MY INTERESTS HAVE CHANGED SO MUCH

I like the word proclivity. I don’t hear it often enough but it explains so many things all at once. According to the Merriam-Webster thesaurus, it is synonymous with affection, affinity, aptitude, bent, bias, disposition, leaning, partiality, penchant, inclination, and tendency.

I used to be able to read anytime, anywhere. Not any more. When I bring a book with me to bed, I only manage to finish a few pages before my fingers reach out for the bedside lamp and I float off to dreamland. This routine is repeated the next night, the only difference being I would have forgotten who is who in the book, how they are related and why they are all gathered in the country manor house in the first place. Re-reading to find the connections is arduous.

I thought that with retirement I would be able to read War and Peace, cover to cover, several times over. How strange that getting past the daily newspaper or the occasional magazine has become a great achievement.

I am surrounded by a reading culture. The library is nearby and the helpful librarian will bring in the books that I request if they are not on the shelves. The charity shops and flea markets are overflowing with pre-loved books.

As a child I would re-read my favourite books. So recently, I purposed myself to set aside every Sunday to read a novel before I miss all the good stuff that is trapped between the pages. It is the chance to reclaim something pleasurable.

Firstly I re-visited Roald Dahl’s books. 2016 marks 100 years since the birth of the story teller. Running though his books are the themes of loneliness, abuse, friendship and kindness. The child in me identifies with the unlikely hero or heroine. My favourite is Matilda.

But what next?

I find that my interest in fiction has waned. I’m no longer captivated by plots of mystery or love. I tear through best sellers and they have come up short. In fact the first ten pages can tell you how the book will end and how the characters are all related. There is a lack of originality in the themes.  There is a lack of depth as sense that these writers are trying to squeeze in too many modern day concerns between the covers. These modern day popular writers are a poor comparison to yesteryear’s Charles Dickens or the Bronte sisters.

So I’m more attracted to non-fiction particularly memoirs, culture and history.

My latest favourite is Elie Wiesel’s Night. All 116 pages of it.

The same can be said of television programmes. Gone are the days when I would wait for serial episodes and the like. Now I mainly record documentaries or travel pieces and watch them at my leisure, fast-forwarding all the advertisements in between. As for movies, nothing beats the big screen whether it is Disney’s Polynesian princess Moana carving out her adventure trail in 3 D or Tom Hanks following a trail of clues connected to Dante.

Even the taste for food differs. Sweets and chocolates used to entice me as a teen but now I prefer anything home-cooked and the more authentic the recipe the better. I re-discovered an old recipe that I had written down for savoury pumpkin cake where ingredients were measured in katis and tahils! Needless to say, I quickly harvested the pumpkins from my garden. I never understood why my mother liked the miserable looking bittergourd either but now I can snack through crispy bittergourd fries (pavakkai varuval) with relish!

My taste for clothes too changes with the seasons. Wouldn’t it be nice to have four wardrobes, one for each season?

With time, our proclivities and prerogatives change and I’m ok with that.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES, MALAYSIA
13 NOVEMBER 2016

http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/nstnews/2016/20161113nstnews/index.html#/23/

THE PRESENCE OF PRESENTS

There’s this humourous quote that I saw ‘Forget about the Past, you can’t change it. Forget about the Future, you can’t predict it. Forget about the Present, you didn’t get one.’

Well, there was a time when I loved holding the gift wrapped box, shaking it to guess its contents and then ripping the wrapping paper apart. Everything boils down  to the mystery and excitement of receiving a gift.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love receiving presents.

But.

It is grammatically wrong to let a conjunction stand by itself. Yet, ‘but’ is so appropriate here because it creates a pregnant pause for dramatic effect. It conveys a whole lot of reasons why the spirit towards receiving presents could be different altogether.

The culprit must be the cupboard that stands in the room.

Yes, a cupboard full of presents that we have no use for or can’t find a corner in the house to be placed. Most of us have this shelf, drawer or trunk where we keep the presents that we have received, to be recycled. Recycling seems a harsh word, so we say to ourselves we’ll give the presents away to someone else or to charity.

Birthday gifts - When the children were young, we used to organise birthday parties for them. Somehow half of the presents would be gorgeous teddy bears. Now, how many gorgeous teddy bears can a child bring to bed with him?

Wedding gifts - Among the many presents we had were 10 dinner sets and 6 electric irons. We only needed one dinner set and one iron at any one time, if you catch my drift. They have this service nowadays called the ‘Wedding and Gift Registry’ at some department stores to help your friends and family buy the perfect gift for you but I don’t think that will work for all the guests that you invite.

