"I'm tantalised, and weak at knees,
My words seek to betray,
The memory of your loveliness,
I stammer what I say.
My heart starts to run amess,
My mind in scrambled thought,
And the love that I would confess,
Will at my throat be caught." -HK-
Enjoy this clip from aforementioned Juno, and have an inspired Valentine's Day!
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Anyone Else But You - Michael Cera and Ellen Page
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Anyone Else But You
property of Fox Searchlight PicturesJuno MacGuff: "I just need to know if it's possible for two people to stay happy together forever."
Mac MacGuff: "In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person will still think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with."
- Juno, 2007 -
If you're looking for a film to see this Valentine's Day, there's no need to look beyond here. This film is sweet and although not over-the-top funny, it is certainly an endearing watch and worth your (partner's) money for the outstanding performance by Ellen Page as the title character Juno MacGuff.
The film's focus is on 16 year old Juno, working her way unsteadily through her first pregnancy, a baby she does not want, which brings her into contact with the adoptive parents she has selected for her child.
There is no looking away from Ellen Page as she carries this role with a confident swagger, and my brother was reminded about Megan Follows a.k.a Anne of Green Gables who we nursed a crush for growing up!
(/short flashback)
Other characters I had crushes on growing up:
Alana (Katherine Cullen) in The Girl from Tomorrow. There was just something about the way she said the word transducer that made her appealing (don't I sound like the pervert!)
Victoria "Vicki" Ann-Smith Lawson (Tiffany Brissette) in Small Wonder. Okay, so she was a robot. But she was a cute robot! Complete with apron!
Cheetara from Thundercats. There's just something about a leopard woman in leotards...
Nala from Lion King, Simba's partner. There's just something about a lioness....
(/disturbing interruption to short flashback)
Hahaha! Okay, so the first two were real, although I'm sure that if I thought harder about it, there would be more. But Megan Follows was definitely up there - imperious as the witty and confident Anne.
I'm sure that I've missed some but feel free to add in your own little childhood crushes! And go watch Juno!
Thundercats are go!
Monday, February 11, 2008
Disturbing Beauty
I've continued my reading/movie watching habits on my days off while doing this rotation, and I should make mention of one of each here. It has been a trend of ugliness and disturbing topics packaged in an artistic manner:
1) Adib Khan's The Storyteller. I was amazed that this gentleman was actually a Bangladeshi national who, more surprisingly, wrote this book in Ballarat (one of the country towns in Victoria!). I picked it up randomly from the library, and I'm kind of glad I did.
Although it doesn't deal with anything pretty at all - the story follows the life and death of a horribly misshapen dwarf living in the slums of India amongst prostitutes and hijras (eunuchs) who makes his living as a thief and a storyteller - the writing was quite beautiful and the pictures were really vividly painted in your mind.
It deals with a few issues about religion, poverty but mainly loneliness and despair. I was surprised to find out that Mr. Khan started writing at the age of 40 - out of boredom because he found himself stuck doing a teaching job in a country town in Victoria. Man, if books come out of your midlife crises, then bring on my mid-life crisis now!
2) Fruit Chan's disturbing 'Dumplings', the whole movie (which was abridged and inserted into the Three...Extremes series).
The reason I watched this one was because I was initially hooked to the Three concept - Three was originally a series of three short horror movies inserted into one movie. There would be representation from Korea, Thailand and Hong Kong.
I know some of you avoid horror movies, and as I was sitting in that dark cinema all those years ago I was regretting my choice already - the Korean short came on first and it was pretty scary, but conventional scary. The Thai one just left me wishing I was somewhere else - not because it was frightening, but because it was just plain B-grade bad!
However, the last one in the series - which is called "Going Home" by Peter Chan Ho-Sun was an absolute masterpiece - shot in beautiful detail, and the storyline was amazing. It wasn't Nightmare on Elm Street scary, it was more Sixth Sense eerie, and this movie stayed with me for awhile.
Anyways, Dumplings was a highly disturbing watch as it tells the story of a lady who is seeking eternal youth and beauty by eating dumplings made from... I'm going to stop right there and throw up, actually. The cinematography was beautiful (Christopher Doyle is a godsend to Hong Kong cinema) and he is an Australian as well!
Wrapping the ugliness of the world in beautiful shots/words - is there a trend here?
If you had to decide between the two, I would recommend "Going Home" hands down - it was on Youtube for awhile but it has been removed due to copyright reasons.
