So rang the refrain of the England song for the Euro 1996 football tournament signifying the 30 years of waiting since the English national team had won a competition - the World Cup in 1966. Tomorrow will mark an anniversary for another nation, with the sweat of sporting exertion being replaced by the blood of war - it will have been 30 years since the Fall of Saigon ended Vietnam's civil war on the 30th April 1975.
The official line of the Vietnamese communist government is that the date marks the 'liberation' of South Vietnam from democratic powers and the unification of the nation under the umbrella of communism. For those who fought against Ho Chi Minh's North Vietnamese communist guerillas to keep their families and themselves in the free democratic society of South Vietnam, this date signified the end of their war and lives as they knew it. Most tried to run to escape retribution by the communist victors but many were caught and sent to so-called 're-education' camps, only to be imprisoned, some never to return home.
This desperation to evade punishment and discrimination plus the hardships brought by communist rule whereby the authorities centralised all resources (zealously implementing skewed communist policy which would stall the country's economic development through mis-management and corruption for years), led many to flee and take their chances on the open seas, hence becoming known internationally as the Vietnamese 'Boat People'.
In recent years following the failure of communist economic policy, there has been a more open attitude to western investment and a turn towards capitalism, plus tourism provides a significant contribution to the economy. These changes may seem hopeful but political censorship, religious oppression and the running of a corrupt dictatorial regime (which has squandered resources leading to the under-development of the country) means life remains hard for those still there, whilst most who left remain in self-imposed exile.
I have family in both these categories and for South Vietnamese such as us, this anniversary most definitely represents 30 years of a communist regime which has only caused pain, suffering and the separation of family members alive and dead. Political refugees that we are, it is the end of this corrupt communist regime which we desire and the return of our own free nation. Some commentators talk optimistically of some kind of reconciliation as the regime slowly evolves to a more open western-embracing government.
However, the existence of oppression, censorship and corruption still means suffering for those remaining there, whilst the scars of past ordeals means reconciliation with the same regime which inflicted them is unthinkable for most of the South Vietnamese in political exile. To forgive is nigh impossible and to forget is to demean the huge human suffering of the past and present.
29.4.05
4.4.05
Papal Pass
With Pope John Paul II's passing on Saturday night, the world has lost not only a religious figurehead, but a remarkable man who had true humanity in his heart. He will be mourned not only by Catholics worldwide, but by a wide spectrum of people who hold this Pope in such high regard for his tireless international humanitarian work.
Not everybody agreed with his uncompromising moral teachings, especially regarding contraception, his views on homosexuals and the place of women in society (whom he wrote should naturally aspire to motherhood). Nonetheless, he held universal respect for his beliefs in humanity and the unity of the world which saw him travel across the globe to countries stricken by war and poverty amongst other socio-political problems.
The widely held esteem for him is shown not only by the numbers of pilgrims, but non-Catholics alike, flocking to Rome to pay their respects (a logistical nightmare for the Italian authorities). Most of the world's leaders will also be present for his funeral in a few days' time, to see off this moral crusader who implored them to seek peaceful remedies to their conflicts. The world has lost a true spiritual leader - not only in the religious sense, but also in the humanist sense.
R.I.P Pope John Paul II 18/05/1920 - 02/04/2005
Not everybody agreed with his uncompromising moral teachings, especially regarding contraception, his views on homosexuals and the place of women in society (whom he wrote should naturally aspire to motherhood). Nonetheless, he held universal respect for his beliefs in humanity and the unity of the world which saw him travel across the globe to countries stricken by war and poverty amongst other socio-political problems.
The widely held esteem for him is shown not only by the numbers of pilgrims, but non-Catholics alike, flocking to Rome to pay their respects (a logistical nightmare for the Italian authorities). Most of the world's leaders will also be present for his funeral in a few days' time, to see off this moral crusader who implored them to seek peaceful remedies to their conflicts. The world has lost a true spiritual leader - not only in the religious sense, but also in the humanist sense.
R.I.P Pope John Paul II 18/05/1920 - 02/04/2005
22.3.05
Weather Or Not
Spring is officially here and true to form, the British weather turned warm at the weekend only for it to be wetter than a whale's blowhole today. That, and our recent arctic blast means the climate for our corner of the world remains as schizophrenic as ever, although pan-Europe there has been unusual weather recently (global warming/environmental degradation anyone?).
However, the clocks revert to BST (British Summer Time) this Sunday which allows more daylight and with lengthening days, more time for boys and girls to spend out at play amongst the bars, pubs and parks of Londinium Town - plus it's Easter bank holiday weekend. So the outlook is definitely brighter (whatever the weather decides to do).
However, the clocks revert to BST (British Summer Time) this Sunday which allows more daylight and with lengthening days, more time for boys and girls to spend out at play amongst the bars, pubs and parks of Londinium Town - plus it's Easter bank holiday weekend. So the outlook is definitely brighter (whatever the weather decides to do).
16.3.05
State Of Contagion
It seems to be the time of year that various strains of flu and the common cold are circulating amongst the masses. At home and work people are coughing and hacking, plus there are plentiful virus-rich sneezes circulating the public domain (like the one which shot into my airspace courtesy of a woman sitting next to me on the tube last week, and to which I attribute my current sore throat and phlegmy cough). The state of the nation is officially: ILL.
It's almost party-time for viruses with ill people struggling into work dousing others with their abundance of contagion on the transport system and at the workplace. The old Catch-22 situation of knowing you're ill but not feeling so bad that you could take a day off (maybe because you skived one recently following that heavy mid-week drinking session?). So you struggle into work coughing and sneezing whilst Mr and Mrs Virus get to perpetuate their little viral debilitations around train carriages, buses and in offices.
Perhaps we should start wearing those surgical masks which people in Hong Kong and China were wearing during the Sars outbreak over there - it would have saved me from that tube sneeze last week, if not from looking like a commuting extra from ER.
