Back to School

It's first day of my third term at university... time to take a blogging break from studying! hahaha... Anywayz, just a quick update of what I've been up to since coming back from Amsterdam:

Nothing.

Yes, yes, je vais been a lazy little piggy wiggy. Doing quite a bit of spring hibernation, esp with the dratted head cold I've been struggling to overcome, contributed by a sense of pleasant confidence that I won't miss any classes if I do oversleep. But, I have managed to get a teensy bit of studying done, so all's not lost.

Went to see the Bolshoi perform Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake at the Lowry. For those in the dark, the Bolshoi is the premier ballet company in Russia, and argubaly the best in the world. In fact, they were the ones who premiered the first performance of Swan Lake, so lots of history there. 'Twas a very interesting, visually exciting first experience at a ballet for me. The production was top notch - props and scenery rich, dark and lush, costumes gorgeous colours and textures all the way... Tchaikovsky's lyrical score had a strangely distant quality almost like the way one hears the eerie waltz through thick mist in Ravel's La Valse, thanks to the odd acoustics caused by the orchestra pit being half under the stage.

Under the lead of new artistic director Alexei Ratmansky and choreographer Yuri Grigorovich, the interpretation of Swan Lake was shifted from the familiar fairy tale to a darker psychological drama, the focus of the performanace here being more on Prince Seigfried's internal demons than the Odette/Odile power struggle. Siegfried himself was played by gorgeous hunky Sergei Filin with one helluva nice firm butt (hey, no complaints about him standing with his back to the audience sooo often ya?); the lovely exotic Maria Alexandrova was graceful and lyrical, and even though she didn't quite dazzle with the famous 32 fouettes en tournant (I counted only 29!), her interchanging characterisation of the fragile Odette and strong Odile was totally spot on. Now if there's one thing the Russians know how to do, it is ballet. The sheer discipline of the dancers produced some utterly stunning images of intertwining limbs, curvin patterns and yearning bodies. For some more official photos of the lovely ballerinas and eye candy (heehee), click here. Shame we didn't get back in time from Amsterdam to enjoy the famed visceral virility of the Bolshoi's male corps de ballet in Spartacus horr... ;D


Aiighh reading Phing's bloggy just reminded me! Oh my, how could it have slipped my mind?! Hahaha.. after Swan Lake Phing, JJ, Francois (cute... Luxembourgish? Luxembourgian? Luxembourger? heehee..) and I headed into the city (poor Shyan having to rush off his Roman pottery report thingy) Hungry Boy being hungry again, Burger King it was for an early nightcap before meeting Roy and heading off to Opus. We had to reintroduce Francois to the greasy pleasures of American fastfood!! Waaah how cute is that? one refreshing human who's not been "mcdonaldised", so to speak haha.

Anyways it was a 7quid entry to Opus! Trotted down the path to Paparazzi - I've never been on a Saturday night before - where they were playin a weirdly random mix of dance, RnB and hip-hop, and way too many obscure 90s songs... :S And then there was this slimy creepy puny skinny little Indian bugger! I swear he was sorta following me around arrgghhhh... Didn't help with JJ grinning and sniggering everytime I moved around our cosy circle n the Indiano following around on the outside. No dancin, grabbin, grindin or pullin with me, yo! Thank goodness I had three wayy bigger n better lookin guys with me hahaha... Come to think of it, maybe the guy was following JJ around, not me...

Between then and now there've been a few movies @ AMC, couple of times makan-ing and hea-ing about, a couple of intense days with a friend who needed someone to be there, a memorable weekend marathon of Prison Break (ohh, Michael Scofield, how you have stolen my heart...) because I didn't want to start the term with any unwatched episodes, a crazy day's outing with Li Ying in our search for the perfect evening dress, plus an interesting first attempt at cooking bak kut teh combined with Linus' movie night. The friend's now feeling hugely better and on the way to the discovery of happiness, Michael Scofield remains in my heart until I can get my hands on episode #20 haha, the vaguely successful bak kut teh will be attempted again with another poor unsuspecting bunch of guinea pigs, and The Dress will make a hopefully spectacular appearance this Saturday, at our very own Malaysian Night!

Inspiration

Tell me, O Muse...

So Homer begins his epic poem of the man of many ways, the Ithacan king Odysseus. Hard and twisty is the homecoming of our favourite hero, hard and twisty is the telling of one of Western civilisation's earliest literature.

And as rosy-fingered Dawn leaves the bed of her immortal Tithonus, so I too shall evoke her, beloved of bards and poets, Muse of the most ancient of days...

Amsterdam 31/03/06 - 05/04/06

Whoaa where has the time flown? Exactly two weeks ago I was enjoying my first day in Amsterdam, capital of Holland and canal city of the north... and now for the long-due update! Link to photo album is at right under Photography; do click on the photos to enlarge as well as the links in white text- you're missing half the enjoyment if you don't. (p.s. skip the lofty long-winded artsy descriptions if this post seems too long ya.)

Follow me, on our very own mini-Eurotrip...

Friday 31st March - Arrival and exploration of Museumplein
Shyan being the only excusable exception to our "let's stay up all night!" plan, 4.45am saw us wannabe glamorous jet-setters trundled into a dodgy Wilmslow-based cab, bleary-eyed and hoping desperately no one left anything behind. Lynn pulling out of the trip to go home, there were no last-minute replacements to be found... and voila! our own (ahem!) menage a trois:

Shyan

The most experienced traveller, veteran of dingy hostels and rough camping, the aged, cynical seen-it-all navigator and rock of the trip.







JJ

The rookie on his first visit to a European country, the cool dude forever hungry, dragger of the unnecessarily massive luggage. Which then leaves...










Yours truly, me

The above image should represent the very embodiment of tranquility, peace and harmony with the natural world. In reality it's just another bloedige toerist (Dutch-slang for, of course, "bloody tourist") arsing about on the man-made lake in Keukenhof. Very cool wooden floating circles. But wait! I get ahead of the story.



Easy-peasy journey from Amsterdam Schiphol to the lovely Amsterdam Centraal though the flight itself was slightly delayed due to the French strikes; decided to get three-day passes for 13 euros each instead of the mind-boggling stripenkaart. Despite Shyan's adventurous spirit, a half-hour walk complete with luggage into our yet-undiscovered city in search of Hotel Abba seemed more like a search for El Dorado, so onto the tram it was. Info nugget: the central Amsterdam public transport system is indeed quite a wondrous thing to experience. Smooth, clean, relatively regular and very proper, plus you can sneak in from the back for FREE if you'r nifty enough; *insert appropriate derogatory comparison with a) Manchester buses, b) Malaysian buses/LRT/trains/taxis. enuf said.* Got off at the strangely-named 1e Con. Huygenstraat stop, less than a 10-minute walk from the Leidseplein eating district yayy!

