Now, before I start, can I just say that I am under no illusions that my taste in TV (and in films and music for that matter) falls somewhere between awfully cheesy and positively dreadful. Just one glance at the contents of my iPod will get you to agree. I have everything from Britney Spears, S Club 7, Barry Manilow…all the way to the Masters of Cheese, Westlife.
But my husband is something else. A self-proclaimed music and film aficionado/guru, he looks down at my music and DVD collection with contempt and disdain. And yet, for all his snooty-nosed musings, he watches 2 TV shows that I think are worse than all my easy listening CDs combined.
As I type this, I am subjected to yet another rubbish episode of ‘Masters of Science Fiction’. I’ve never seen anything so utterly cringe-worthy in my entire life! These one-hour shows every Thursday evening on Bravo (need I say more?!?!) have the most ill-conceived, badly written and painfully shambolic scripts I have seen since Mission to Mars (don't even get me started on that one!).
Tonight’s episode is about a scientist who has developed these silver bird machines, who are supposed to uphold the delicate balance of the earth. So, like miniature Robocops, these creatures fly around the earth stinging the bad people with laser-like powers. And of course, just to add a bit of a twist (if you can call it that), the birds turn bad and go on a stinging spree.
Total and utter rubbish! Even my youngest niece can come up with a better story than that! Worse of all, my other half actually acknowledges that the show is crap, yet every week, we sit together and watch something even worse than Big Brother or I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here.
To top it all off, Sundays are dedicated to another Bravo TV masterpiece – ‘Dog The Bounty Hunter’. A whole day of this pretend cop and his family of equally dodgy characters is almost impossible to avoid. Dog (yep, that’s his name) owns a bail bonds company in Hawaii, and when a criminal goes on a runner, he finds them and brings them to justice – with a twist! He gets all gooey and gives unsolicited advice for these hardened criminals to mend their ways. Aaww shucks!
I think I’ll be sticking to listening to my cheese this weekend. No, I don’t think – I know.
Thursday, 22 November 2007
Saturday, 8 September 2007
Will the real Jo Malone Please Stand Up!
There has been a lot of brouhaha about Philippine lifestyle columnist Malu Fernandez. Her recently penned article in People Asia and The Manila Standard has generated so much outrage and outcry from OFWs the world over due to her racist, discriminatory and tasteless comments. Much has been said about the article, including blog sites asking for her resignation.
In Malu's article entitled, "Are you a stinky linky? Or do you smell like a divine divalicious babe?" (16 April 2007) she goes on a tirade of her awful experience of flying coach class on her way back from a holiday in Greece.
As a person and individual, she has every right to pen articles to express her misguided and delusional opinions. Mind you, If I could afford it, I too would fly Business or First Class all the time, but alas, not all of us are fortunate to have Ms Fernandez's hefty bank account.
However, I was terribly irked when someone who thinks of herself as a woman of the world starts talking utter rubbish! As a Jo Malone scent wearer, I was irritated when she wrote, and I quote,
In Malu's article entitled, "Are you a stinky linky? Or do you smell like a divine divalicious babe?" (16 April 2007) she goes on a tirade of her awful experience of flying coach class on her way back from a holiday in Greece.
As a person and individual, she has every right to pen articles to express her misguided and delusional opinions. Mind you, If I could afford it, I too would fly Business or First Class all the time, but alas, not all of us are fortunate to have Ms Fernandez's hefty bank account.
However, I was terribly irked when someone who thinks of herself as a woman of the world starts talking utter rubbish! As a Jo Malone scent wearer, I was irritated when she wrote, and I quote,
"...and oldest friend Samantha Eduque got me into Jo Malone and I haven’t stopped buying his scents."
Jo Malone is a woman, for Ms Fernandez's information. Surely someone as up her own back side as Ms Fernandez would know that. Any journalist/writer worth their salt would've done a bit of research. That's what Google is for. Maybe she should go to one of Jo Malone's stores here in the UK to get a bit of education (only if she can fly First Class, of course!)