It's almost party-time for viruses with ill people struggling into work dousing others with their abundance of contagion on the transport system and at the workplace. The old Catch-22 situation of knowing you're ill but not feeling so bad that you could take a day off (maybe because you skived one recently following that heavy mid-week drinking session?). So you struggle into work coughing and sneezing whilst Mr and Mrs Virus get to perpetuate their little viral debilitations around train carriages, buses and in offices.
Perhaps we should start wearing those surgical masks which people in Hong Kong and China were wearing during the Sars outbreak over there - it would have saved me from that tube sneeze last week, if not from looking like a commuting extra from ER.
2.3.05
Cold Cold Music
It's so COLD - not an excuse for a lack of productivity (at work, blogging or otherwise) but I'm writing this post one-handed with the other keeping warm under my armpit. I have the feeling that the people who set the air-conditioning in my office building have the heat regulatory systems of penguins because they seem to think it's too hot.
Went to visit my musician friend JM yesterday and his wife and baby daughter to see how they all were. He told me about some of his latest work which involves doing some stuff for Vital Arts, a kind of arts charity set up within the NHS (National Health Service) Trust, whereby he has a 12 week residency at a central London hospital. They're paying him to go in and play music for a few hours each week in various hospital departments including the chemotherapy and the dialysis wards. This makes sense as these patients have to sit still for long periods of time whilst they're being treated for illnesses which they have already acknowledged, so they actually appreciate some kind of diversion.
What isn't so understandable is when he was sent to play in the room for women awaiting the results of their mammograms. Sure, the intention was to soothe them with some relaxing live music, but the reality is that these women were in a small room fretfully waiting to see if those lumps in their breasts were malignant tumours. Probably the last thing they wanted was some musician sitting in the corner playing some tune, no matter how soothing. You'd have thought that some member of the hospital management might have considered this.
These people need at least some privacy in their heads, if forcibly made to wait in a room full of strangers. So it's obvious how well a male sitarist trying to play discreetly in the corner of a small room full of anxious women waiting to see if they had breast cancer went down - one of JM's more thankless gigs and the poor guy was only doing his job. He received a few terse comments but the only way the frosty situation could have got any worse was if he'd played Monty Python's 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life' - at least he wouldn't have been too far away from the A&E (Accident & Emergency) department.
Went to visit my musician friend JM yesterday and his wife and baby daughter to see how they all were. He told me about some of his latest work which involves doing some stuff for Vital Arts, a kind of arts charity set up within the NHS (National Health Service) Trust, whereby he has a 12 week residency at a central London hospital. They're paying him to go in and play music for a few hours each week in various hospital departments including the chemotherapy and the dialysis wards. This makes sense as these patients have to sit still for long periods of time whilst they're being treated for illnesses which they have already acknowledged, so they actually appreciate some kind of diversion.
What isn't so understandable is when he was sent to play in the room for women awaiting the results of their mammograms. Sure, the intention was to soothe them with some relaxing live music, but the reality is that these women were in a small room fretfully waiting to see if those lumps in their breasts were malignant tumours. Probably the last thing they wanted was some musician sitting in the corner playing some tune, no matter how soothing. You'd have thought that some member of the hospital management might have considered this.
These people need at least some privacy in their heads, if forcibly made to wait in a room full of strangers. So it's obvious how well a male sitarist trying to play discreetly in the corner of a small room full of anxious women waiting to see if they had breast cancer went down - one of JM's more thankless gigs and the poor guy was only doing his job. He received a few terse comments but the only way the frosty situation could have got any worse was if he'd played Monty Python's 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life' - at least he wouldn't have been too far away from the A&E (Accident & Emergency) department.
25.2.05
In The Grip
So Winter's finally got into gear over here following what UK weather forecasters have described as the warmest January in 15 years. Suddenly it's gone all arctic from this pretty mild start to the year, apparently due to a system of high pressure sitting over northern Europe and Russia. Woke up this morning to find that everything seemed to have a light sprinkling of castor sugar - an effect snow has of making things look more interesting that I even did a double take at a dog turd on the pavement (or was it because I was taking extra care not to fall foul of undercover canine treachery?).
No thoughts of making any epic dash for the bus this morning given slippery conditions, though a little jog might have warmed me up against the wind-chill factor. Froze my hand off on the tube holding onto a pole whilst standing up in the carriage aisle - my tube goes overland a few stops before it reaches my underground station but even so, those poles must be connected to something outside the train for them to conduct that much frost-bite induced pain.
So maybe we can look forward to a White Easter - the way the weather is these days I wouldn't be too surprised. Climate change is definitely our doing and possibly our ultimate undoing. There can only be so much abuse the planet can take before the damage is irreparable and no amount of political posturing and bickering at world summits will be able to prevent this. It's about time the World took responsibility and the so called leading industrialised nations which make up G8 should be showing the way.
Instead of merely paying lip-service to the public about these issues whilst remaining chiefly concerned about economic policy, these governments need to assemble structured plans of action as each day brings yet more evidence of the harm we are doing to our environment.
No thoughts of making any epic dash for the bus this morning given slippery conditions, though a little jog might have warmed me up against the wind-chill factor. Froze my hand off on the tube holding onto a pole whilst standing up in the carriage aisle - my tube goes overland a few stops before it reaches my underground station but even so, those poles must be connected to something outside the train for them to conduct that much frost-bite induced pain.
So maybe we can look forward to a White Easter - the way the weather is these days I wouldn't be too surprised. Climate change is definitely our doing and possibly our ultimate undoing. There can only be so much abuse the planet can take before the damage is irreparable and no amount of political posturing and bickering at world summits will be able to prevent this. It's about time the World took responsibility and the so called leading industrialised nations which make up G8 should be showing the way.
Instead of merely paying lip-service to the public about these issues whilst remaining chiefly concerned about economic policy, these governments need to assemble structured plans of action as each day brings yet more evidence of the harm we are doing to our environment.