Staff at the 1-star Hotel Abba directed three clamouring bellies to the nearest "in" place to eat, the Irish pub Tig Barra. Had a comforting English breakfast that brought back memories of boarding school, with a Baileys mocha... mmhmm...... After lunch it was off exploring to the museum area. After familiarising ourselves with directions and buildings, we decided to get the joint ticket to the Van Gogh Museum and Rijksmuseum. (Info nugget: Didya know that the architect of the former's new wing - the curvy thing in the photo below - also designed our very own KLIA?)

The few hours spent in the musuems were hugely enjoyable, albeit very tiring. The first floor of the Van Gogh Museum held a chronological retrospective of the Vincent's life and works, with very informative write ups and an excellent logical layout. It was quite absorbing seeing some of his most famous paintings (such as The Potato Eaters, The Yellow House, some of his Sunflowers, many portraits and self-portraits, and landscapes), as well as the smaller, more intimate works. Unfortunately, especially for Shyan since it's his sister's favourite painting, the ever-iconic Starry Night lives in the far West. Personal favourites include the series of peasant portraits, the Japonaiserie studies, The Pink Peach Tree, both versions of the Sower with Setting Sun, Church in Auvers, Sprig of Flowering Almond in a Glass, Almond Blossom, and of course A Pair of Shoes.

The Rembrandt-Caravaggio comparative exhibition jointly held with the Rijksmuseum was one of my personal highlights of the trip. The very cool, atmospheric entrance to the exhibit was the underground link between the old and new wing of the museum. Complimentary audio guides, dim passageways and intimate ambience, plus great spotlighting on the paintings made the whole thing thoroughly enjoyable. Caravaggio's colours were crisper and bolder, Rembrandt's tonal and jewelled with more chiaroscuro. The verdict? In retrospect, I still prefer the "Caravaggio of the north" to the "Rembrandt of the south" (haha). Might have something to do with the satisfying painterly quality of Rembrandt's style compared with Caravaggio's cleaner and harder execution, as well as the humanity of the flawed and approchable people in the former's work instead of the exalted, slightly-aloof feeling of Caravaggio's subjects. There's also something rather contrived about the latter's infusion of drama in oft-depicted scenes.

Favourites included Rembrandt's small early portrait, the memorable ugliness of the baby in Abduction of Ganymede, the tightly controlled drama of The Feast of Belshazzar and The Blinding of Samson, the surprising loveliness of Bathsheba with King David's Letter far more apparent when you see her "in the flesh", so to say. The Angel Stopping Abraham from Sacrificing Issac to God (long-winded title!) reminded me of Ghiberti's Sacrifice of Isaac panel (1401) which won the competition for the Florentine Baptistery east doors. The classically heroic, idealised body of Rembrandt's Isaac is quite a lot like Ghiberti's of 2 1/2 centuries before, but the suspense of Abraham's falling knife that seems about to kill Isaac anyway is entirely Rembrandt's own.

Perhaps the Rembrandt painting that moved me the most was Titus at His Desk, a small-ish, quiet and earthy portrait of the artist's son daydreaming over his homework, head resting on his hand and the imprint of his thumb distorting the shape of his mouth. The dreamy visage of the boy emerges into a shaft of light that dances on his golden hair, his empty brown surroundings almost a canvas that plays out the far-away images that only he can see. In comparison, Caravaggio's Boy Bitten by a Lizard is a wonderful and amusing study, but somehow one can't get "lost" in his work like Rembrandt's. In all, I preferred Caravaggio's quieter, contemplative paintings such as Penitent Magdalene (love how her turned-away face projects such emotion and how her sleeve shines out of her dusky surroundings almost as if the Holy Spirit's about to lift her up; note her contemporary clothing and jewelry as well as her status) to the larger and more recognisable subjects. Judith Beheading Holofernes was a rich but subtly coloured take on the OT story - the flowing curve of her body and strength in her arms almost seems to combine the grace of early Renaisance Botticelli and monumentality of High Renaissance Michelangelo.


The whole exhibition was pretty darn amazing in the way it brought together some of the most incredible paintings from all over the world to commemorate Rembrandt's 400th birthday year. Shame Danae's still in the Hermitage in Russia, would have loved to see it again. Really, ya just had to be there.



After resting our terribly sleep-deprived bodies along the Museumplein, it was a hop, skip and jump over to the Rijksmuseum. After about an hour's wandering about, I finally found it! The bigshot of the museum, grandly lording it over all the other punitive little paintings - The Night Watch! Goodness, to think of Rembrandt's genius in conceiving and completing this colossus within four years. Originally titled The Company of Captain Frans Cocq, the work really shows off his skill with light and shadow in creating emphasis and exciting composition throughout the scene. Highlight of the Rijksmuseum definitely had to be Vermeer's works especially The Milkmaid (use Artchive's image viewer to give you a sense of Vermeer's colours). Oh my that blue of her skirt! You simply have to see it in person to appreciate that deep joyful irisdence, lovely beyond description. I can't rave about the painting enough - it's the heart-stopping folds of her skirt and the sheer physical realism of the milk spilling from the earthen jug that makes the whole thing simply breathtaking. Also really enjoyed exploring the very detailed Street in Delft and the atmospheric Woman in Blue Reading a Letter.

It was too late for a restaurant dinner by the time we returned to the hotel and showered. Domino's takeaway right across the street suddenly seemed rather attractive and so it was pizza for a rather belated and sleepy dinner. One by one we fell asleep in front of the TV and over our reading materials. 'Twas a long, long day.



Saturday 1st April - Koningsplein, Anne Frank Huis, Red Light District
Like clockwork Shyan got out of bed when his alarm rang and went down to breakfast. Dunno where he gets his energy from. Followed him after twenty minutes of lazing in bed. We had a typical Dutch breakfast, rather close to the Continental meals we have in Asian hotels, but I suppose we were, after all, on the Continent. The spread included coffee, tea, orange juice, milk, cornflakes, whitebread, brownbread, sesame ryebiscuit-like bread, Dutch "breakfast cake", jam and chocolate spread, ham, salami, cheese, and hardboiled eggs.