Alternatively, if you like your viewing light and happy and you're looking for Asian cinema, the most delightful show I've ever seen is Welcome Back, Mr. McDonald - I watched it twice while it was screening in Malaysia. Don't even try to find it - it is impossible (although I'm sure eBay should be more than happy to oblige your curiosity!)
Worth hunting for, and worth keeping!
1) Adib Khan's The Storyteller. I was amazed that this gentleman was actually a Bangladeshi national who, more surprisingly, wrote this book in Ballarat (one of the country towns in Victoria!). I picked it up randomly from the library, and I'm kind of glad I did.
Although it doesn't deal with anything pretty at all - the story follows the life and death of a horribly misshapen dwarf living in the slums of India amongst prostitutes and hijras (eunuchs) who makes his living as a thief and a storyteller - the writing was quite beautiful and the pictures were really vividly painted in your mind.
It deals with a few issues about religion, poverty but mainly loneliness and despair. I was surprised to find out that Mr. Khan started writing at the age of 40 - out of boredom because he found himself stuck doing a teaching job in a country town in Victoria. Man, if books come out of your midlife crises, then bring on my mid-life crisis now!
2) Fruit Chan's disturbing 'Dumplings', the whole movie (which was abridged and inserted into the Three...Extremes series).
The reason I watched this one was because I was initially hooked to the Three concept - Three was originally a series of three short horror movies inserted into one movie. There would be representation from Korea, Thailand and Hong Kong.
I know some of you avoid horror movies, and as I was sitting in that dark cinema all those years ago I was regretting my choice already - the Korean short came on first and it was pretty scary, but conventional scary. The Thai one just left me wishing I was somewhere else - not because it was frightening, but because it was just plain B-grade bad!
However, the last one in the series - which is called "Going Home" by Peter Chan Ho-Sun was an absolute masterpiece - shot in beautiful detail, and the storyline was amazing. It wasn't Nightmare on Elm Street scary, it was more Sixth Sense eerie, and this movie stayed with me for awhile.
Anyways, Dumplings was a highly disturbing watch as it tells the story of a lady who is seeking eternal youth and beauty by eating dumplings made from... I'm going to stop right there and throw up, actually. The cinematography was beautiful (Christopher Doyle is a godsend to Hong Kong cinema) and he is an Australian as well!
Wrapping the ugliness of the world in beautiful shots/words - is there a trend here?
If you had to decide between the two, I would recommend "Going Home" hands down - it was on Youtube for awhile but it has been removed due to copyright reasons.
Alternatively, if you like your viewing light and happy and you're looking for Asian cinema, the most delightful show I've ever seen is Welcome Back, Mr. McDonald - I watched it twice while it was screening in Malaysia. Don't even try to find it - it is impossible (although I'm sure eBay should be more than happy to oblige your curiosity!)
Worth hunting for, and worth keeping!
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Year of the (Pack) Rat
I have read somewhere that women find their partners most attractive when they are engaged in homely activities - playing with the kids, doing the dishes, cleaning up the house. Today, I must be the sexiest man alive.
It is the Chinese New Year tomorrow, and I was asked by my housemate if I wouldn't mind cleaning the house. It is a Chinese New Year tradition that on the days leading up to the first day of the New Year, people often frantically clean their houses in preparation for the Lunar New Year.
There is a more superstitious reason as well - one is not allowed to sweep the house during the New Year celebrations (which lasts 15 days) as we believe that you are sweeping your good luck away.
Thankfully, our household only has a vacuum cleaner. So all our good luck will be kept in the little disposable bag inside the vacuum cleaner until we decide to empty it into the bin.
Seeing that I'm now doing my night shift, I wake up at erratic hours, depending on how many hours of sleep I got at work the night before. I had four hours of sleep at work two days ago, and so the day after I woke up at one pm at home, inspired to do some cleaning, and cleaned the bathroom.
One bathroom among three boys and on occasions, a girl, means unfortunately that when my mum visited, she wouldn't step in the shower area unless I cleaned it! Haha!
It's amazing how quickly our skin flakes reaccumulates around the shower area - it's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it. (Somehow, that someone suspiciously always seems to be me!)
And yesterday night, I had all of forty five minutes of sleep, and so I woke up... at one pm again! So much for paying off the sleep debt!
