlated with the questions we ask.

So this report on How Fair is Britain? appears to have the statistics for all sorts of un/fairness. My question to my son is: Were they asking the right questions?

Take the issue of gender and how boys do not know how to sit still.

Or sitting still – something girls tend to be better at. "So a boy can't sit still, so he gets told off, so he starts to feel like a bad boy, so he starts to behave like a bad boy, so he gets told off some more, so he gets angry, so the teacher gets angry and so on," said [interviewer], her words tumbling out as she described the vicious circle. "And so his work will suffer."

So you must ask why do some children find it difficult to sit still?

In my toddler group (the one I help to run as a volunteer) you would always get a few children -- both boys and girls -- who refuse to sit down at juice and biscuit time.

There are some children, all under three, who would sit and would not dare get off their chairs unless told to do so, and there are children who cannot sit and would run wild around the large hall where the group is held. See previous post here.

The difference is very much due to how their parents/carers train them.

Yes, "train" does sound a bit like "training dogs". I used that verb deliberately.

We train athletes, boys and girls to play football, etc, so why not train them to sit down?

I have enduring memories of grandmothers, mothers, maids, etc running around little children at feeding time. When my son was born I was determined that I do not have to train for the marathon while feeding him.

Son was coming up six months and sitting up. I had to see my supervisor for a final session before my viva. There was no one to child-mind (as usual) so I took him with me to the university.

I put a piece of muslin cloth on my supervisor's office floor and set my son down and gave him toys to play with. He sat within that square.

When another much younger lecturer came in and saw him within that square of cloth he asked, "Is that it? He does not go any where?"

No, first of all because he was only six months old. And secondly when he manages to move out of that square he gets plonked back onto that square. I was bigger and stronger than him.

All through toddlerhood he was sat down, no matter if it was for a drink, a piece of fruit, a biscuit, etc. So much so that whenever you gave him food, he always looked for a place to sit down.

There. Trained.

He is still a bit of a wiggle bottom, but he knows there are times and places when he must sit still.

Decorum "at table" (ie meal tables) was important. No messing about. Mum and Dad would see to it.

Sitting quietly (not always the same as sitting still) at church was to be expected. We sometimes played games when he was bored but he was still required to be quiet.

[We had two "hand games". Game #1 entails holding our palms perpendicular to the ground. One of us tries to push both our hands together while the other tries to keep them apart. We switch over occasionally. Quiet and fun.

Game #2: one person places an index finger in the open palm of the other person. The one with the open palm attempts to trap the index finger which is withdrawn at appropriate times. Great fun, too.]

I keep telling "my" parents at Toddler group that getting their children to sit down with all the other kids at juice time is good training because they need to sit down at school later.

Many young and new parents heed the advice. Some -- a small minority -- simply don't get it.

As we would say in Singlish: what to do?

Linguistic Hegemony: Cockles and Muscles

2010-10-02T13:20:00.008+01:00

(A shorter, less controversial version of this was published in the Straits Times online section on 11th October. I had assumed that the Editor was not going to run it. Apologies for the overlaps.)

The English-Singlish debate has thrown up a vociferous group defending the use of Singlish, largely because they see Singlish as being tied up with a Singapore identity. (I tried to explain how being a good Singaporean should not preclude us from learning to speak good English in a letter to the press.)

This group seems to be made up of people who are able to speak (or at least write) excellent English when they choose to.

There is a deafening silence, at least in the English cyber-media (and understandably so), from the Singlish-speaking group who could most benefit from learning to speak good English.

If I were a Marxian sociologist (not the same as being a Marxist, nota bene) I would say that this ‘good English’ group own the “means of production” and the ‘Singlish’ group do not.

In original Marxist philosophy the bourgeoisie own the “means of production” – land, tools and other resources – unavailable to the proletariat who merely provide the labour.

In Singapore today we can equate “means of production” to access to, or monopoly of, a good standard of English, and with it, ideas, knowledge, jobs, money and therefore, power.

By championing Singlish the ‘linguistic bourgeoisie’ are ensuring that the ‘linguistic proletariat’ continue to be ignorant of how they and their children are being deprived of these “means of production”.

I have spent enough time working on the factory floor to know that parents in this ‘linguistic proletariat’ are unlikely to march up to the school principal to flex their collective muscle and demand that their children are taught English grammar so that they could speak and write proper English.

It is therefore a form of hegemony when the ‘linguistic bourgeoisie’ act to ensure that the social mobility of the ‘linguistic proletariat’ is, henceforth, effectively curtailed.

Outside of economic gain there is another issue related to the grasp of ample language skills: we need good language skills to think through complex ideas.

The tools of language, like the keys on a piano, are all there. Just as good music would evoke a response, a good leader could put words together in such a way that listeners could go, “Wow! I’ve never thought of it that way.”

Good use of language could stir listeners to action. Think of famous speeches like "I have a dream" and "We shall fight [them] on the beaches", etc.

In his recent National Day Rally speech did the Singapore PM choose to inspire?

Instead he chose to dwell on bread-and-butter issues, using anecdotes and case studies to engage, explain and communicate.

Perhaps he had discerned that his audience were unlikely to have the vital language skills to be inspired by clever rhetoric. He has learned that they much prefer to talk cockles and chilli*.

Years of languishing in a linguistic torpor have guaranteed that enough people remain merely useful and utterly apathetic. So apathetic that there is no real fear of uprising.

But alas! these same people cannot be stirred to action either.

Think about it. (And if you do, I am almost certain you won’t be thinking in Singlish.)

*In a 2006 speech the PM used the phrase "mee siam mai hum" which translates into "a spicy local noodle dish without cockles" to illustrate a point. It was then noted that "mee siam" is never served with "hum" (cockles). So did he mean "mee siam mai hiam" where "hiam" refers to "chilli"? What's the point of ordering a spicy noodle dish without the spice? Whatever the defence for this mistake was given, the suspicion remained that this PM has not eaten at hawker centres as most Singaporeans do, suggesting that he was (is?) completely out of touch with the electorate.

Learning to Labour

2010-09-20T12:26:00.007+01:00

Some of you might recognize that this is the title of a 'classic' by Paul Willis.

It tells how working class boys learn to become working class and take on working class jobs.

We recently had a downstairs toilet refitted to make it easier for our aged visitors. It was put in single-handedly by a young man of 30 (30 is young to me now!) who originally came from Bosnia.

Us here in the UK are very familiar with the tea-drinking antics of workmen. A point not lost on the author of the The Yellow Tractor, for example.

But I was quite taken aback by how hard this young man worked. He was always on time. He never asked for tea or coffee unless I offered. I didn't even see him taking lunch (although I'd seen him drinking Red Bull twice). He cleaned up every day after he had finished.

He was meticulous. If something didn't go as planned (like finding a loose floorboard) he would check with me, suggested solutions, waited for approval and then acted on it.

He did not even turn his radio on until I went out to shop. I told him he was welcome to keep his radio on.

Then he told me how his father used to work for the same company. The company took him on as a much younger man. He knew nothing and did some labouring for them. Then he learned to do painting work (and he was meticulous with painting our walls).

I don't know how many years intervened but he is now able to fit bathrooms all by himself, from start to finish. If I owned a bathroom fitting company I will be very happy to employ him. If he had his own business I will not hesitate to recommend him.

This came amidst all the doom and gloom talk about cuts in government spending. And as I had pointed elsewhere (here and here) while millions are on benefits employers have to recruit from overseas to do the jobs that ARE available.

Two things stick out in his story. First he worked with his father. There was a father figure.

There had been many occasions when we needed work done in the house and contractors have brought their sons along, and/or later sent their sons back to do the work, and one electrician (who has a Masters degree) usually has an apprentice with him.

Again these young men are incredily well-mannered and did a magnificent job each time. They were trained by their fathers or mentors and their fathers/mentors can be very proud of them.

The second is he was willing to learn. It did not matter that he knew nothing, but there was a determination to earn his own wages. Conversely the company was willing to train him.

As we read of millions stuck in what is often termed (erroneously I think) as the "benefits trap" I can also imagine how a younger generation is learning NOT to labour because they have never seen their fathers and mothers labouring.

Don't mix Singlish with identity

2010-09-19T17:08:00.007+01:00

Recently I sent this letter to the Straits Times:

To be or to be – what is the question hah?

“Should Singaporeans speak a standard English or Singlish?” is the wrong question.

We need to “go stun” (back up a little) to ask whether Singaporeans need, or wish, to speak and write a language – any language – fluently enough to hold a sustained, logical and sometimes protracted discussion. Then only do we know how/which to choose.

Many have observed that code-switching within a sentence (English, Mandarin, Singlish) is a common phenomenon in Singapore.

My Sociology professor reasoned, “But you can’t translate the concept ‘pek-chek’, can you?” No, I can’t. I cannot even spell it.

This difficulty in writing down the language is an intrinsic part of the problem.

We borrow words like “anomie” and “Weltanschauung” in Sociology because there are no accurate English equivalents. Similarly, when discussing localisms the use of a Singlish term may be appropriate.

However a lot of conversations I overheard seem to suggest that speakers simply do not have the vocabulary to complete a sentence in the language with which they started.

A superficial grasp of any language means we can only cope with the most superficial of thought processes. So:

(1) Do we want (our children) to learn a language that would give them access to the rich cultural heritage that that language has to offer?

(2) Do we wish to speak a language sufficiently well to discuss more profound issues relating to scientific theory, theology and philosophy, for example?

Singlish, like Cantonese, is difficult to write down. Would it ever evolve to such a level to give us the equivalent of a Shakespeare, Voltaire or Li Bai?

Admittedly most of us read foreign literature in (a good) English translation. What are the chances that Hegel, for example, would be translated into Singlish in my lifetime?

Of course, Singlish has its place amongst our family and friends. It made me feel “at home” even with my Tiong Bahru Primary School classmates after a staggering 37 years.

However because Singapore is that little red dot that trades (in goods and knowledge) with the rest of the world, we have to choose to learn a language that is able to serve this purpose.

For as long as we conflate the issues of speaking a language well (be it English, Mandarin, French) with that of our national identity (that there is nothing wrong with Singaporeans speaking Singlish) we will never arrive at the logical conclusion to either of these.

================
What was published was this rather bland version:

Sep 18, 2010
Don't mix Singlish with identity

THE question of whether Singaporeans speak standard English or Singlish is the wrong one ('Getting it right - from the start'; Sept 1).

We need to back up a little to ask whether Singaporeans need, or wish, to speak and write a language - any language - fluently enough to hold a sustained, logical and sometimes protracted discussion.

Only then would we know how or what to choose.

Code-switching within a sentence (English, Mandarin, Singlish) is common. We borrow non-English words like 'anomie' and 'Weltanschauung' in sociology because there are no accurate English equivalents.

Similarly, when discussing a local custom or peculiarity, a Singlish term may be more appropriate.

But the truth is, many speakers simply do not have the vocabulary to complete a sentence in the language with which they started.

A superficial grasp of any language means we can cope with only the most superficial of thought processes.

So, do we want children to learn a language that will give them access to the rich cultural heritage that it has to offer?

And do we wish to speak a language sufficiently well to discuss more profound issues relating to, for example, scientific theory, theology and philosophy?

Singlish, like Cantonese, is difficult to write down.

Would it ever evolve to a level that would give us the equivalent of a Shakespeare, Voltaire or Li Bai?

Of course, Singlish has its place among family and friends.

It made me feel at home with my Tiong Bahru Primary School classmates after a separation of some 37 years.

However, because Singapore is that little red dot that trades (in goods and knowledge) with the rest of the world, we must choose to learn a language that is able to serve this purpose.

For as long as we conflate the issues of speaking a language well (be it English, Mandarin or French) with that of our national identity (that there is nothing wrong with Singaporeans speaking Singlish) we will never arrive at the logical conclusion to either of these.

The Story of Tommy the Cat

2010-09-06T08:35:00.002+01:00

This is a brag post. My son gave me permission to post his poem written some time in the last academic year. The teacher had gone over the structure of a poem and the pupils were asked to write another based on that structure.

He wrote the first three stanzas in class and I saw him sitting at our dining table hacking out the last. As usual he refused to let me read any of his homework before submitting.

==========

The Story of Tommy the Cat

The milkman was driving in his multicoloured truck,
When something jumped in front of him – a cat covered in muck!
The milkman swerved, the milk truck tipped, and threw him out the door.
The milk was flying everywhere and all across the floor.

The cat now grabbed a milk can, and knocked the man half dead.
Then dragged him to a building, and left him in a bed.
He grabbed the milk, then ran away, and gave himself a drink.
For the cat’s name was Tommy, and he needed milk to think.

The milkman woke up in his bed, and thought it was all a dream,
But Tommy appeared at the window and the milkman gave a scream!
The milkman fell, and his eyes rolled right back in his head,
And after he had fainted, fell right out of his bed!

Then Tommy ran off down the street to make his getaway,
The milkman also lived enough to drive another day.
Though after this short incident the milkman made a vow,
That any cat he ever sees, he’ll run them down right now!

L. T. (aged 10)

============

Would you wear a shirt like this?

2010-08-31T06:58:00.014+01:00

Bought shirts for son at the Singapore Zoo. The sleeves and bottom hem of one ended up looking like this after first wash:

Now the zoo shop people tell me it IS supposed to look like this. Here are the pictures they sent me to show what a new t-shirt SHOULD look like:

Except that I don't remember it looking like this on the display. And it did not look ripped on the day that son wore it. Basically I wouldn't have bought the shirt if I knew it was supposed to look "ripped".

Would you spend S$40 on a shirt that is ripped like that after first wash?

I think it is a rip-off.

People on benefits should pick fruit and veg

2010-08-26T18:12:00.002+01:00

Do you agree?

Original report here.

Yesterday as the IFS report tells us that the "poor" are worse affected than the "rich" given the new financial squeezes, our minds turned to the thousands needed to pick fruit and veg.

People complain that there are no jobs, yet thousands are recruited -- need to be recruited -- from overseas to fill these posts.

I have an East European chap working on my bathroom. He's very conscientious, very thorough, very diligent. And so polite. He didn't even dare put his radio on because I have mine on. Until I went out to do a shop.

No wonder this well-known local firm of bathroom specialists employ him.

Sony Singapore O dear!

2010-08-14T03:21:00.005+01:00

We are all set to check out of the YMCA hostel here which has been our home for the past two weeks.

Husband, however, has to trek over to Funan to get a battery for his new camera replaced. That is after we made the futile trek to Wisma Atria as instructed by the Funan salesman to claim our special wide angle lens at an incredible SGD99.

Sony is promoting this camera and enticing customers with a promotional offer, but when we went all the way to their distributor they have none of the lenses in stock. In fact they do not have this particular lens ANYWHERE in Singapore.

How then should they be allowed to carry on with this promotion? As husband says, "I see a letter (to the press) coming".

We tried leaving feedback at Sony website, but it does not accept complaints from tourists from the UK. (The drop-down menu does not feature either UK or USA, why?) So I phoned and guess what? they are closed because of a "company event" and they won't be available till Monday.

O great! We're flying today, Saturday.

Then it was clear that the camera battery we were given was a dud. We could not use it to take a panoramic (spelling?) picture of our family at dinner last night. Bah!

I hope Mr T is able to get his battery swopped quickly and what guarantee is there that it would work when we charge it up in the UK? None.

Thank you, Sony Singapore!

People Tree Sale

2010-07-22T09:13:00.006+01:00

I don't usually shout about promotions, but:

Just received my goody bag from People Tree. It's FANTASTIC VALUE!!!!

"Beautiful skirts, hand made tops, perfect summer dresses, cropped cotton trousers, delicate jewellery and stylish accessories – in this mystery Goody Bag you will receive at least FIVE hand made Fair Trade products WORTH AT LEAST £100 for JUST £30."

Get your own Goody Bag from People Tree quickly now!

(O no! just found out they've run out of stock on these bags. But still lots of other stuff that's good.)

Of mums and mums-in-law

2010-07-10T13:45:00.002+01:00

Today one of my letters to the Straits Times in response to recent discussion on filial piety was published. I would have missed reading it if husband had not pointed out a letter on poorly-mannered Singapore doctors.