21.2.05
Crashing The Gonzo Gates
Bequeathing us the form of journalism he developed during the 60s and 70s known as gonzo (which entails a cocktail of fact and fiction with elements of the real or imaginary consumption of drugs and/or alcohol), Hunter S Thompson took his life on Sunday evening at his home in Colorado with a gunshot to the head. Since then the tributes have been flowing for this colourful, hard living exponent of his own creation - the original gonzo hack. He summed up his own philosophy succinctly: "I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence or insanity to anyone but they always worked for me." A true maverick, he once rode with the Hell's Angels then had a spectacular falling out with them (which spawned his first major book 'Hell's Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga', in 1967), and kept a peacock as a guard-dog.
His style was brought to a modern audience by Terry Gilliam's 1998 film of his best known work 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas', starring Johnny Depp as himself. Beneath the drug and alcohol haze, he was a sane and astute moral commentator who never minced his words where politicians were concerned - he was known to be opposed to the re-election of George (W) Bush, describing a consecutive term in typical fashion as, "four more years of syphilis." An inspiration to writers worldwide desperate to follow in his free-wheeling path, Hunter S Thompson leaves them to mourn the passing of their gonzo Godfather. Some of the more anarchic moments in his raucous life can only be imagined from his observation that, "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."
However, a more fitting epitaph for this literary champion of counter-culture is his assertion:
zzzzzzzz"Some may never live, but the crazy never die."
R.I.P Hunter Stockton Thompson 18/07/1937 - 20/02/2005
His style was brought to a modern audience by Terry Gilliam's 1998 film of his best known work 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas', starring Johnny Depp as himself. Beneath the drug and alcohol haze, he was a sane and astute moral commentator who never minced his words where politicians were concerned - he was known to be opposed to the re-election of George (W) Bush, describing a consecutive term in typical fashion as, "four more years of syphilis." An inspiration to writers worldwide desperate to follow in his free-wheeling path, Hunter S Thompson leaves them to mourn the passing of their gonzo Godfather. Some of the more anarchic moments in his raucous life can only be imagined from his observation that, "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."
However, a more fitting epitaph for this literary champion of counter-culture is his assertion:
zzzzzzzz"Some may never live, but the crazy never die."
R.I.P Hunter Stockton Thompson 18/07/1937 - 20/02/2005
18.2.05
A Wonky Chinese Experience
Met my friend Learo after work yesterday for a few beers and a couple of games of pool at The Black Horse pub off Oxford Street. It's not far from a few English language schools so you get a good mix in there of foreign students, after-work drinkers and shoppers ducking in for a bit of respite from the hordes on Oxford Street. When we meet for a drink we usually go for something to eat in Chinatown afterwards; well, we've made it a mission to eat in all of the restaurants there in an act of research and to satisfy our own culinary curiosity (if not our waistlines). Quite a mission actually given the speed with which restaurants fold and new ones spring up there.
Our traditional fuelling station was that Chinatown institution, Wong Kei (Wonky as pronounced by a waiter I overheard answering the phone once) - a restaurant of legendary status for the slapdash manner of its waiters (with the reputation of the rudest in London) and cheap but decent food. The seating system to the uninitated can seem quite strange but makes perfect sense once you realise that this is not an establishment to leisurely linger over a meal - this is an in-out slophouse of the highest order! People on their own are usually sat on the groundfloor whilst if you are plural, you're given the (in)famous direction, 'Upstairs!' or 'Downstairs!'. Regardless of where you're sent, you'll be sitting next to complete strangers (management policy to maximise seating) which always makes the visits entertaining, especially later on in the evening when everyone's had a few beers.
The sad truth is that the place is past its heyday, when the waiters were truly rude, slapping plates down in front of you with a scowl and directing you to your places with a 'You sit here!'. Now the levels of rudeness have gradually evolved to something like civility and you even get a smile and a thank you sometimes - I almost miss the 'What you want?' request the waiters used to bark when taking your order! However, there are still a few waiters there who know how to scowl and it wasn't that long ago that I was there on my own and having bent down to rummage in my bag, heard a bang and sitting up again saw that the bowl of won ton noodles I'd ordered had magically appeared unnanounced, waiter nowhere to be seen.
The full comedic value of the rude waiters who used to throw menus around and swear at you in Cantonese/Mandarin has been reduced which long-time customers bemoan, but at least the quality of the food remains. The golden rule here is to keep the orders simple - you pay cheap prices for good basic food. Don't expect to get quality steamed sea bass in soy sauce with ginger and spring onion here - you can't go wrong with the noodle soup dishes or the meat and rice combos such as barbecued (char siu) pork on rice. Change is inevitable I suppose and maybe related to commerce as they refurbished the restaurant last year to smarten it up a bit. However, the pantomime past is commemorated as you can now buy Wong Kei T-shirts with 'Upstairs!' & 'Downstairs!' on them.
Example of a classic waiter-customer dialogue I've heard in my time there:
Customer: (Having stuck his hand in the air for 5 mins to be noticed) Excuse me, can I have a knife and fork please?
Waiter: (Takes one look at the customer's plate of beef ho fun noodles) You lazy boy! No learn use chopsticks hmm?
Customer: Um, no so can I have a knife and fork...
Waiter: (Snorts) Ok, but more next time you learn chopsticks hey?
(Strides off muttering in Cantonese)
Despite this, I've never seen a knife and fork request refused there!
Anyway, Learo and I are in a moment of culinary diversification (well, in terms of Chinatown eateries) so the last few times we've been to different restaurants. Last night we went to the recently opened Chinese Experience, which was frankly disappointing. The decor is all modern and sleek to the point of being bland and the staff do not fit this interior. They are all smartly dressed but seem to have been trained with the Wong Kei manual; this kind of staff has its place in an establishment such as Wong Kei's, but in a modish restaurant charging above average prices, you expect decent and efficient service. Moreover, the food wasn't up to standard for a place seeking to be a cut above all the other restaurants in Chinatown - Learo's char siu pork on rice was half the size of its Wong Kei counterpart and the meat was actually dry and hard, making us think that the kitchen had microwaved the moisture out of it; my stir-fried rice noodles were similarly proportioned and bland.