We waited until about 1pm (yes, you read right) to finally get JJ out of bed. Turns out the flu-riddled Shyan had kept JJ awake all night (ahem!)... with his snoring la. Took the tram and got off at the Koningsplein stop to explore the floating flower market and beyond. Spring's arriving later and later each year - as a result there were honestly more orchids to gawk at than tulips. Had our first encounter with Dutch pancakes along the flower market - I had a normal and satifying chocolate pancake, Shyan a wonderful banana one, and JJ decided to experiment with the vanilla icecream and whipped cream with eggnog pancake! Whoaaa his was decidedly very alcoholic and proved too much for the poor fella to finish.
After walking across a maze of picturesque canals, trusting Shyan to lead the way with his map and tantalised by the shopping(!!) around Koningsplein, we found our way to Anne Frank's House. Very interesting tour around the narrow converted warehouse, office and hidey-hole where her immortal characters lived so many months in hiding from the Nazis. The ghosts of the past long at peace, and it being years since I last poured over her diary, I had to rely on my imagination and the commentaries provided to reconstruct what it must have been like for the refugees. The Free2Choose interactive display at the end made the whole tour truly meaningful and worthwhile. The audience is shown short clips on different themes (the right to demonstrate and the right to religion, for example) and then asked to vote on current issues. Results of the votes are then compared between the current audience and all the visitors. Brilliant idea, great display.

The boys being hungry and desperate for Chinese food (c'mon we're in Amsterdam!) we headed to a large-ish Chinese restaurant. After that it was off to explore Chinatown (as it was still light); we discovered a Malaysian restaurant called Wau! haha.. seriously pricey satay. Parallel to Chinatown is the world-infamous Red Light District, so-called because of the red lamps lining the long, long street as well as red lights adorning pleasure shops and "theatres". Oggled both the seriously hot and not-so-fanciable girls (haihhh why no gorgeous gigolos waannnn??) and sated our (esp JJ's) curiousity in a video/accessory shop. (@o@) My god there were some MASSIVE dildos! No joke, they were so big as to be almost scary leh.

Headed back after a night of experiencing the more "exciting" area of central Amsterdam; chilled out with some chor dai di and then the boys attempted to teach me to play mahjong! And that was the end of our second day.

Sunday 2nd April - De Oude Kerk, Botanic Gardens, Rembrandtplein
Found our way to the Old Church and discovered the "Black Corner", rather aptly named as the prostitues were only "women of colour". A very satisfying afternoon was spent wandering by ourselves in Amsterdam's Botanic Gardens, featuring a magnificient plethora of flora and fauna. Highly recommended, if you ever go to Amsterdam. A large open area with patterened beds featured different species and types of flowering plants and small shrubs, as well as a pond with ducks, frogs and frogspawn. The first greenhouse I went into was specifically for palm trees; the 2nd one had a high gallery walkway - spent a couple of minutes camwhoring there. The next greenhouse was really lovely with flowering shrubs, sculptures, mini fountains and delicate plants. From a hanging walkway one enters the next gallery and is hit by a hot, sultry blast of humid tropical air. Walking through the "rainforest" greenhouse, I could have been deceived by the realness of the setting - it was as if merely walking through the doorway transported me 8,000 miles back home to Taman Negara. Wonderful, wonderful humidity! At once I felt utterly uncomfortable in my jumper and thoroughly at home. There was even a really nice pond amid the lush greenery with a funny sculpture man with his arm all streched out. With a backward look of regret I returned to Europe. Smaller greenhouses contained cactuses from the mini to the gigantic, and fiendishly hard-to-photograph butterflies.



We returned to the city centre and indulged in some Haagen-Dazs icecream =P along Rembrandtsquare. Fooled around with the larger-than-life sculptures from the Night Watch (see headless impaled JJ at left). Dinner was at Leidseplein - after much deliberation we chose Zorba de Griek - yes, you guessed it! Greek food. I choose a simple but perfectly made vegetable chicken soup and a starter plate of dolmades - herby rice with minced meat wrapped in wineleave with a light Greek yoghurt dressing. Shyan had a really good beef stew with vegetables, and JJ chose roast lamb with rice and salad. And it was all simply scrumptious.


Monday 3rd April - Zaanse Schans, St Nicholas' Church
An early start and we were on the train to Koog-Zaandijk. It was a fifteen minute walk to the windmills; on the way we passed through a pretty town and a chocolate-making factory! Whoaa the smell of cocoa beans was simply everywhere, and to be honest I'd be completely sick of it if I had to live there for long, chocoholic me notwithstanding.













Sure enough we came to the bridge over the River Zaan, eagerly awaiting the first glimpse of one of the most breathtakingly beautiful views in Holland. Sure, it was pretty enough, but staggeringly picturesque? Hmm... But anyway, it was a lovely day to be out leisurely strolling. Took plenty of touristy photos with the windmills, browsed the souvenier shops with dazzling arrangements of blue-and-white pottery and dizzying rows of multi-coloured clogs, had more over-priced pancakes, and of course sampled enough cheese at the cute little cheese farm to make Malaysia proud. Free waaht. In the end, I still prefer cow cheese over goat cheese - Shyan begs to differ.











Back in Amsterdam, we paid a spontaneous visit to the Gothic-looking church near the station. St Nicholas' Church it was, and a rather well-hidden gem it turned out to be. Despite its dark, colourless and rather uninviting exterior, the building featured some truly lovely stained glass rose windows, engaging apostles on the well-preserved dome's pendantis and beautiful coffering all around.





Dinner at Leidseplein again saw us spoilt for choice, but in the end we chose to go to an Argentinian steakhouse. Hah, budget eating's only for poor British students who spend it all on drink haha! Oh my, another memorable meal. This time the steak was marinated to perfection and just nicely medium rare the way I like it, the salad was fresh and sweet, the herby rice cooked to the right consistency, the red wine complementing the meal in every way, and of course what's a good dinner without wonderful company?

Tuesday 4th April - Keukenhof, Leiden
Another relatively early wakeup call to catch the train to Leiden Central, and from there the shuttle bus to Keukenhof, world class flower gardens. As I mentioned earlier, our trip was a bit too early to see all the tulips in their most magnificent outdoor state, but the gardens were a great walk in themselves. Unfortunately it decided to drizzle for a while, but we found the huge greenhouse soon enough, and it was nice and sunny by the time we came out again. (Info nugget: there are many, many, many, MANY different kinds of tulips.)

