Organic-Ally

Everything in the house belongs to 'Mum and Dad'. But the car is 'Daddy's car'. Somehow I can never think of the car as 'our car'. It's long, it's wide, it's a gas guzzler. It also sits on our front drive for most of the week doing precious little. There's the weekly shop and the airport run for our hordes of visiting relatives ... well they do seem to visit all at the same time. When son was in a push-chair, I pushed him everywhere. Then he started school and I found myself driving everywhere, and putting on weight, and feeling a lot less fit. So I've started walking every where again. I feel much fitter and I get to meet more people, talking and chatting with my neighbours, etc. I hate 'Daddy's car' and avoid driving it as much as possible. I have not driven it through a width restriction as I am almost certain that I would bash the mirror in. Being rather short, I have the seat pushed up right to the front to reach the peda

Husband and I went to see our accountant last week to sort out our tax. I'm a bit of what Singaporeans would call 'sua-ku', meaning 'mountain tortoise' with a very limited view of what life is all about. I don't often travel on the Tube now. (I used to have to Tube and bus to and from work. Tedium.) The thing that struck me was the sheer number of people, especially young people, walking about with their ears glued to a mobile phone. OK, a mobile phone glued to their ears, maybe. 'How soon,' I asked,'would we have babies born with mobile phones stuck to their ears?' 'Don't be silly,' said husband. 'You know that is never going to happen. What might happen is that they would be born with ears modified to fit with the shape of the phone.' 'Ha-ha,' and a few minutes later, 'What about babies born with elbows crooked to keep their phones in place?' People do not sit and wait any more. As soon as they sit down, out

After my last post I realized that some readers might think that I am really old-fashioned. What do you expect but for 13-year-old girls to be rowdy? I don't know about that. I wrote this next section in my son's school newsletter recently: ======= As I mentioned books for mothers last week, I should also mention a very good book for both mothers and fathers: Raising Boys by Steve Biddulph. Biddulph divides boyhood into three parts. Age zero to six: the boy ‘belongs’ to the mother; age six to thirteen: their father becomes the ‘hero’; from thirteen onwards, with the second surge in testosterone, boys wish to ‘declare their independence’ and look for influences outside the home. This division makes a lot of sense to me as a social anthropologist. We know in many ‘pre-modern’ societies, boys reaching puberty are taken away to undergo special tutelage by their fathers (and often mothers’ brothers). They go through a stage of ‘liminality’, of feeling ‘between and betwixt’. Then, w

Been feeling a bit down with the cold. Husband has been working the weekends. Son has got a golf lesson to attend. So we decided to eat at the restaurant where the golf lesson was taking place. For the first half hour we could not hear ourselves think, let alone talk. A few metres from us were a group of 14 to 16 young girls at a birthday celebration. They were talking so loudly -- you would think it was a hen night party -- with the birthday girl's brother and parents looking on. Shrieks, screams, loud raucous laughter. Noise. The parents looked on and even joined in conversation, sometimes shouting across the table. I stared and caught the attention of one young girl, but she pretended that she didn't see me. Then I caught the eye of another diner and he shook his head in disgust. Our meal at this otherwise good restaurant was ruined. Girl's father came back with a bin liner of birthday presents. Girl opened the presents in turn. I saw a card which declared that it was he

Finally, the new structure is 'sorted' and put in place. I hope customers are happy with this. I have 'agonized' over this for some time as you can see here . Occasionally I still get the odd combination of purchases that make the postage unfair to either the customer or myself. Thankfully, these are few and far between. Back to Organic-Ally .

The past few weeks went by in a bit of a whirl. I spent a lot of time looking through someone's doctoral thesis. His PhD and career depended on my input, so I felt I needed to give it some attention. Which meant a lot of other work could not be done. Including setting up the new P&P system for the Organic-Ally website. Never mind, things are 'slowing down' a little. It is less of a 'blur' now. Back to Organic-Ally .

It's been some time now since the new Royal Mail postage charges came into effect . According to their publicity, "over 80% of all mail will cost the same or less to send". Is it any surprise that over 80% of my mail to customers now cost more, quite a bit more, largely because they now fall into the 'Large Letter' (minimum 44p) or 'Packet' (minimum 100p) category even though something may weigh very little. I have had to stump up higher postage -- or 'post-rage' as I accidentally typed! I run a 'happy' business. I am happy that Organic-Ally sells only what I believe to be earth-friendly goods made in people-friendly environments. Customers are happy and they write to tell me how wonderful these goods (reusable hankies, cosmetic pads, gift bags, string bags, etc) are. My son is happy that Mum is working from home and is there to pick him up from school. And husband is happy that ... well ... husband is happy that I am happy. This new posta

It makes me feel good whenever I read of someone else in the press sharing my point of view. The title refers to a column by Gerard Baker who is basically saying what I said in a previous post . Baker's full article can be found here . Back to Organic-Ally .