It's a shame that Ms Fernandez is more interested in making pretentious and derogatory comments about people who keep the Philippine economy afloat than getting her facts straight. It's a good thing she only writes about frivolous topics like perfume and travel. God forbid she ever gets an assignment on real life, hard-hitting news.
It's a shame that Ms Fernandez is more interested in making pretentious and derogatory comments about people who keep the Philippine economy afloat than getting her facts straight. It's a good thing she only writes about frivolous topics like perfume and travel. God forbid she ever gets an assignment on real life, hard-hitting news.
Sunday, 26 August 2007
A Weekend With The Kids
I've been spending the last of the Bank Holiday weekend in Northampton with my friend, Joy, her partner and kids. It's a long drive from Manchester where I live, but I wanted to make the trip as we don't see each other very often. The weather has been glorious, and the local park we went to spend the afternoon was choc-a-block with families picnicking, screaming children and the strong smell of barbecued food was making me hungry.
Over the weekend, I've had the opportunity to do a bit of babysitting. Oh my goodness, it is totally shattering! The constant running around, telling off, trying to appease a moody kid...I don't know how millions and billions of parents all over the world do it. From tantrums to tucking into bed, every activity is a battle needing to be won.
In all the chaos, my friend eased in her role of mother as if it's the most natural thing in the world. And I really admire her, and mothers like her for such patience...and love.
I honestly don't know how I would cope. Being so used to a life without children to look after, the concept of looking after such precious souls is alien to me. And yet when I do the occasional babysitting duties for friends and see how precocious, full of wonder and innocent children are, I get a glimpse of what mothers must feel for their kids.
I may have the freedom of being able to do what I want, when I want, but I'm only too acutely aware that I'm missing out on a whole other world my friend Joy is fortunate enough to live in.
Over the weekend, I've had the opportunity to do a bit of babysitting. Oh my goodness, it is totally shattering! The constant running around, telling off, trying to appease a moody kid...I don't know how millions and billions of parents all over the world do it. From tantrums to tucking into bed, every activity is a battle needing to be won.
In all the chaos, my friend eased in her role of mother as if it's the most natural thing in the world. And I really admire her, and mothers like her for such patience...and love.
I honestly don't know how I would cope. Being so used to a life without children to look after, the concept of looking after such precious souls is alien to me. And yet when I do the occasional babysitting duties for friends and see how precocious, full of wonder and innocent children are, I get a glimpse of what mothers must feel for their kids.
I may have the freedom of being able to do what I want, when I want, but I'm only too acutely aware that I'm missing out on a whole other world my friend Joy is fortunate enough to live in.
Thursday, 16 August 2007
Old Friends, New Friends
Today, my hubby and I said our goodbyes to one of our very good friends.
As she made her way to Terminal 2 of Manchester International Airport, we wave sadly at her, knowing it may be some time before we see her again.
I've become used to this scene. It seems that one by one, our friends are moving on to pastures new. They take on new jobs, go home to their own country, and sometimes we simply lose touch.
At first, it was heart-breaking. Saying goodbye is never easy, and even with the best of intentions, you tend to lose touch, except perhaps during special occasions like birthdays and Christmas. Then after a while, you meet new people and develop new friendships, and one day, they too will move on elsewhere. It's the Circle of Life.
Sometimes I think, is everyone else moving on but me? I've been here a decade now and I've seen countless people come and go. I sometimes wonder what it would be like for me to move on, get another job in another city or even another country. I get excited just thinking about it and daydream of my 'new life'.
However, no matter how many times I think about it, I know this is where my life is - with my husband, in our humble abode, in Manchester. It's making a difference in this city, making a positive contribution in my local community and be a familiar face to Filipinos who have made Manchester home, if only for a few years as they pursue Masters and PhD degrees.
One day, I know I will retire to my homeland where I will enjoy the gorgeous white sand beaches, gloriously warm sunshine and gastronomic fares familiar to me. But until then, it's Manchester for me. And I'm going to make the most of what this city has to offer.