Christmas gifts - Suddenly the drawers are over taken by reindeer socks, snowmen candles, Christmas ornaments, toiletries, jewellery, cook books and more cook books. Now I won’t even go there.

Just the other day, I saw a sweet elderly lady buying a garish piece of jewellery which cost her an arm and a leg. The cashier asked if she was buying it for herself or for someone else. She said she was giving it to a friend. I hope her friend likes garish jewellery.

I find that cosmetics, perfume, clothes and toiletries are very personal choices. I use a certain range of skincare products, perfume and toiletries. It will be rather difficult to convince me to use any other. We tend to buy for others what we would like to buy for ourselves. But you can’t get  more wrong than that. For example, I love the smell of lavender but my beautician hates it, so if I get her a lavender scented gift it would most likely end up being recycled.

When an acquaintance asked me what she should get for her teenage grandson’s birthday, I said cash is best. He can buy something he likes with the money. But the doting granny recoiled in horror and said cash is too impersonal. The last I heard was she was going to knit him a jumper. I think I’ve heard enough jokes about young people receiving jumpers from senior relatives each year and what they do with them.

After so many years of giving and receiving presents, I’ve narrowed my choices down to cash, dining vouchers, departmental vouchers, holiday vouchers and the occasional handmade quilt. I find all these very practical and altogether delightful for myself and for any age group. Sensible things like disposables for a new born or a few bags of coal for a wintry night are all very welcome.

Meanwhile, I have to clear that cupboard of presents and hopefully it won’t be restocked any time soon.

This article was originally published in the New Straits Times, Malaysia on 26 June 2016

http://www.nst.com.my/news/2016/06/154711/presence-presents

ALL SET TO START GARDENING IN MY NEW GREENHOUSE

When we go for rides, I love to look at houses. The first to get my approval are those with neat gardens and thatched roofs. Clean pavements, tidy yards and good colour combination all get the thumbs up. With the days fast leading up to Christmas, many proud  houseowners will decorate their houses to the max with strings of lights complete with reindeer and sleigh in the garden as well.

Buying a house is a big step. Making it a home is another.  

Some might prefer getting professionals to do the interior decoration but personally I like to decorate it myself as every splash of colour and picture put up on the wall reflects individuality. So much so that one of my friends quipped that the beloved must keep on moving or I’ll paint him too.

I bought my first apartment when I was 28. It was on the top most floor because of my preference for great view and privacy. For those who have lived in apartments, they come with a peculiar set of problems and so I moved out of the apartment when I bought my second property in my 30s, this time a landed property and one that was nearer my workplace.

With every home, I had great joy putting my mark on it.

As I am the sort who cannot be idle, most things are handmade…from cushions to curtains to furniture. Now that there are no more corners in the house for me to indulge my creativity, I have moved on to the garden instead - my greenhouse.

It took me 6 years to decide to buy a greenhouse because it is quite an investment and I do not want it to be just a fad. I have seen so many greenhouses standing empty in my neighbourhood. Because the weather in Ireland is wet, wet and wet, I needed to learn how to turn the garden to my advantage.

So I enrolled for horticulture workshops and learnt about planting according to the seasons. These workshops were always a delight to attend because the teachers were very knowledgeable and I made lots of like-minded friends.

Every keen gardener has her fair share of success and failure stories. It is wonderful to know that you are not alone in your experiments with seed and soil and that you are not crazy to put in more capital then you can reap from your harvests. We all share the dogged determination to find pleasure in gardening. Somehow that forked carrot or mottled cucumber tastes so much sweeter than the perfect ones that you buy from the market. There is something magical about going out to the garden to harvest the greens, to unearth the spuds and to pick the apples and berries.

I debated whether to get a polytunnel or a greenhouse.  The sliding door window in my room opens up to the garden. When I look out I can see the flowers, the birds, the bees, the butterflies and the trees. I see rainbows very often and can hear the church bells pealing. Somehow glass gleaming in the sun is something that plastic can never deliver.I want to be greeted by something beautiful and yet practical. I decided to buy a greenhouse.

So we went hunting for the perfect greenhouse - checking online sites as well as visiting the suppliers. I decided to buy a good-size Eden Blockley model.

Finally, the greenhouse arrived. The truck driver was pretty friendly and burly. He had been driving the whole day - from Gloucester to the ferry terminal to Dublin and then to me. He carried the flat packed glass, piece by piece. Then he carried the frame and all the smaller parts. He subsequently left to return to the UK. I closed the door and looked at the array of equipment on the floor and felt that heaven had landed.

