Organic-Ally

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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." "

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!

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

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

The relevant link from the Telegraph : Ben Kinsella murder: why gang members choose loyalty to each other over family Allow me to highlight a few extracts. The emphases are mine: ''Members are usually from dysfunctional families and broken homes,'' he says. They are failures at school who end up playing truant at an early age and joining groups. From around 11 they join gangs and these become alternative families. But they are ruled by brutal discipline that spills over into extreme violence.'' ''The majority, like Michael Alleyne, come from wildly fractured families - often they are the offspring of single mothers - for whom the gang becomes a surrogate family,'' believes Peter Andrews, author of ''Britain's Gang Culture.'' Often membership, he explains, grants status. ''But it's more than that. It offers an extended family with all the fierce, loyal protection that exists within blood families - something few

I was not at all surprised to read this article: Councils spend £50m a year translating documents no-one reads Just look a this: "Haringey translated into Albanian, Kurdish and Somali a leaflet for recommending council staff for internal awards. Only 12 people ever viewed the documents." It reads as though this leaflet is for council staff. If council staff cannot read English, then surely they should not be employed by the council at all. What an utter waste of money! Whilst people might speak a language, it does not always mean that they are able to read the language just as well. Also, the councils assume that people have free access to computers and internet. As this is not the case, the headline here is also misleading (let's call a spade a spade). While I am not terribly fond of Ms Hazel Blears her advice to councils to "think twice before translating documents" makes sense. This is a version of my letter sent to Times (the newspaper) and published on 13t