As she made her way to Terminal 2 of Manchester International Airport, we wave sadly at her, knowing it may be some time before we see her again.
I've become used to this scene. It seems that one by one, our friends are moving on to pastures new. They take on new jobs, go home to their own country, and sometimes we simply lose touch.
At first, it was heart-breaking. Saying goodbye is never easy, and even with the best of intentions, you tend to lose touch, except perhaps during special occasions like birthdays and Christmas. Then after a while, you meet new people and develop new friendships, and one day, they too will move on elsewhere. It's the Circle of Life.
Sometimes I think, is everyone else moving on but me? I've been here a decade now and I've seen countless people come and go. I sometimes wonder what it would be like for me to move on, get another job in another city or even another country. I get excited just thinking about it and daydream of my 'new life'.
However, no matter how many times I think about it, I know this is where my life is - with my husband, in our humble abode, in Manchester. It's making a difference in this city, making a positive contribution in my local community and be a familiar face to Filipinos who have made Manchester home, if only for a few years as they pursue Masters and PhD degrees.
One day, I know I will retire to my homeland where I will enjoy the gorgeous white sand beaches, gloriously warm sunshine and gastronomic fares familiar to me. But until then, it's Manchester for me. And I'm going to make the most of what this city has to offer.
Thursday, 19 July 2007
Nettles and Old Wives' Tales
I've recently come back from this year's Institutional Web Management Workshop held at University of York.
As from previous years, the event was excellent. There were old and new faces, good topics for discussion and it was a great event all around.
As from previous years, the event was excellent. There were old and new faces, good topics for discussion and it was a great event all around.
But if there's something I took away with me, it's that the best way to avoid getting stung by nettles is to grab them with full force and gusto. WHAT?!? I said the same myself in between fits of giggles. I almost gagged on my pizza!
Sitting in La Vecchia Scuola, a lovely Italian restaurant near the York Minster with the Manchester contingent, Keith from Salford regaled us with a tale of a time when his brother told him that the best way not to get stung by nettles is to grab a great bunch of them at the same time. According to Keith's brother, it works. Ouch! Either that or he was seriously winding Keith up. And no, I won't be trying grabbing onto nettles anytime soon.
Which brings me to the point of this blog. What old wives' tales have your dearly beloved tried to convince you was real, or something you practice today? Things like 'not eating bread crusts will give you curly hair' or 'If your left ear itches, someone is speaking ill of you'. Duh! Do people still believe in these things? If so, why on earth?
Answers on a postcard, please.
Answers on a postcard, please.
Saturday, 14 July 2007
Facebook Mania
It's amazing what a few years can achieve. I still vividly remember the summer of 1995. That was the first time I had internet access at home. And since then, the internet has featured significantly in my life. It has made me new friends, communicate quickly across continents, it's given me a career, but most importantly, the internet was instrumental in meeting my husband.
For those who are being born in the noughties, the internet has always existed. They don't know of a time when people relied on fax machines to communicate with people overseas, or to wholly rely on the travel agents at the high street to book holidays. Nowadays, it's incomprehensible not to be on the World Wide Web in one shape or form.
In recent years, we've seen the rise of Web 2.0 applications. Social networking sites, mash-ups and of course, blogging sites are rife in today's web experience. It took me a while to get blogging (partly because my life isn't all that exciting so I struggle to find something to blog about regularly!), but I have since discovered Facebook, and like hundreds of thousands of people, I am hooked.
I don't know what the big thing about Facebook is, really. Much like other social networking sites like My Space and Friendster, Facebook lets you add and search for friends, send messages, join groups and just mess about, really. If you look at it objectively, there's nothing special about Facebook, and yet it is the fastest growing social networking site in the UK.
Why is this? Maybe it's a combination of all the things you can do whilst on it. I love it when my 'Friends' list grows, when people write on my 'wall', and when someone sends me a random 'gift'. It's the feeling of community, of belonging somewhere, of knowing that someone out there considers you a friend, and realising that you can re-kindle long lost friendships.