And oh my, the flowers were amazing. Temperature in the greehouse is controlled all year round so the tulips and hyacinths and crocuses and hydrangeas and cyclamens bloom gloriously, scattering their faintly intoxicating scent through the air, proudly showing off their stunning colours and perfect petals. If you're a flower girl - or flower boy, for that matter - go to Keukenhof. Need I repeat myself? Go to Keukenhof. And bring a good high resolution camera with plenty of battery and lots of memory cards. Let the photos speak for themselves.

After an overpriced lunch of Ajinomoto-vege soup and cold apple pie - the boys had tomato soup, rather interesting herring roll, smoked salmon roll, apricot tart and yummy chocolate cake - we headed out into the sunshine and the themed gardens. As hard as we looked, the Japanese garden remained elusively unfindable. Which brings me back to the spoiler in my initial introduction. Like true Malaysians we camwhored for a while on the wooden circles peppering one side of the lake, then decided it was time to head out. The afternoon drawing on, there was no chance for a last-minute trip to Deflt - Vermeer's home - so we took a leisurely stroll around Leiden itself, birthplace of Rembrandt.












Headed back to Amsterdam and Leidseplein again for dinner, and bumped into the Singaporean group on our way to the Dutch restaurant. JJ had an excellent beef roast with young jenever (Dutch gin) followed by dessert, I chose herring on a bed of mixed salad with Dutch pea soup; Shyan's dessert choice of buttered poffertjes with vanilla icecream washed down with Jaegermeister was undoubtedly one of his personal highlights.













Wednesday 5th April - Shopping, at last!
Perfect weather on the last day, of course. With our flight scheduled for 8pm, there wasn't quite enough leeway to satify the shopaholic in all three of us, but time sufficed for a detailed exploration of the long shop-filled street parallel to the Koningsplein canal. For those of you who love European fashion, sigh and go green with envy. Esprit, Mexx, Zara, Morgan de Toi among the bigger names, the stuff was classy European, oh yes. None of that trashy slutty cheap quality English stuff, thank you very much.













A quick nibble on our last journey to 1e Con. Huygenstraat, another quick bite at Amsterdam Schiphol's Wok to Walk (yes, our last meal in Holland was Burger King and Indon-Chinese takeaway), and we were on our way back home again. The silly French delayed our return to reality by more than an hour, and so by the time the cab dropped us back at our cribs, it was truly time for another holiday to recover from our holiday.

What a superb time I had despite our minor cash setback, and the credit goes to my two guys who made it remotely possible and thoroughly worthwhile. =D

Back at my home away from home

Just got in from a pretty good chinese dinner with phing, shyan, ennyong, cheemun n roy. *Burrrrrppppp* heehee.. been craving chinese food for ages!! Nice long chillout sesh @ CM's; it's great to be "home" in Manchester and catchup with friends. AMSTERDAM WAS FREAKIN FANTABULOUS!!! in shyan's words, a truly "super-funkadelic city" of crisscrossing canals, funky narrow houses, bloody good shopping and of course the ever-wonderful culture. Detailed re-telling of the trip comin up once I finish editing my photos... Watch this space.

Yee Ku Poh

My grand-aunt passed away on Tuesday morning. She was my paternal grandfather's younger sister, mother of two, widow from quite young but happy in her own way. I haven't seen her for many, many months, and I suppose I shan't ever see her again. I remember from my childhood a small, often sweet-faced woman, who with time, became delicate and fragile that you'd be afraid of crushing her slender bones with a hug, but sparkling with a quick mind and even quicker tongue when you did something she didn't approve of.

Her wake was held yesterday, in her house just behind my grandfather's. I can just imagine it, even though I was not there to say the final goodbye. The coffin was one of those with a glass panel at one end - I can picture the calm scene, perhaps just a simple, very ordinary wake of an old woman you could see lying there - could she still be sleeping?- over the bed of dry ice preserving her like magic against the sultry Malaysian heat she'd known all her life. Face and body clean after a long but unnoticed fight against liver cancer, her soft parchment skin and snowy hair blending into the cream or white or just plain beige of the pillow under her head. Bright dark eyes that sharpened in discontent as often as they flashed with laughter now forever unseeing under the closed, papery lids.

My memories hold scenes of a woman struggling to fill the blue echoes and shadows of a house too big and long empty of children and family. The faded red of kua chee seeds concealing a sliver of white crunchy flesh, the tantalising red of hong pau promising an addition to the piggy bank. I can hardly ever say I knew her, and her passing costs me no emotion; well, perhaps a little relief that she suffers no more, as they always say, and there is closure to her final months of just existing. For myself, I'll take a while to remember her from my days of innocence, back from where the spicy tang of family politics had yet to be discovered, when a kiss and hug for a slightly-smiling, delicate-featured woman were easy gifts in exchange for a cold juicy kam and the treasured envelope of red.

Update

Whiling away twenty minutes before Spanish class. Hmm... last week seems worth blogging about.

Monday was a bit annoying with all three seminars in a row. Had to scramble the day before to get all the work done (last minute, as usual hehe). Spanish was quite good - with only four of us bothering to turn up, the session was more intensive and satisfying than normal. I really have to buck up with memorising my vocab if I want to get anywhere with only 10 1.5 hour Spanish lessons under my belt.

Tuesday evening Yew Hoong and I went to the meet-and-greet session at Midlands Hotel. The guest of honour? PubSec for the Singaporean Minister of Defence. The event? Launching of the Singaporean Overseas Community for students. Quite amusing that the PS came and shook my hand, and started to make conversation. He was actually trying to seem interested in me and what I do, but the moment I told him I was Malaysian he said, "Oh!" and then somehow wandered away. Cheh. And there I was telling YH we're part of the "honourary delegates from across the causeway" while the S'porean PubSec himself didn't seem too eager to foster a dynamic relationship with us Malaysians hahaha... Anywayz, felt obliged to mingle and "network" a bit just to show I wasn't a freeloader who only turned up for the food (unlike some other M'sians who arrived totally overdressed and then headed straight for the food and hardly talk to anyone but themselves - no names! heehee). =D And speaking about food.. mmmmm not bad, not bad. Though I did expect something better from a 4-star hotel. Highlights were the white wine and chocolate dessert.. ohh man!! Really nice time talking to some of my S'porean friends and catching up with Yew Hoong over some good food.