At one point I was hoping to make my name as the social anthropologist to make the study of 'anthropology of junk' fashionable. Yes, people will say at my funeral, 'She will be remembered for her rubbish.' As a mother, though, how does one respond to a six-year-old who is convinced that he is 'rubbish'? Son was clearly distressed when I picked him up yesterday. The Form was preparing for a football match against another school. My son isn't any good at kicking a ball. Offers to start him on lessons (like many of his classmates have done) were turned down. He was just not keen on football. The school requires him not only to play football, but in inter-school matches as well. He was not a happy bunny. Today they were supposed to have a first football lesson with the Games Master (or whatever his title should be). I was dreading the tears that would greet me at the school gates. We did think perhaps he should impress on the Games Master that he is utter rubbis

Really pleased to read this piece 'Organic milk is healthier, scientists say' in The Times . My husband and I were just mulling over how my hayfever this year has been 'so good'. Apart from three really bad days, it has been tolerable. We don't know how much this is down to our 'detox' in the last six to seven years switching to organic food where possible. Back to Organic-Ally .

Our church missionary to Spain was bringing a group of young Spanish people to the UK and we were asked to provide accommodation for them. I had refrained from offering because I knew we were going to be just back from a trip and there will be lots of unpacking, laundry, cleaning, etc. But husband agreed when approached ('cornered'?) by the minister's wife. Our two young Spanish lads, the only boys in the team, came on Wednesday and left yesterday. They were no trouble at all and now I miss them. (I say 'lads' and 'boys' ... they are in their early 20s. Yeah, husband and I are well old enough to be their parents.) Though speaking little English (which was one of the reasons they are visiting the UK), we managed to communicate adequately, if slowly. They left early each morning and let themselves in whenever. On the first morning they were so shy they did not dare eat anything more than a bowl of cereal. On the second morning they learned to use the toaster a

Our six-year-old son told us early this morning what he had been mulling over overnight: "There is no right in doing wrong and there is no wrong in doing right." We don’t know how he comes up with thoughts like this, but he did. It appears that he was pondering the relationship between right and wrong and he came up with this new (to us at least) ‘thought for the day’. His thought (maxim?) reminds me of Pascal’s wager : You may believe in God, and if God exists, you go to heaven: your gain is infinite. You may believe in God, and if God doesn't exist, your loss is finite and therefore negligible. Or: You may not believe in God, and if God doesn't exist, your gain is finite and therefore negligible. You may not believe in God, and if God exists, you will go to hell: your loss is infinite. Likewise I could apply son’s formulation to the environment. Some people still insist: show me proof that my gas-guzzling habits (eg) are having a negative impact and I would start do

There's been a lot of debate in Singapore in the last few weeks about how Singaporeans do not speak English properly. We speak a brand of Chinese-tinged English called 'Singlish' which is basically English spoken with a Chinese dialect (Hokkien) grammar. I don't speak Singlish very well as I cannot speak Hokkien and so do not have Hokkien grammar to begin with (it's slightly different from Mandarin grammar, I believe). While I speak English quite well (I write it even better), what stumps me are the idiomatic phrases which I tend to confuse with Chinese idioms. 'Green with anger'. That's a new one. It's me being green and being diligent in the 3Rs -- reduce, reuse, recycle. It's me being angry that someone saw fit to walk onto my drive, removed the cardboard boxes in my green recycling box, dumped the cardboard boxes on my drive and walked off with my green box. Yes, the audacity of it! This is the SECOND time in less than three months that our g

I don't usually get to read much of what is printed in the papers (when we do buy the papers), but there has been some interesting 'organic news' this last week or so. I was delighted to read one journalist's view on Why we should buy organic milk . Jane Wheatley says 'It makes me furious to see two litres selling for the “bargain” price of 65p in my local corner shop.' 'It’s not a bargain at all; it comes at a terrible cost to farmers and to the cows that are endlessly bred, pumped, primed and medicated for higher yields in an effort to reduce the gap between the price the farmer gets for his milk — around 18p a litre — and what it costs to produce it — about 21p. ' We have been very blessed in being able to have bottled organic milk delivered to us once a week. Sadly our fridge can only take so many standing bottles and we need to supplement these most weeks with store-bought organic milk. But we do buy it from the supermarket chain that this report hi