In today's 'instant' culture and impersonal encounters, websites like Facebook allow its subscribers to simulate what we used to do before the internet - interact with each other face to face. And for someone like me who has lost touch with friends because I emigrated to the UK, Facebook is very welcome indeed.
For those who are being born in the noughties, the internet has always existed. They don't know of a time when people relied on fax machines to communicate with people overseas, or to wholly rely on the travel agents at the high street to book holidays. Nowadays, it's incomprehensible not to be on the World Wide Web in one shape or form.
In recent years, we've seen the rise of Web 2.0 applications. Social networking sites, mash-ups and of course, blogging sites are rife in today's web experience. It took me a while to get blogging (partly because my life isn't all that exciting so I struggle to find something to blog about regularly!), but I have since discovered Facebook, and like hundreds of thousands of people, I am hooked.
I don't know what the big thing about Facebook is, really. Much like other social networking sites like My Space and Friendster, Facebook lets you add and search for friends, send messages, join groups and just mess about, really. If you look at it objectively, there's nothing special about Facebook, and yet it is the fastest growing social networking site in the UK.
Why is this? Maybe it's a combination of all the things you can do whilst on it. I love it when my 'Friends' list grows, when people write on my 'wall', and when someone sends me a random 'gift'. It's the feeling of community, of belonging somewhere, of knowing that someone out there considers you a friend, and realising that you can re-kindle long lost friendships.
In today's 'instant' culture and impersonal encounters, websites like Facebook allow its subscribers to simulate what we used to do before the internet - interact with each other face to face. And for someone like me who has lost touch with friends because I emigrated to the UK, Facebook is very welcome indeed.
Saturday, 23 June 2007
Recapturing My Youth
Last weekend, the husband and I trekked down to
So alas, we arrive. Filled with anticipation, we queued with the throng of people already gathered in front of us. There was lively chatter, everyone excited and waiting patiently to get in through the gates. And only a few minutes later, we were in!
From afar, you could hear high pitched shrieks coming from those brave enough to go on the amusement rides. Husband and I look at each other and decide we're actually quite chicken and give the rides a miss. Looking further on, there are food stalls littered across the perimeter of the park selling substandard yet over-priced nosh, and an assortment of booths selling everything from medicines to official merchandise.
First thing we do is head for the O2 Blueroom, a special section of the park where O2 customers (like myself) get to chill out, relax, have a drink, watch bands play, but most of all, have clean toilet facilities with running water - the Holy Grail in these kinds of events. Husband plonks himself comfortably on a big white leather sofa, while I go to the bar and get us some drinks.
And just as we were settling down, the heavens open. And it pours down like there's no tomorrow. Like sad and lonely people, we sat glued to our soaking wet sofa as we got absolutely drenched. Everywhere you looked, people were either running for cover or creating makeshift raincoats out of carrier bags. The rest, just like us, just sat in the rain, eating soggy sandwiches from Sainsburys. We were having so much fun - and it was only 2pm.
When the rain eventually stopped, the husband and I looked at the schedule for the day, agreed to only go to the coolest, hippest, must-see acts and so made a beeline for the XFM tent. As we squeezed ourselves in, the smell of sweat, stale beer and even staler weed engulfed our nostrils.
Looking like a sardine tin overflowing with fish suffering from Attention Deficit Disorder, the tent was buzzing with pocked-marked teens, uber-cool yuppies and size 0 WAG-types who spend too much time in the tanning salon. We made our way (with much struggle) to get as close to the stage as possible, and as we got to about the fourth row from the front, I was gutted. I felt positively geriatric being surrounded by a sea of kids who looked like they were just born as I entered uni. All of a sudden, my youth seemed like a million years away.