When I read my letter again, I realized that a very important sentence was omitted because it is, clearly, not politically correct to even express such a view in a national newspaper. The full text of my letter is here:

When researching elderly Chinese living in sheltered housing in the UK, I was struck by how often daughters-in-law were rendered invisible.

They did not feature in family photo albums nor were they talked about, except negatively, which is probably why these older Chinese were living on their own.

Why, I wonder, would this generation of women who had suffered the wrath of their own mothers-in-law, treat their daughters-in-law so unkindly?

It transpired that before our marriage my husband told his parents in no uncertain terms where I, his wife-to-be, would stand in the event of any future conflict.

And I, from as soon as I was able, had been preparing my son for life away from mum and dad (ie being able to cook and clean) just as my parents-in-law had my husband. I wrote to them soon after we were married, thanking them for bringing up their son so brilliantly.

Unbeknown to us while Singaporeans were agonizing over whether a husband should stand by his wife or mother, we were voicing our fear (in jest) over our son refusing to leave home till he was forty!

Clearly we are talking about different patterns of relating between generations, and in many ways, between cultures.

The cultural shift in residential patterns had been immense in under two generations: from new brides (especially of eldest sons) living with their parents-in-law, to young couples starting married life in new homes (leaving ageing parents to single siblings), to widowed/sickly parents moving in with daughters (instead of sons).

There is no “norm” any more. It is a question of pragmatic arrangements.

Of course my mum-in-law and I have differences. However because she treats me with utmost respect, I reciprocate. And whenever I find her “annoying”, I remember that she is the woman who made my husband what he is, for which I must be eternally thankful.

Filial piety manifests itself in different ways. We come from very different experiences of language, education, history and yes, family conflict. It is futile to expect a “one-size-fits-all” solution.

However if we must be prescriptive I would venture that the flipside of filial piety is respect. And respect – mutual respect – cannot be imposed.

The paragraph in red was the one edited out.

Last week I was also surprised to learn from some parents at school how rude some of the senior boys were. They were allotted the task of helping members of the PTA (equivalent) to set up a stall and there were mumbles and grumbles.

A PTA stalwart said, "I blame it on the parents."

So back to this doctor being ill-mannered by not bothering to introduce himself/herself to the patient before telling him to strip and asking very personal questions. We come back again and again to:

"Is it because we have had a whole generation being brought up by foreign domestic workers?"

Yes, 30 years, a whole generation who probably never learned to say "please" and "thank you" because one is not required to be polite to a paid servant.

I've lost count of the number of times doors at public buildings were slammed on me, because the person in front could not bother to hold it for two seconds for me to come in (and for me to hold it for the person following, etc).

I've despaired at how often I get bumped into on a busy street and the person just grunts and walks away.

Come on, guys, it does not take too much to utter a sincere word of "I am sorry" or "I do apologise".

One morning some months ago I saw my son cross the road and waited to see him approach the school gate. One elderly gentleman was walking towards him. When the gentleman crossed over to my side, he asked, "Is that your son?" I nodded.

"He's very polite," he continued.

I had no idea what my son did to warrant this response from a neighbour that I've seen in the area but whom I don't actually know.

It transpired that when they both came to a point where the pavement narrowed due to tree roots, my son stood aside to let the gentleman pass. That was all. Nothing to it. But I was so proud of my son.

So, do we blame poor manner on parents?

Which Child/Mother Benefits?

2010-06-11T18:37:00.015+01:00

Millions may lose out in reform of child benefits

According to the above report in Times(Online):

"Frank Field, appointed by the coalition last week, is also looking at taxing child benefit and allowing parents to receive payments of up to £25,000 in the first three years after a child’s birth. In an interview with The Times, the former Labour minister said that the benefit, which costs the taxpayer £11 billion a year, should be linked more closely to the child’s age.

"Poorer parents are eligible for payments worth up to £100,000 in both child benefit and tax credits by the time a child is 19, according to Mr Field.

"He said there was a clear case for providing more money in the early years to help mothers to stay at home after their child was born — a policy also backed by Iain Duncan Smith, the Work and Pensions Secretary."

It is great to have a chunk of a child benefit up front to make it easier for mothers (or perhaps fathers as well?) to stay at home to give them the best start in life.

I would just caution over the "returning to work" bit. Many women are wary about staying at home for too long because it is difficult to return to work, with the best will in the world, after being away for far too long.

If families have new children within the first three years mothers may be away from work for six years, nine years and then they would find it -- like me -- difficult to get back into paid employment.

The mothers who would benefit children most by staying at home tend not to, because their professional training makes it difficult to stay away for too long. And those mothers who should go to work and give their children a chance to be exposed to a more structured and disciplined life in a nursery do not. It seems to me.

I deal with lots of mothers every Friday morning at my toddlers group. I can safely say that giving some mothers £25,000 up front will not free them from poverty. More later.

Besides, what if they spent the lot when a child is two, or four, or six? They will be crawling back to "Social" for more money. What do we do?

Reading the various fora, there seems to be a rising tide from some quarters calling for Child Benefits to be restricted only to the first two children. If you would read earlier (long) post I argued how the welfare system has basically done away with the "survival of the fittest" principle.

The result of which is both young men and women do not bother to find the best mates so that their children could have their best chances in life to survive. The benefits system is a great safety net for those who care.

But for those who are not 'bovvered', the free flow of benefits for children inside and outside of marriage mean those who could least afford it (both materially as well as in parenting ability) have the most children.

Of course you could go round with your clipboard and questionnaire survey, or reporter's notebook, and NO MOTHER would admit to having children indiscriminately just for the additional benefits. Mothers (and fathers) do get a warm fuzzy feelings about having babies.

But they must know when to stop!

If you cannot afford children, then don't have any more. Don't expect the single person, the retiree, the school cleaning lady, everyone else who pays tax to support your family.

I don't even mind supporting families if I know that they would turn out good for the society.

"Mr Field ... also wants to scrap the current measure of child poverty, defined as 60 per cent of median earnings. He intends to recommend it is replaced with a “life chances” index measuring parenting, school readiness — such as being able to hold a crayon or sit still — and progress through education. Labour had got itself into a “cul de sac” over poverty targets that no country in the world had achieved, he argued."

There is a mother in my toddler group (there are others as well but let's focus on this one) who has not a clue how to control her daughter who is small in size compared to herself and coming up three.

Hold a crayon? You must be joking. Sit still? The little girl has not been taught what a chair is for. She certainly does not have a 'naughty chair' at home.

This morning I told both mother and daughter that at "juice and biscuits time" she must try to sit down like all the other toddlers. The mum tells me she can't sit still even at nursery.

Come "juice and biscuits time" Miss High-Energy-who-does-not-talk-but-screams was zooming around with her juice and biscuits. Mum? She was sitting as far as possible from the other mums and dads, drinking her coffee and eating the stack of biscuits she picked up from the biscuit box.

Busybody me went up to her and suggested that perhaps she could sit closer to the rest of the children (like all the other parents) so that her daughter might sit down.

"No, she won't do what I tell her. Maybe I should give her a smack," she told me while chewing on her biscuit.

It is not as if this is her first child. She has two older children. And yes, if benefits were to stop at the first two, there may not be Miss-High-Energy-etc.

I would guess that hers is not a family that sits down together to eat a meal. If they have proper meals at all, it's eaten in front of the TV, possibly a large-screen TV.

What would this mother do if Mr Field were to give her £25,000 up front? She comes to Toddlers every week with her push-chair laden, simply laden down with shopping. It topples over when the daughter comes off it.

After we have cleaned up and I am going home I see her, most weeks, still shopping in the high street. What would she buy with £25,000?

I said to the lady in charge of the group I had no success in getting that little girl to sit down because her mum does not cooperate. My co-volunteer said, "Did you know she put ten sugars in her coffee? Ten!"

At the mention of Mr Field's proposals she said many families on benefits in her children's school have more material possessions (large screen TV, satellite TV, electronic games, multiple cars, etc) that her family does not have. And her husband works.

So we are all agreed: it is not money they are lacking. So throwing away that 60 percent of median earning is the right thing to do.

Many people do not like the idea of a tax regime that benefits the married couple -- because it seems so liberal to take that view -- so you must not penalize those who are not married. By the same token benefits must not be reserved for children born within marriage.

The result: there is less to go around. Yet the same people then complain their schools are not good enough, hospitals are not good enough, retirement benefits are not good enough, care homes for the elderly are not good enough.

But should benefits for a third child be stopped when the parents are not married? Think of the huge number of children living in families with siblings of many different fathers. Recent high-profile cases on child protection seem to indicate that children in such contexts are most at risk.

We then throw money at social workers in the hope that each child in those circumstances could survive to adulthood.

Back to 'my' little girl. What would this little girl become after the £100,000 of benefits that us taxpayers give to her (mother)?

Like her mother, would be my guess.

So will keep trying to teach her to sit. Pray with me.

Copyright and Integrity

2010-05-28T14:50:00.003+01:00

Last Tuesday some of the boys in son's school showcased their piano skills.

This usually means playing some boring exam piece they've spent the last six months practising.

Along came one of his mates who did not attend the rehearsal but decided to come on to play ... wait for it ... Star Wars (one of the tunes from). It was a hesitant performance, but never mind. It was brave.

Yesterday son came home to say another promising pianist in his class wants now to play the theme from 'ET' at the next concert (we're talking May 2011, OK?). Son asked if it was OK for him to loan friend his John Williams book.

"We are not allowed to make a photocopy for him, are we? So I've better let him borrow my book."

I felt really proud of my son who thinks about whether it is right to photocopy copyrighted material.

I would rather he does not let his friend borrow his book for a whole year, thank you very much. And should his friend choose to photocopy from it, we might never know.

And then I thought, ah, I don't think John Williams is going miss that bob or two of royalty that does not come to him just because a 10-year-old chooses to copy a tune from the whole book. Still, intellectual property is intellectual property.

We'd probably let said friend borrow the book and if he decides to, he could pay to download a copy of the music online, or he could go to support our local music shop by buying his own John Williams, which is what I'd prefer him to do.

Meanwhile son is happy playing Kats-Chernin Eliza's Aria from Wild Swans, or that music from the bank TV commercial.

Self-esteem and Mix(ed)-handedness

2010-05-17T10:30:00.003+01:00

Had a most illuminating chat with son last night.

He was reading the book Stick Up for Yourself: Every Kid's Guide to Personal Power and Self-Esteem. Again.

Why? I asked.

"O well, you know, my self-esteem is at an all-time low."

Something to do with being ranked in "C" team at cricket.

But you came in top at skiing, I said.

"Yeah, but that is all forgotten," (ie by the other boys in class).

Then he went into the technicalities on how to bowl a cricket ball and how he was often criticized, and we drifted into talking about his preference to use the right hand for some tasks and the left hand for some tasks.

Clearly having a very strong left hand has given him an advantage in piano playing.

Obviously, I said, your brains must be a bit confused when it comes to bowling a cricket ball.

Ah! That explains why you are so good at skiing, I said. You use both left and right sides of the body equally when skiing.

Face on son shows a lightbulb has gone on.

Did some quick research on the internet and decided that while son is not ambidextrous (as his grandad was), he is also not left-handed (like his mum's brother and his dad's brother).

He writes exclusively with his right, more dextrous hand but uses his left but stronger hand for using a knife and twisting a jar top off. He told me when he used to try to remove a jar lid with his right hand, he would twist the jar with his left hand instead of twisting the lid off.

He is "mixed-handed".

Not very nice things are said about children who are mixed-handed, that they are more prone to ADHD, for example.

But not enough is said about how such children do in sport and what kind of sport they are good in. In this link I found that "Generally, people with crossed hand-eye preference seem to have the centre of gravity closer to the midline of the body, giving them better balance and hence better performance in gymnastics."

I would like to hear from other mixed-handed people or parents of mixed-handed children to find out what their experiences are.

In particular what kind of sports are mixed-handed people good at. We are still trying to find a sport that son could excel in (apart from skiing) at school. We can't wait for him to do hurdles, but athletics is a very short season at his school.

Our son, like Bill Gates, is able to jump very high from a standing position.

Parenting guru. Moi?

2010-05-14T13:00:00.003+01:00

Not yet.

But it was good to meet a mother from my toddlers group last Saturday.

She was at my son's school "Open Day". She told me she would always remember what I said to her, many moons ago.

Apparently she was trying to tell her son -- who was happily chattering away -- to shut up.

Apparently I said to her that it is OK to let toddlers chatter away. Apparently I said that "we spend all their first months encouraging them to talk, and then when they start talking we tell them to keep quiet. It must be confusing to the poor child."

For whatever reason this young mum remembered this, and my face -- for I don't think she knows my name -- will always be associated with that "advice" I gave her.

I didn't think it was the right time and place to mention that we must also teach our children that "there is a time and place for everything", under heaven, if I might add.

Can this be true?

2010-05-02T09:24:00.001+01:00

From the Telegraph today:

"Meanwhile, more evidence emerged of the painful cuts in public spending which are set to come in across the board whoever wins the election. It was revealed that secret plans have been compiled by NHS bosses which would see thousands of training posts for doctors and nurses axed after the election, despite claims from ministers that front line services would be protected if Labour were re-elected.

"Thousands of training posts have been earmarked for closure in cutbacks planned by the government."

Who are these 'NHS bosses'?

Trim the layers of bureaucracy, not stop training medical staff, I say.

This ostrich-turkey-chicken election

2010-05-01T09:53:00.016+01:00

This election has been so lacking in ideology. Max Hastings calls this the "ostrich election" as politicians and voters alike bury their heads in sand and hope that the real problems we face would just go away.

It is like a toddler putting his little hands on his eyes and saying, "You can't see me now."

Then toddlers grow up and realize, hey, other people can still see them even when they covered their eyes.

So, too, we must grow up.

None of the major parties seem to have any undergirding ideology in the recent years. There is no real 'vision' for this society. Everywhere there is just a bit of tinkering here, a bit of polyfiller there.

Meanwhile the voters want lower taxes, higher benefits, higher pensions, better schools, better health care, better transport, but how do we pay for that?

Many taxpayers (of which I'm one, just as women, of which I'm one) do not mind paying taxes to help those most in need. We don't even mind helping those who are genuine asylum seekers. But when the reality we experience is generations of unemployment because a career on benefits is more lucrative, then taxpayers are entitled to say, "Enough is enough."

We are not against immigration per se because an immigrant society can be a vibrant society. The problems arise only when (1) we see migrants who do not wish to integrate into local community; capitalize on education and health, etc, yes, but would not integrate (eg learn English) and engage with local people, and (2) when immigrants are taking jobs it shows -- logically -- there ARE jobs to be taken. So why are there still these millions on benefits, long-term benefits?

Our political parties have abandoned ideology because ideology does not win votes.

Unless we agree on austerity measures, we will go the way of Greece. Swingeing cuts in public spending will be required. With such a large proportion of the electorate being either employed by the government (local councils, central government, NHS, etc) or dependent on benefits, to vote for a party that has the guts to say "cuts" is to expect turkeys to vote for Christmas.

Instead, we have politicians saying only what the populace wish to hear.

The closest that I've come to hear about ideology is "The Big Society". It reminds me of "The Big Issue". Perhaps homelessness, or 'purposelessness', IS what is ailing our society.

We do not have poverty in physical, material terms as most of us could get by quite well if we cut out the booze and fags, mobile phones and those feral dogs. If you wish to know what real poverty is I can show you, in different parts of the world I've lived and worked.

I don't even buy those stories about families of four having to "squeeze" into a two-bedroom house/flat. I come from a family of eight and we lived in a one-bedroomed and then later two-bedroomed flat.

It only made us determined to do well in school to get out of that poverty. We had no social welfare but we had the tenacity in our spirit to better ourselves. Just as importantly, we had an education system (one that rewards achievement) and meritocratic society which allowed us to better ourselves.

Here in Britain where people prefer to be on benefits rather than to work, the poverty is in the spirit where no amount of tax credits could eradicate.

When I first moved into this area I went straightaway to a charity shop to volunteer my services on a Saturday morning despite working a full-time job. Here I met other volunteers who gave of their time freely for no other reason that it makes them feel good to give.

Retirees on pensions had little money but lots of time. They gave time. Someone suffered sufficient brain damage to make it impossible for her to complete her 'A' levels (back in those days when 'A' levels meant something). She volunteers much of her time at a charity shop.