My greenhouse is up now and it is as exciting as a child waiting for her friends to come celebrate her birthday party. Yes, it is a birthday party after all - the birth of a new gardening experience. I have made a few stained glass and mosaic pieces to hang in the greenhouse. These sun catchers give the greenhouse a me-feel. The seedlings are in their plugs and I want to try and grow crops for all the four seasons.

Even when the slugs come and the frost falls, I will toil in delight. I live in hope.

After all, this is my Eden.

This article was originally printed in The New Straits Times Malaysia 30 October 2016

http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/nstnews/2016/20161030nstnews/index.html#/23/

THOSE UNATTAINABLE CRUSHES

The story of  A loves B but B loves C plagues Aunt Agony’s column. I am often tempted to think that this is a modern day heartache among teenagers but alas it is as ancient as the hills. The French call it La Douleur Exquise - the heart wrenching pain of wanting someone who is unattainable.

I used to wonder why poets would subject themselves to bouts of melancholy because of unrequited love. Sir Thomas Wyatt  (1503 - 1542) was one. He was a famous poet and ambassador at the court of Henry VIII and he was one of Anne Boleyn’s suitors but his love was unrequited. In his poem “Whoso List to Hunt”, we read about a deer (Anne) being hunted down (by Henry VII) and being out of the poet’s reach because she says “Caesar’s I am”. 

 
Unrequited love or one-sided love is love that is not openly reciprocated or understood as such by the intended. The intended may be oblivious to the admirer’s attraction, or may consciously reject it. 

Even in the comic strip, ‘Peanuts’, we see elements of unrequited love. Schroeder the pianist feels nothing for Lucy despite Lucy’s constant declarations of her love for him. Charles M. Schulz, its creator says, ‘Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love.’ 

I was in Copenhagen recently and saw The Little Mermaid, a bronze statue by Edvard Eriksen. Before I went there I had re-read the fable by Hans Christian Andersen, so as to refresh my memory about the ill-fated mermaid who swam up to the surface of the sea on her 15th birthday just to have a glimpse of the human world. 

 
There was a storm and the prince was shipwrecked and the mermaid rescued him but he was not aware of who his rescuer was. She wanted to be near the prince and so exchanged her voice for a pair of legs. Only the sea witch could do that and every step she took felt like a knife cutting through her legs. The ultimate test was for the prince to marry her, otherwise in the morning after the prince had married another, she would become sea foam. 

Fast forward to the end of the story- the prince married another and the mermaid became sea foam. Some readers argue that the mermaid wanted to have a soul and she could only have that if she were to become human. 

But yet the theme about unrequited love and subsequently paying a huge sacrifice for it rings loud and clear. 

I wonder why people put themselves through situations such as this? Is it self delusion or are they being hopeful? Granted some people who carry on the waiting and hoping game do finally get their prize. These are few and far between but at what cost? 

Adele captures this hopelessness in ‘Chasing Pavements’ where she sings about flying around in circles leading nowhere when love is unrequited. 

 
It is easy for someone on the outside looking in to see how futile unrequited love is.I think most of us would have at least a friend who has been in that situation. We certainly deserve more than pining for someone who is unattainable 

After endless days of listening and advising a friend of ‘letting him go’, you see her still trying to establish links with the said party - stalking him online, texting and following him on social media. Pretty much a waste of time and energy. There’s this quote that goes, ‘I’m 99% sure that he doesn’t love me but it’s that 1% that keeps me going.’

 
Psychologists say that the way to get out of the misery is to acknowledge the injury done to yourself and the need to take care of yourself. Take comfort in the fact that many had gone through the same situation and emerged stronger. The biggest challenge is to give up the quest of chasing someone who doesn’t return your affections.

 
Only then will there be closure.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PRINTED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES MALAYSIA 16 OCTOBER 2016...http://www.nst.com.my/news/2016/10/180594/those-unattainable-crushes

SONGS AND MEMORIES OF THE PAST

When Fran Molloy tagged me on facebook, inviting me to post a picture of 

favourite album,I simply couldn’t decide on which one. The game was such that 

I had to tag other friends to invite them to post the same as well.

Finally, I settled for Romanza which is Andrea Bocelli’s first compilation released

internationally in 1997. It means a lot to me because that’s the beginning of my 

foray into the world of Italian classical tenors. 

Needless to say, that invitation sent me into music overdrive so to speak. 

Inevitably, I walked down the hallways of the past as I listened to my all time favourites 

of the 80s and 90s. 