The excitement reached boiling point as Calvin Harris entered the stage. The atmosphere was positively electric - this was going to be ace! But as the first song started, I found myself being kneed, trampled upon, shoved, poked and absolutely violated. Haven't any of these people ever heard of personal space?! Halfway though the second song, I simply had enough and the lovely husband (who by the way, didn't look any better) took pity on me and led me to the back, where the more sensible crowd milled about, enjoying the music without being assaulted. Even as Digitalism rocked the tent after Calvin, we decided we liked the music without being subject to actual bodily harm. After two hours, we had enough of the XFM tent and retreated to the O2 Blueroom. Back to comfortable seats, clean loos, and ice cold beer. Bliss!
At the end of it all, we were tired, hungry, and smelt positively awful. Half my toenails were dead and both looked worse for wear. And yet, we both agreed that it was one of the best things we’ve ever done together. As we made our way back to the hotel, we started making plans for the future…O2 Wireless Festival 2008 – One More Time.
Monday, 4 June 2007
It's My Way Or The Highway
Sometimes, I really think I am the cow from hell. While you probably will not come up with the same conclusion when you see just how angelic my features are (*cough*), if you knew the things that go around my head, you'll probably agree with me.
On Sunday, the other half kindly volunteered to mow our back garden. Yippee, I say to myself, at least I don't have to deal with that. Now I can concentrate on other things, like slobbing away in front of the telly, while His Royal Highness slaves away with the Flymo.
But as I sat down to watch the Coronation Street omnibus, I couldn't relax. My mind and my body were being drawn to the back garden. I tried to resist it for all of two minutes, and as I headed out of the house, I couldn't help but sigh - it looked like a 6-year old was let loose in my backyard. It was like a disaster at the hairdressers!
When HRH finally 'finished' the job, I thanked him for his efforts, but deep inside, I was itching to get the mower and strimmer to do the job all over again! Call me an ungrateful so-and-so, but there's a certain way I like things done. And if someone (and this is not just HRH) can't do it in the way I'd like to have something done, I'd rather do it myself, thank you very much!
Am I mean? Am I ungrateful? I can't help it sometimes, it's just the way I am. Because even in the most simple of things, I want things done well. An OK job is just not good enough.
Mohammed Ali once said: 'If I were a garbage man, I want to be the best garbage man there is.' - or something to that effect. I think the same principle should hold true to everyone.
Then again, maybe that's me expecting too much.
PS. And to clarify (before HRH gives me the cold shoulder), the other half is great with washing up and DIY. So see, he does have some redeeming factors.
On Sunday, the other half kindly volunteered to mow our back garden. Yippee, I say to myself, at least I don't have to deal with that. Now I can concentrate on other things, like slobbing away in front of the telly, while His Royal Highness slaves away with the Flymo.
But as I sat down to watch the Coronation Street omnibus, I couldn't relax. My mind and my body were being drawn to the back garden. I tried to resist it for all of two minutes, and as I headed out of the house, I couldn't help but sigh - it looked like a 6-year old was let loose in my backyard. It was like a disaster at the hairdressers!
When HRH finally 'finished' the job, I thanked him for his efforts, but deep inside, I was itching to get the mower and strimmer to do the job all over again! Call me an ungrateful so-and-so, but there's a certain way I like things done. And if someone (and this is not just HRH) can't do it in the way I'd like to have something done, I'd rather do it myself, thank you very much!
Am I mean? Am I ungrateful? I can't help it sometimes, it's just the way I am. Because even in the most simple of things, I want things done well. An OK job is just not good enough.
Mohammed Ali once said: 'If I were a garbage man, I want to be the best garbage man there is.' - or something to that effect. I think the same principle should hold true to everyone.
Then again, maybe that's me expecting too much.
PS. And to clarify (before HRH gives me the cold shoulder), the other half is great with washing up and DIY. So see, he does have some redeeming factors.
Monday, 28 May 2007
Enough of Big Brother
It's that time of the year again - Blooming Big Brother. Now on its eight season, this series promises to be more bizarre and mind-numbing than ever. Even after the scandal that beset the previous celebrity version of the of the show, Big Brother has maintained a loyal (if erratic) following.
For the life of me, I don't know why people spend hours and hours watching people do nothing. At least with a normal TV show, there's a plot, a developed storyline and interesting characters. With this kind of reality TV, where there is no goal apart from winning the prize money at whatever the cost, it all seems totally pointless.