Quite interesting comparing this event with any Malaysian parallels. When Nazri, member of Badawi's cabinet visited late last year, the gathering was held at Jati - venue was "Malaysian" but the space was way too small to accommodate the number of people who turned up. Indeed, it was mostly Malays present and the event was hardly publicised to us students. In fact, my group only turned up because we heard there was free food, not because we were aware some politician was here to visit. Nazri's speech itself was rambling, unfocused and very, very long. I have nothing against it being in Malay - after all it's our national language and the event was for Malaysians. What rubbed me the wrong was was that there was hardly any purpose to this courtesy call, hence no focus at all in his speech covering the hot news back then which was of course, Squatgate. The S'porean PS's speech was very articulate, precise, rightly patriotic and with just the right touch of informality. He stirred in me something quite close to a longing to be Singaporean... comparisons demonstrating how time and again, we Malaysians and our government always seem to miss the mark; Singapore seems a utopic paragon of how to do things efficiently, diplomatically, and just spot on. A gal just wants to be proud of her country for the right reasons, ya know? Sighhh...

Wednesday went to this Thai restaurant, Koi Samui with "The People" (Shyan - they're formerly known as as "The Party Animals" lah). Truckloads to eat, quite good, rich food but somehow not spicy enough. Damn the gwailoh palate!! Heard from QiLian & Kuan Ching that MAS is discontinuing the KL-MAN direct flights from May... damn damn damn!

Friday had a great time with Lizi at RNCM's Symphony Orchestra concert. Stravinsky's Fireworks got the programme off on an explosive start. Lulu Yang's applaudable rendition of Saint-Saens's 2nd Piano Concerto was both strident and delicate. Amazing how that small-sized girl can pull off that intensely physical piece with such virtuosic panache. Rachmaninov's highly Romantic 2nd Symphony was a wonderful counterpart to the earlier shorter pieces. Sublime music-making from the musicians and conductor Paul Daniel, though I didn't quite like his style of conducting. After that, St. Patrick's Day drinking with RNCM and Mgt chums! And, I even bothered to put on a green halterneck top, no less.

Remember, remember, the twenty-second of December... Haha just my own birthday take on V for Vendetta's cheesy but strangely haunting opening (it's actually meant to be the 5th of November, Guy Fawkes Day). Saturday late afternoon met up with Ainun, Shyan and Enn Yong. Finally saw that gal after so long! I swear she's spending more time in Liverpool than Manchester. The movie was not bad at all, pretty interesting in its own way, and admittedly a lot better that the Wachowski brothers last writing attempt - Matrix 2 & 3. I enjoyed the "look" of the film more than the ideas which weren't exactly revolutionary. That Britain's a totalitarian state was amusing, but the Chancellor's rather Hitler-esque figure and takeover was a bit disconcerting, if not insulting. V's ultimate reason for wanting to destroy the architectural symbol of a government was not quite clear in the end - did he do it because the goverment was stifling its people, or because he wanted to avenge what they did to the actress in the next cell? Natalie Portman, the so-called thinking man's sex symbol gave a very solid if not exactly Oscar-worthy performance; Hugo Weaving - ah, what can one say of the actor versatile enough to handle both Agent Smith and Lord Elrond with such incredible skill? Oh my, his projection of physicality and sheer persona from behind an all-enveloping costume of mask, coolass black outfit complete with cap and hat was simply stunning. Ya had to be there.

After the movie we headed to Pearl City - Enn Yong can really order food heeheeee... Had something similar to kangkung belacan, a claypot seafood dish, n pretty damn nice lamb with bamboo shoots and foo juk in a large claypot over our very own stove! The lamb came with a lovely sauce of fermented beancurd and rice wine (so they guys tell me) with fresh chopped chilli. Exciting stuff.

Sunday early afternoon met up with Shyan at Cornerhouse. We wanted to watch the very noirish Spanish/Cuban Homigas en la boca (Ants in the Mouth). Tickets were sold out so we went for Habana Blues instead, a Cuban take on the "musical film", relationships and opportunities. Interesting, seeing the slightly grittier side of life. S'been quite a while since I last got teary-eyed in the cinema; this time was when Ruy and band sang his farewell song - Arenas de Soledad - to his ex-wife before she and their two children illegally cross over to the USA in a "raft". Music was wonderful, very different fare from my usual Chopin et co - listen to three tracks including Arenas de Soledad under "Musica" on the website.

Laws of the Universe

Another classic forwarded email from my Dad. Personal messages come via txts, postcards or snail mail heehee...

Law of Mechanical Repair: After your hands become coated with grease your nose will begin to itch or you'll have to urinate.

Law of the Workshop: Any tool, when dropped, will roll to the least accessible corner.

Law of Probability: The probability of being watched is directly proportional to the stupidity of your act.

Law of the Telephone: When you dial a wrong number, you never get a busy signal.

Law of the Alibi: If you tell the boss you were late for work because you had a flat tire, the very next morning you will have a flat tire.

Variation Law: If you change lines (or traffic lanes), the one you were in will start to move faster than the one you are in now. (Works every time!)

Bath Theorem: When the body is fully immersed in water, the telephone rings.

Law of Close Encounters: The probability of meeting someone you know increases when you are with someone you don't want to be seen with.

Law of the Result: When you try to prove to someone that a machine won't work, it will.

Law of Biomechanics: The severity of the itch is inversely proportional to the reach.

Theatre Rule: At any event, the people whose seats are furthest from the aisle arrive last.

Law of Coffee: As soon as you sit down to a cup of hot coffee, your boss will ask you to do something which will last until the coffee is cold.

Murphy's Law of Lockers: If there are only two people in a locker room, they will have adjacent lockers.

Law of Dirty Rugs/Carpets: The chances of an open-faced jelly sandwich of landing face down on a floor covering are directly correlated to the newness and cost of the carpet/rug.

Law of Location: No matter where you go, there you are.

Law of Logical Argument: Anything is possible if you don't know what you are talking about.

Brown's Law: If the shoe fits, it's ugly.

Oliver's Law: A closed mouth gathers no feet.

Wilson's Law: As soon as you find a product that you really like, they will stop making it.

Law of Reality: Murphy was an optimist.

Joie

Haven't blogged in ages, but while chatting to Eleanor it struck me that today is Tuesday, March 14. Well, a month has flown since Tuesday, February 14 - if time flies when you're having fun, I guess I did find the strength to have fun. =) Le bonheur de vivre, n'est pas? All in all, I would like to say a big thank you for those who have helped me through this month in some way - you know who you are, love you lots.