So you see, people on benefits and people who are disabled can also make a net contribution to society. It cheers their spirits, gives them a purpose and reduces the need for dependency on drugs, TV or whatever.

Why don't the majority of people on long-term benefits do the same? People say it's not worth their while working because they lose their benefits. I have a simple solution: take away their benefits.

"Big Society" is about a "social contract". An ideology based on a social contract is workable only when people share a moral compass. We have rights and we have obligations. There is a certain amount of give and take. I give when I am able, and hopefully when I need help, someone else would give.

Instead for too long, far too long, we have lived in a situation where some of us give and give while others take and take. That is not a fair society. No matter how politicians dress it up as "those who have more should give more", those who have been giving and giving, and giving some more for the last 20 years or so, are tired. And then we give some more to bail out the banks.

Increasing the inheritance tax threshold is often made to sound like an unjust tax on the poor because only the "rich" benefit. Yet when you trace the paths of these so-called "rich" you could often find that they are ordinary people who made money based solely on their diligence.

Inheritance tax is an unfair tax on people who have worked hard all their lives and who have already paid tax on their income, including bank interests. It takes away the incentive for people to succeed, to accumulate, to pass on to the next generation when inheritance tax means much of what they earn in a life-time will be taken away, to fund those feckless others who only play.

On the other hand, many of those who have been taking and taking have had more than a generation to get back on their feet, but have refused to do so. Hard work is outside their 'comfort zone'. They are happy to keep taking some more. Why bother to have an education and find work when a 'career' as serial single mother is more lucrative?

What about the adage "God helps those who help themselves" or that thieves must no longer steal?

To refuse work when one is able to work so that one could remain on benefits is to steal. This person is stealing from the cancer patient who is refused drugs because the NHS does not have the money. And theft is punishable by law and that should be the case.

I can forgive a young girl for getting pregnant the first time. Young people are allowed to make a mistake here and there. But to have several other babies with different fathers subsequently smacks of total irresponsibility and as such, their children should be removed. No ifs, no buts. Their babies should be given to childless couples who are more likely to give them a chance to break out of this vicious circle of poverty and illegitimate pregnancies.

We are spending more and more on child protection because many more babies are born to people with no intention of discharging their responsibility as a parent. They go in and out of relationships like a revolving door just to satisfy their own needs with no consideration of the consequences of their actions. I, as a taxpayer, do not wish to pay for their profligacy. But do I get a choice?

So it's not just an "ostrich election", as we can be sure that come Election Day turkeys are not going to vote for Christmas. Whatever the outcome, as the Institute for Fiscal Studies has pointed out, our careless spend-and-spend policies will mean that the chickens will come home to roost.

Redundancy as Goal?

2010-04-27T08:45:00.011+01:00

The politicians are not telling us about the cuts in public services that will be necessary. That's OK as I will argue that (1) because a lot of public services/offices can indeed be cut and (2) public/civil servants should work towards the goal of redundancy.

I have lost count of the number of letters we have received that tell us: you are invited to make an appointment to see your consultant; this is to confirm that we have cancelled your appointment with your consultant; this is to confirm that your new appointment with your consultant is ...; please complete the survey about your experience of seeing the GP*; please be notified that ballot papers for the local election will be sent out soon; please be informed that ballot papers for the General Election will be sent out soon; ad infinitum.

Does anyone seriously think that the people sending these letters out actually do make a difference to our illness/well-being or "front-line services"? What would be the effect of making this bunch redundant?

When there are people sending out survey forms, there are people collecting survey results, there are people analyzing survey results and there are people ticking boxes to say such and such government target has been reached or missed. Does it make a real difference to how we are treated at the hospital? (*And somehow these survey questionnaires never ask the most significant questions like how difficult it is to make a GP appointment these days if you played by the rules.)

Think about the "transport advisors" and the layer upon layer of "co-ordinators", "outreach workers" and "area managers" for this kind of political correctness and that kind of equality (but not other kinds). In today's newspaper (won't say which one) a local council advertises for a "Customer Insight Officer" (£38-£40K), "Neighbourhood Engagement Officer" (£32-£35K), "Business Development Officer" (£38-40K) and "Communications Officer" (£35-£38K) for the "not-for profit company controlled by the council" which runs their council housing.

Their duties range from: "to hold expertise for the organisation in resident engagement, involvement and community development" and "working in collaboration with partners and colleagues to implement service improvement initiatives across all areas of the business" to "championing an organisational culture that understands and celebrates diversity" and "produce a full range of external and internal communications material to meet the needs of residents, staff and partner and external agencies".

I tell you I worked for a not-for-profit organization and my colleagues and I had salaries which were no where close to those figures. The fact that a "not-for-profit company" was formed by the council (with an additional layer of governance with a board of directors and staff, etc) also suggests a clever way of disguising how the money flows through the system. And what EXACTLY do these people do instead of fixing broken taps and street lamps?

I say, cut their jobs and give the money to the schools and nurses and police and people who actually make a difference.

The goal of a public servant should NOT (never, EVER) be to move up the ranks, make more and more money and expanding one's department and increasing their departmental/sectional budget year on year. Their goal should be to work towards redundancy, ie work themselves out of a job.

Why are more and more children being taken into care? Why are schools failing? Why are the needs of sections of vulnerable people in society not being met?

Can any one deny that public/civil servants have vested interests to ensure that problems that they are employed to deal with remain entrenched in society?

If I manage to clear all the cases of children needing care, then I would be out of a job, won't I?

But if it says on my CV that I managed a department with x budget and z number of staff, then I can in my next job expect to manage x+y budget and z+n number of staff, and correspondingly my salary will increase as it shows I am capable of being a good manager. No?

A good manager within the civil service perhaps, one who knows how to tick boxes, but not a visionary, not a mover nor a shaker.

A public servant, and in particular senior civil servants, should be able to use the data, resources and experience he/she has to propose changes to a flawed system to eradicate the issues that give rise to, say, the need for child protection, homelessness, truancy, etc. Ticking boxes and following procedures do not a good manager make.

They should be able to provide ministers with the wherewithal to make changes to policies so that there isn't a continuous and vicious circle of teenage pregnancies, reoffending, obesity and so on. Instead many are carving out kingdoms of their own. The longer their "client list" the more dosh they get from us taxpayers. The larger their department, the larger their budget, the higher their salary.

Is that right?

CEOs are given huge salaries on the basis that they have to deal with huge budgets. It is logical. No?

But these salaries do not generate profits. CEOs could, might, make efficiency savings, but these are not the same as profits. It is not like I could choose not to pay my council tax, or pay it to another council. Fact is I would have generated more profit than most CEOs of local councils. It is not difficult -- at all! -- to spend money you have not earned. Ask my son!

I do not pay my son huge amounts to spend my money, why should these CEOs get away with their inflated salaries?

At what age do these civil servants retire and at what salary?

If at 35 someone is able to resolve the issue he/she is employed to fight then he/she deserves to retire at full pension, and not wait till he is 65 or whatever. Then only do civil servants have the incentive to be made redundant.

Where would the civil servants who are made redundant go? They could find another job, start a business, MAKE something to sell instead of shifting my tax money about.

If you say "but they do not have the skills to do this" or "that", then it shows our education has failed. If our education system has failed, why must my tax money be used to keep propping up a failing system?

You say, "It's difficult to start a business, there's too much red tape." Well, there you go, these are the same people who put the red tape in place. Case closed.

I myself am staring redundancy in the face. Not as a high-flying executive in some multi-national or professional partnership, etc. But as a mother.

According to his little red book, my son will be my height when he is 12 and three-quarters, come Christmas 2012.

If I have not instilled in him all my values (particularly of discipline and tidiness) by the time he is my height, I have no chance of doing any better after that. See earlier post.

It is because of this very conscious awareness of the limited time I have that I do what I do.

Civil service jobs apart from those that makes a real difference to one's health, civil protection (police, fire service), and education, should not be open-ended jobs. We must all work towards redundancy.

Being a Grandparent

2010-04-10T09:31:00.004+01:00

My son (coming up ten years old) once explained to me why being a grandparent is such a wonderful thing.

"All that happens is you get a phone call that says, 'Congratulations! You're a grandparent!' with none of that carrying a baby around for nine months."

Out of the mouths of babes, eh?

He's been away on a school trip and we noticed that he is not keen to make contact on the phone. Conclusion: our son is growing up.

That is good. That is very good.

(I am the one who must get used to him being away from me. )

Still a part of me thinks he is never going to understand what it feels to be a parent, UNTIL he becomes a parent himself (ie when I get to be a grandparent).

However where children are concerned, you know how you keep telling them that childhood is the best time of one's lives when we could live without a care (at least it was when I was growing up). We tell them school days are the best days because we did not have to be burdened with the worries of earning a living.

Do they believe us? Would they ever understand?

My major objective these days (and for the past decade) has been to make a childhood for my son that he could look back and say, "Those were really some of the happiest times of my life."

Am I succeeding? You would have to check back in about 15 years' time, I guess.

Last night as I went to bed I just kept thinking how nice it would be if my husband and I would get to see a first grandchild at least. As we married late and one of us has a chronic (incurable) disease, it is quite a hope to cling to.

Why?

I would like to see my son when he is able to view the world as a parent. And then only would he understand what his parents had gone through. I think we can look forward to some really great conversations which are both between parent and child and between parent and parent at the same time.

He hates it when the Luther Vandross song with the poignant words "to dance with my father again" comes on radio. (I suspect deep down he is worried about losing his father.)

Sometimes I also share that sentiment of the songwriter: O! if only I had "another chance" to talk with my own father again, not just as a daughter, but as a fellow parent as well, how wonderful that would be.

And I suspect my husband would also love to be able to do that with his own father. We did not get a chance to tell him that another grandchild was on the way when he was taken away from us without any warning.

Yes, as we approach Father's Day my eyes well up thinking of the grandparents my son does not have, I can only hope to be a grandparent myself. Strange!

Help! Another Prodigy!

2010-03-29T21:53:00.002+01:00

I really cannot understand why parents push their prodigies into university.

Let me go on field trip or I'll sue, prodigy, 13, tells college

Clearly these brains are so advanced they cannot see that learning something/sitting exams/graduating university earlier does not make them any better/more mature/nicer people.

So what if my child is able to sit A Level exams at age eight, ten, or twelve? After that, what?

My son was able to read anything he set his eyes on at five. So Dad bought him a whole set of Famous Five books. Why not? Both Mum and Dad enjoyed the Famous Five.

Son tried reading one and gave up. He did not have the emotions to cope with that kind of adventure. It frightened him.

He read the lot more recently and quite enjoyed them. Age nine is so different from age five when you are under a decade old.

Thirteen-year-old boys should do what 13-year-old boys do: get zits and gain an interest in girls. Children and only children once. They should not be deprived of their childhood.

Grey is the new Green

2010-03-20T20:52:00.005Z

Do you know someone --anyone -- above the age of 40 who has NEVER coloured her hair?

I was researching old people in my mid-30s. It was advantageous to me then to point out that I was already greying and felt much at home with the old people I spent a lot of time with.

But they kept telling me I was grey not because I was old (they were in their 70s, 80s and 90s and I was relatively young to them), but that I read too many books.

Crunch came when I returned to Singapore to prepare for my wedding. Friends suggested that I might consider colouring my hair, either "just to hide the grey", or sometimes in a more diplomatic way, to give it some 'highlights'.

Having seen my mum struggle to keep her hair black when there wasn't that wide array of over-the-counter hair dyes we now have, and having seen how beautiful she looked when she went completely 'silver', I was loath to colour my hair.

Some years back one hairdresser had in fact suggested my trying "burgundy highlights", because my hair had shades of burgundy and a burgundy wash-in colour would be great.

I learned that it would wash out in about 16 washes. A complete waste of money then, as I wash my hair every day.

The colour of my hair has always been a mystery to me. It has never been black, or I've never remembered it as black, like that of the rest of my family (at least when they were, uhm, younger).

I used to be told -- and believed -- that I was picked up from the dust-bin (Singapore equivalent to "the stork brought you") and felt truly out of place for many years.

One day (and I remember this very clearly) sick and tired of being teased for my not-so-black hair I stood in front of the mirror and started plucking out those hairs which were not black.

After a few minutes I realized it was futile. I would have been left without any hair. So I decided to live with my hair with all the different shades of brown, and even a few strands of orange (or 'red' as the Europeans call it).

It was not until I was sitting my 'O' Levels and waiting for my oral exam (English or Chinese, can't remember) while chatting with another girl that I learned that many other girls would die/dye to have hair colour like mine.

Really? I didn't know that.

Fast forward to one Wednesday morning after playing Majulah Singapura at the flag-raising ceremony at junior college. The sun was beating down on us as usual, even at just after 7.30am. A fellow clarinettist (I had defected from the trombone section then) exclaimed in disbelief, "SP, you have orange hair!"

Once on a bus I heard the driver and his mate talking about a girl with "ang tao mor" which in my limited Hokkien means "red hair". I didn't think anything of it till I was getting off the bus and realized I was the only person on it and they were in fact talking about me.

So how on earth did this Chinese girl acquire red and brown hair? No one knows. One niece also has this red hair (I don't know if she's lost it since) and so does my son (who incidentally has one strand of white hair, or is it blond?). Mum-in-law insisted that no one in her family (ie including husband's) has ever had red hair.

Back to the wedding. I didn't want to dye my hair and had to come up with an excuse or two:

It has taken me so long to find the man I wished to marry I have hair to match the colour of my wedding gown. Why hide it?
If husband-to-be would dye his grey hair, then I would, too. (Knowing full well Mr T would not bother.)
Why bother? I already have natural highlights!

I am really loving my salt-and-pepper hair with its 'natural highlights' now. But I was surprised to learn that most of my female friends and relatives have resorted to colouring their hair.

As one of my old ladies from my research days said to me, "Don't start dyeing your hair. Once you start, you cannot stop." She had jet-black hair, totally out of place with the rest of her.

Yes, I noticed that my skin colouring (tone?) has changed as I age. While I used to wear a lot of black, especially to work, I cannot now wear black any more. I look ghostly. Not for me the LBD (Little Black Dress).

And as I've never had black hair it seems silly to try to turn it black. I am happy and comfortable to be grey.

Why is grey green? Just think of all the packaging, plastic gloves, paper instructions, and other paraphernalia that come with hair colouring products. Not only have I saved a lot of money by not bothering, I have saved a lot of unnecessary packaging going into landfill.

A few days ago I came across a newspaper article going on and on (and on) about Liz Hurley showing her grey roots. Has she decided to age gracefully, etc, etc. Goodness! Why such a big fuss about a few greying hairs?

"Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised."
Proverbs 31:30

Black boys are too feminised

2010-03-17T09:00:00.004Z

In the parent-and-toddler group I help to run we have two fathers from Croatia who bring their daughters. They often chat loudly together during singing time.

The lady in charge is afraid to tell them off because it could be viewed as racism.

I spoke firmly to these fathers and immediately instead of talking between themselves they sat down with their daughters and did "Row, row, row your boats" etc with them. The young girls were delighted.

I can get away with telling these parents most things because I am not-white.

So I'm glad that there are people like Mr Sewell who dares tell it as it is: (black) boys need fathers.

Check out also earlier post here.

Dangerous Dogs, Owners and Parents

2010-03-14T13:51:00.002Z

This week the talk has been how to control dangerous "status" dogs owned by young men (usually) who are often simply young people on benefits. They swagger around with their pit bull-like dogs, letting these dogs foul the pavement and often use these dogs to threaten others.

Would you, in your right mind, confront one of these if you saw that they were not picking up after their dogs?

So our good minister, a certain Mr Johnson, has been talking about making sure that dog owners insure their dogs against their biting innocents. My former band instructor said he came from a school in Singapore called "Holy Innocents". The boys' nickname for their school was "Holy in no sense".

Mr Johnson was, in my reckoning, speaking "wholly in no sense".

Then there was the news of John Veneables, "one of the Bulger killers", being thrown back into prison. A certain children's "Tsar" (advocate) also said that we are criminalizing our children at too early an age, incurring the wrath of Bulger's mum. Understandably.

I also caught snippets of a Channel 4 documentary on three young men vying to get a scholarship to Harrow School, just up the road from us. One of these candidates -- from the little I had seen -- appeared to me (rightly or wrongly) so obnoxious that my instinctive feel was: if Harrow welcomes boys like that, my son is not going there.