To be fair, we arrived quite late and were told the kitchen was closing so they just managed to squeeze us in. Being a new place I suppose you can overlook staff teething problems for the moment. However, the kitchen is less easy to forgive though there have been good reviews of the dim sum menu, so a return visit at a more decent hour might yield a less wonky experience.
Our traditional fuelling station was that Chinatown institution, Wong Kei (Wonky as pronounced by a waiter I overheard answering the phone once) - a restaurant of legendary status for the slapdash manner of its waiters (with the reputation of the rudest in London) and cheap but decent food. The seating system to the uninitated can seem quite strange but makes perfect sense once you realise that this is not an establishment to leisurely linger over a meal - this is an in-out slophouse of the highest order! People on their own are usually sat on the groundfloor whilst if you are plural, you're given the (in)famous direction, 'Upstairs!' or 'Downstairs!'. Regardless of where you're sent, you'll be sitting next to complete strangers (management policy to maximise seating) which always makes the visits entertaining, especially later on in the evening when everyone's had a few beers.
The sad truth is that the place is past its heyday, when the waiters were truly rude, slapping plates down in front of you with a scowl and directing you to your places with a 'You sit here!'. Now the levels of rudeness have gradually evolved to something like civility and you even get a smile and a thank you sometimes - I almost miss the 'What you want?' request the waiters used to bark when taking your order! However, there are still a few waiters there who know how to scowl and it wasn't that long ago that I was there on my own and having bent down to rummage in my bag, heard a bang and sitting up again saw that the bowl of won ton noodles I'd ordered had magically appeared unnanounced, waiter nowhere to be seen.
The full comedic value of the rude waiters who used to throw menus around and swear at you in Cantonese/Mandarin has been reduced which long-time customers bemoan, but at least the quality of the food remains. The golden rule here is to keep the orders simple - you pay cheap prices for good basic food. Don't expect to get quality steamed sea bass in soy sauce with ginger and spring onion here - you can't go wrong with the noodle soup dishes or the meat and rice combos such as barbecued (char siu) pork on rice. Change is inevitable I suppose and maybe related to commerce as they refurbished the restaurant last year to smarten it up a bit. However, the pantomime past is commemorated as you can now buy Wong Kei T-shirts with 'Upstairs!' & 'Downstairs!' on them.
Example of a classic waiter-customer dialogue I've heard in my time there:
Customer: (Having stuck his hand in the air for 5 mins to be noticed) Excuse me, can I have a knife and fork please?
Waiter: (Takes one look at the customer's plate of beef ho fun noodles) You lazy boy! No learn use chopsticks hmm?
Customer: Um, no so can I have a knife and fork...
Waiter: (Snorts) Ok, but more next time you learn chopsticks hey?
(Strides off muttering in Cantonese)
Despite this, I've never seen a knife and fork request refused there!
Anyway, Learo and I are in a moment of culinary diversification (well, in terms of Chinatown eateries) so the last few times we've been to different restaurants. Last night we went to the recently opened Chinese Experience, which was frankly disappointing. The decor is all modern and sleek to the point of being bland and the staff do not fit this interior. They are all smartly dressed but seem to have been trained with the Wong Kei manual; this kind of staff has its place in an establishment such as Wong Kei's, but in a modish restaurant charging above average prices, you expect decent and efficient service. Moreover, the food wasn't up to standard for a place seeking to be a cut above all the other restaurants in Chinatown - Learo's char siu pork on rice was half the size of its Wong Kei counterpart and the meat was actually dry and hard, making us think that the kitchen had microwaved the moisture out of it; my stir-fried rice noodles were similarly proportioned and bland.
To be fair, we arrived quite late and were told the kitchen was closing so they just managed to squeeze us in. Being a new place I suppose you can overlook staff teething problems for the moment. However, the kitchen is less easy to forgive though there have been good reviews of the dim sum menu, so a return visit at a more decent hour might yield a less wonky experience.
10.2.05
Phantasmic Popera
Yesterday evening I watched my second musical show. I've been to loads of plays and other live performances in London's 'Theatreland', but have always passed on the musicals. The first one I saw was 'Miss Saigon' a few years ago, and even then it was only because a friend persuaded me to go as the show was on its final run in London.
However, last night's showing of 'The Phantom of the Opera' was actually fantastic. Perhaps it was because my companion and I had no idea what to expect (her first ever musical show) apart from a sketchy understanding of the plot (the programme was thin on details and fat on adverts). It was a lot more dynamic than I presumed, with plenty of excellent imaginatively atmospheric sets; the whole vivid performance itself was very tight, demanding the audience's attention. The familiar Lloyd Webber pop opera hits were deftly sung by a skilled cast and soared with the hypnotic cadence of tunes such as the signature 'Music of the Night'.
I envisaged at least a few slow moments but none emerged and we were both transfixed by the whole spectacle, along with the rest of the audience. In all it was a great evening out - I saw a very nice show with very nice company. A highly enjoyable and recommended experience, although as with most things, it might not be everyone's cup of tea. The only thing to mar the evening was the melon-sized head of the guy sat in the row in front of us.
However, last night's showing of 'The Phantom of the Opera' was actually fantastic. Perhaps it was because my companion and I had no idea what to expect (her first ever musical show) apart from a sketchy understanding of the plot (the programme was thin on details and fat on adverts). It was a lot more dynamic than I presumed, with plenty of excellent imaginatively atmospheric sets; the whole vivid performance itself was very tight, demanding the audience's attention. The familiar Lloyd Webber pop opera hits were deftly sung by a skilled cast and soared with the hypnotic cadence of tunes such as the signature 'Music of the Night'.
I envisaged at least a few slow moments but none emerged and we were both transfixed by the whole spectacle, along with the rest of the audience. In all it was a great evening out - I saw a very nice show with very nice company. A highly enjoyable and recommended experience, although as with most things, it might not be everyone's cup of tea. The only thing to mar the evening was the melon-sized head of the guy sat in the row in front of us.