Anyway, change of tune. Decided to give the blog a bit more purpose, a slightly more intellectual flavour apart from my usually incoherent ramblings, a better reflection of my life and passions.

Matisse's "epic" painting was completed between 1905 and 1906, the explosive start of the French movement now known as Fauvism. The work is not only a celebration of idyllic life and happiness, but also an ode to the artist's love of sheer colour and the lyricism that continued throughout his long career. Intense oranges, verdant greens, bloody reds and vibrant yellows result in a canvas that pulses with a tangible outpouring of exuberance and emotion. Very much like Edvard Munch's infamous The Scream (1893), it is in fact the background and colour that transmits the title - here, the intense happiness of life; in Munch's work it is the bloody-hued sky and tortured landscape that screams. Munch's iconic figure is soundless; Matisse's sensuous pairs are very calm, sweetly passive even, slowly writhing with a pleasure that is entirely separate from our world.

The scene opens into an Arcadian landscape of gentle woods and a paranomic ocean in the distance. What a furor the painting must have caused in its debut in the face of Parisian critics and public as a whole who, still recovering from the innovation of the Impressionists, almost keeled over in salons and galleries from the shock impact of Fauvist brilliance.

Simply gorgeous, isn't it? Makes you wanna just rip off your clothes and run to Alexandria Park, lift your face to the sun and sing your heart out. Well, that's how I feel anyway - could go on for ever raving about the painting, but ya won't catch me dead streaking along Oxford Road! Hehe... cheers to one of my favourite works ever.

Coffee break

Whew one heck of an early post for me, huh? Havin a break now with the always wonderful Ipoh White Coffee, and a rather extended break I might add. Zis is me trying to be hardworking - submitting my portfolio on The Impact of National Culture on ExxonMobil (using Geert Hofstede's theorectical framework of cultural dimensions. Hmm that bugger relli got lots of time on his hands huh, analysing data from hundreds of IBM employees in 70 countries over 7 years, just to prove that Americans really are the most selfish people on earth. (See Individualism, of which USA scores the highest among the most relevant 50 countries in the world.)

Anyway, the portfolio's only meant to be 250-300 words (worth 10% of my total marks for Modern Corporation) but then I kinda panicked a bit - what I've written over the last week or so just doesn't seem to make sense!

Poem of the Week

Haha check this poem out, sent to me by none other than... my Daddy! (yar I know I hardly check my mail.)

Bloody Men

Bloody men are like bloody buses
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.
You look at them flashing their indicators,
Offering you a ride.
You're trying to read the destinations,
You haven't much time to decide.
If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze
While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.

Really random but so true horr... Dad gets these stuff off weekly internal ExxonMobil emails or somethin like that complete with Poem of the Week, Jokes of the Week etc. LOL. He's off to Brisbane until Friday, and I'm missing him already. Awww... At least Mum gets the TV all to herself haha, but I bet she'll kinda miss not havin anyone to fight over the remote with =P Knowing him, he'll prolly get her some totally unwanted stuff like beef jerky n Auzzie chocolates... perfect for the waistline huh?

Maafkan, je ne parle pas chinese

I'm beginning to slightly question my decision to take up weekly Spanish lessons this term. Why? you ask. Now, yours truly is Chinese, born in Malaysia, brought up by parents who went to missionary schools in KL. That makes me fluent in English, with seven years' worth of Malay and Mandarin lessons complete with tuition, Cantonese picked up in late in primary school and from HK friends, and French GCSE on a piece of paper.

Couple o' facts and figures:
- there are more than 500 million native English-speaking people;
- 2 billion people will speak English as a second language with a decade;
- currently 1.1 billion Mandarin speakers
- employers are increasingly looking for bi- and even trilingual candidates - the continuing trend of "global languages" are English, Chinese, Spanish and Japanese.

Arrrghhh I don't wanna become a "jack of all trades, master of none"!! Dammit.. so how, so how? Spreading myself too thin la :S

Skimming through several sites and blogs, this link caught my eye:

Girl Weds Stray Dog

Seriously, go check it out. This clearly illustrates the need for education, education, education. Yeah? Despite the numerous attacks etc on how the Malaysian/British/anywhere else education is completely pointless yadda yadda yawwnnn utterly absurd things like this happening in countries where the literate aren't the minority. Female circumcision vs canine marriage consummation, anyone? We're ridiculous.

Brrr....

Gaaahh the weather's been very British the past few days. Well, only in Britain does the weather have personality attributes. And of the alarmingly schizophrenic mood swing type. Well let's see, just a few days ago it was sunny, crisp and dry. So dazzlingly bright that shades made a mini-comeback along Oxford Road. And then, without as much as a farewell, liquid depression descended upon us. The damp is rheumatism-inducing, wind so bitingly horrible even the coat and scarf don't wanna go out and be seen, sleet so nasty I've almost forgotten what it felt like to live in darling Malaysia. Woe on those whose heaters mysteriously switch off during a cold spell. You have my sympathy, really. Suddenly the kitchen seems warm and welcoming - overflowing bin, fried onion smell and all.

But anyway, food supplies are diminishing with worrying aclarity. Something about the cold that makes me eat more hehe.. Out to face the weather, then.


Anyways I'm back and it's like, 5am in the morning. Jasley walked Phing n I back from Hulme Hall and he's sooo totally all over her! *chortle* Can't believe I'm blogging instead of sleeping the alcohol off! But I just had to shower, wash off all the encrusted vodka from my arms and clean my smoke-permeated hair, so gotta wait until said hair is dry or else I'll wake up looking like a peacock in heat bloomed all around my face. So I have nothing better to do than blog - eyes too tired to continue Season Two of the O.C. and I can touch type anyway, even with my eyes close. Honestly, test me haha.