With his IQ of 141 his parents had been trying to get him into a school a year ahead of others. Having failed to do so, they went down the independent school route.

Over meals, husband and I came to one conclusion. It is not the child's fault. It is their parents'. Neither are dangerous dogs "dangerous", it is the dog owners who are dangerous.

If dog owners and parents would only discharge more of their responsibilities then life in this country would be so different.

Do you reckon?

We've just spent another Sunday morning at the ski centre where son is getting some lessons in readiness for a school trip. Watching their children ski next to us was a family whose pushy mum drove me nearly mental.

First of all she talked really loudly. Why do people assume that other people wish to, or enjoy, listening to what is essentially a private conversation between members of a family? Is this the mobile phone culture gone badly wrong?

Then she went on and on about 'Matthew' who would just do his own thing. He would not keep in line and would overtake his sister. He would ski down the slope as quickly as he could. And we noticed that Matthew had no respect for others at all.

Instead of queueing up like other children, Matthew simply went as far in front of queue as he dared to, completely ignoring the people who had been there before him.

Why did the people let him? Because Matthew is tiny.

And that was the other issue. My son was enrolled in the class for children aged 7 to 10. Matthew was not quite 7 yet and should be in an earlier class with other 4-to-6-year-olds. How do we know? Because Matthew's Mum announced this to the world (actually his grandparents, but rather loudly), "O well, since there were just a few weeks to go I didn't want them to go to separate lessons. That means having to wait one hour for Matthew and one hour for Abigail."

Meanwhile, according to my son after the lesson, Matthew was causing mayhem. He kept falling over using the Poma button and causing 'pile-ups'. The lift had to stop several times and according to my son it was because of Matthew.

Part of the 'syllabus' required the children to ski in a path set out by the instructor. But Matthew would do his own thing, lose control, fall over and messed everyone else up.

Just because one selfish mother insisted that her child who was clearly too young and ill-disciplined and could not follow instructions, was allowed to join an older class, so that said mother need not be inconvenienced.

Meanwhile other children in the class suffered because of Matthew's lack of control, or desire for control. I noticed that she never said anything about Matthew's habit of jumping queues.

So, broken Britain, what chance do we have if even (presumably) middle-class parents do not teach their children discipline? If the mum is so selfish that she prefers to inconvenience others so that she does not need to wait another hour at the centre, what does it say of her other parenting responsibilities?

Would this type of parents be the same ones who take their children out of school during term time to go on holidays, to take advantage of cheaper deals? Are these the same parents who insist that teachers give their own children time to catch up on work missed as a result of such holidays?

Never mind that time spent on such holidaying children would mean time taken away from children who did not go on holidays.

Ten is too young for children to be deem responsibile for a crime, in most cases. But their parents are not. If we could have laws (like the truancy laws) that allow a parent to be taken to court for the 'crimes' of their children, parents might just become a bit more circumspect.

Rant over, for now.

Brrr... Cold Callers

2010-03-10T13:50:00.002Z

Grrrrr! more like.

I wonder if these cold callers know how annoying they are.

They call often when I am cooking, trying to get a baking tray out of the hot oven, or stopping something from boiling over. Or in the middle of my lunch which I sometimes forget to eat.

You run to the phone, answer it and ... nothing. No one breathes, no music. Pure nothing.

Then, I imagine, something clicks or lights up on THEIR machine to indicate that someone has picked up the phone.

Then they speak, usually asking for my husband.

I have been so fed up recently about these calls I've taken to doing the same thing to them.

I pick up the phone and when the silence indicates that it is a cold caller, I'd wait.

When they ask to speak with "Mr T" I know it IS a cold caller.

I hold my breath for a few seconds, then I hang up.

The most hateful ones are those who say, "O! Don't worry! We are not trying to sell you something."

Yeah, sure. Did they call to discuss the weather or shall I take up their time to talk Kierkegaard?

Music and (Hidden) Education

2010-02-22T09:26:00.007Z

Found ourselves reading this comment in the papers: Schools are churning out the unemployable and nodding our heads in agreement.

Husband gets sent lots of CVs whether or not he is recruiting. Most of these go straight into the bin. If it's not Oxford, Cambridge or one or two from London University, he does not even bother to look.

This article tells us how schools or rather teachers seem fearful to teach. They "facilitate". This morning I heard a trailer on radio of how a young man believes that while in the past teachers were respected purely because they were teachers, these days teachers have to "earn their respect".

I'm afraid the schools must have had the management consultants in, paid them a lot of dosh, and then decided to "facilitate". As a former management consultant, I can tell you we are very good at teaching clients how to "facilitate" in the work environment.

Assuming that grown-up workers have a basic knowledge, we teach them how to, within a work context, "facilitate" the learning of specific work-related skills.

Pupils in school need proper teaching so that they can get on with proper learning. If they do not already have the basic knowledge, what good is facilitating?

In elementary sociology we also talk about the "hidden curriculum" in education: how the need to be punctual, the need to be courteous, civil, communicate clearly, work as a team, respect the teacher/authority, et cetera were part of the learning/education process to prepare a person for the adult working world.

All that seems to have gone from our schools. Most of our schools, any way. What a sorry state the British economy is in, and not having the intellectual/work/business skills to pull us of this quagmire is not helping.

I once led a group of young people at church. It was impossible to "teach". Everyone was talking to someone else all the time.

I could not say my bit, the young people would not listen, they could not understand the gist of my question/dilemma/problem, and it was impossible for them to have a sensible debate/discussion on the subject.

It seems this is how they behave at schools.

They showed no respect for me. They did not respect other people's opinions. And by the same token they never got any respect for their own opinion. It is a vicious circle. But they were too infantile to see it.

I sit at home these days working on my crafts, my writing, etc. and once in a while someone (usually the husband) would ask, "Why don't you go back to teaching at university?" Or "Why don't you work on your teaching diploma?"

This is why: I don't want to teach people who are neither keen nor able to learn.

Why sweat the small stuff, earn a pittance and only to have it taken away by the taxman?

Music? Music has the power to shape a child's mind

If I had my way, music will be a compulsory subject for all pupils up to the age of at least 15. They will take exams and be rewarded accordingly.

They will play concerts, they will work in teams, sing, play the drums, the recorder, pots and pans, stomp on wooden planks and/or wash buckets, whatever. But they will make music.

My parents could not afford to give me lessons in music or ballet, two things I wanted very much to do. When I got to secondary school I "fought" tooth-and-nail to get into the school band so that I could learn to read and play music.

I was disadvantaged in that I did not belong to the two priority groups (those girls who were in primary school bands and those who had private piano lessons).

I remember being always put into the "last" and least favourable groups at every assessment. But I kept at it. I practised my music reading, the treble clef, the bass clef, and kept at it some more. The day that I saw my name on the notice-board as one of those who made it to the Band list was a very happy day. I can still picture it.

Most of my spare time at secondary school was spent playing trombone (with a brief distraction in air rifle shooting). I played it as part of a marching band, a concert band, a stage band (playing mostly Herb Alpert) and then auditioned and joined the National Schools Orchestra.

Playing music in a group has taught me so much: the camaraderie (spelling?), the joy, the sense of achievement, and not least of all the hard grind and discipline required. The same hard grind and discipline that were needed to learn those subjects that I had little interest in, but I needed those grades to get on to the next level of education.

(Or as sociologists would say a "middle-class" attitude that supports undergoing current pain to attain future gain, ie deferred or delayed gratification.)

Music on its own will not resolve some of the more profound issues that young men and women from disadvantaged families face when they arrive at school. They also need, as in the first article, to have a chance to engage with the real adult working world.

With so many of our young people growing up in families where their parents have never worked, where do they find this opportunity? Little wonder that so many of our young girls aspire to be glamour models, WAGs and talentless "celebrities". And boys aspire only to be footballers and rappers.

Perhaps free education should not be free any more. (Oo-uh, stepping onto sacred ground here.) Perhaps when parents start having to pay something towards education they would be less likely to leave it all to the teachers.

As often is the case, anything that is "free" is seldom appreciated. Just as many people do not care about missing doctor's appointments because they are "free".

Fail to make the grade? Let the school levy a charge.

Just blue-sky thinking, OK?

Lord, don't make me a bunion!

2010-02-09T08:51:00.003Z

Yesterday my son was chuffed to be playing his first rugby match for the school in the afternoon. If you've seen his 'sporting skills', you would understand why this is such a big deal in our household.

At breakfast I had to remind him of three things. Can't remember the first two, but the third was about teamwork.

Then we moved on to Paul's analogy of the church as the body.

Which part do you play? If everyone is an eye, what good is it? Or if everyone was a hand, not any good either.

Later on that morning I had the reason to think about this analogy again and almost prayed "Lord, don't make me a bunion."!

When I made this remark after dinner, husband laughed and said, "Or verrucca!"

Everyone in a church body has a part to play. But sometimes we get to a point when God allows us to go through the darkest of sorrows and deepest of pain. We are tired, we are worn. Everything around us seems to have caved in on us.

We cannot take it any more.

Instead of remaining a functioning part in the body of Christ, it is so easy to retreat and blame everyone else.

What about me? What about my role?

O, please Lord, don't make me a bunion. Or verrucca.

And if I, for whatever reason, should become a verrucca, say, are we not the person who has to do something about it first?

God, please help those church ministers and leaders who have to deal with church members who do not know which part of the body they should play.

Good soil, good food

2010-02-03T09:07:00.004Z

I am often not sure whether to worry about climate change given all the conflicting evidence, lobbying and mud-slinging. (See earlier post.) But I believe that doing something positive for the earth, to preserve its fertility cannot be bad. After all, the earth "belongs to the Lord".

As my son once said when he was six: "There is no right in doing wrong and there is no wrong in doing right."

So these two Telegraph articles are interesting: Britain facing food crisis as world's soil 'vanishes in 60 years' and Spend more on food rather than holidays, says organic lobby.

When it's gone, it's gone. No soil to farm with. No water to irrigate. No food is to be grown.

What good is the ability to buy cheap clothes when you cannot farm food to eat? Can you eat your cheap clothes?

We are looking forward to our "holiday" (aka visit to my home country) which we try to do once in two years. My son knows no other "foreign holidays" apart from visiting family and friends in Singapore (and lolling about the Presidential grounds when it's open to the public, and meeting the President -- twice).

We eat very well, however. We do not stint on buying organic food. But we also do not spend a lot of money on crisps and sweet fizzy drinks, etc.

Every time I remark -- usually after a very nice meal at home and spending time together as a family -- on how blessed we are to be able to eat so well my husband says, well, he says exactly what Patrick Holden says in the second article: This country used to spend so much more of their disposable income on food. We appreciated the food. We didn't waste it. We used up every bit of food we had.

These days, we spend much less, and instead people spend more on clothes, etc.

Yet, I doubt if all that spending on clothes and shoes and holidays, phones, gadgets and such-like has made any one any happier than their forefathers.

I might be completely wrong, of course.

70's music

2010-01-26T09:26:00.003Z

The news in Britain is so bleak and I am full of cold (again) I thought I'd cheer myself up by reminding me of what I wrote for a school bulletin some years back when I chaired the equivalent of the PTA.

This was part of the publicity for our fundraising party, the last and best we've had, with our parents band singing 'live'.

You don’t need to go Sailing, Walking on the Moon, to the Mull of Kintyre, the Yellow River, the Mississippi and certainly not the Rivers of Babylon to find Clair, Vincent, Fernando and Maggie.

May, some time between January and The Twelfth of Never but after December ‘63 is not a Space Oddity, yet as Night Fever In the Summertime (one of those Seasons in the Sun) might Knock Three Times before you can put Another Brick in the Wall.

Grandad with his Combine Harvester is not a Sad Sweet Dreamer. Don’t Give Up on Us! Don’t Cry for us, Argen. Tina is Three Times a Lady and she can’t live Without You.

How Can I Be Sure? She’s got to Love Me For a Reason. I Don’t Want to Talk About It.

O, Silly Billy, Don’t Be a Hero. Stop Kung Fu fighting! You’ve got to Take a Chance …, that’s the Name of the Game. It’s not just So You Win Again or Gimme, Gimme, Gimme. Mamma Mia! If you are prepared to say I Only Have Eyes For You, then be prepared for Tears on (your) Pillow. Go Stand by Your (wo)Man.

Even when she fancies herself a Dancing Queen?

O Yes, Sir, (You) Can Boogie. Don’t Go Breaking (Her) Heart! That will be your Waterloo.

Under the Moon of Love, and O! is that a Wandarin Star?, who knows what else might happen? All Kinds of Everything?

You Won’t Find Another Fool Like Me!

I nearly forgot to mention: 70’s / ABBA Party: 19th May (Saturday) 7.30pm to late.

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What? Whose freedom?

2010-01-13T09:17:00.028Z

Recently on a private (Singapore) forum group someone posted a copy of "A German View of Islam" without comment. (This widely circulated "view" admonishing peace-loving Muslims to speak up against the fanatics or risk having our freedoms curtailed has in fact been traced to a blog post here that had got modified along the way.)

There was a quick response from a practising Muslim who noted that she was offended. That kind of sent a chill through the cyber space of this network spanning much of the globe. Two other people (included myself) responded to the original post with what I thought were considered opinions.

I didn't mention, though, that my husband was evacuated from the City of London when 9/11 happened following rumours that London would be the next target. Then he went incommunicado till he got home. I remember the overwhelming sense of relief when he did.

The first news I heard of the 7/7 bombings was of a bomb at "his" station. Does anyone reading this know what it feels like to see wall-to-wall TV coverage of a major incident near where your spouse works but is unable to contact him/her?

I felt physically ill. My fingers were trembling as I dialled and re-dialled his number, shouting "Pick up the phone! Pick up the phone!" but only in my head, as I also had to try to keep my young son calm. Even after we spoke on the phone there was the prospect that it was not possible for him to get home, and I then had to worry about him missing his medication.

Moderator of the forum stepped in reminding us of etiquette. Original poster promptly posted an apology to member who was offended.

So should I be offended by attempts to limit my freedom to express an opinion? After all, I merely live in fear every day that when my husband goes to work, he might be blown up by some lunatic. The irony is he risks his life going to work, works hard for his money, pays taxes, and these taxes are supporting the lives of these lunatics spouting religious venom (see below).

"Back at the ranch" here in the UK five men were tried and subsequently convicted of abusive chants at returning soldiers. Then they boasted about how their fines will be paid by taxpayers as they are on social benefits, believe it or not. What incentive is there for people on benefits to refrain from any form of criminal behaviour? Far better for this lot to do something useful like scrub toilets or in the current climate, clear some snow/ice.

Elsewhere the planned anti-army march in the town through which the bodies of our dead soldiers are processed has been banned, and so is the group calling for it.

What made my blood boil is the fact that the same people who -- on the premise that there is freedom of speech in this country -- claim that it is their right to express whatever sick opinion, are the same people who are shouting "Sharia law in the UK" and "Freedom can go to hell".

Where is the logic in that?

You could either believe in this freedom or you do not. If this freedom is so bad to your health, so repugnant even, you want it removed, how then can you (in the same breath) quote the right to this very same freedom to stir up hatred and dissent?

If someone has the freedom to say something that I find deeply offensive, then I, too, should have the right to do the same in response. Why should there be one rule for some and another rule for others?

(If this is necessary, does that mean that one group is more sensitive or less tolerant than another and therefore should be given extra protection?)

Do a quick search of the name of their leader and you'd find his views on why Muslims in UK should not work but live on benefits so that they do not contribute to the wealth of this country. Actually, don't bother. If you could believe this report he gets £25,000 a year on benefits.

This is not a rant against Muslims. This is a rant against any of those parasites in this country who do no work not because they can do no work, but because they much PREFER not to do any real work and are allowed to continue to live this way because this government is too soft on them.

My husband and I pay an obscene amount of tax every year. I am sick and tired of people coming into this country for free medical treatment or free education on some spurious ground. My view is simple: you do not pay UK tax, you do not get UK benefits.

If, for some reason, you end up receiving social benefits then you are morally obliged to support the system that feeds you. To accept benefits on one hand and then use that money to try to do down that same system that gives you those benefits is sheer, sheer hyprocrisy.

