Organic-Ally

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

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. I

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" apar

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 go

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

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. Back to Organic-Ally . Become our fan on Facebook .

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 thi

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 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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No 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

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