Went into town Friday afternoon to help Dara find an outfit for her performance in Sunday's Student PopIdol - she's gonna be singing some Whitney Houston - but no luck especially with the search narrowed down to something dark aquamarine-green. Stopped for a latte at the cafe next to Arndale's Starbucks and a generous sample of carrot & something muffin! Mmm... Dara looks simply fabulous this term with her huge blue contacts, longer hair and that luvved-up glow =P

Anyways happy 19th birthday JJ! Went to Lidl & Tesco yesterday, got the stuff for my cannellini fusilli salad that I planned to make for the potluck dinner cos I was too lazy to do any full-scale cooking. Of course, silly me, totally forgot to get the cannellini beans which kind of made the salad just a plain, boring ole.. well, salad with fusilli. Cheated on the dressing cos I used the remainder of the white rice vinegar used for cleaning the CNY jellyfish (the unused vinegar, i mean) instead of balsamic vinegar. Maybe some coarse black pepper and crushed garlic might have given it more oomph too. Never mind, always next time. Ainun did some scarily good sweet & sour chicken with mix veg and pineapple; wanphing some wonderful creamy spaghetti cabonara; JJ the fried egg rice he did for Shahril's birthday ages ago.

All in all, the dinner gathering was pretty good. The M&S cakes were seriously tho out of shape haha.. Doesnt matter what the thing looks like just how it tastes horr... Headed down to Fallowfield and in the end chose Orange Grove bar (or watever it's called) as our get-JJ-drunk-birthday-rendevous. Watched with fascination this totally wow (in my experiences anyway) Korean drinking stunt. 19 small beer glasses lined up perfectly, 18 shot glasses of vodka balancing precariously in between. And voila, a brilliant demonstration of the domino effect and beer never tasted so good than with a shot of vodka. Pity we never got to use Shu Mei's tongue-twister drinking cards, but I suppose that was probably more cerebral than most people were game for on a night out...

Got back bout 5am ish after spending a few seriously random hours in Jung Hann's room. Showered, and surprisingly got myself out of bed 2pm ish. Went to see Munich with Wan Phing. Damn good movie! Intense like a typical Spielberg but have to say it was the highlight of my week. Arggh gonna go to classes in my duvet if it doesn't start getting warmer soon...

Here's one of the best posts I've ever read, courtesy of Wan Phing again. Really got to me, deep inside at the right moment. Thanks girl you somehow always sum up not just your own feelings in your writings but mine too. =)

To:

Ladies and gorgeous gents, I've finally got it. And no, it ain't sex.

At last, I've been through the catharsis I've been needing for so long.

And oh, before I forget, Happy St Valentine's.. hope you all have a truly lovely day with loved ones. Even though I do wish that this Catholic feast day in honour of the rather ambiguous Saint Valentinus had never been mingled with the concept of courtly love from the High Middle Ages and transformed into the contrived, commercialised so-called celebration we know today.

All this while there have been so many things I've witheld from blogging about, mainly because blogs are public spaces, and for fear of hurting/offending people. Oh well, this time I think I do owe it to myself to write unfearingly about my life, and perhaps you might finally have enough guts to read this post in its entirety, unlike how you couldn't even find the balls to sort us out when you should have.

But don't get me wrong. I promise this post won't degenerate into some mindless vitriolic righteous ranting about how I want to feed you your own testicles and slowly scoop out your heart with a blunt knife. You of all people should know I'm not the vindictive hateful angry type. Then why, oh why didn't you say all those weeks, months ago when you had so many chances that you just weren't that into me anymore? What were you so afraid of?

My Valentine's Day started at midnight, with an immediate V Day wish and kiss from Lynn. Some general best wishes for and from other friends. Then you came online and it emerged that something's been on your mind for a while. You mentioned the "JD period" and I thought, whoaa isn't this all in the distant past?

You didn't realise that sometimes I acted, or said things that gave the impression that somethings did not matter as much to me, merely to make you feel less bad, even if I hurt myself saying them. The talk in the park? When I said I wasn't ready for a serious relationship and didn't want anything else to interrupt my first year? Only because you were feeling rotten and said you weren't ready. My own willing lies turned bittersweet in memory. And as if there was no end to what I had to go through, you left me agonising for a few hours that I had totally ruined any chances of "us" ever happening because of those words.

I remember sitting here, heartrate going right up, shocked numb and literally shaking. In the end, you didn't even know why you said that. And that was cruel, as if you hadn't hurt me enough.

You were callous and inconsiderate to the extent of being a total arsehole. But now I say, thank you. Thank you, for forcing it out into the open. Thank you, for trying to explain, in your own way, why you did what you did. So after months of being messed up and totally un-myself, I can now move on. Stop apologising (as you always do) for everything that happened - don't. I'm not sorry that any of it happened, and I'm the one who went through far more than you did. I have to believe that what I've stood for, lived for in the last few months meant something, and I can't believe that if I ever felt sorry it was such a waste. That would mean my life's been a waste during that period and I don't ever want to think that way. You see, sometimes it is the pain as well as the joy that reminds us we're still alive. Not to long ago, you said that when I was happy, I made people around me happy. However true that comment is, it's not things like new clothes or footwear that made me truly happy, but you. A smile, a light compliment, how we somehow always manage to text or call each other at the same time - these things made me happy.

So - there were some feelings on your part after all. It's ok, I can accept that whatever feelings that existed were just... not enough.

I can't find it in myself to hate you. Or at least throw my old moulding slipper at you or put in a half-hearted attempt at throttling. Hence I suppose this last go of digging at a wound that's starting to scab over, last chance to write some things that I couldn't say before I hold my peace forever.

Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet was a simple gift. That's all. The two reasons why I gave it to you the previous Wednesday: I didn't know how you'd react if it was a Valentine's present, and you were feeling down the previous evening. I'd been meaning to give it to you for sometime. It's just one of those books that can change a person's outlook on life - I know it changed mine, at any rate. Go read wtih an open mind; learn to accept and love yourself, faults with the goodness, and then perhaps you'll be more aware of the consequences of your actions on others and not screw up the next time.

Another wonderful person told me, broken hearts are what gives us strength and understanding and compassion - a heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

And despite all that had happened, I had a Valentine's dinner with a lovely guy who appreciates me for who I am and tells I'm wonderful. I've been given three things. A CD of Steven Isserlis playing Boccherini ("because you're allowed to give friends things on Valentine's Day", remember?) which I have yet to listen to, though I'm sure it'll be some fantastic music. A gorgeous, long-stemmed rose, the perfect lush red with broad green leaves and no thorns. And best of all, the gift of unfailing friendship.

In the end, I did manage to stay smiling throughout Valentine's Day. Had a good, dreamless sleep probably because I was completely knackered. Met up with Junie for lunch at Cafe Muse, and from there headed into town. There is a good reason why it's called retail therapy. Got some stuff from MNG and Boots, indulged in another favourite girly thing-to-do - perfume sniffing and critique. Cooed over soft toys at the Disney store and resolutely walked pass HMV. A cushion because I think I'll need something to hug over the next few nights. Also some clothes from Primark, because I realised that in life and love, what truly matters is not the name or image on the outside but that it fits.

