Play time for our politicians

There's simply no running away from news on GE 2006. It's in the paper, on the TV and in the internet. Political flyers have been left at my doorsteps. Everywhere I turn, I see photographs of candidates, both the PAP and the oppositions, their smiles beaming on the posters hanging on almost every lamp post by the side of the road from where I live.

And then there is that little lorry with loud speakers on its back, blasting away PAP propaganda in our four official languages. I had almost forgotten about its existence, having voted only twice (or was it once?) in all of my 40 odd years. But I saw it again yesterday and today in Simei where I live. It just went back and forth, back and forth like a broken toy on the road in front of my block. There was no waving politician on board. In fact, there was no soul on board, other than the driver, the loud speakers and two flapping PAP flags. How impersonal, I'd thought. What was worse was that I couldn't even make out the message that was being blasted. It was so loud it sounded rather muffled.

Like Chun See, I'm not much into politics. GE time is just full of wayang and rhetoric. I told my wife to avoid eating out at the hawker centres and the coffee shops this week. Why? To avoid running into politicians and their entourage making their rounds, shaking hands and making small talk. I want no part of it. Come on, why do these politicians suddenly appear only when GE is near? Where were they when you need to talk to them? Granted, not every MP is like that. The then MP for Simei, Mr David Lim, used to show up at the estate coffee shops, talking and mixing with residents, young and old. I remember I had just shifted to Simei, and it was not even election time. He came across as affable and sincere. Then he resigned and Mr Lee Yock Suan took over. The latter was inactive. The difference between the two men was stark.

No government in the world is perfect, lest of all Singapore. Everyone of us has our beef with the gahmen, including me. But this notwithstanding, I feel that Singapore would not be where she is today, without the PAP, and credit must be accorded to our fore father MM Lee and the other leaders around his time for their foresight and courage in steering Singapore from a 3rd world country to a 1st worth country within a span of 3 decades. I'm happy to say that the PAP has at least put a "human face" in the PAP. This came about when SM Goh adopted a "consultative style" of governance when he was the Prime Minister. Happyily, PM Lee has also appeared to be rather warm and approachable, if the dialogue he has with fellow Singaporeans on national TV is any indication.

Looking at the reports on the various rallies, it seems that the LUP (Lift Upgrading Programmes) is fore most in the mind of many heatlanders living in older and mature HDB estates. The PAP candidates have promised them lifts to stop at every floor if the residents vote for them. I'm not exactly comfortable with this dangling of carrots by the ruling party to gain votes. After all, opposition and the ruling party, are we not ALL Singaporeans? Why should the opposition constituencies be made to suffer? And what about that group of people in these constituencies that support the PAP?

Having said that, I think it's necessary to have an opposition to keep the PAP in check. Unfortunately, the opposition parties in Singapore are in such a sad state of affair. With the exception of Chiam See Tong, the characters of most other opposition figures leave much to be desired. Of course, the man of the moment must surely goes to the Workers' Party's Mr James Gomez who allegedly tried to caste doubt on the integrity of the Election Department. He's issued an apology which the PAP has said lacks sincerity. Well, politic, as they say, is a dirty game. We're mere audience in this game played out by the big boys. Let the wayang begin ...

Category: Gahman

Solicitation? Or just teenage angst?

I may be over-reacting, but I worry for our kids.

Yesterday, I received an anonymous sms from a stranger. Now, mother (and fathers, too) always tell the kids never ever talk to strangers, be it SMS or the MSN via the Internet. Well, the only difference here in my encounter is that the kid was not me. The other party was, or claimed to be. I can't be sure. Anyway, our exchange in the SMS goes something like this:

Kid: hey. i changed my number to 90xxxxx. take note & thanks (:
Me: Aduh. Who is this?
kid: Justina. lol
Me: Oh dear. I have a friend called Justin. But not Justina. Did you just change sex? Sorry but I have no recollection.
kid: aha. no. 'm pure female. then you're probably not who i think you are. nevermind then. sorry for disturbing you x=
Me: It's ok. Misdirect SMS happens all the time. Hope you're not offended by my joke. Cheers
kid: aha. only if you're not disturbed by my smses. take care then (:
Me: Not at all. Still trying to figure out who, though. Hee.
kid: I think we don't know each other. unless you're 15 x=
Me: Haha. Then definitely wrong number. My friends are all much older. Ok nice knowing you. Take care.
kid: somewhat flattering I guess. aha. thanks. I'm so sorry I'm 15 then. I don't like it either. lol
Me: The young can't wait to grow up, and the old will give anything to get back their youth. The irony of life. What's wrong with being 15?
kid: it's tradition of d young I guess. to complain about everything (: but d thing that sucks most about being 15, one more year before i can watch NC 16 movies (x
Me: NC 16 movies? Is that very important?
kid: nope. tsk. darn my shallow-minded, materialistic & superficial teenage brain -.-

I decided not to respond after that. When I related this to BAGUS, all of them have their interpretations of my encounter:
a. The only rose among the thorns commented that I was "leading her" on which is nonsense of course!
b. Victor said it was obviously a solicitation.
c. VT added that they way the "kid" changed the topic from her being 15 years old to her unhappiness at not being able to watch NC16 until she's 16 sounded rather fishy.
d. MJM said blatantly that I should have called the number immediate and asked "how much?" He then quipped that maybe it was a guy pretending to be a girl.