This year, we have an all-famale house, and the last I hear, they're going to introduce a man into the picture. Wow, great! How very exciting indeed.
Unfortunately for me, everyone I come in contact with is watching the show. It's in the papers, on telly, in people's conversation, it's even on Facebook! I guess I'll just have to grin and bear it for the next 12 weeks. But if anyone comes over to me to have a natter - they'll have to talk to the hand!
For the life of me, I don't know why people spend hours and hours watching people do nothing. At least with a normal TV show, there's a plot, a developed storyline and interesting characters. With this kind of reality TV, where there is no goal apart from winning the prize money at whatever the cost, it all seems totally pointless.
This year, we have an all-famale house, and the last I hear, they're going to introduce a man into the picture. Wow, great! How very exciting indeed.
Unfortunately for me, everyone I come in contact with is watching the show. It's in the papers, on telly, in people's conversation, it's even on Facebook! I guess I'll just have to grin and bear it for the next 12 weeks. But if anyone comes over to me to have a natter - they'll have to talk to the hand!
Sunday, 29 April 2007
Big Decisions
Now before you get carried away, I must admit that the decision I have to come to is not life-changing. It's not about whether which route I need to take to lessen my carbon footprint, or whether I need to switch careers. Nevertheless, the decision I make is VERY important to me.
Want to know what it is? It's a choice between:
a top of the range Apple MacBook
Want to know what it is? It's a choice between:
a top of the range Apple MacBook
or the Louis Vuitton Segur MM Bag with matching wallet
For the techies among you, the MacBook wins hands down. For you, there is no question. However, if you are a fashionista follower, if you are one of those who wish they could have Colleen McLaughlin's handbag collection, know what it's like to get an exquisitely beautiful (if sinfully expensive) handbag like the Louis Vuitton Epi leather.What about if you're like me - a half and half? A techie who doesn't look like one, a WAG without the size 0 wardrobe nor the footballer partner?
If only I could get them both, my problem will be solved. But my bank account (or Mr Mancypino for that matter) will not allow such frivolous expenses. It'll have to be one or the other.
I'm stumped!
Thursday, 12 April 2007
Is That Summer I Feel?
Today, I cheered as I saw a wasp come into my office through the window beside my desk. I never thought I'd be so happy to see these otherwise annoying and dangerously deadly creatures, but eyeballing similar flying creatures can only mean one thing - summer's on its way! After many months of sniffles and thick coats, dark and dreary skies and the occasional snow storm, the welcoming scent of freshly cut grass and the sun shining brightly is well overdue!
I strimmed, mowed and raked our Amazon Forest of a back garden, and now it's nice a trimmed, ready for some lawnfeed. Perfect for some summer entertaining! Here's looking forward to a nice, long, hot summer. I'm sure I will regret saying that two months down the line when I'm roasting in the heat, wishing for winter to come and praying for the snow to come and rescue me from the sweltering weather.
Oh well, we're never happy with what we have, are we?
I strimmed, mowed and raked our Amazon Forest of a back garden, and now it's nice a trimmed, ready for some lawnfeed. Perfect for some summer entertaining! Here's looking forward to a nice, long, hot summer. I'm sure I will regret saying that two months down the line when I'm roasting in the heat, wishing for winter to come and praying for the snow to come and rescue me from the sweltering weather.
Oh well, we're never happy with what we have, are we?
Friday, 30 March 2007
That Friday Feeling
I don't know why, but I can't get motivated today. I feel like staying at home, in my most tatty, faded yet comfortable jim jams and veg out. Just writing this simple blog is taking every single bit of energy I can muster - and I'm even sitting down! It might be the weather, or it may be the fact that I have been going out after work practically every night this week. Not a good idea when you're getting on a bit like me.