I was inspired to clean the living room, this time, and it was an arduous afternoon - cleaning the pantry, moving plants around, bringing decorations stored away in the cupboards - just to give the house a more homely feel.
What is my secret to doing it so quickly? I basically took everything around the living room and distributed it to the three rooms upstairs! (To my brother and my housemate and my secret subscriber - the living room looks great now, but I'm really sorry about your rooms! Haha!)
The finished product.The best thing I loved about cleaning up is that it allowed for a little creative freedom, and I'm pretty chuffed about our new dining table centrepiece now!
Yeah. That's as creative as it gets, unfortunately. Look, don't mistake me for the ultimate husband, because this only happens like once in a blue moon. And the moon must have been holding its breath all of last night!
I'm comfortable in reasonably messy surroundings, and am not bothered if there are a few dirty dishes in the sink threatening to crawl out having evolved over the time period they've been left there.
HK's Guide to Channeling Your Anger
Growing up, I had this peculiar eccentricity- I only cleaned up the house whenever I was really angry. Our home was often messy, to the extent that I always hesitated to start cleaning because, well, I just didn't know where to start.
Strangely enough, some of my best packing is done when I've had an argument with my mum -we'd get into a heated argument, and then I would say things that I would regret, and when she has walked off to cool down, I would start grabbing at things around me to place in order.
Perhaps it was a distractive habit, but sometimes, I did it as a way of saying sorry to Mum. I would often have said many hurtful things in the heat of the moment, and sometimes my verbal apologies were insufficient. Me cleaning the house allowed the both of us time apart and she was always grateful when I had cleaned up the house.
I remember one huge bust up we had though - it was outside the house and I was actually kept outside for several hours. It gave me time to clean up my Taman's local playground that time! (I wish I was making this up!)
We never stayed angry at each other long, however, and that's one thing I've learnt from Mum...
... although sometimes I wonder if Mum has ever looked around the house and thought to herself
- 'Hmm, place looks a little messy... maybe it's time to start an argument.'-
- 'HK! Don't only know how to play ah! Have you finished your homework yet, sui chai!?' -
Haha! Wouldn't that be funny!
I love you, Mum, and thank you for teaching me never to stay angry for long. Happy Chinese New Year to all my friends and family reading this.
All angpaus welcome, thank you very much. Please save mine in Malaysia!
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Pheedsician, Heald Dyself
I habd not been wridting ford a whilde now, becuz I'bd down wid dis derrible colde.
Post wasabi decongestant treatment:
(I have not been writing for a while now, because I'm down with this terrible cold).
I remember growing up, I didn't really get sick that often. Actually, let me define that. I didn't get sick enough not to go to school that often.
That boils down to two reasons:
1) You wanted that perfect 100% attendance record, and so come hail or high temperature, you made it to school.
2) Mum didn't have much sympathy for us when we were sick (sorry, Mum, it's true!). I remember there were days when I had such a sore throat it felt like I was swallowing razor blades, and didn't want to get out of bed, but Mum would tell me to stop faking it, and I would get so worked up I would drag myself out of bed, into that cold shower and then to school. Just to show her.
I think that Dad being the way he was, Mum stressed a bit when we were sick, and so we tried not to be.
The one time that I did remember Mum fussing over me when I was sick was when I had the dengue. It was either life-threatening or it was school for us.
(Okay, it wasn't that bad, Mum. Haha!)
But enough about that - I have been quite a sickly person growing up. I remember a particular college day when I turned up puffy eyed and runny nosed to the lecture theatre. I was going through rolls and rolls of toilet roll paper (see how glamourous your Dad was, children!), forming a sea of scrunched up mucus-soaked tissues, when a (somewhat attractive) female classmate sitting next to me turned and said, kindly, "You're some kind of weakling aren't you?".
Ouch. In that one phrase I sat emasculated, my testosterone scattered over the little wads of tissue paper on that lecture theatre foldaway desktop.
I think that it is ironic that I have not received much sympathy for my illnesses as I was growing up - no one really fussed over me, and illness was often taken as a sign of weakness. And now, here I am - in a medical profession, tending to the cries of the unwell and those in pain.
Now that I am working, I thank God for keeping me relatively healthy in my two years of work - in my first year, I took a total of two unavoidable days off due to gastro (I only stopped going because one of the outpatient nurses started developing similar symptoms).
I was almost in perfect attendance for my second year, when right at the final two days, today and yesterday - I have needed to take them off because of this horrible flu/sore throat that has kept me prisoner within the confines of my bedroom. I am starting to feel better now, though.