Yesterday was Speech Day at son's school. Son was joyous that he had won -- second year running -- the 'Attainment Prize' for his Form. Husband and I went in a bit later than most other parents although we were not late. The church where this took place was quite full. We were sitting second row from the back. The Headmaster came round and said, 'Like your hat,' to which I politely muttered 'Thanks'. I think he was just checking my presence as he called me up with a few other ladies to accept bouquets for the work we do for the school community. (I organize fund-raising projects.) It was an embarrassing walk right from the back of the church to the very front. I was thinking, 'Hmm, the last time I did this was at my wedding!' Later on, husband quizzed son, 'Why is it that you've got a prize, and mum has got a 'prize' but I haven't got a prize?' Son, without hesitation, 'Of course you've got a prize. You've got a pr

I was just entering the shopping precinct when I realised that a couple of guys ahead of me were fighting, with two appearing in support. People stopped to stare, but only one -- the guy in an ill-fitting suit who had earlier crossed a pedestrian crossing with me -- went forward, held out his hand and told them calmly and firmly to 'break it up'. He appeared to be so casual, so cool, as if he had broken up many fights before. I guess at six-foot-something he was not in awe of the two smaller men fighting. One was a dark-haired Chinese and the other a very blond younger man. It looked like things had quietened down as I walked on. I saw a couple of security guards for the shopping centre outside which this was taking place and told them. Obviously as the fight was 'outside' the building itself, it was not really their responsibility. Nevertheless they went to investigate. I walked on a bit, stopped, turned and had a look. The guys were at each other again. I decided that

Wednesday morning: Mum of son's mate stopped me to ask if son was OK with what she felt was a miserly show of a party bag. They had included a note to explain that instead of filling the bag with 'more toys', they had given the money saved to a boy they support in Africa through a charity. The amount given is enough to buy the boy a year of education. What a good idea, I thought. Was my son bothered? Did he complain that there were no expensive toys in his party bag? Or colour pencils? Finger puppets? Balloons? Whistle? Not at all. He was pleased that he had sweets that he normally does not get from us. (And he's going through them very, very slowly.) Compare that to the previous party where he was given a lot of goodies, including a tamagotchi (or whatever you call it). Unfortunately the tamagotchi does not work despite our putting two expensive LR44 batteries in it and you can imagine the frustration caused. Moral of the story: more expensive gifts do not necessarily

Hayfever bad over last weekend. It was so bad last Friday I used up all my hankies (could not turn them around quickly enough). Even borrowed some of my son's old hankies. When even these ran out, I had to resort to paper. Big mistake. Nose was already pink from constant pressure of nose-blowing. Within minutes of using paper, nose turned a bright red. It was painful and I had to take to bed. Sunday morning was still bad and I had to take to bed instead of going to church. Monday morning, met my ladies for prayer as usual and they prayed for some relief for me. Found myself saying, 'It's not that bad because I know it's not going to last forever.' Have been trying a new regime now for the week: (1) wipe nose with soft cloth hankie (organic cotton of course), (2) smear Vaseline all over nose area to prevent chafing and inside nostrils to trap pollen, and (3) slick on some Vicks Vapourub if necessary to clear the air channels. High pollen count in the last few days bu

Following from last post: my son has just received a birthday 'post-invitation'. We'd be invited, made our responses and now the map to get to the venue was given. On it we've been told, the birthday boy is 'equally happy' to receive £2 towards a collective present. So it's confirmed: we have started a trend. Yay! If you've done something like this, or plan to, do share your experience with us so we can compare notes. Thank you. Back to Organic-Ally .

It is a cliche. (Sorry I haven't learned how to put the accents in.) But we learned this lesson in a different way recently. It was my son's sixth birthday. He is allowed a party on alternate birthdays. My rationale is 'us Chinese don't celebrate birthdays'. We made it special for him last year by taking him and a mate to his favourite theme park. The year previous to that, I went to a lot of trouble to organize a party with an entertainer, healthy food (as if children care!), nice party bags, and even issued parking coupons to allow parents to park on our road. A friend was on 'traffic warden watch' as the permit does not kick in for 15 minutes after they arrived. Otherwise I would have had to give each parent an extra parking coupon at £1.50 each. I decided to be, uhm, miserly. Son disappeared into the kitchen as soon as the entertainer began and kept away for much of the party. He was quite overwhelmed. I toughed it out for two hours and then sent the gue