I do not believe any religion worthy of that definition teaches hypocrisy. To practise hypocrisy in the name of a religion is an affront to that religion (unless that religion really does preach hypocrisy). How could any upstanding Muslim let this "cleric" claim that his social benefits come from his god?

No, Mr C, my husband and I and millions of other hardworking people in this country -- including the cleaning lady in your children's school -- gave you that money. It is OUR money. By your argument, Mr C, that makes us 'God'.

It is snowing again and the pavements and roads around me have not been gritted for more than a week. Whose fault is that?

If only this government does not hand out so much money to the lazy, feckless and undeserving they would have the wherewithal to grit my road. Then the people of this road would have the freedom to come and go.

Meanwhile many remain prisoners in their own homes. Freedom?

Ironically back in Singapore McDonalds is caught in a "damned if you do and damned if you don't" situation.

They are running a promotion on soft toys representing the 12 animals in the Chinese zodiac. BUT in deference to the Muslim population they have replaced the "Pig" with Cupid. (My husband was born in the year of the Cupid. No wonder he is so ... Cupiddely!)

Non-Muslims are now claiming to be offended by this "bending over backwards" gesture and McDonalds disrespecting Chinese culture. Our poor Muslim friends are probably more embarrassed than anything. I don't know.

I mean do our Muslim friends in Singapore have anything against the Pig in the Chinese zodiac? Do MY Muslim friends mind if McDonalds gave a pig soft toy away. I think not.

I know some white people object to children singing "Baa baa black sheep" in deference to black people. But the non-white people themselves (yes, I've asked) don't see any offence in this!

Freedom of speech when unlimited can lead to anguish and anarchy. I grant you that. Sensitivity to cultural differences in a multicultural society is usually a good thing. But sensitivity must not go overboard (like banning the use of "Christmas" in some parts of this country because it is deemed to offend the non-Christians). When "political correctness" goes "mad" (as we say here), it limits our freedom.

Some articles that put this post in context:

Islam4UK ban: a sensible step or a defeat for pluralism?

Luton's Muslim extremists defy public anger

Shaaz Mahboob: It's time for moderate Muslims to step forward

Five guilty for Islamist protests in Luton

16/01/10: Islam4UK’s radical spokesman Anjem Choudary pledges to keep preaching

Workshop, not Casino

2010-01-12T13:27:00.003Z

This is a very interesting comment on the state of manufacturing in the UK. The writer says that UK should be 'making things' (workshop) and not pushing bits of paper around in the financial markets which to all intents and purposes makes it a casino.

What manufacturing is there in the UK? My Geography lessons at school (admittedly this was rather a long time ago) taught me about the significance of shipbuilding in the UK. Where do you find a shipyard in the UK now?

It reminded me of a "blue-sky thinking" piece called Money, manufacturing, farming that I wrote nearly a year ago.

Then read it alongside this much earlier article by David Green, Director of Civitas. Tell me what you think.

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A Dangerous Idea

2010-01-09T14:42:00.008Z

We've been out clearing the snow from our pavement. Actually it was more like ice. I put my shovel into it and removed chunks of snow/ice and thought: what would an Eskimo call this kind of "semi-snow-ice"? (What is the colloidal equivalent to snow/ice?) Is this the type of snow to make an igloo with?

Turn on the (24 hour) TV news and you hear constant reports of how people are snowed in and councils are not gritting the smaller roads, etc. etc and it is dangerous, icy, slippery, treacherous, unacceptable, etc.

Picture this: it rains, your house is flooded, the rains subside. Do you wait for the government, local council, whatever, to come to clean up the mess? Or do you try to clean your house out?

So why, my Singaporean mind wonders, do people complain about pavements and roads not being gritted when they could simply clear their own pavements and even the bit of road in front of their own house?

Is this a culture of dependence gone too far? The government has to do this. The government has to do that. We sit. We wait. If nothing happens, we complain.

Is there a law that says we are not allowed to clear our own pavements? Or that bit of road in front of our house?

If everyone did the same there will be clear pavements and clear roads for teachers to get to school and schools do not need to be closed and children can walk (?) to school or get driven there, etc. etc.

Would this qualify as utilitarianism of the JS Mill kind?

OK, I have a simple mind: I think something is a problem, and I think what is a possible, plausible solution. But it does not necessarily mean I have the answer. Of course not!

Then I came up with an even crazier idea.

You know those thousands detained "at Her Majesty's pleasure"?

First of all I am amused at that phrasing as it gives Her Majesty no pleasure whatsoever to have to detain these people at all.

Then if it was really "at her pleasure" then she should be able to require these to do whatever pleases Her Majesty. Logical so far? There should be no restrictions on what they are required to do.

Next, roads and pavements are iced up on one hand. Old people risk not getting their meals on wheels. On the other, prisoners are being bored silly.

Bingo! Why not get the people "detained at Her Majesty's pleasure" to do something that will really please her? Make them get out there to clear the roads and pavements.

Exercise, fresh air and service to the community. A chance to do something useful and feel useful to society. A chance to redeem oneself. An opportunity at rehabilitation, at engaging with society. Now if I were Her Majesty, this would give me no end of pleasure.

And think of the pleasure that this would give the old lady who would now get her meals on wheels, the driver who is able to deliver these meals, the schools which are able to stay open, the parents who can now get to work, etc. etc. the trickle-down effect of the simple act of giving prisoners an opportunity to do something useful.

Chain gangs. Chain gangs?

But of course this is never going to happen because of something to do with civil liberties.

Conclusion: utilitarianism is dead.

We are not allowed to work on the principle of the greatest pleasure for the greatest number of people. So I'll let you lot remain miserable and complaining about icy roads and pavements and schools closing, and so forth.

Update: Look what I found! Click on link then scroll down to find report.

A little bit more on this.

UK gone mad here.

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Smacked children more successful later in life

2010-01-04T09:38:00.001Z

Wonders never cease. Saw this report yesterday.

What the report does not say is -- as I've said before -- you should only need to smack a child once.

I'm a busybody

2009-12-09T13:14:00.003Z

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 was and I would get someone to get the stuff back to him.

Rushed home (about 50 yards away), rang the police (while putting my shopping in the fridge) and decided I must get back to the boy.

I nearly died: He was now standing full length/height on the window sill.

"Sit down! Get down from there! Someone is coming to help you."

He seemed pleased to see me. Very friendly.

Meanwhile I tried getting information about his mum. Again incoherently she had taken the car out over there ... Didn't make sense.

"You have lots of books," I said, "You like reading?"

No answer.

My objective was keep his feet on the floor as I heard police siren approaching.

Saw the patrol car and waved it down.

Two young male officers (men in uniform!) arrived. One stepped out immediately and I said I was the one who reported the case. Immediately he spoke to the boy to reassure him and then checked for an open window on the ground floor.

Did I say 'open window'? It looked like an open window several feet above ground, nose height for me. In fact there were no hinges. The officer simply removed the 'window'.

He decided (being the "slim one") to stick his head (much of his upper body) in and managed to open the front door.

But we were then confronted by two locked doors and we did not know which one it was.

Meanwhile a supporting police van had arrived. Officer said he had the equipment to bash the door down.

No need for that. I don't think the neighbours will be pleased.

After a lot of shouting (talking to the boy) and banging on doors, and checking the back garden, finally an adult face appeared at the window.

Then minutes later a woman finally answered the door and sounded surprised at the mess in the front of her flat.

I didn't see her face. I did not wish to see her face. She was not aggressive or anything, but I know this case (if the police are doing their job) will be passed on to Social Services. And she's not going to like that.

Why did it take so long to rouse her? How often has this kid been sitting/standing by the unsecured window unsupervised? There was a fold-up walker in the porch area. Is there another baby who is also at risk?

I stood behind the bushes where I hoped she had not seen me. The officer from the van shouted to the other two if they might wish to take details of "the doctor".

I replied that his colleague on the phone already has the details.

I am a bit distressed that that little boy might have been distressed. (You should see his face when the police car drew up. But the officers were very good at reassuring him.) And I hope and pray that his mother is not prone to leaving him to his own devices like that.

I hope, for the sake of the boy, the police officers had entered the house to check its condition to suss how the two (or three or more) are living in there. I hope somebody would fix that window fast or the next time the boy might be in real danger.

Little children deserve better than that.

This is your busybody blogger signing off.

Repairs and Renewals

2009-12-04T18:02:00.004Z

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 all it took to arrange for someone to come sort it.

Meanwhile we had to re-acquaint ourselves with the workings of a launderette. (Eg. it is useful to have lots of change, and please bring your own soap powder, and a good book.)

Someone came and replaced a part. Sorted. We did not need a new machine after all.

Next up, the dishwasher. It had been making funny noises and we realized that the hot steam that is supposed to escape was not doing so and we opened it each morning to water pouring out of these ventilators. No problem. We learned to place a bowl strategically.

Then we found yukky water at the bottom of the machine. It was not draining properly. Then it would not start.

Do we buy a new washing machine or have it repaired? It turned out that husband has bought insurance cover on its repair. It's the same policy, actually. How very useful.

One phonecall and the visit was scheduled.

They found a cherry stone blocking some tube and something else was clogged up with limescale. Anyway the dishwasher is now sorted.

The conservatory roof was letting rain water in. Ah! Do we install new roof or have it repaired?

More crucially, whom could we get to repair it. Folks are quick to sell you windows and conservatories, but few are inclined to do repairs.

One company actually sent out a person who looked and said he'd send me a quote, but didn't, despite my chasing him up.

It was not a serious leak so do we just put another bowl in place to catch the drips?

Eventually we found one company who were keen to install laminates on our roof. It is a south facing conservatory which is baking hot in the summer and stone cold in winter.

This chap came, brought out his mountaineering gear, climbed onto the roof, took photos and told us we needed to have some bits cleared out. The people who built the conservatory did not do the best possible job and yes, he is happy to have the leaks seen to and put right whilst his men are installing the laminates.

Wow!

Weeks later, we had a cool conservatory. (It became so cool my clothes would not dry, but that is another problem.)

Some months later, it rained, and it leaked again, somewhere else. Phoned the company who sent someone out. He climbed up on the roof, sussed that something had slipped and needed a filler, sorted it on the spot, and that was that. No charge. (Well, alright, we had already paid for the repairs. But some dodgey businesses won't bother once they've got the cheque.)

Yay! So no new roof required.

If you need the name of this company, drop me a note. Otherwise there are people who provide repairs for white goods and they use a repairman near you. Eg:

We are pleased that we have avoided adding to the landfill. Choosing the repairs route also means we are keeping alive the skills of many more people and small traders in the country.

Many won't find employment MAKING washing machines and dishwashers in this country. But if we at least give them a chance, they can be gainfully employed to repair these machines.

Meanwhile I am looking forward to some repair and renewal come Christmas and New Year.

A butler for Christmas, please. Actually a butler is not only for Christmas. Is it?

The Story of Tuit

2009-11-28T09:12:00.005Z

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 had decided to start cottage industry, a program that focused on providing work and incomes for families who had lost so very much. I decided that we needed to focus on traditional skills inherent in this society. Silk weaving was one such skill.

One of our first weavers was a very old lady, named Tuit. When I first met Tuit, she lived in a thatched hut. She was bent over double – she could no longer straighten her back. Tuit was raising 4 grandchildren – at 78 she should have had the luxury of resting her weary bones and enjoying her family – but her family were mostly gone – her husband and her 4 birth children had been executed by a regime that was only following orders. Her one surviving son had gotten married and had 4 children – the son and his wife died of AIDS – Tuit was raising the 4 grandchildren – 16 years old and younger at that time.

We talked of the threads of her life – raised in a happy home, learning weaving skills that created beauty – getting married and having a good home - and then it all ended with the brutality of the Khmer Rouge. Tuit revived her weaving skills – and the silk thread she wove became the income that helped her grandchildren to survive. The silk thread spoke of better times; times when life was normal and good, time when wearing silk spoke of the daily events that people were living. Each silk piece bespoke of the married status of women, of special events being celebrated, of a society that had customs and beliefs.

Several years later, a housebuilding team came and built her home. Tuit was so very touched – in Cambodia it means so much to have a home to die in. She was so very tired and wanted to move on. I asked her not to die but to live – to live for her grandchildren – to stretch the thread of life a little longer.

Over the next several years, Tuit taught the oldest child to weave and the income of the family was secured. The children graduated from school and all got married – the oldest one still weaving today. She is passing on her skills to her three children. The weaving allowed Tuit to live out her life with dignity and beauty. Tuit passed away three years ago at the age of ninety. She was surrounded by her grandchildren and their children. The thread of life continues – the thread of silk her burial shroud. For a few years, this silk weaver regained some degree of comfort in her troubled life – for a few short years – she could be what she was meant to be – a woman of beauty comforted by a thread of silk that bound her family together.

Tuit’s story is but one story of so very many – women and men who have gone through unspeakable horror – the silk thread has given them the strength to carry on, the strength to live for a while longer, the strength to regain their meaning in life, the strength to dare believe in life itself.

For each of you who have purchased an item of Tabitha’s cottage industry – each of you have carried that thread of life one step further. You have given life to so many for whom life was nothing but a thread. I thank my God for each of you – this Christmas season, may each of you give a piece of the thread of life – to those whom are attached to your personal thread of life. May the joy and peace given by each item suffuse you with the joy and the peace you have granted to others.

Janne
Tabitha Cambodia#239, St 51,Phnom Penh, Cambodia

Please remember that we continue to offer a number of alternative gift ideas for your loved ones which enable you to support our partnership programmes. These gifts include a well for £60 which provides clean water for 5 families as well as our 'Gifts of Life' starting at £5 for school supplies, a gift that can make all the difference to children struggling to afford school. These unique gifts can be ordered using the form available on our website.

Tabitha Cambodia
Tabitha Australia
Tabitha USA
Tabitha UK
Tabitha Singapore
Tabitha New Zealand

Silk Wine Gift Bags from our own Organic-Ally site at just £3.50.

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Get the adrenaline going

2009-11-24T09:07:00.004Z

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.

Pleurisy, said the GP (#1). Antibiotics and off to the hospital for an x-ray.

Son had some respite with a sleepover at his mate's.

Two days later (Friday) and no sleep, back at GP (#2, a different one, locum, but good one): no improvement. What do we do?

Continue with antibiotics. Honey and lemon.

Fraught weekend. This was perhaps the lowest point of his illness. He just could not find a comfortable position to be in. Moan, groan, moan, groan.

For our poor son, Daddy was physically in the house, but not quite there, it seemed. He just could not do "Daddy" things and Mum was both mum and dad (a not very good one, I'm afraid).

Monday: son returned to school.

Wednesday: husband at GP (#3, the GP who normally sorts out his long-term medication). Cough slightly better but now acquired flu symptoms. X-ray shows pneumonia. More and stronger antibiotics. Signed off work for two weeks.

Hissing, moaning, grumpy old husband.

Eventually, he showed signs of improvement, the coughing eased and he managed to sleep at night. But still came downstairs in the morning and was slumped in the sofa after breakfast, exhausted from showering and eating!

On the Saturday just before the end of his two weeks of antibiotics he managed to 'crack' this sleep/less cycle; managed to stay awake throughout the day. Tried to find things for him to do to kick-start the adrenaline.

Sunday he volunteered to do a 'supervised walk'. I wanted son to go to the shop, or to learn to do so, crossing two roads there and two roads back, buying the goods, paying and getting the right change, etc. I normally keep a distance behind him when he does this.

Husband decided he would do the supervision. Came back and complained his legs were killing him.

Of course they were, he had not used those walking muscles much for weeks. If anyone has had an experience of a fire drill walking 33 (or even just 20, 15) floors down an office block, you will know how this feels.

Midweek, back at the GP (#4, yet another one, the big cheese in this practice) who pronounced him fit for work and that he had "old-fashioned pneumonia". (A friend had use the term "new-moan-ia" previously. There certainly was a lot of "moan".) We figured he might have picked it up when he was at the hospital for his scan.

Any way he made great improvement since, and spent the rest of the week doing slightly more every day to get back into the swing of things. He was back at work yesterday in his new woolly coat and woolly scarf.