One of my bosses made this note - and he was right, that sometimes as doctors, we are the worst people at looking after ourselves.
That's why my lovely wife will one day fuss over me when I'm sick, there will be warm blankets and chicken soup, with whispered prayers and calming words and lullabies.
Post wasabi decongestant treatment:
(I have not been writing for a while now, because I'm down with this terrible cold).
I remember growing up, I didn't really get sick that often. Actually, let me define that. I didn't get sick enough not to go to school that often.
That boils down to two reasons:
1) You wanted that perfect 100% attendance record, and so come hail or high temperature, you made it to school.
2) Mum didn't have much sympathy for us when we were sick (sorry, Mum, it's true!). I remember there were days when I had such a sore throat it felt like I was swallowing razor blades, and didn't want to get out of bed, but Mum would tell me to stop faking it, and I would get so worked up I would drag myself out of bed, into that cold shower and then to school. Just to show her.
I think that Dad being the way he was, Mum stressed a bit when we were sick, and so we tried not to be.
The one time that I did remember Mum fussing over me when I was sick was when I had the dengue. It was either life-threatening or it was school for us.
(Okay, it wasn't that bad, Mum. Haha!)
But enough about that - I have been quite a sickly person growing up. I remember a particular college day when I turned up puffy eyed and runny nosed to the lecture theatre. I was going through rolls and rolls of toilet roll paper (see how glamourous your Dad was, children!), forming a sea of scrunched up mucus-soaked tissues, when a (somewhat attractive) female classmate sitting next to me turned and said, kindly, "You're some kind of weakling aren't you?".
Ouch. In that one phrase I sat emasculated, my testosterone scattered over the little wads of tissue paper on that lecture theatre foldaway desktop.
I think that it is ironic that I have not received much sympathy for my illnesses as I was growing up - no one really fussed over me, and illness was often taken as a sign of weakness. And now, here I am - in a medical profession, tending to the cries of the unwell and those in pain.
Now that I am working, I thank God for keeping me relatively healthy in my two years of work - in my first year, I took a total of two unavoidable days off due to gastro (I only stopped going because one of the outpatient nurses started developing similar symptoms).
I was almost in perfect attendance for my second year, when right at the final two days, today and yesterday - I have needed to take them off because of this horrible flu/sore throat that has kept me prisoner within the confines of my bedroom. I am starting to feel better now, though.
One of my bosses made this note - and he was right, that sometimes as doctors, we are the worst people at looking after ourselves.
That's why my lovely wife will one day fuss over me when I'm sick, there will be warm blankets and chicken soup, with whispered prayers and calming words and lullabies.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Life to the Full
Working nights for the past 2 weeks has just me physically and emotionally drained - don't get me wrong, I really love my current intensive care job but nights can really take it out of you. You're the only doctor there overnight (with a poorly slept consultant on the phone) and you attend to all the emergency calls on the wards or the sickies down in Emergency.
Granted, it is a great learning experience, but there are sufficient amounts of what we'd like to call in the profession as 'Oh sh*t!' moments - those moments of abject horror - pupils dilated, breath caught in mouth, heart and mind racing. Or being caught in between the boss' decision and the experience of the nursing staff or the decision of family members.
The sitting down with family, the lending of sympathetic ears and sensitive hearts as you lead them through the critical illness of their loved one, and the often difficult discussion of limiting medical treatment in a sick patient - that is the trickiest part really.
People often feel responsible for the life of their loved ones, and often find it hard to understand why a doctor is saying that it wouldn't be kind to their aged, frail parent to stick all kinds of tubes down their throats and needles into the body to keep them alive.
Such is the dual blessing/curse of modern medicine that sometimes we do not allow the severely ill patient a dignified death - we are pictured as the guardians at death's gate holding all these chalices filled with magic potions, fending death off with a spray here and an incantation there.
It is a privilege of being in medicine to walk with the families during their difficult times, but it can be sometimes as frustrating as it is fulfilling - occasionally their demands can be beyond the realms of reason. But it is the passage of time, and the art and sensitivity of bringing the family around to the understanding that we are limited as doctors despite all our life-giving elixirs, and to allow their loved ones a kinder passage into the eventuality that greets us all in the end.
It is physically and emotionally draining, this job. I remember a good friend in Malaysia who's a doctor, saying that she was just so depleted that she was crying in her car all the way home. I'm letting the tears flow more easily these days.