9.2.05
Murphy & Sod Strike Again
Yes, I cancelled my bankcard and my travelcard and have to wait a week for re-issue, plus I had to pay for a new gym pass. Yes, shortly thereafter my travelcard wallet was found at the bottom of the laundry bin. Yes, Murphy's Law and that of Sod are pre-eminent forces in this universe.
Yes, it is very very annoying. At least I found it before today, the beginning of the Lunar New Year - Year of the Rooster/Chicken, which my superstitious mum says is a good thing...now I don't have to hear her telling me what bad luck I'm supposedly going to have all year. Well, Happy Lunar New Year anyway.
Yes, it is very very annoying. At least I found it before today, the beginning of the Lunar New Year - Year of the Rooster/Chicken, which my superstitious mum says is a good thing...now I don't have to hear her telling me what bad luck I'm supposedly going to have all year. Well, Happy Lunar New Year anyway.
7.2.05
Lost & Unfound
Not one of the better days I've ever experienced. Got up and left for work adamant that I had my travelcard wallet (public transport again!) in which I also keep a bankcard, work and gym passes and a few business cards/contact numbers, in my jacket pocket, but a fumble as I rounded the corner of my street told me no. Already late, I ran back to the house and sprinted up to my room to search the pockets of my other jacket which I'd worn the previous day but no again. Now, I'm generally a creature of habit and more often than not keep things in the same place. The home for that travelcard wallet is a jacket pocket and not finding it in any was extremely frustrating.
I had to concede to time however, so grabbed some money and ran for the bus stop. Today I've been racking my brains as to where I saw it last, which was Friday evening when I went for a few drinks after work - I didn't lose it during the course of the evening as I used it to get the nightbus back home. So I've either lost it on the bus, in the street, or somewhere in the house (my contact lenses were in their usual place in the morning though!). I must admit my memory from Friday is a little hazy but I do remember the journey home.
So, if I did lose it on the bus or in the street I've been lucky that nobody has taken advantage of my bankcard, which I checked earlier. I've put a stop on the card and ordered a new one (I'll be on credit from friends until Thursday!) but you just know that by the Laws of Murphy and Sod, my travelcard wallet will turn up in some nook or cranny once I've gone through the whole rigmarole of replacing passes etc. How annoying and I'm just frustrated with myself because I seldom lose things even after a drink or three! Oh well, the World spins on...
I had to concede to time however, so grabbed some money and ran for the bus stop. Today I've been racking my brains as to where I saw it last, which was Friday evening when I went for a few drinks after work - I didn't lose it during the course of the evening as I used it to get the nightbus back home. So I've either lost it on the bus, in the street, or somewhere in the house (my contact lenses were in their usual place in the morning though!). I must admit my memory from Friday is a little hazy but I do remember the journey home.
So, if I did lose it on the bus or in the street I've been lucky that nobody has taken advantage of my bankcard, which I checked earlier. I've put a stop on the card and ordered a new one (I'll be on credit from friends until Thursday!) but you just know that by the Laws of Murphy and Sod, my travelcard wallet will turn up in some nook or cranny once I've gone through the whole rigmarole of replacing passes etc. How annoying and I'm just frustrated with myself because I seldom lose things even after a drink or three! Oh well, the World spins on...
3.2.05
The Nightbus Experience
Perhaps I should rename this blog the Public Transport Blog with all the mentions of it in the past few posts. However, I suppose that's just a reflection of my life in London and how I go about it, ie via public transport! A group of us have had a Spanish friend staying over for the past 5 days so much public transport was used during this period. If you've ever been out for a late night in London somewhere, chances are that you've had the 'Nightbus Experience'. The phenomenon of various people all ranging from sober to merry to the more unconscious states of inebriation, catching public buses to take them home/more parties/straight to work, at crazy times of the night is one which many people take away with them as a memento of London.
Depending on the hour and the passengers, the atmosphere can be a bit party-like or sometimes it's a sombre pre-hangover feeling. Indisputably though, it's the weird and wonderful things to be heard and witnessed on nightbuses which culminate in the 'Nightbus Experience'. Of course there are the inevitable elements of some overexcitable idiots who spoil it for everyone by trying to settle drunken disputes in an aisle full of standing (well, staggering) passengers, as well as those drunken pontificators who decide to bestow all their inebriated wisdom on their fellow travellers and forget the art of debate, thinking that theirs are the only voices worthy of hearing. Sometimes on a nightbus journey you're thrown a real gem and we were treated the other night to the sight of a tipsy girl flouncing down the stairs with a small, but perfectly formed, coconut in her hand as we sailed through Islington at half past three in the morning on the N19. I remember asking a couple of strangers sitting behind whether coconuts were in season or not and another meaningful nightbus debate was born.
Oh, and you haven't had the true 'Nightbus Experience' unless you've fallen asleep on one and woken up somewhere that you've never been before...
Depending on the hour and the passengers, the atmosphere can be a bit party-like or sometimes it's a sombre pre-hangover feeling. Indisputably though, it's the weird and wonderful things to be heard and witnessed on nightbuses which culminate in the 'Nightbus Experience'. Of course there are the inevitable elements of some overexcitable idiots who spoil it for everyone by trying to settle drunken disputes in an aisle full of standing (well, staggering) passengers, as well as those drunken pontificators who decide to bestow all their inebriated wisdom on their fellow travellers and forget the art of debate, thinking that theirs are the only voices worthy of hearing. Sometimes on a nightbus journey you're thrown a real gem and we were treated the other night to the sight of a tipsy girl flouncing down the stairs with a small, but perfectly formed, coconut in her hand as we sailed through Islington at half past three in the morning on the N19. I remember asking a couple of strangers sitting behind whether coconuts were in season or not and another meaningful nightbus debate was born.
Oh, and you haven't had the true 'Nightbus Experience' unless you've fallen asleep on one and woken up somewhere that you've never been before...