Believe me, it was not only nostalgic but totally refreshing as images flood the brain and 

soul, especially when I hadn’t heard those songs for years.

Great songs carry great memories. I guess that’s why much research has been done on 

music-evoked autobiographical memories. (MEAMS)

So I started to check out you-tube and as if the site could read my mind, there was 

a whole list of familiar songs.

One of my hot favourites is That’s why (you go away) by Michael Learns To Rock. 

(MLTR) When I heard it in the 90s, there was no you-tube then and I never saw

the video clip. Now that I can see the images, I thought it is so clever how the lyrics

are juxtaposed with the images.

Songs by MLTR, Alphaville, Blue, Toto and Westlife  remind me of the fun we had

in the classroom. Using music to teach the English language gives students a break 

from grammar and more grammar.

My students were ever so creative and would come up with enactments of the lyrics 

of the songs. They put in great effort and would even create their own props. There was

a group that sang ‘Lemon Tree’ by Fool’s Garden and they actually brought a

tree trunk into the classroom with handmade paper lemons dangling 

from the branches.

Another beautiful song is ‘Cat’s in the Cradle’ by Harry Chapin where a father has no 

time for his young son- only to discover that the son as an adult no longer has time for

him. I remember vividly how a group of students performed this song in four distinct

 acts with different students playing the roles of the child, the ten year old, the college 

student and the father as an old man. I thought it was spectacular. I still have the video 

cassette of that performance and since I no longer have the player, I will convert that

 to a compact disc.

Thanks to the internet, I am now able to see the different layers of meaning behind the 

lyrics. Take ‘Big in Japan’ by Alphaville for example. In the 80s, I thought that it was 

about hopeful  musicians making it big in Japan. But now I know it is also about a young

couple trying to live and love without substance abuse. The venue of the song 

incidentally is Berlin Zoo and  the fact that I have been to the zoo twice makes it even

more special.

I also never knew that ’Forever Young’ by the same group was written during the

Cold War, where the singer is ‘hoping for the best, but expecting the worst; are you

gonna  drop the bomb or not?

When we hear a very familiar song from the past, somehow the location, the people and 

the season associated with that song appear vividly in the mind’s eye. Not unlike

how smells and tastes evoke memories as well.

I had just baked an apple tart due to the overabundance of apples on my tree. 

My daughter took a whiff of the tart and told me it reminded her of the same tart 

that used to be sold in church for fund-raising when she was still in her primary 

school years. She remembered that I steered her away from the  table because money 

was tight then and buying that tart would be a luxury. 

I had clean forgotten that episode but she remembered it well. 

Different circumstances in a different time zone.

And it’s not only the past that songs and images evoke.

I know when I visit Africa next year, images of Tarzan swinging from tree to tree and 

Toto’s Africa will have a heyday in my mind.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PRINTED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES MALAYSIA 18 SEPTEMBER 2016  http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/160918nstnews/index.html#/23/

PREPARING MY JOURNEY TO THE OTHER WORLD

We had just a few good days of summer when the sun blazed and nearly everyone

was out of the house, taking advantage of the good weather. My garden was clothed in 

splendour not unlike desert vegetation once the rain falls.

Now Autumn has descended on us with its mellow fruitfulness to quote Keats. Where

did summer go? Leaves turn red and brown and birds start their migration. Coats make

 their reappearance and sun dresses go back into the recesses of the wardrobe. 

Before we know it, Winter has arrived.

I have just got a form from the church where I can plan what would be done the 

day I am on the runway to the other world. Sounds morbid but I thought that it 

is a brilliant idea - one can never be too ready for anything. As a child I was taught

never to mention the word death as it would bring bad luck. Yet, death is part of living 

and the sooner we are comfortable with it, the better prepared we are.

My favourite question on the form is: what song would you like sung at your funeral?

That’s easy. 

I think ‘Turn!Turn!Turn!’ by the Byrds would be absolutely brilliant. The music is 

catchy and the words are so appropriate…..

To everything - turn, turn, turn
There is a season - turn, turn, turn, And a time to every purpose under heaven
A time to be born, a time to die…A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal…a time to laugh, a time to weep……..

The funny thing is that there are no long periods of equilibrium. Just when you are

rejoicing over some happy event, another challenging situation rears its head. Yes, 

there is a season for everything and we change along the way. 

I was in the company of some friends who seemed to have everything.

Subconsciously we make comparisons as to why we are given a certain lot in life and 

why others seem to have it easy. So I took some time to digest the matter and came

away understanding myself better.