No shame in that.
Granted, it is a great learning experience, but there are sufficient amounts of what we'd like to call in the profession as 'Oh sh*t!' moments - those moments of abject horror - pupils dilated, breath caught in mouth, heart and mind racing. Or being caught in between the boss' decision and the experience of the nursing staff or the decision of family members.
The sitting down with family, the lending of sympathetic ears and sensitive hearts as you lead them through the critical illness of their loved one, and the often difficult discussion of limiting medical treatment in a sick patient - that is the trickiest part really.
People often feel responsible for the life of their loved ones, and often find it hard to understand why a doctor is saying that it wouldn't be kind to their aged, frail parent to stick all kinds of tubes down their throats and needles into the body to keep them alive.
Such is the dual blessing/curse of modern medicine that sometimes we do not allow the severely ill patient a dignified death - we are pictured as the guardians at death's gate holding all these chalices filled with magic potions, fending death off with a spray here and an incantation there.
It is a privilege of being in medicine to walk with the families during their difficult times, but it can be sometimes as frustrating as it is fulfilling - occasionally their demands can be beyond the realms of reason. But it is the passage of time, and the art and sensitivity of bringing the family around to the understanding that we are limited as doctors despite all our life-giving elixirs, and to allow their loved ones a kinder passage into the eventuality that greets us all in the end.
It is physically and emotionally draining, this job. I remember a good friend in Malaysia who's a doctor, saying that she was just so depleted that she was crying in her car all the way home. I'm letting the tears flow more easily these days.
No shame in that.
Friday, January 11, 2008
No Rest For The Wicked
Total number of hours of sleep the night before: One and a half hours, on my day off.
Sleep deprivation checklist:
1) Headache (No.)
2) Tired (No.)
3) Yawning (No.)
4) Seeing purple cows travelling across the front of my eyes (They're so pretty...
... No.)
5) Mixing up my words (Dofinetily net, I mean daffinately knot.)
I tried to go to bed today at 5 in the morning, but I couldn't so instead I:
1) Showered.
2) Went out for a 6 am jog, and swallowed some flies.
3) Realised that I needed to shower again. Showered again.
4) Looked around the toilet, and noticed a colony of mosquitoes. Figured I didn't let the flies live, so the mosquitoes must die.
(No, I didn't swallow them. At first.)
This shift work is really messing with my sleep system. Now I know how archit(ec/or)ture (with apologies to HY) students must feel like.
The most exciting things that I have done in the past few days (apart from swallowing insects):
1. Reading: To those keeping tabs on my reading habits, I have just finished reading A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khalid Hosseini. This is a really well-written novel exploring two womens' lives in Afghanistan against the backdrop of the political changes there. Those of you who know my reading habits know that I love reading literature from other cultures.
2. Watching : Speaking about literature from other cultures, I finally got to watch the film adaptation of Niccolo Ammaniti's I'm Not Scared (I need to extend my Top 5 reads list). I really love reading books about children adventures too (yes, I'm still reading Famous Five. What are you going to do about it? Be cross with me?) and the film was a beautiful rendition of the story. The rolling Italian wheatgrass hills against the intensely blue skies proved a majestic backdrop to this coming-of-age thriller.
3. Eating. I have finally succumbed to the pressure and have brought my Mum to MART station for breakfast. Loved the cornfritters. Decided that I am not a big fan of berries, although the French toast was magnifique. Mum later pointed out that I should have added the maple syrup. Only a woman of refined taste could have told me that. Come to think of it, a woman with common sense could have told me that.
4. Exciting. I was just lazily browsing the internet when I made my regular trip to liverpoolfc.tv, and I read a letter from a Singaporean fan to the football club. I was reading the article and going like, This girl knows what she's talking about, I've felt that way too!
Strangely enough, the more I read it, the more I felt like I've heard it before. I read the name on top, and realised that it was a written by a good friend of mine who's a fellow supporter as well!
Congratulations Jan! (one day I'll even let you read my blog. Hahaha!)
Anyways, to those who do read my blog, thank you, and it always warms my heart when you leave comments, it inspires me to write more! (which isn't always a good thing!)
Sleep deprivation checklist:
1) Headache (No.)
2) Tired (No.)
3) Yawning (No.)
4) Seeing purple cows travelling across the front of my eyes (They're so pretty...