21.1.05
Full Frontal
So the wondrous public transport system in London claims another victim. Actually nobody died, it was a woman who'd fainted at the top of the ascending escalators at Holborn station. I didn't witness the fall but she was stretched out on her front surrounded by members of the Tube staff as I walked past. Odd place for a person to faint in my experience as usually faintees (is that correct terminology for someone who faints?!) on the Tube are those who've been standing too long on platforms or on packed trains. That woman must have fainted in mid-stride as she walked off the escalator so nobody could have caught her (ouch) as sometimes happens on the carriages and platforms when people are standing about.
There must be something at Holborn station that makes it an eventful place because it's where I witness plenty of weird and wonderful things. For example, the time I was walking through the connection between the Piccadilly and Central lines when, at the top of the stairs there was a girl of about 20 or so who'd stripped naked, her clothes all about her on the floor and commuters filing past staring. Pretty surreal really but it certainly spiced up that journey! To this day I don't know what that was all about as she looked pretty compus mentus and not seemingly drunk. Some Tube staff were there trying to cover her up with a coat - perhaps it was a student prank or some publicity stunt by a far-out media company, though I didn't notice any bodyart on her - not that I looked that closely or anything!
There must be something at Holborn station that makes it an eventful place because it's where I witness plenty of weird and wonderful things. For example, the time I was walking through the connection between the Piccadilly and Central lines when, at the top of the stairs there was a girl of about 20 or so who'd stripped naked, her clothes all about her on the floor and commuters filing past staring. Pretty surreal really but it certainly spiced up that journey! To this day I don't know what that was all about as she looked pretty compus mentus and not seemingly drunk. Some Tube staff were there trying to cover her up with a coat - perhaps it was a student prank or some publicity stunt by a far-out media company, though I didn't notice any bodyart on her - not that I looked that closely or anything!
11.1.05
Sick On PT
Going home from work yesterday, I got on a Piccadilly line tube from Holborn station and had to stand in the carriage as there were no seats as usual during the rush hour. As the train moved off, what can only be described as a stench began to blow through the carriage but I couldn't see the source for all the commuters standing in the aisle. When people filed off at the next station I saw a dishevelled old man asleep on a seat halfway down the carriage with vacant seats around him, the obvious malodorous source. I was about 15ft from him and a sharp acrid tang of stale urine and alcohol rose off him like fumes. A woman sitting opposite him was actually trying to control herself from retching.
It's logical that if you use public transport you have to be prepared to deal with members of the public. That old man last night was also a member of the public, no matter what social level he may have been (probably homeless) and had every right to be on that train provided that he'd managed to get a valid ticket from somewhere somehow (difficult to get through an underground station's electronic gates without one). Sure, it wasn't pleasant; in fact I've never seen anybody retching because somebody smelt so bad before - but on public transport you'll come into contact with other members of the public, so no matter what you just have to deal with it.
Anyway, it's sad and unfortunate that he came to be that way in the first place; he probably had nowhere to go so the best he could have expected was a homeless centre, if he could even get to one that is.
It's logical that if you use public transport you have to be prepared to deal with members of the public. That old man last night was also a member of the public, no matter what social level he may have been (probably homeless) and had every right to be on that train provided that he'd managed to get a valid ticket from somewhere somehow (difficult to get through an underground station's electronic gates without one). Sure, it wasn't pleasant; in fact I've never seen anybody retching because somebody smelt so bad before - but on public transport you'll come into contact with other members of the public, so no matter what you just have to deal with it.
Anyway, it's sad and unfortunate that he came to be that way in the first place; he probably had nowhere to go so the best he could have expected was a homeless centre, if he could even get to one that is.
5.1.05
NYC
No, not the Big Apple but a condition known as New Year Cramp which I suffered this lunchtime whilst at the gym during my first session back after the festive season. Full with unfamiliar faces to the regular hardcore gym-nuts who were there before the overindulging began for Christmas etc, there was much red-faced exertion going on. Was doing fine with my usual stint on the cross-trainer (ski) machine followed by a punt on the rowing machine but a last-minute pang of guilt pushed me to try a kilometre on the running machine which eventually proved a feat beyond my legs (now more accustomed to being propped up on a sofa than pounding on a treadmill) which succumbed to NYC. Have New Year resolve to get as fit as I was when I ran the London Marathon (2001 & 2003) though I have no plans to run it this year despite yearly sequence dictating I should (one year on, one year off) - my last marathon could literally be my last marathon, though I do think three is a nice round number (and the magic number according to De La Soul).
There was supposed to be a national three minutes of silence today to commemorate the dead after the Asian Tsunami disaster. Our building's frontdesk sent a message through the tannoy to all the offices to remind everybody just before midday. I'm all for respecting the dead but wonder why this disaster warrants a three minute silence whilst others are just one minute, such as that for Memorial Day to commemorate those who died during the two World Wars, the Twin Towers terrorist attack and the Hillsborough Football disaster etc. Who decides these things, I always thought one minute was standard? Just a random thought.
This disaster is so far-reaching in terms of the nations directly affected not just in terms of the indigenous people of those countries directly devastated by the wave but tourists as well. The news scenes convey pure nightmare scenarios of injured people lying about makeshift, under-equipped hospitals and people looking for missing relatives and friends. My brother has been travelling SE Asia and was in Bangkok on his way to Cambodia when the disaster happened and so was lucky not to be caught up in it.
Whilst some First World countries (eg USA, Japan) have had their share, it seems the Third World suffers a disproportionate amount of natural disasters. They have definitely got it all against them. If the First World can exploit these countries to their own economic ends, they should be first in line to aid them when catastrophes occur. Sadly, it takes some kind of disaster like this to unite countries in humanitarian causes as opposed to warring with each other for a change and even then it's only temporary.
There was supposed to be a national three minutes of silence today to commemorate the dead after the Asian Tsunami disaster. Our building's frontdesk sent a message through the tannoy to all the offices to remind everybody just before midday. I'm all for respecting the dead but wonder why this disaster warrants a three minute silence whilst others are just one minute, such as that for Memorial Day to commemorate those who died during the two World Wars, the Twin Towers terrorist attack and the Hillsborough Football disaster etc. Who decides these things, I always thought one minute was standard? Just a random thought.