Called it a day after some fries and Coke at Burger King. Thankfully there were no kissing cuddling couples on the bus. Had a long, hot shower and sloughed off the old dead skin. My right eye's developed a double eyelid from a little crying and serious sleep deprivation, though the left eye's stayed single. The irony of the situation is, of course, that you're the only one I know with one double and one "sepet" eye. I'm now fixing Junie's MNG scarf while listening to some Wagner, and I realise I'd stopped knitting after that black and silver scarf. There's a sense of peace and calm, the heart rate gradually coming down to normal, a feeling of lightness as if some burden has been lifted from me. This weekend, I'll take out my cello to play, and feel my heart singing again.

Blue Blood

It was a sizeable shock.

There I was, curled up in my chair with legs propped on table, reading Mammon Inc., the hilarious 2nd book by Singaporean novelist Hwee Hwee Tan, about a Singapore-born, Oxford-educated woman training to become an CorpS Adapter in a world rife with mcCola, mcBurger, mcMac, and mostly run by Mammon Inc. Chiah Deng's role as anAdapter is to teach executives how to cross cultures. Her second Test in the pursuit of THE fabulous job is to turn her very-Singaporean sister into someone Brit enough to mix effortlessly in the JCR of Oxford's Christ Church College. Now, Chiah Chen is the epitome of the stereotyped Singaporean girl complete with mandatory kiasu-ness and perfectly atrocious Singlish. Hence Chiah Deng writes up a Guide to Being an Oxford It Girl:

"Here are the Top 10 questions that people might ask you at social functions.
Memorize these answers so that they'll think you're a posh socialite.
Questions about your:
1) Name
Your name: Sophie
Names of your best friends: Sophie, Tara, Sara, Cosmina, George, Robert, Prince William, Tom
2) Childhood and education
You were raised in Egypt. You could see the pyramids from your mansion terrace. Unfortunately, your family had to flee after Daddy's warehouse was burned down by ungrateful natives. When you returned home, you were shipped off to the Sherborne School for Girls."

And there it was, without so much as a by-your-leave ma'am, the jolt of my exotic past hitting me in the face. Sherborne School for Girls. Posh socialite. Was I really that blue-blooded, then?

But then I had a little epiphany. Years in posh Brit boarding schools notwithstanding, I guess all that really matters is the person I've turned out to be, not the names on my education certs nor my accent or my familiarity with old hymns due to long hours in freezing cathedrals/abbeys. Yes I ain't your average 19-year-old Malaysian gal, and I can't claim to mix with people from all walks of society, but you definitely won't catch me dead sniffing at anyone for being too nouveau riche. All I ask are things like not putting your feet on the table while eating, and I really couldn't care less if you knew which is the salad knife or the dessert spoon. So, off to the mamak it is!

Half-hearted bitchiness

Ooh I've never used this dark purple font before. Now tell me, just how mo liu can a girl get?

Gawd, how I miss my camera. In a trigger-happy mood these few days, but my one obstacle to photographic bliss is the untimely death of that ickle Litium-ion battery in the trusty ole Sony P10. I WANT A NEW CAMERA!!! But oh well, lemme make my ngan-jee first, so says the parents. Anyway, went to the Sony shop in Arndale the other day, hoping to bring some life back to the poor thing and a smile back on my face. Arriving there after wandering about ressembling a lost Japanese tourist, I proceeded to flash a dazzling smile at the guy-behind-the-counter. Now, these so-called sales representatives/executives are never just out to inform the occasional lost Japanese tourist about the wonders of modern Japanese photographic equiment, but out to get said Japanese tourist's hard-earned cash. That's why said sales rep isn't ever just the cute Sony guy or the fugly Sony guy, but always the Sony guy-behind-the-counter, reason being they can quickly duck behind said counter when the customer gets pissed off mah. (Hey, it's 1am okay, lemme have my daily ramble will ya?)

Well, back to the story. This supposedly lost Japanese tourist wasn't in fact Japanese, a tourist, or even lost in the first place. That's the one helluva annoying thing some Brits assume when some yellow-skinned person wanders about Manchester's Arndale clutching a camera case. Look, I'm a student, okay? I live here, okay? I was wandering about window-shopping, okay? I take photographs as a means of expression, okay? Okay. Anyway, the very sneaky salesguy tried to foist off a 54.99 pound sterling purchase on me, but, sorry mate, ya just ain't fast enough. Bugger told me he hadn't got any cameras still using that battery, then told me a brand-new battery was 54.99 quid, then as fast as lighting took up a pair of scissors and was about to happily snip open the pack when - whoaaaaa, hang on dude. Wait, if you open the pack to let me try the battery, I have to pay for it? Yeah, that a problem? Well, actually it is. I haven't agreed to pay for it.

Having my end-of-chinese-new-year cum Chap Goh Mei dinner bash later today. Hmmm gonna be an interesting combination of Malaysians and Singaporeans. I actually quite like orgnising these get-togethers, but when people remember that I'm doing management, it's like I end up doing all the donkey work. Gaaah. I've even developed an allergy to delegation, delegation, delegation. Why can't people try and take the initiative for once? "Yi-Wen, how to get to Whitworth ah? Yi-Wen, how to get into Whitworth ah? Yi-Wen, I dunno what to cook lehh! Yi-Wen, do I really have to bring something??" And then when I take charge and tell people what to do, I've become: "aunty. Okayla, an aunty wannabe". Lol. No win situation huh...

Wow what a bitchy mood I'm in. Can't seem to make up my mind today. Tchaikovsky or Faye Wong? Isabel Allende or Hwee Hwee Tan? The Times or The Independant? thestar.com.my or nst.com.my? Maggi Mee curry or Shin Cup? =P

I have decided to regain my literacy. As in, have a huge list of non-textbook-books-I've-meant-to-read-but-never-had-the-time-to to plough through. Which means far less blogging, chatting and hea-ing, because these take up precious reading time.

Cute building huh? Kinda reminds of the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix in that eponymous Harry Potter book. You know, when Harry recites the address from memory and Sirius' house just squeezes itself into existence from between its neighbours? Feels like it's from a different era, this little one just off Albert Square. Guess that's the magic of this city.