... No.)
5) Mixing up my words (Dofinetily net, I mean daffinately knot.)
I tried to go to bed today at 5 in the morning, but I couldn't so instead I:
1) Showered.
2) Went out for a 6 am jog, and swallowed some flies.
3) Realised that I needed to shower again. Showered again.
4) Looked around the toilet, and noticed a colony of mosquitoes. Figured I didn't let the flies live, so the mosquitoes must die.
(No, I didn't swallow them. At first.)
This shift work is really messing with my sleep system. Now I know how archit(ec/or)ture (with apologies to HY) students must feel like.
The most exciting things that I have done in the past few days (apart from swallowing insects):
1. Reading: To those keeping tabs on my reading habits, I have just finished reading A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khalid Hosseini. This is a really well-written novel exploring two womens' lives in Afghanistan against the backdrop of the political changes there. Those of you who know my reading habits know that I love reading literature from other cultures.
2. Watching : Speaking about literature from other cultures, I finally got to watch the film adaptation of Niccolo Ammaniti's I'm Not Scared (I need to extend my Top 5 reads list). I really love reading books about children adventures too (yes, I'm still reading Famous Five. What are you going to do about it? Be cross with me?) and the film was a beautiful rendition of the story. The rolling Italian wheatgrass hills against the intensely blue skies proved a majestic backdrop to this coming-of-age thriller.
3. Eating. I have finally succumbed to the pressure and have brought my Mum to MART station for breakfast. Loved the cornfritters. Decided that I am not a big fan of berries, although the French toast was magnifique. Mum later pointed out that I should have added the maple syrup. Only a woman of refined taste could have told me that. Come to think of it, a woman with common sense could have told me that.
4. Exciting. I was just lazily browsing the internet when I made my regular trip to liverpoolfc.tv, and I read a letter from a Singaporean fan to the football club. I was reading the article and going like, This girl knows what she's talking about, I've felt that way too!
Strangely enough, the more I read it, the more I felt like I've heard it before. I read the name on top, and realised that it was a written by a good friend of mine who's a fellow supporter as well!
Congratulations Jan! (one day I'll even let you read my blog. Hahaha!)
Anyways, to those who do read my blog, thank you, and it always warms my heart when you leave comments, it inspires me to write more! (which isn't always a good thing!)
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Dander Nawngs
Ah, summer, where the days are hot and the nights... are just as hot. Where the stifling heat induces a lethargy causing one Malaysian boy to laze about in his couch and watch the cricket.
"How much cricket have you watched, HK?" I hear you ask.
I have watched so much cricket, I nearly understand the game now. That's how much cricket I've been watching!
I'm just glad Mum is here, and also if you haven't been updated yet, my brother has a girlfriend now!
(WHAT??!! I hear a scream all the way from Melaka/Kuala Lumpur. I can see her as she speeds off in her car towards the airplane, driving at breakneck speeds down highways, screeching to a halt in front of the KLIA, jumping out, infiltrating her way past the security guards, getting onto the airplane, getting off at Melbourne International, desperately flagging a taxi, hurrying the poor taxi driver to our address, slamming the taxi door as she gets out, ringing fervently at the doorbell, and then when my brother opens the door, she slaps him across the face and asks, "WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME?"
Soon, little sis. Soon.
I was just about to ring you and then you showed up in front of the house already...)
We made the drive up today, and Mum was equipped with her brand new state-of-the-art pink hat to face the blazing sun. We started off in the mornings at this beautiful vantage point called the SkyHigh Viewpoint. It was a cloudless day and we could see Melbourne sprawled before us:
We lost a dollar in this telescope machine because my brother and my mother read the words ' Out Of Order' out of order. I wish I was making this up.
What is my brother looking for?
Found her! And now, to locate a chiropactor.
There's a trend developing here: We have something against tables.
Mum with the right hat for the occasion. This is like something out of an Enid Blyton book. I offered her my pink cowboy hat, but she rightfully refused.
My brother and D said something to offend me, so I shrunk them, but only for awhile.
We had our fill, and Mum browsed around in the local shops for awhile, before we finally headed down towards Sassafras, for the legendary Miss Marple's teahouse. This teahouse is based on a character from an Agatha Christie novel, and serves really good scones and desserts. We were full but that didn't stop us. Nothing has stopped us since Christmas Eve, come to think of it.
Bliss.