This disaster is so far-reaching in terms of the nations directly affected not just in terms of the indigenous people of those countries directly devastated by the wave but tourists as well. The news scenes convey pure nightmare scenarios of injured people lying about makeshift, under-equipped hospitals and people looking for missing relatives and friends. My brother has been travelling SE Asia and was in Bangkok on his way to Cambodia when the disaster happened and so was lucky not to be caught up in it.
Whilst some First World countries (eg USA, Japan) have had their share, it seems the Third World suffers a disproportionate amount of natural disasters. They have definitely got it all against them. If the First World can exploit these countries to their own economic ends, they should be first in line to aid them when catastrophes occur. Sadly, it takes some kind of disaster like this to unite countries in humanitarian causes as opposed to warring with each other for a change and even then it's only temporary.
29.12.04
Holy Turkey OD
Back at work for the next three days after the Christmas break until the (over)indulgence can start again on New Year's Eve. At least there's nothing left of the turkey; not my favourite of meats and my mum wouldn't have fancied the idea of creating that behemoth of poultry dishes, the 'Turducken' (a turkey stuffed with a chicken, which is in turn stuffed by a duck) so turkey was the only meat on the menu. They could go even further on the poultry ostentation scale, perhaps with the 'Swurduckenquail' - yes that's right, a swan stuffed with a turkey, which is stuffed with a chicken, which is stuffed by a duck, in turn stuffed with a quail. I think it's only a matter of time before this culinary absurdity hits the tables.
Talking of OD, I read Dan Brown's 'The Da Vinci Code' over the break in between the turkey-gorging and sleeping, a novel where he pulls together several theories and myths plus some allegedly factual evidence to spin a tale about the Holy Grail and in which he mentions another OD - that of Opus Dei, the Catholic organisation with the overdose here being religious zealotry and the brainwashing of its members. Although a work of fiction, the facets Brown describes of the real-life Opus Dei can be corroborated and a little research yields many tales of past members having been befriended by Opus Dei members who were trying to 'apostolate' - basically recruit them. The methods are aggressive and manipulative in the manner of making the potential member feel guilty about the wrong and suffering in the world and urging them to join Opus Dei to carry out good Christian work towards ending this.
Aiding others would seem a noble Christian cause, but the reality is that once initiated into the organisation members are increasingly corralled like sheep in their lives and thinking to conform to the beliefs of Opus Dei which are based on 'The Way', authored by the organisation's founder Josemaria Escriva. People have cited a brainwashing effect whereby people come to rely on the organisation and become enveloped by the doctrines taught them (for example members are strictly monitored on their reading material). As such it seems many cultish facets of Opus Dei exist from a dicatatorial authority figure to a strict hierarchical structure of obedience and subservience, allied to an overbearing control of information.
My personal Catholic experience comes from attending a Catholic boys' school (run by the Jesuits, who incidentally are a group opposed to Opus Dei and the canonization of its founder) at one point in my education, which was when I first heard of Opus Dei. Not being Catholic myself, I still attended mass (which we had weekly) out of respect, but I was never comfortable with many Catholic concepts including the whole confession and penance ritual (if you confess your sins and repent your souls will be cleansed, but if you don't Purgatory awaits). I once went to confession out of curiosity and failed to see how saying a few 'Hail Marys' and a couple of 'Our Fathers' should absolve someone of committing sin, and the act of confessing to a priest was to me a little strange, given that they taught in theology classes that God was omniscient and I presumed that a good Catholic would come clean to God in their prayers anyway!
The whole idea of original sin and the theme of guilt within Catholicism was a hard pill for me to swallow. However, this forms a major part of the ideology within Opus Dei to a further extreme, that followers should perform 'corporal mortification', which includes self-flagellation at one end of the scale and abstinence at the other, as a daily reminder of original sin and act of spiritual cleansing. That some of their members (those ranked as numeraries) have to wear a 'cilice' (basically a barbed band designed to cut into the wearer's flesh) for a few hours each day to achieve this aim shows the archaic thinking behind Opus Dei. Also, should any member believe that they require to carry out more than their daily amount of 'corporal mortification' they need the authority of somebody higher ranked - this shows the strict hierarchy within Opus Dei and also the incredible indoctrination whereby someone would actually say in effect, 'Please (Sir/Ma'am), may I have some more pain?'.
At the end of the day I consider myself agnostic; given my Buddhist parents and upbringing, schooling in various establishments of differing Christian denomination and an open religious education, perhaps this is logical. Religion per se isn't a bad thing as it can give followers contentment and a sense of purpose in their lives, rather it is the conflicts which arise because of how individuals interpret and act on them which is the problem - fundamentalists of any creed can be dangerous. An organisation as blinkered and intolerant as Escriva's Opus Dei can only promote these conflicts and misunderstandings as well as hurting the individuals it seeks out to serve its purpose (argued by many to be mainly fiscal).
People should be left to decide their own minds and the right to an opinion should be respected - nobody should have to be coerced into any belief. Problems arise when religions and people belonging to them lose this respect for others as in the case of Opus Dei which is only one amongst many religious groups guilty of this.
Talking of OD, I read Dan Brown's 'The Da Vinci Code' over the break in between the turkey-gorging and sleeping, a novel where he pulls together several theories and myths plus some allegedly factual evidence to spin a tale about the Holy Grail and in which he mentions another OD - that of Opus Dei, the Catholic organisation with the overdose here being religious zealotry and the brainwashing of its members. Although a work of fiction, the facets Brown describes of the real-life Opus Dei can be corroborated and a little research yields many tales of past members having been befriended by Opus Dei members who were trying to 'apostolate' - basically recruit them. The methods are aggressive and manipulative in the manner of making the potential member feel guilty about the wrong and suffering in the world and urging them to join Opus Dei to carry out good Christian work towards ending this.