Many thanks to our friends and family for prayers and kind wishes during this time. I am especially grateful that my back had recovered sufficiently to take on those extra nursing duties. My cold symptoms lingered for some time, but I was spared a tickly cough which I dreaded the most. And husband's employer and colleagues were all so kind and understanding.

Just 2500 emails to clear on his first morning back at work!

We are NOT looking forward to the swine flu jab he has to take. This is recommended for those who are either pregnant (which he is not), immuno-suppressed (which he is) or had had a chest infection (that's him again).

Could it be after Christmas? we begged.

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

2009-11-16T19:09:00.003Z

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.

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Tough Love: Look at my Face!

2009-11-12T13:27:00.005Z

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 approached me and started acting suspiciously, I would be on my guard and said, "Don't you even think of biting."

Then one day while I was at the kitchen sink he crept up behind me and sank his teeth into the back of my thigh.

In pain I turned round, stooped to his level ("stooped" being the operative word) and smacked him really hard on his hand.

First the shock, and then he realized there was some pain. Tears.

"That is what it feels like when you bite! PAIN."

Then when he had calmed down, we had a cuddle.

He never bit again. Not me, nor anyone else.

I've never had to hit him again.

I had used my "cane". Once.

Up to that point he had no idea what pain meant; that certain behaviour of his (eg biting, hitting, head-butting) could cause pain on another human being was a totally foreign concept.

Recently I recalled how my father used to hit us on the head: He would place his left hand, palm down on our head, and then hit his own hand with his right hand. (And should any social worker query, he was only hitting himself, really.)

Everytime he 'hit' us, he had to hit himself first. This was a 'Chinese' way of gentle discipline. It was almost done in a loving way, never out of anger. That was not very respectful ... smack!

Then he would say that every time parents hit their children, they themselves feel the hurt, just as his own hand had to take the force of the smack.

"Fathers [and mothers, too], do not exasperate your children!" so the Bible advises.

I can recall how I had done exactly that. It was a futile exercise. We both just got angrier and angrier. Never again.

I also learned that I must give him 'face' and 'space'. If I pushed him into a corner where he could not show remorse with some dignity, it becomes a downward spiral. When I had made my point and backed off ... he'd come round to it ... eventually.

Still we have many boundaries. Computer and TV times are restricted. Twenty-minute slots on the computer (he sets either the oven clock or some other timer) and a total of 90 minutes a day on the TV. If he fails to use up the 90 minutes due to school activities or homework, tough! He gets a bit more TV on the weekend. But he is required to be "sensible".

Sometimes when I get extremely tired and need a lie-down I would give him free rein. On those occasions he has proven that he could be sensible, resting between 'screen activities' and never exceeding his 20 minute computer slots.

Years ago someone mentioned that there are some mothers who could control their children just by raising their eyebrows. Just one eyebrow, actually. Their children understand "the look" and refrain from whatever.

These days when son gets a bit carried away -- as nine-year-olds often do -- I find myself saying, "Look at Dad's face," or when Dad is not around, "Look at my face," and immediately son knows what is best for him.

If all else fails, I would say, "That's why God give human children mums and dads. We are not like animals who are expected to look after themselves hours after we were born."

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Tough love: do your children a favour

2009-11-10T21:13:00.003Z

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 say, "Remember that cane? We don't want to have to use it again."

Did I use the cane on my nine-year-old?

I'll elaborate in my next post. I am too tired to write at the moment.

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

2009-11-06T08:05:00.003Z

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

2009-10-24T14:42:00.007+01:00

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, etc elsewhere (click on links for an example). I was surprised to find this article in the Times yesterday:

Do starving Africans a favour. Don’t feed them

It encapsulates what I had been thinking for some time but did not have the courage to say in print.

Throwing food and money at Africa will never solve the long-standing problems they have. The UK welfare system demonstrates well how feeding, clothing and housing the feckless alone won't make them aspire to do any better.

Where Africa is concerned, where loyalties are so marked by tribal boundaries, the solutionS are not simple. But just giving them lots and lots of money -- which get stolen by those in power -- does not help.

Charities and NGOs are well-meaning, but they are in danger too of engendering a culture of dependency. Why work so hard to harvest those few crops when foreign aid would feed us? What would these NGO and charity workers do when there are no known crises?

Charities and NGOs should have only one over-arching aim: to work themselves out of a job.

That means the agenda is not to jump on a plane and go to a site of crisis or give TV interviews to encourage people to give.

It means finding out the long and tedious way how an individual, a family, a village, a community can be helped. Giving micro-loans (not hand-outs) to train, learn a skill, start a business, husband the land, that would have more long-term positive impact than giving money.

The wonderful thing is there ARE people already doing this. I have trading links with two:

Bishopston Trading has done much in KV Kuppam, training men and women to retain and learn skills, helping them make a viable living. They have also started a school which will make a huge difference in years to come.

Tabitha have worked in Cambodia by turning their traditional skills into profit-making endeavours and returning these profits to the people so that many more could benefit from the training, micro-loans, house-building and well-digging projects.

No, we must not completely butt out of Africa, but let us be wise as to how these people can be served. History has shown that the likes of BandAid is nothing more than that: a sticky plaster.

We need people who are willing to do the hard grind. Create and design projects that really make a difference.

We need trade agreements that would support these countries, not penalize them.

We need corruption to be dealt with, and the sickness removed from its core.

And if we should look around us, we probably already know someone who knows someone who is actually at the coalface, doing this work day in and day out outside the focus of TV networks. Write out a cheque to support their work.

14/03/2010: Half of all food sent to Somalia is stolen, says UN report

Even Band Aid is not above criticism

Bob Geldof: My rage at this World Service calumny

Suzanne Franks: You can't take the politics out of humanitarian aid

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Granny Smith loves her Postie (part 2)

2009-10-21T21:35:00.007+01:00

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:

(Unfortunately my photography skills are not great.)

I sent these off yesterday by Recorded Delivery (First Class) with the hope that it would get to its destination before the postal strike begins. "First Class" means it should, normally, get there the next day.

Guess what? The last time I checked, the parcel had not arrived. (In fact another parcel I posted First Class by Recorded Delivery last Friday has not arrived either.)

Which means it would be caught in the backlog of the strike action. Not a happy bunny.

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This Granny Smith loves her postie but ....

2009-10-20T20:15:00.005+01:00

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 five letters with a ludicrous list of excuses (you haven't done this, you haven't done that -- when I had) before they would agree to pay me compensation, and not paying the cost of replacing the lost goods which has gone up 20% in price
the economic downturn
the sterling exchange rate going against me
my suppliers putting their prices up 20%
swine flu and the government telling people not to use handkerchiefs
and intermittent, random, unannounced regional postal strikes

I am doing alright. Am I? The business suffered a 50% drop in sales in one month and is just picking up again, and then this strike.

Every time I get news of a strike I run out to talk to my postie: you're not going on strike, are you?

No, he says, it's central London post offices.

I haven't seen him for weeks now. Where has he gone?

I have been going: where do I go to demonstrate against these useless striking postal workers?

Then by chance, thanks to Twitter, I read this written by a postal worker.

He/She details how Royal Mail has been piling more and more work on them; that the 10% drop in the volume of mail is not reflected in their actual workload; that there is a disparity between the ethos of the traditional postal worker and that of management; that there is clearly a lack of skill in their negotiation of contracts such that the postal worker on the walks have to bear the brunt while the likes of A. Crozier gets the bonus.

(NB: I've been there before as a junior rank management consultant when the partners promised the clients the heaven and worked us like hell.)

What I like most is the statement that "[T]here’s a feeling that we are being provoked, and that this isn’t coming from the managers in our office – who aren’t all that bright, and who don’t have all that much power – but from somewhere higher up". (Emphasis is mine.)

Why on earth, for example, are postal workers not allowed to leave their sorting offices before 8am (or is it 9am?) in our local sorting office? My mail does not get delivered till after 12 noon these days.

So if this write-up is true then the problem, as I have suspected for some time, reading between the lines of what the different parties are saying in the media, and from my own (ill-)treatment by the Royal Mail, it is the management (middle? senior?) that needs our attention.

Time to send in the corporate anthropologist.

There is something very wrong with the set-up. There is a lot left unsaid or "unsayable" (is there such a word? If not, I just made it up. It is different from "unspeakable".) People are not seeing the whole picture, or are simply refusing to do so.

The result of these strikes is everyone: the Granny Smiths, home-based self-employed folk like myself, the postal workers and the Royal Mail as a business, suffer.

Send in the social anthropologists, I say. They will lurk, observe, participate and breathe in the same air. They will smell the antagonism and ask the relevant questions. They will be able to delineate where the invisible (sub)cultural boundaries are. And they will be able to suss out the issues. They have the knack of seeing just below the surface, in a holistic manner.

Trust me. I am a social anthropologist.

We may not have the solutions, but we can ascertain the real issues. Maybe (maybe not?) beginning with Adam Crozier's pay packet.

*Today I saw that they have installed two new machines at a post office where I could weigh, buy the correct postage for a parcel, get a receipt for the postage (paying by cash or card), and drop it into a special box. (Previously at this post office you have to queue just to get someone to open the hatch to drop off a parcel.) But I would still need to queue up just to get a proof of posting. Why can't they design a machine that could issue a proof of posting as well? How stupid is that?

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Back Out

2009-10-12T13:15:00.004+01:00

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. Meanwhile I was told to get a doctor's appointment.

By this time I was in tears and when the GP's receptionist spoke to me she knew I had to be seen to, "It's either I saw the doctor or the doctor would have to make a house call."

"Could you drive?"

Too much pain, no.

"Could you get a taxi?"

A taxi? Ah! Good idea. So managed to get to the GP in a taxi.

Forgot to request for a vehicle that has a high seat because I just could not get down to there.

Driver saw that I was in pain and offered me a seat at the front of his MPV. Ouch, ouch, ouch! Took me ages to get into the car.

And then when we got to the GP it took me ages to get out. En route the driver was telling me what drug I should take.

How do you know these things? I asked.

It turned out he used to be a pharmacist!!

While doing my electronic check-in I dropped my walking stick. A much older lady bent over to pick it up for me. Cool! Not. Truth is there was no way I could bend over to retrieve the stick.

Doctor decided I had pulled a muscle. Medication needed to help me get past the pain barrier. The last thing I must do -- it seemed -- was to lie down and do nothing.

I must keep doing things, the normal day-to-day things, pain or no pain.

A week later I am about 90% back to healthy life. There is still an occasional spasm, but no where close to the agony I was in.

People comment on my 'funky stick'. Bought it in Devon some time ago. Thought it looked nice and it came in useful when the snow was ground into ice. And now I use it to give me some confidence when the spasms come and I feel like toppling.

Husband has been doing a lot of what I normally do. And then complained that he was also getting a backache. Proof: mothering is back-breaking work. QED. Quite Enough Said.

Office workers and professionals carry piles of papers and files, etc, about. Mothers are always bending over: load the washing machine, unload the washing machine, lift a basket of wet laundry, carry the wet laundry to the line, hang up the wet washing, stretching and bending with each sock, shirt and whatever else, retrieve the dry washing, carry the dry washing somewhere else, fold the dry washing, carry a full basket of clean clothes to the various rooms, return the clean clothes to their respective receptacles, in low drawers and high shelves. And then start on another load of washing.

Load the dishwasher, bending over for each item of crockery or cutlery, put in the washing tablet, unload the dishwasher (but I am lazy housewife and tries not to do this), return crockery to cupboard in a kitchen built for Europeans, not tiny Singaporean Chinese. Stretch, get on my toes.

I suffered RSI when working in an office, (and still do as I also do a lot of work at the computer at home) but not backache to the extent that I had been suffering since I became Mum.

Those of you who have never shown appreciation to the person who does these back-breaking chores in your household, please do so. And please help out whenever possible.

Ouch!

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Another new shop

2009-09-21T17:45:00.005+01:00

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

2009-09-06T17:41:00.006+01:00

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 another friend or family member just stood by and smiled.

I think their strategy was to let her get tired from whatever she was doing and calm down -- in her own time.

Why they did not just scoop her up, that little body, tell her off in no uncertain terms and take her home?

When my son was little and we could still physically restrain him, it was a matter of strapping him into the pushchair and heading home.

Never mind if the shopping did not get done. Never mind if he didn't get what/where he thought he was going to get.

A two-year-old needs to know who is in charge. Maybe they feel most secure when they are reassured over and over again that their parents are in charge.

In fact I've come to the conclusion that God gave us terrible two's tantrums to force parents to 'bond', to get us used to "being in charge".

It comes at a stage when the children are physically much less fragile than when they were infants, but before they are too large for us to manhandle.

I am not advocating violence. Far from it. But every child benefits from the firm REASSURING hold of a parent or carer.

The more he throws a tantrum, the more he is assured that the carer is always there. The same hands that pick up the child after a fall are the same hands that will also restrain a child to make sure he/she does not run into danger.

I think the 'terrible two's' is a period that young mobile children first test their ground, not only to see how far they could push the boundaries, but also how much they are loved.

At that age I guess they feel most loved when they are held. A bit of stern talking to is also not going to hurt.

Incident #2: Then further along I saw a young mother shoving chips into her son's face.

The boy, again, was probably no more than two years old and a small bit, strapped into his pushchair. Mum was feeding him burger and chips and she had the most earnest look on her face.

It was not an evil face. It was not a "I could not care less" or "I prefer to have fun" face. It was an anxious determined face. It looked more like she was finally able to get some food and she must first feed her child.

Let's face it: burger and chips are a cheaper alternative to a proper meal.

I only hope she does not feed burger and chips to this boy at every meal.

There was a time when I also survived on those cheap supermarket meals. When every penny counted I decided that it was far more economical to buy a ready-meal than to attempt to cook the same from scratch.

The cost of utilities did not justify my cooking a proper meal. Isn't that sad?

At one point I discovered potato waffles. They were cheap. They were much needed carbohydrates and fast to cook on the grill. I ate them ... a lot.

And I became quite ill.

Only then did I study the ingredients and decided that there were too many artificial this and artificial that to be good for any one. I stopped eating those and returned to more robust health.

Was this young mother poor like me and felt she did not have a choice? Or did she not realize that burger and chips do not a healthy child diet make?

Either way, there is little wonder why we are producing an obese, irreverant and quite hopeless generation.

As always, my question is: what can I, as an individual, do to help?

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IDS: Save the mother

2009-09-04T21:03:00.003+01:00

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?

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Binding Religion?

2009-08-31T18:43:00.009+01:00

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 communities subscribed to the Ten Commandments they have found their freedom to worship, work (and rest), own property, live and love.

Sceptics have added an eleventh commandment: "Thou shall not be found out", played out in all its glory in the expenses scandal of the members of both Houses of Parliament in Britain.

Jesus’s own "new" commandment: Love your neighbour as yourself.

Clearly the young men in Britain who stab another love their neighbours little. Perhaps they love themselves even less*.

Having not related to a father, or watch a father relate as a husband and son, many such young men have no notion of family. When there is no sense of family honour, there is no sense of (family) shame.

When "churchianity" still provided the social glue in Britain people observed boundaries.

The welfare state – designed with good intentions to care for the orphaned and the widowed – has suffered a "mission creep" by removing the stigma of illegitimacy.

Where once women looked for husbands who could protect them and their children, and men looked for wives who would help support their careers, the decline of the church coupled with the expansion of the welfare state have led to the rise and rise of an underprivileged class.

On one hand people who do not believe in God champion "the survival of the fittest". On another they build a comprehensive counter-Darwinist system that "selects in" the weakest, encouraging those who are least able to look after themselves to procreate.

Britain is broken because the family (where one might "Honour your father and mother") is broken.

Take away the family and the young man who stabs another is no different from the City banker who gambles away someone else’s money. They cannot extrapolate, envisage, the consequences of their reckless actions (violence, greed, selfishness) on their "neighbours": sons and daughters, fathers and mothers.

Harriet Harman (British Deputy PM) asked if Lehman Brothers would be different if it were Lehman Sisters.

What if Lehman Brothers were "Lehman Brethren"?

Take away the freedom for people with religious convictions to comment on the state of society, and particularly the state of the family – whether these be as doctors, accountants or politicians, Christian or otherwise – one takes away the potential for ideas, suggestions and solutions on how society could be (re)built, improved and sustained.

Happy birthday, Singapore!

==================

Does religion bind us or does it free us? Do we wish to bind religion or free it?