In the foreground is the scones for which the place places it reputation. There is a lovely intense strawberry jam and whipped cream which goes with it. Mah-vellous, deah!
The ice cream in the corner was called 'the Vicar's folly'. It should have been called 'The Road to Hell Is Paved With...' It was sinfully delicious! There was whipped cream, hazelnut ice cream, and big broken Crunchie bits added into the ice cream! Can you see the satisfied furrowing of my eyebrows and the soft guttural 'Uumph' arising from my mouth as I bite into this one?
"Don't you watch your calories?" "Yup, for about three seconds before I devour them!" (old joke!)
"Wait! We're not ready to take the shot yet!"
"Okay, NOW we're ready!"
Jingle bells, jingle bells, Christmas was last month,
We'll continue, to use the store, as a money laundering front!
And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, New Year's resolution decimated to nothingness in less than a week. For advice and guidance on discipline and self-restraint, please read someone else's blog. Happy New Year!
"How much cricket have you watched, HK?" I hear you ask.
I have watched so much cricket, I nearly understand the game now. That's how much cricket I've been watching!
I'm just glad Mum is here, and also if you haven't been updated yet, my brother has a girlfriend now!
(WHAT??!! I hear a scream all the way from Melaka/Kuala Lumpur. I can see her as she speeds off in her car towards the airplane, driving at breakneck speeds down highways, screeching to a halt in front of the KLIA, jumping out, infiltrating her way past the security guards, getting onto the airplane, getting off at Melbourne International, desperately flagging a taxi, hurrying the poor taxi driver to our address, slamming the taxi door as she gets out, ringing fervently at the doorbell, and then when my brother opens the door, she slaps him across the face and asks, "WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME?"
Soon, little sis. Soon.
I was just about to ring you and then you showed up in front of the house already...)
Anyways, because Mum is here, we've got to do all the fun things that we normally wouldn't have done before! And we decided to visit the Dandenongs today! The Dandenongs is this beautiful mountain ranges about an hour's drive away from the city, and it has two main features:
1) Breathtaking sceneries and fairytale quality forests
2) Restaurants that have tried to retain a certain British country charm about them.We made the drive up today, and Mum was equipped with her brand new state-of-the-art pink hat to face the blazing sun. We started off in the mornings at this beautiful vantage point called the SkyHigh Viewpoint. It was a cloudless day and we could see Melbourne sprawled before us:
We lost a dollar in this telescope machine because my brother and my mother read the words ' Out Of Order' out of order. I wish I was making this up. 
What is my brother looking for? 
Found her! And now, to locate a chiropactor.
There's a trend developing here: We have something against tables. 
Mum with the right hat for the occasion. This is like something out of an Enid Blyton book. I offered her my pink cowboy hat, but she rightfully refused.
My brother and D said something to offend me, so I shrunk them, but only for awhile.We had our fill of photos and panorama, and then moved on to Olinde, one of the nearby stuck-in-the-1800s-English-towns, and had a wonderful lunch at a lovely restaurant called Pie In The Sky (cleverly named, but, the acronym is not flattering at all!):
We had our pick of food...
The food was great, but there was an intense shortage of chairs...
We had our fill, and Mum browsed around in the local shops for awhile, before we finally headed down towards Sassafras, for the legendary Miss Marple's teahouse. This teahouse is based on a character from an Agatha Christie novel, and serves really good scones and desserts. We were full but that didn't stop us. Nothing has stopped us since Christmas Eve, come to think of it.
Bliss. In the foreground is the scones for which the place places it reputation. There is a lovely intense strawberry jam and whipped cream which goes with it. Mah-vellous, deah!
The ice cream in the corner was called 'the Vicar's folly'. It should have been called 'The Road to Hell Is Paved With...' It was sinfully delicious! There was whipped cream, hazelnut ice cream, and big broken Crunchie bits added into the ice cream! Can you see the satisfied furrowing of my eyebrows and the soft guttural 'Uumph' arising from my mouth as I bite into this one?
"Don't you watch your calories?" "Yup, for about three seconds before I devour them!" (old joke!)
"Wait! We're not ready to take the shot yet!"
"Okay, NOW we're ready!"
Jingle bells, jingle bells, Christmas was last month,
We'll continue, to use the store, as a money laundering front!
And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, New Year's resolution decimated to nothingness in less than a week. For advice and guidance on discipline and self-restraint, please read someone else's blog. Happy New Year!
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