Aiding others would seem a noble Christian cause, but the reality is that once initiated into the organisation members are increasingly corralled like sheep in their lives and thinking to conform to the beliefs of Opus Dei which are based on 'The Way', authored by the organisation's founder Josemaria Escriva. People have cited a brainwashing effect whereby people come to rely on the organisation and become enveloped by the doctrines taught them (for example members are strictly monitored on their reading material). As such it seems many cultish facets of Opus Dei exist from a dicatatorial authority figure to a strict hierarchical structure of obedience and subservience, allied to an overbearing control of information.
My personal Catholic experience comes from attending a Catholic boys' school (run by the Jesuits, who incidentally are a group opposed to Opus Dei and the canonization of its founder) at one point in my education, which was when I first heard of Opus Dei. Not being Catholic myself, I still attended mass (which we had weekly) out of respect, but I was never comfortable with many Catholic concepts including the whole confession and penance ritual (if you confess your sins and repent your souls will be cleansed, but if you don't Purgatory awaits). I once went to confession out of curiosity and failed to see how saying a few 'Hail Marys' and a couple of 'Our Fathers' should absolve someone of committing sin, and the act of confessing to a priest was to me a little strange, given that they taught in theology classes that God was omniscient and I presumed that a good Catholic would come clean to God in their prayers anyway!
The whole idea of original sin and the theme of guilt within Catholicism was a hard pill for me to swallow. However, this forms a major part of the ideology within Opus Dei to a further extreme, that followers should perform 'corporal mortification', which includes self-flagellation at one end of the scale and abstinence at the other, as a daily reminder of original sin and act of spiritual cleansing. That some of their members (those ranked as numeraries) have to wear a 'cilice' (basically a barbed band designed to cut into the wearer's flesh) for a few hours each day to achieve this aim shows the archaic thinking behind Opus Dei. Also, should any member believe that they require to carry out more than their daily amount of 'corporal mortification' they need the authority of somebody higher ranked - this shows the strict hierarchy within Opus Dei and also the incredible indoctrination whereby someone would actually say in effect, 'Please (Sir/Ma'am), may I have some more pain?'.
At the end of the day I consider myself agnostic; given my Buddhist parents and upbringing, schooling in various establishments of differing Christian denomination and an open religious education, perhaps this is logical. Religion per se isn't a bad thing as it can give followers contentment and a sense of purpose in their lives, rather it is the conflicts which arise because of how individuals interpret and act on them which is the problem - fundamentalists of any creed can be dangerous. An organisation as blinkered and intolerant as Escriva's Opus Dei can only promote these conflicts and misunderstandings as well as hurting the individuals it seeks out to serve its purpose (argued by many to be mainly fiscal).
People should be left to decide their own minds and the right to an opinion should be respected - nobody should have to be coerced into any belief. Problems arise when religions and people belonging to them lose this respect for others as in the case of Opus Dei which is only one amongst many religious groups guilty of this.
22.12.04
Blog Off
Well, something tells me that I'm not cut out as a regimented regular blogger. A clue lies in the fact that I setup this blog back in June and managed to do nothing about it until now - and that's only because it's the seasonal period and I'm sat here at work surfing the net for want of anything else to do. I'd just started to get bored of looking up inane things like the origins of Christmas crackers (apparently invented in the 19th Century by some English baker - perhaps he was as bored as I am...maybe even more so back then with no internet and only kneading dough as a stimulating activity) and trying to think up Googlewhacks when I remembered I'd set up this blog and decided it was time to get this loaf in the oven.
So here it is, I suppose a kind of pre-New Year resolution to revisit my blog more often than once in 6 months and I will try to leave those 6 months as my record blog procrastination period. Actually, I wonder if amongst the hardcore of bloggers out there, anyone has had the foresight to include in their will some proviso for a final entry to be added after they have departed this realm - an internet epitaph?!
If you read (and believe) tabloid news stories about the instructions some people leave behind in their wills, the final blog request might not seem so strange - such as old ladies leaving behind their fortunes for the welfare of their beloved pet cats and nothing to their neglectful kin. How ironic it would be if that scenario borne out of urban myth should arise, whereby the old lady dies of natural causes and her cats (who are locked in and unable to feed themselves) eat their dead benefactor before the neighbours finally alert the authorities due to the rotten smells which have been coming from the house of the old lady next door who hasn't been seen around. The police finally arrive on the scene only to be greeted by a sprawled skeleton picked clean of flesh and plump felines all over the place preening themselves nonchalantly. Well, life is stranger than fiction or so they say...
So here it is, I suppose a kind of pre-New Year resolution to revisit my blog more often than once in 6 months and I will try to leave those 6 months as my record blog procrastination period. Actually, I wonder if amongst the hardcore of bloggers out there, anyone has had the foresight to include in their will some proviso for a final entry to be added after they have departed this realm - an internet epitaph?!
If you read (and believe) tabloid news stories about the instructions some people leave behind in their wills, the final blog request might not seem so strange - such as old ladies leaving behind their fortunes for the welfare of their beloved pet cats and nothing to their neglectful kin. How ironic it would be if that scenario borne out of urban myth should arise, whereby the old lady dies of natural causes and her cats (who are locked in and unable to feed themselves) eat their dead benefactor before the neighbours finally alert the authorities due to the rotten smells which have been coming from the house of the old lady next door who hasn't been seen around. The police finally arrive on the scene only to be greeted by a sprawled skeleton picked clean of flesh and plump felines all over the place preening themselves nonchalantly. Well, life is stranger than fiction or so they say...
12.6.04
Description
In case you were wondering, this blog isn't about S&M fetishism! Its title comes from Shakespeare's 'Measure for Measure': 'The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum.' Its context in the play relates to rule and the correct application of law and justice; when law and order is overturned, chaos ensues. I like the quote because the metaphor of the baby beating the nurse has general relevance in that when something right is reversed or unbalanced, then repercussions can be expected. Also, I think the image of it is quite funny in a Monty Pythonesque kind of way...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)