*See this post as well.

Just for fun, read this.

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

2009-08-30T18:42:00.002+01:00

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)

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Laziest Housewife I might be, but ...

2009-08-17T12:21:00.010+01:00

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 death also brought to the fore the sudden death of my father-in-law almost exactly ten years ago.

N and I were married in September 1998. In May 1999 I was in Singapore when I lost my mum. When I came back to London, my in-laws were quick to visit and greeted me with, "We are your only parents now."

August 11th was the total eclipse of the sun in Cornwall and Devon. We discovered with great joy only the day before that I was pregnant. But because it was early days we had not told anyone about the pregnancy.

On the evening of 11th August, I got a call from M, who's now our son's godfather. M had gone down to stay with my in-laws in order to watch the eclipse. M said that P had collapsed while ordering drinks at a pub, and it didn't look good. Could we come to Devon immediately?

I was at a loss. Husband had gone to church to help with moving a piano, and had left his mobile phone at home.

A few minutes later M rang again to say, sorry, P had died.

I managed to get in touch with the church secretary who drove to church to locate my husband who was already on his way home. Paul followed him home in the car and stood at the door to make sure we were OK as I delivered the news to husband.

So within three months I had lost my mum and my father-in-law, both very, very dear to me.

The next couple of weeks were a blur. What was most difficult was that we had such good news, a baby was on the way, but we didn't dare celebrate. We had to give mum-in-law and everyone else -- all in a desperate state of shock -- time to grieve and mourn the totally unexpected passing of a man who was so, so dear to us.

So the death of John-next-door was tough on me. Their family runs a business from an office in their back garden. John was next door every day. He knocked on our door often to ask to park in our drive. I also go to them for help sometimes when I needed, eg. photocopying for my research projects and they were always kind to me.

I could not bring myself to go to the funeral service because I would make a fool of myself, I know. Besides, the house needed cleaning as we were having this open house thing for the church. I was suffering from mouth ulcers (probably as a result of all that stress) and was in some pain.

Then round about 6.45pm I found myself suddenly surrounded by eight and then ten little children. Only one of these was being carefully watched by his parents.

Then they were going, "I want this [pointing to food]" or "I want that [pointing to drinks] or "I need the toilet", and there was I, one woman who was coping with both physical and emotional pain, trying to tend to several young children (not her own) all at once.

Then someone decided it was funny to spill his brother's food. Someone accidentally dropped food on the floor. (These things happen.) Another spilled half a cup of sweet red juice. (These things happen.) As I was clearing and mopping up I thought, "Hang on a minute. Where are their parents?"

And gave up.

Got the husband to bring out the picnic mat and sent the children out to eat. Ah! Why didn't I think of that earlier? There they could mess as much as they like and I didn't need to mop up (to prevent others from slipping on a hard floor). The foxes will be happy tonight.

After exhausting himself in the garden first with playing and then with tidying up, our son decided he was going to bed. He had had a very long day, doing sports at holiday club, and he was required at someone's birthday party early the following day. He went upstairs and got himself ready for bed.

Then someone decided to fill a water pistol with apple juice. All the water pistols were confiscated (they weren't meant to be used at all) and someone else was not happy.

The children continued to play in the dark in the garden. Whoever said children should be seen and not heard?

Our garden lights had stopped working for some time and we were happy that they were out of our hair. We could hear them playing outside although we could not see what they were up to ...

Until the following morning when we realized that they had wrenched the swing ball stake out of the ground, leaving a very ugly hole right in the middle of the lawn.

Husband had hammered this into the ground as deep as a washing line. One or more of these children must have used a considerable amount of force to dislodge it.

Thankfully nobody was hurt in the course of removing this quite substantial stake and they hadn't tried to break anything else with the stake that now lies in the garden.

At breakfast I was furious. Why did they have to do this? This is vandalism, criminal damage, I fumed.

Then I turned to my son, "Do you think Mum is being petty or do I have the right to be angry?"

"Well, " he said very calmly and in as diplomatic a tone as he could muster, "At this moment, I personally think you are being petty."

It is great to learn that son has learned he does not need to appease his mum all the time.

Still, maybe it is a cultural difference, maybe it is an age thing, maybe I am being a parent at a different age from these other parents.

I may be a lazy housewife but personally (such a redundant word) I think children should learn to respect other people's property. There is a difference being having fun and doing something they had been told (by our son, earlier, as he later told me) not to do.

I may be a lazy housewife but I do not abandon completely my duties as a parent when I visit other families.

I may be a lazy housewife but I did spend two days cleaning up the house so that, uhm, there was room for people to enjoy their food and chat.

So maybe I was, as my son thought, being petty. Or maybe my excuse is it is just that time of month. That time of the decade. That I am in between two hospital visits and feeling the stress. Whatever.

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NHS - Putting Patients Last

2009-08-15T08:38:00.010+01:00

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 me, nor my husband who also read the letter, that the MRI scan was at their "sister" hospital 20 minutes drive away.

As I did not know how I would be feeling after being put into a noisy tube, I opted to take the bus to the hospital. When I discovered that I was at the wrong place I rang the required hospital and they asked if I could get there.

I didn't have a clue. I am well known to be rather directionally-challenged.

Thankfully there was a shuttle service between these two hospitals. One was leaving at 6.30pm and the scanning people told me that if I got there by 6.50pm they would see to me. The staff were also very concerned that I was able to find my way home.

I got there by 6.49pm, thanks to a very sympathetic driver. When they finished with me, I was asked again if I could find my way home. (I had ordered my taxi, thanks.)

NHS staff are really very nice people. Once you got past the appointment making business they are the most competent, most caring professionals. Really.

But I have lost count of the number of times I had been reduced to tears trying to make an appointment on my husband's behalf.

He has a chronic illness and is immuno-suppressed. It is very testing trying to get him an appointment to see the GP to sort out his prescription if he isn't on the verge of collapse. In which case I should be ringing for an ambulance instead.

For those who are unfamiliar, this is how it works for him.

He is under the care of a team of consultants at one of the best, if not THE best, colo-rectal hospitals in the country. But it is the GP who issues his monthly prescriptions, often in response to changes in his regular blood test results.

Sometimes husband suffers a relapse of sorts, or side-effects from the drugs, and he knows his body well enough to know that the prescription should be tweaked. But could he get a GP appointment to advise?

They tell you to ring at 8.30am in the morning for an appointment the same day. I have never been able to get through at this time. It is also, inconveniently, school run time for me. If I needed to see the GP myself, ringing after the school run means no appointments are left.

In reality it is a lottery. You ring at 8.30am and HOPE you may get to be seen on that day.

I tried explaining that husband -- who runs a busy IT department -- cannot expect to stay at home and HOPE to get an appointment.

"I'm sorry. That's the way it works."

I am often tempted to say, "But do you realize that he works to pay the taxes that pay your salary?" Then of course, he could be struck off the list by this surgery for abusing the staff. To that extent, we live at the mercy of the GP surgery's receptionists.

Try booking an appointment with the GP who knows his case? You must be joking.

The wait is usually AT LEAST two weeks. So now I tell him to book at appointment with the GP every time he has a blood test so that when the test results come back in two weeks' time, he has an appointment ready. If he didn't need to see the GP, he could cancel it.

Why do they have such a system?

One reason, I figure, is because patients miss appointments without informing the surgery. Because no payment changes hands, everything seems "free" (it is not, we taxpayers pay), it does not occur to some types of patients that their no-shows mean other patients cannot be seen. How do you correct such ingrained selfish behaviour?

Second reason, targets. Patients have to be seen within 48 hours. So if you stop them from being able to make an appointment other than on the same day, they will be seen withing 24 hours. Target met.

At our surgery you could also phone in the evening after 6.30pm the day before you wish to be seen.

Two problems here. One, I am often cooking the evening meal, trying to get son to bed, etc. Tired. So on both accounts of the 8.30am school run time and the 6.30pm cooking time, my surgery is discriminating against women, housewives, people with caring responsibilities.

Second, if I tried using this system to book for my husband for the end of the day -- so that he could get to work, come back on an earlier train and get to the surgery for the last appointment -- I have to be on the phone pressing "1" for "the next appointment" for about 20 minutes to get to the last appointment.

I don't kid you. I've done that before.

All these just so that targets are met. So is this a case for "putting patients last"?

The truth is, as truth must also be told, we do get very, very good professional care once we get past these gate-keepers of targets aka the receptionists.

During times when the husband had been too ill to get out of bed and I'd rung for a GP to visit, they often come as soon possible to make sure that he was OK.

If one were so ill that one needed emergency treatment, there is A&E. The only difficulty is when you are a conscientious non-acute patient who needs medical advice to make sure that your condition does not deteriorate to the extent that you need A&E, ambulance, etc.

Is this short-termism or what?

Yet millions of pounds are spent every Friday night looking after drunks for free, possibly of people who don't pay much tax at all.

The issue is not just one of putting patients last or first, or somewhere in between. There needs to be a massive re-think on the relationship between a health service and an individual.

These days there is such a divide between the ethos of a universal health service and the notion of being entitled to a universal health service that supply will always not be able to meet the demand.

Take for example the case of fertility treatment. On one hand we do not stop practices that could increase infertility (eg smoking and drinking that could result in cancer, and/or indiscriminate sex that leads to STDs with long-term effects on fertility, etc) and on the other we are spending massive amounts of money helping people get pregnant.

Then there is the anomaly of treating patients who neither qualify for, nor require, a free service.

My friend from Singapore came to see his daughter graduate from university. He fell seriously ill with heart problems and needed hospital treatment and hospital stay. Now he was fully covered by his insurance. Yet when he asked about payment, he was told, "Not to worry. Everything is being taken care of." [update: compare Obama's stepmother's case, see below.]

Why, in this situation, was a foreign non-taxpayer given free treatment? Why was there no attempt to recover the cost of his hospital stay from his insurers?

I have seen TV interviews where medical staff say that it is not their duty to screen foreigners out of the system. If someone needs care, NHS provides it. They are medical professionals. Very good ones, too.

But we hear also of people flying into Heathrow with serious heart trouble or needing an organ transplant, etc. and they, too, are treated for free and we wonder if, along the line, someone has become far too generous (spending our money).

No such thing as a free lunch. Why should I pay for other people who do nothing to contribute to the same system which (presumably) would look after me when I need the service?

And then I keep getting this questionnaire about whether I am happy with the service I get at the GP. Well, I know a thing or two about questionnaire survey design. I have designed several of these in my own professional life.

Guess what? There is not a question about how easy or difficult it is to book an appointment. Lots of questions about whether we are seen to within certain time limits, the decor and comfort of the surgery, the speed with which phone calls are answered, etc, but NOT a single question on my experience of trying to get an appointment at a time that suits my circumstances.

Was it: very easy, easy, OK/average, difficult, very difficult?

The Civitas report suggests that the NHS begins to treat patients as customers. By coincidence I worked on a project for a private hospital in Singapore where they were trying precisely to teach the same: the patient as a customer.

They did not stop there, they wanted all staff to treat other staff members as customers, too.

Not just a digit, not just a hospital or NHS number, not just someone in the system who must be pushed through the relevant numbercrunching gateways with the result "target met".

I live in hope.

For an example of the NHS's creaking bureaucracy, read this post.

Should we have paid for Obama's stepmother's healthcare?

Apparently Daniel Hannan prefers a version of healthcare system akin to that of Singapore.

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The Sunday Philosophy Club (not a book review!)

2009-08-04T20:02:00.015+01:00

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 McCall Smith The Sunday Philosophy Club. Time to read (of, about) philosophy in any form is a treat to me."

Then I googled AMS (Alexander McCall Smith) before breakfast and found more information about this series.

Chuckled over the critics' comments, like:

The New York Times sees her [Isabel's] philosophical musings as “less than riveting”.

According to BookReporter.com : “the tone is a bit daunting for readers who never progressed beyond Philosophy 101 in college”.

The St. Louis Post-Dispatch calls Isabel “the anti-Precious” and suggests that the novel will “delight McCall Smith's existing fans and win him some new ones”.

The USA Today's reviewer commended Isabel’s penchant for philosophical self-examination and saw the novel as a “painless introduction to philosophical questions”.

I guess I am one of those "new" fans of AMS. I find the Philosophy painless rather than daunting. I was, after all, chided by Cedric Pan (one of my Philsophy professors) when, in my final year at university, I asked if I could put his name down as an academic/character referee in my CV.

"Aren't you staying to do your Honours degree?"

Fact is I would have loved to do an Hons. degree in Philosophy but didn't think I was good enough. Although I knew for a fact that my second-year essay on Kierkegaard was being circulated and studied by the third-year students reading Existential Philosophy (I wasn't, having opted for "Modern Philosophy" with "cowboy" Dr Patterson instead) I didn't think I was clever enough to read Philosophy any further.

Cedric's remark spurred me on. I studied very hard for my finals. But, as I have recounted to my son at least twice, I forgot to turn my exam question paper over in my final final "Buddhistic Philosophy" paper.

I found myself giving the same content twice in my answers and wondered why the questions were so limited in scope.

Then fifteen minutes before the end of my three-year undergraduate life I realized that HAD I -- "if only" is such a poignant phrase, isn't it?, if only I had -- turned the question paper over, I would have found not one but TWO other questions I could have answered with relative ease.

After all I knew "everything" required to argue over karma, dukkha and nibbhana. No, I didn't want to be reborn as a cockroach. Thank you very much.

And so -- no "if's" -- I was marked down for using the same material twice in completing that final final exam.

I failed miserably in getting into that very elitist Philosophy Honours Class. Few wanted to read Philosophy in my time. It was not a "marketable" subject. They wouldn't even let you into teachers' training with a Philosophy degree.

To rub salt into the wound, not only did all those who opted for Dr Patterson's paper fail to make the cut (his paper was so tough one of my mates walked out of the exam), many of my friends who had been regurgitating my Kierkegaard paper were offered a place -- which they rejected!

It transpired that these friends were practically told what questions to expect at their Existential Philosophy "revision class" by the lecturer whose name escapes me. (Lucky him.)

There were some 200+ students fighting for 20 places in the Sociology Honours class. I found myself -- most unexpectedly -- offered a place in "Sociology Honours" instead. ("Sociology" was made up of Sociology and Social Anthropology and to this day my social science still straddles both.)

And because of that mistake in my Buddhistic Philosophy 306 (or whatever, sorry Mr Goh, you have been such an inspiration since you introduced me to Logic in PH101) I am now a PhD in Social Anthropology. Not Philosophy.

Got that?

So I chuckled even more when I read more information about the AMS books I haven't read. Wikipedia does spoil some of the fun that way by revealing the plots.

Apparently in a sequel, InTheNews.com says that "the interjections of philosophical and high-brow intellectual reasoning ... can seem snobbish and isolating to the average reader, ie those without a PhD."

I shared this with my son at breakfast and had a good laugh. My young son enjoys reading Philosophy for Kids and we often have protracted philosophical discussions.

Well, I have yet to finish reading this book. Last night I read about Isabel receiving an article from someone in the Philosophy Department of the (wait for it) National University of Singapore (NUS).

Well, what do you know? As I sometimes peer-review journal articles as well and have in fact reviewed one from NUS (the articles come to me "anonymized" but you only have to turn to the Bibliography, note whose name is listed repeatedly to guess who had submitted the paper) I can identify with Isabel's job.

Especially when I used to be a full-time editor (of a Christian magazine) and had recently considered offering my services for free to a journal desperate to find an editorial team. After all I am the inspiration behind SOAg (Sociologists Outside Academia Group).

But alas, unlike Isabel, I am not in my early forties (any more), live in a large house with a summer house (hmm a garden office will be nice), nor have the services of a very amicable and efficient housekeeper. (A butler has been the only item on my Christmas list for some years.)

I was also fascinated by the author's reference to the (lack of) use of handkerchiefs. As you know I rather fancy myself as the #1 Hankies Agency. The very positive response to my recent addition of handmade organic cotton lawn hankies has taken me by surprise.

I also play the trombone and flute (not terribly but not as well as I would like to) and love the idea of the RTO -- Really Terrible Orchestra.

Must go load the dishwasher now and perhaps finish reading the book tonight?? Must leave the hankie-sewing till tomorrow.