I have quickly realised that I'm no longer in my 20's where partying 7 nights a week was normal. It seems that all those years of partying has taken its toll now that I am in my 30's. I can just about keep awake for last orders in my local pub. Gone are the days when I start the night out by having a few drinks in the pub/bar, then go off dancing the night away in a really cool club. The only club I go to now is my local bingo club - and even then I am pushed to stay past 9pm!
Oh the joys of life. When we're young, we struggle so hard to be grown up. Now that I'm heading towards 'the middle ages', I remember fondly the careless adventures of my youth. That's human nature, I suppose. Always looking for something you don't have.
I have quickly realised that I'm no longer in my 20's where partying 7 nights a week was normal. It seems that all those years of partying has taken its toll now that I am in my 30's. I can just about keep awake for last orders in my local pub. Gone are the days when I start the night out by having a few drinks in the pub/bar, then go off dancing the night away in a really cool club. The only club I go to now is my local bingo club - and even then I am pushed to stay past 9pm!
Oh the joys of life. When we're young, we struggle so hard to be grown up. Now that I'm heading towards 'the middle ages', I remember fondly the careless adventures of my youth. That's human nature, I suppose. Always looking for something you don't have.
Tuesday, 27 March 2007
The Curse of Battlestar Galactica
It’s another Tuesday night and once again, I have been relegated to the bedroom, while my other half sits in the living room, surround sound on full force, watching what I consider to be his mistress - Battlestar Galactica. For one hour, I am not allowed to wander down the stairs or say a word lest his majesty be terribly irate. And so I sit up here, surfing the net, listening to cheesy songs as I wait for those 60 long minutes to lapse til I can move freely around my own home.
Perverse it may seem, but I believe that it’s healthy for married couples to have time alone - so if that means I am banished to the top of the tower, as it were, I guess that’s a small price to pay for years of married bliss.
Perverse it may seem, but I believe that it’s healthy for married couples to have time alone - so if that means I am banished to the top of the tower, as it were, I guess that’s a small price to pay for years of married bliss.
Tuesday, 20 March 2007
I think I've been Englified
Today, I experienced the weirdest thing - I didn't feel like eating rice.
For a Filipino, this is almost an impossibility. Case in point: I have a Filipino friend who has been living in the UK for almost 7 years and she still eats rice everyday. She's never had a Sunday Roast (which is a shame, really - something I intend to rectify sharphish!) and pretty much eats Pinoy food everyday.
I, on the other hand, have the best of both worlds. I enjoy a regular helping of Filipino cuisine, but at the same time, I also eat Mexican, Italian, Swedish, Spanish and of course, British food on a regular basis. My husband and I love good food and eating out is one of our passions.
But no matter what exotic cuisine I may pop into my big gob, I still manage to squeeze freshly boiled rice (the white one - you know, the one that's bad for you!) into my regular diet.
However, in recent days, my desire to eat rice has been laclustre at best. I've started craving for potatoes. In all shapes and kinds. Chips, crisps, boiled, fried, oven baked, roasted, mashed...Even the other half is starting to wonder, when one evening, he suggested we have Kare Kare. And for the first time in my 30+ years on God's good earth, I didn't feel like Filipino food, or any food that you ate rice with for that matter.
I told him I wanted a chip butty. He almost fainted. Is there something wrong with me?
For a Filipino, this is almost an impossibility. Case in point: I have a Filipino friend who has been living in the UK for almost 7 years and she still eats rice everyday. She's never had a Sunday Roast (which is a shame, really - something I intend to rectify sharphish!) and pretty much eats Pinoy food everyday.
I, on the other hand, have the best of both worlds. I enjoy a regular helping of Filipino cuisine, but at the same time, I also eat Mexican, Italian, Swedish, Spanish and of course, British food on a regular basis. My husband and I love good food and eating out is one of our passions.
But no matter what exotic cuisine I may pop into my big gob, I still manage to squeeze freshly boiled rice (the white one - you know, the one that's bad for you!) into my regular diet.