I like the phrase ‘Note to self’ - particularly note to my younger self. In retrospect, there 

are many things that I wished I had done or not done before. There are many worries 

that I need not have shouldered. There are many expectations that I need not have

 harboured. 

I was watching the finals of The Child Genius Competition 2016 over Channel 4 

( a British public-service television broadcaster) where children compete for the coveted 

trophy. I cringed when I saw how the mother of the champion,(who has put her career on hold as an obstetrician to focus on her daughter's education), 

fought to get the extra point for her child, even though she was probably in the right.

The Mail Online had headlines that went: Share

'Well done - you swindled your daughter to the final': Rhea's 'pushy mum' is

criticised after she got another child kicked off before daughter, 10, was

crowned winner of C4's Child Genius’

I share the same feelings as the many who took to berating the mum online such as 

‘It is a game. She is only ten years old. This is not going to define her life’.

But then again, if I had been her age with my ten year old up there on the podium 

battling for the coveted trophy, would I have acted the same?

People say that with age we grow wiser. But I think it is more of experiences that 

make us wiser and better people.

As I scroll down the most curious aforesaid form, there is this question on what

choice of a box I would like to be in - gold gilded, cedar wood or cushioned 

with taffeta silk?

My memories of Dracula movies tell me to avoid a certain shape altogether. 

And I think of trees being lumbered indiscriminately, so nothing wooden for me either. 

Since I love basketry, willow sounds like a good idea. 

This article was originally printed in the new Straits Times 2 October 2016. http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/161002nstnews/index.html#/23/

NO WINNERS IN PLAYING THE BLAME GAME

I was having my favourite cuppa in a delightful little cafe, alfresco, on a beautiful 

sunny day. 

A rare thing indeed to feel the heat, and it would be a great crime if such fine weather

is not experienced in its fullest, outdoors.

Some people read while having the cuppa. Others fiddle with their phones or whatever 

gadgets they have.

I prefer to watch and learn.

Across the table sat a young mother and a restless child running here and there except 

sitting at the table where he should be.

She was coaxing him to have his orange juice and the fine breakfast on the table. 

She was piling on him a shower of terms of endearment - honey, my little man, 
darling, sweetie....Every possible term except a cross word.

With all the ditsy fleeting from table to table, the inevitable happened. He banged

headfirst into  a table corner.

All pandemonium broke lose. He bawled his eyes out and the mother swooped over him

like an eagle and tried to kiss away his tears.

Then she took him by the hand and led him to the offensive table. Vehemently, she

started beating the table and said, 'bad table, bad table' as if her golden child 

could do no wrong.  Immediately the boy was satisfied and the tears stopped. 

Completely bemused, I did not know whether to laugh or cry.

There were many laughable things I had done as a young mother once but blame 

shifting was definitely not one of them.

What was she teaching her child?

That it was alright to be careless? That unruly behaviour was acceptable in public? 

Or did she just want a quick fix to maintain order and quiet?

It is strange but when we are caught doing something unacceptable, we blame 

someone else, never ourselves.

Wasn't it Adam who blamed Eve for sharing with him the forbidden fruit?

When people in office resign when a misdeed has been exposed, there is a certain

level of accountability there.

Bob Marley said, emancipate ourselves from mental slavery. No one but ourselves

 can free our minds.

Learning to accept consequences is a great step towards freeing our minds. Being

accountable for what we do helps shape intentions and execution of plans.

I  used to watch Sesame Street with my children. There is this clip whereby a little

girl contemplates popping a balloon with a pin near her baby brother who is sleeping.

Then she rationalises that the noise would wake her brother up and his fit of crying would make her mum angry with her. Then she would be sent to bed and she would

miss eating the cookies in the oven.

She then puts the balloon down and says ' who wants to pop this nice balloon 

anyway'.

People are generally careless and inconsiderate. To find someone who is mindful 

and kind is such a rarity.

This is not to be confused with the concept of mindfulness which has become a present 

day buzzword, and if you are not focussing on your inhaling and exhaling, then you are 

certainly missing out on the greatest discovery on earth.

So, if children are not taught from young to be accountable for their deeds, it is not 

surprising that we are constantly surrounded by adults who bask in their own glory and 

blame others when things go belly up.

It is a sad generation that thinks they can do no wrong and that the world owes them a

living.

THIS ARTICLE WAS ORIGINALLY PRINTED IN THE NEW STRAITS TIMES
MALAYSIA, 4 SEPTEMBER 2016
http://www.nst.com.my/news/2016/09/170619/no-winners-playing-blame-game