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Six inches of time and 20 centimetres of parenting left

2009-08-01T12:40:00.005+01:00

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 is 20 cm short of my own height.

That means, O yes!, I have a mere 20cm of parenting left to do.

While discussing parenting teenagers, etc, with my ex-RGS girls in Singapore and elsewhere in the world, I came to the conclusion that a mother's parenting duties should be completed by the time a child is her height.

I cannot imagine looking up to a stroppy teenager a head taller than me, myself with a finger wagging, going, "Now, you listen!"

What if you are short?

Short mothers have short children, so short mothers do not necessarily have a shorter time to "parent". Don't fret.

In my case I have a tall husband and so our son seems to be growing tall at a much faster rate that I did. Then how? (As we would say in Singlish.)

Husband steps in. He would still be towering over the son for some time. But son will probably overtake him in due course.

Which, if you have been following my posts inspired by Steve Biddulph, fits in with the idea that fathers must take over as the 'main parent' at some point as sons grow up.

What about parenting daughters?

Girls tend to grow slower, according to my little red book issued at the birth of my son. So mothers can parent daughters for a little bit longer. Including those crucial puberty years when they get self-conscious about their body, their first bra, etc.

Then -- I imagine, so don't quote me -- it is very nice to have dad around to show them how boys (men) view the world -- girls, women, sex, marriage, etc -- which is also much needed by a teenage girl.

That, I think, is why God designed children to be made by both male and female. Unlike some animals which become more or less independent soon after birth, human babies require an extraordinarily long period to learn about being adult.

It is us parents who must help them into their adult years.

What if children only have one parent?

I think one way around this is to seek the help of good friends, a brother, a sister, to help play the part of the missing parent.

So I have 20cm of parenting left. So help me God.

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I can stand up straight!!

2009-07-20T16:07:00.002+01:00

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 put my feet on the floor and there is still massive pain?

I put my feet gingerly on the floor, and stood up, s-l-o-w-ly, and then shouted, "I can stand up straight! Praise the Lord!"

There was still some pain but I could stand up straight. I am not going to be the Hunchback of Nibthwaite Road. Yo! That's mighty good news.

Back home now and received a cc copy of my consultant neurologist's letter to my GP. He found that I was pretty much normal on most counts, but there was wasting of abductor pollicis brevis on the left, but weakness was worse on the right.

It's scary when your consultant says your muscles have shown some 'wasting'. Is it going to get worse? Could it get better? What has caused the wasting?

Also not very nice when he described that part of my palm as being 'podgey'. Me? Podgey?

In the end he tells me that he is almost certain that it was bilateral carpal tunnel syndrome. Most people have this problem on one side. I must be one of those he said are "wired differently" and have to have this on both left and right.

But he wants an MRI scan on the neck to rule out the worst.

Me: It's not a degenerative nerve disease then?

Consultant: I don't think so.

The letter tells me now that I am also required to undergo a neurophysiological study at Charing Cross. I feel like I had been scratched, poked and prodded quite enough. So not looking forward to another of those pokey tests.

Well I do have extremely tiny wrists. I think I have to lay off the dumb-bell work in my aqua-aerobics. (But how else do I get those toned upper arms???)

The thing is of course I do the aqua to reduce the creaking in my knees and to keep the arthritis at bay, not for vanity. (The creaking knees are from running and basketball in my youth, I think.)

So when you are skirting 50, different bits of the body call time, it seems.

Apparently Tom Watson nearly (nearly) won the (British) Open after a hip replacement. There is hope for me yet.

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She's only two (Part 2)

2009-07-10T20:19:00.004+01:00

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."

"That's not her."

B saw the back of a little Asian girl with jet black hair and assumed that that was M. Immediately a bell rang in my head: Wait. You did not even bother to see the little girl's face and you are making an assumption.

When things quietened down and my son and I had a breather from checking folk in, signing out parking permits, collecting money and giving the correct change, registering new families, etc. Mum G turned up with M.

I was really pleased to see her. But as usual, she did not wait for me to check them in properly and plonked down £1 coin on the desk. First of all it's £1.50 please. Secondly, please do not just slap the coin down on the desk. Please give it to my son, who's the 'treasurer' today.

Anyway I then talked to her about my plan. J has agreed to shadow G for the morning and quietly give her pointers on how to control M. That is, if G would agree to that.

She checked that it was to take place at the session, not at home, etc.

I introduced the two ladies and assured G that J will never touch her child and left them.

Some time later J came along and said "the mum's not listening", but proceeded to write her contact details for G to contact her, just in case.

On further probing it appears that the Mum IS trying. But she is totally unaware that she could use different 'voices' to indicate her feelings to her child. When J told her to say something to M, she did, but in a voice that does not reflect her own authority.

J was certain that little girl M is a very jealous girl and the mum would be in trouble when the baby arrives. UNLESS she gets some help. Mum assumes that she would be able to cope with baby arrives.

I was going, "O no! If she blows and the child is hurt Social Services will remove her, and the baby ...."

At the end of the session I was able to have a brief chat with G. She did not indicate any negative feelings about the morning except that "the other mothers angry".

I assured her that the other mothers are not angry with the child, but felt that for her own good, her own safety, she had to be controlled.

We were standing on the road. I said our children know, for example, to come to the end of the road/pavement and stop and not run off. For their own safety they must learn this. Her reaction seems to suggest that she had never even thought of this aspect of discipline.

I also noted that she could use a different tone of voice. I turned to M who was all smiles and friendly with me now. She waved goodbye to me.

I said, "Look, this is my son. Say goodbye to him." Mum translated. M waved another energetic wave. All smiles.

I was surprised. I could possibly be the first person outside the family who was firm with her, told her exactly what to do, etc., and today she was 'my friend'.

What was good to see was there was no argument between mum and daughter. I think G is making some progress.

The surprise of the morning really was J (the childminder) telling me that B (mum with blonde hair) is "not very nice".

Another sad observation today was that another mum told me that she discovered a mark on her son's chin and it appears that one of the bigger boys had squashed his chin last week. If these incidents are not reported to us immediately, there is nothing we could do.

This mum described the boy as "the foreign boy", to which B added , "that Somali boy?"

Today was the "that Somali boy's" last day and I did not want to make a fuss of it. He is actually one of our success stories. When he first came he could not sit still. Now he sits down to have his juice and biscuit as he is supposed to. He is generally polite to me. When I tell him off (eg 'driving' into the babies area), he responds.

Last week when I saw that he was very sad while his mum and sister were still at singing session I took hold of his hand and said, "Mum will be with you in two minutes."

Of course he had no idea what two minutes meant. "Count one to sixty two times and they will be finished. Could you do that?"

I sat him on a chair. He started counting, using his fingers. When mum and sister finished he was a happy bunny.

The big question is, why did mum not witness the incident herself? Parents are supposed to supervise their children AT ALL TIMES.

So I, foreigner #1, am getting nervous about people making assumptions about others on the basis of colour of skin, clothing, etc. It does not give me a good feeling.

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Fourth of July

2009-07-05T13:18:00.003+01:00

Hectic morning at Toddlers on Friday. Difficult mum did not show up so we could not put into action what was planned for her.

Back home I realized that in the hurly-burly of the week I had completely forgotten to buy HIM a birthday card for HIS 50th.

So having sorted out what I needed to sort out I hurried along to the shops thinking that I would just have time to buy the card and head back to school for the Leavers Service.

I rummaged for my purse as I entered the first card shop I came to and searched, and searched, and searched, and realized that I had forgotten to bring my purse in my distracted state of mind (having to switch TV on for mum-in-law for her to watch Wimbledon, eg).

There wasn't time for me to get home. I rummaged again and thankfully found some loose change I had thrown into the bag, and two plastic coins from my son's toy cash register.

In the end I was delighted to find a 'husband 50th' (not '50th husband, note!) card that I could afford. Yay!

Yesterday we had a little celebration with family and close friends at a very nice restaurant not far from us. That kind of restaurant where food comes in very tiny portions. In the end we did feel very full, however.

When sister-in-law gave husband his "50 today" badge son and I remembered what we forgot.

This morning, enroute to church, I ordered a balloon on son's behalf. This was duly delivered to son while I was at church.

Husband is now the proud recipient of a helium-filled balloon with the words, "Old and Grumpy" on it.

He's still smiling and we are still married. So he can't be that grumpy.

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She's only two. She does not understand. Wrong!

2009-06-27T19:11:00.012+01:00

Funny sort of morning yesterday. At the end of what appeared to be a fairly calm toddlers session, a childminder came up to me to say "Did you know you have a very naughty girl here?"

It turned out that this little girl has been pinching cheeks, slapping faces and pulling hair, etc. Usually these incidents get reported to us fairly quickly so I was surprised that it had not come to our notice till then.

And then, apparently, in a matter of ten seconds after this report, this little girl had traumatized another three kids.

The mother?

I had always thought this mother rather strange. Sometimes she sticks around for nearly 20-30 minutes after our closing*. All of us here are volunteers. We have other business and family to take care of. We rather like being able to clean up after a session and head home.

Soon I had two or three mothers telling me how the little girl had misbehaved. Well, we expect two-year-olds to go through a certain phase, don't we? But what came across to me was that this mother did not have a clue about controlling her daughter.

At least two mothers had spoken to her about her daughter's behaviour. Her standard reply was, "She's only two. She does not understand."

I have noticed too that this Mum would push daughter in her little ride-around all around the hall when the daughter should be doing the peddling (oops! I meant 'pedalling', of course) herself. Sometimes Mum puts her into one of the babies' bouncing net thingeys. It's not right. Daughter throws her biscuit away at snack time, only to grab a biscuit from another child, or picks scraps up from the floor.

So having gathered evidence from three other people I approached the mother. Before I could say anything more than "I'd like to talk to you" she said, "Wait, I'll get someone to talk to you."

A few minutes later she got one of the grandmothers who "saw what happened" recounting how another mum (described as having blonde hair) had grabbed her daughter's arm because both daughters were fighting over a doll.

Then I heard the phrase, "They were ganging up on her." Grandmother and her own daughter (another mother at the group) joined in support. Then another mother chipped in to say, "No, that's not right."

Amidst these accusations and counter-accusations I noticed an interesting pattern. The anthropologist in me said, "Hang on a minute. There appears to be this group of white mums and carers against a group of non-white mums and carers. What's happening?"**

Mother (let's call her "G") was then in a flood of tears. "Some children play hard, some children play soft. But there is no need to grab her like that." I was puzzled as she repeated this statement at least twice later on. What does "playing hard" mean?

So far, no one has owned up to grabbing the little girl (let's call her "M"). One Mum (the one with blonde hair) described how she had touched her on the arm with a finger to say "you must not do that".

Another (carer, J) said she might have touched her, but definitely not grab her arm roughly as demonstrated by Mother G. J is a very experienced childminder and would not touch a child unnecessarily. She felt it was necessary to do so only because M was digging her nails into another child and stepped in before that other child was hurt.

When everyone had calmed down I spoke to G and told her in no uncertain terms that I did not agree with her that M does not understand. Disregarding whether the other mums were right or wrong, she needed to do something to control her child.

I said, "For example, speak to her at her eye level," and demonstrated by squatting down to M who was strapped into her push-chair. And what did M do? She started hitting me.

Then she snatched the brochures from my hand. The mother raised her voice (in their own language). M took absolutely no notice and pretended to read my brochures with a very defiant look on her face.

I said to G to avoid saying "no" and "don't" all the time. It's very discouraging. (See earlier post.) Tell her to do the thing you want, not say "don't do" the thing you don't want.

I turned back to M and said in a very firm voice, "At the count of five, you have to give me back these brochures. OK? 1-2-3-4-5, I want the brochures back." Mum translated.

I counted to five and she handed the brochures back to me. I praised her. M looked pleased.

"OK. You did that so well, we'll do it again. Here, take my brochures. Now this time at the count of three, 1-2-3, you must give me back the brochures." Mum translated.

"One, two, three," and straightaway she gave me my brochures back. I praised her for listening well. She looked happy. She had achieved something and was praised.

Mum looked rather surprised. She told me that in her home, being an only child, M does pretty much what she likes.

"That's no good. If you are planning another baby, what's going to happen when you have a baby and she still won't listen to you?"

As it turned out, mother G is expecting a baby.

"All the more you have to get her to do what you say. Or she'd start hitting the baby."

I went on to say briefly what she could do, like giving her a choice of two: "green dress or blue dress", "wash her hands or sit down", rather than open-ended questions like "what do you want to do?"

Mum G realized that M is not too young to understand after all. Even when I spoke in a different language she could clearly respond, what more if mum was speaking in their own language?

The other mothers had expressed surprise at Mum G's attitude that a two-year-old cannot understand. They did not seem angry with the child as such but thought G's parenting skills were pathetic.

Some things we do so naturally we do not realize that other parents have to learn this. Sometimes there is a cultural element in that children are treated like gods and goddesses, as in some Chinese cultures. Then when they turn six (for example), they are suddenly treated as little adults, given responsibilities, etc.

In some families grandparents who help in childminding counsel that "they'd be OK when a new baby arrives".

Let's just say in the six years or so that I have helped in this toddlers group, we have seen how older siblings start biting other children in the group when mum has a new baby.

I now have a plan on how to help this mum. But would she be willing to accept this help from others?

It's up to her. I hope and pray that next Friday would turn out alright.

*The reason mother G sometimes sticks around well after 'closing' is probably because she could not get M to agree to go home.

**It is not unusual, as I learned as a minority person, that when we felt that we are being 'singled out' or 'picked on' our first reaction is "it's because of our ethnicity" whether or not this was really the case. In this instance, I think the divide was more along parenting styles, and the ethnic divide was incidental.

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Me: laziest housewife I know (Part 2)

2009-06-23T20:22:00.006+01:00

Son's school sports day today. We had the best weather and son was amazingly positive today.

Two mothers came up to congratulate me on his achievement in gaining the Chief Scout's Silver Award (mentioned by the Headmaster in the school bulletin last week).

Somehow we got round to talking about my making him tidy up from a very young age. This is really the 'luxury' of a stay-at-home mother. (One mum expressed how because she always had an au pair, her son never had a chance to do this.)

I had the choice of tidying up for him and get it over and done with in two minutes, or making my son learn how to do it, even if it took 20 minutes. I opted for the latter.

When life got a bit messy I used to say, "Let's see if you could put five toys back in the box."

He would then count five toys into the box. "OK, I think we need to put another seven in."

Sometimes it was nine, ten, or whatever number of toys. Sometimes it was five green colour toys (eg five green blocks), or six black cars, or something like that. So 'putting away' was in fact a lesson in counting and distinguishing colours, shapes, etc.

We started doing this from the time he was a toddler. Now that he is a bit older he has to tidy his own room. It's often in a bit of a mess, but there are times when we have to -- together -- sort the stacks of books and magazines on the floor, etc. He still needs help, of course, in reaching the higher shelves and strength is pushing books aside, etc. But the principle is that he understands what being 'tidy' means.

'Tidy' does not mean 'spotless' in our house.

By the age of two he could read and understand numbers. Walking to the supermarket took a very long time as we would pick a colour of car (eg red) and when we found one that is parked, he would go and read the numbers and letters on the number plate.

I used to think -- when I was single -- how annoying it was that people took their children to do the shopping. Children tend to misbehave there, don't they? Shopping is 'grown up work'. Why involve the children?

Then I learned that shopping is a great opportunity for children to learn, "Up a bit. To the left," for example, when looking for a particular item. Sometimes they are looking for a picture. Sometimes they are looking for a letter or word they could decipher. Either way, it reinforces the idea that the ability to read is useful.

Then there are the big aisle numbers on display. "We are at aisle 6 and the butter we need is at aisle 11, in which direction should we walk?" Not only does the child need to recognize numbers, he has to understand sequence -- ascending and descending orders.

Then we have "Mum needs six apples. You have two in your hands, how many more do we need?" So you see, our shopping trips could take some time.

All too soon I found him working out in his head the total cost of what I was buying, and the change I should be getting back from the cashier.

Does it matter if my house is untidy and my meals may be late??

Topic at dinner tonight, while trying to cut a rather large muffin: the difference between a sector and a segment, and he went on to tell us that a tangent at the point it touches the circle is always 90 degrees to the radius.

Me: laziest housewife I know (Part 1)

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