However, in recent days, my desire to eat rice has been laclustre at best. I've started craving for potatoes. In all shapes and kinds. Chips, crisps, boiled, fried, oven baked, roasted, mashed...Even the other half is starting to wonder, when one evening, he suggested we have Kare Kare. And for the first time in my 30+ years on God's good earth, I didn't feel like Filipino food, or any food that you ate rice with for that matter.
I told him I wanted a chip butty. He almost fainted. Is there something wrong with me?
Tuesday, 20 February 2007
The Magic Number
The number 8 is significant in particular cultures because it symbolises luck and prosperity. Although I don't ascribe to such baseless superstitions nowadays, I did when I was younger. Silly old me actually believed that if I had the number 8 in my chat handle, car registration or username, that good luck will follow me wherever I went. How naive I was then! Now I know that there's no such thing as luck - if you want prosperity and success, you'll have to work for it. And no amount of number 8s will change that reality.
I'm focussing on the number 8 because today, my husband and I celebrate 8 years of married bliss. Well, the fact that we haven't strangled each other all this time is a major achievement! Kidding aside, however, I know that I am very fortunate to have found someone who has willingly shared his life with me - and quite frankly, actually doesn't mind sharing my life with him at all!
In a world where marriages come and go, where divorce seems to be the norm (government and think-tank statistics tell us this) and infidelity seems somehow acceptable, I'm grateful for the partnership I have with my other half. It's not a walk in the park, mind you. As a matter of fact, marriage is the biggest commitment I have ever made in my life. It's the reason I left the comforts and familiarity of my homeland and everything that comes with it. But what dividends I gained in return! I can't imagine a life different from what I have now - well, maybe with the exception of adding more to my designer handbag collection, but apart from that, I'm sorted, thank you very much.
Here's looking forward to 8 more years and 8 more after that and 8 more...
I'm focussing on the number 8 because today, my husband and I celebrate 8 years of married bliss. Well, the fact that we haven't strangled each other all this time is a major achievement! Kidding aside, however, I know that I am very fortunate to have found someone who has willingly shared his life with me - and quite frankly, actually doesn't mind sharing my life with him at all!
In a world where marriages come and go, where divorce seems to be the norm (government and think-tank statistics tell us this) and infidelity seems somehow acceptable, I'm grateful for the partnership I have with my other half. It's not a walk in the park, mind you. As a matter of fact, marriage is the biggest commitment I have ever made in my life. It's the reason I left the comforts and familiarity of my homeland and everything that comes with it. But what dividends I gained in return! I can't imagine a life different from what I have now - well, maybe with the exception of adding more to my designer handbag collection, but apart from that, I'm sorted, thank you very much.
Here's looking forward to 8 more years and 8 more after that and 8 more...
Saturday, 13 January 2007
January Blues
All the turkey's been eaten and presents have been opened. Credit cards are charged to the max and everyone's back in work.
January sucks, doesn't it? Instead of an introduction, it's more of an anti-climax. January reminds me of that awful film 'Mission to Mars'. The first hour and a half was exciting, much like the buzz we all get when Christmas is coming up. Then, Gary Sinise ruins it all by deciding he wanted to be with the aliens and live happily ever after. That's what January's like - the month that ruins Christmas.
Everyone's skint, the weather is atrocious (as I look out the window writing this, the wind is howling and it's pouring down in flood-like proportions), and everyone's poorly. My office building is filled with people sniffling, coughing, heaving. Workstations look like mini chemists, filled with an assortment of over the counter medication.
I wish it was February.
January sucks, doesn't it? Instead of an introduction, it's more of an anti-climax. January reminds me of that awful film 'Mission to Mars'. The first hour and a half was exciting, much like the buzz we all get when Christmas is coming up. Then, Gary Sinise ruins it all by deciding he wanted to be with the aliens and live happily ever after. That's what January's like - the month that ruins Christmas.
Everyone's skint, the weather is atrocious (as I look out the window writing this, the wind is howling and it's pouring down in flood-like proportions), and everyone's poorly. My office building is filled with people sniffling, coughing, heaving. Workstations look like mini chemists, filled with an assortment of over the counter medication.
I wish it was February.
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