What do you think? Did I read too much into the SMS exchange? I hate to think this is a solicitation as suggested by Victor. But you could see how the conversation could have led to something unthinkable and unlawful (think statutory rape). Being a father of two, I fear for our kids if this is truly the work of a kid with some hidden agenda, more so when she mentioned she's "materialistic". Sex sells, and the sale of sex provides materialism.

Is this what the kids are up to behind the parents back, despite what we parents warned them about the dangers of talking to strangers? Technologies have advanced our lives to a level that was unimaginable years ago. The Internet and mobile phone technology connect people in a flash. But therein lies the danger, too. Especially if it involves our kids. We parents really can't afford to be too lax.

What's wrong with being a Civil Serpent Servant?

Ok, so my cover has been blown, all thanks to Victor. I'm not an advertising guy I claimed to be. I'm really just a humble servant - a civil servant, that is, in the public sector.

I didn't set out to deceive all, and if I did, there was no ill-intent. There's a reason why I withheld that information, and it's all because of stereotyping.

I heard a certain DJ making a swipe at civil servants once on the radio. He said something to the effect that he once applied for a job in the public sector (if my memories serve me right, it's the teaching profession) but was glad that he was not shortlisted, thus saving him from a fate worse than "death". It was very insensitive of the DJ for making that statement which I found rather hurtful. Sometimes, the DJs forget that they have a social responsibility to the public and they should stop perpetuating falsehoods and half-truths when they make comments in their radio show. Needless to say, I stopped listening to his programme altogether.

So, what does it call to mind when you think of a civil servant? Honestly?

An image of a man, rigid and inefficient, and not being able to think out of the box? Sometimes, he's painted as a "skiver", hence the term "civil serpents". Other times, he's often seen as a nerd and a square.

Nothing is further from the truth. These days, a civil servant can be hip, cool and what one would term a "metrosexual" in today's context of a modern (and vain) man. Just look at Victor, who exudes charm and intelligence wherever he goes. And you can rest assured that Victor is one of the most productive workers we have in our office. That DJ in question should do a reality check around him instead of perpetuating an out-dated image of a civil servant in the comfort of his studio.

I've always wondered about the origin of the term "civil servant" though, a term I personally find rather unflattering and condescending. Did it originate from the colonial days? When the whites ruled? Or did it come about because when you serve the public (we're taking about the public service after all); you're really serving the country?

People used to say that the public sector is an "iron rice" bowl. This statement no longer holds true. Jus look at PSA, the HDB and SIA (ok, so they're are semi-government, but you get my drift).

Nonetheless, I like the stability that the public sector brings. You can say this is one of the fast dwindling perks of working in the public sector. I was working in a publishing firms for 4 years prior to joining the public sector. And I witnessed the harsh reality in the private sector when my manager was sacked at exactly 5pm on the day he returned from his holidays in Penang. Then it happened again to one of the junior staff. It was unnerving for you were never sure if you were next in line. Better to call it quits; and I did.

Still, this is not to say that the pasture at the public sector is always green. Under-performers have been asked to leave, and we are subject to the same kind of office politics one sees in the private sector. It's a dog eats dog world, public or private sector. But having worked in the private sector before, I think I'm able to appreciate my employer more than those of my colleagues who joined the public sector immediately upon graduation from schools. Some of them whine a lot about the office policies and regulations. Sometimes, I think a stint at the private world would do them good.

Another downside is the civil servants' bonus. The whole world will know how much you're getting. Each year comes June, that amount will be splashed on the ST. Not that I'm complaining, but that makes great conversational piece at social gatherings. My aunts would ask, "Woa, the gahmen giving you all 3.5 months bonus hor? Should buy me dinner ahh". Or my mum will "grumble" about how "little" bonus I give her and remarks, "Got 3.5 months bonus, how come never increase MY bonus this year?"

It's been said that the public sector won't make millionaires out of public servants. Maybe that explains the high turn-over rate in my office. But you'd be surprised at the number of them who made a U-turn and rejoined us.

Quit my job and give my best shot to get my millions "outside"? I don't think so. I don't need a million, and I'm contented with my pay package. Besides, I can always try my luck with Toto for my first million ;-))

Category: Office

The power of prayer

Thank you all for your prayers.

My mum is still in the ICU but is making good progress. The operation went smoothly. She was to be transferred to a general ward, but the Doc ordered her to stay for another day in the ICU when she started vomiting out the food she ate and complained about giddiness. We were assured, though, that is quite normal for patients who have had by-pass surgery.

My Dad, so used to having her around at home, was kinda depressed. I brought him along to visit my mum, who was conscious and spoke to us a little. That sort of cheered my Dad up.

The road to recovery is a long one. But praise the Lord, my mum is recuperating. She can look forward to holding and cuddling her fourth grandchild comes June!

The power of prayer and the words of comfort, reassurance, encouragement telling me to think positive.... All these from people whom I've never met like Evan, "It's my life story" (sorry but how do I address thee?), Chun See, and Frannxis. And yes, my good pal Victor and Alex, and BAGUS, too. Good bless all you kind souls.

James 5:13-16 ... confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and wonderful results.

Category: Personal

The fear of mortality

If, and when my turn comes, I'm not sure if I have the courage to face what my mum's going through right now. As it is, she's scheduled to undergo a by-pass surgery tomorrow morning. I brought her to the hospital today and she's made to go through an endless round of pre-admission test to make sure she's fit for the operation tomorrow.

You can say my mum is a walking time bomb. Her arteries are 95% blocked. She could suffer a heart attack any time. So the sooner she has the operation, the better in keeping the disease at bay.

We spent much time trying to reassure my mum everything's going to be ok. She's always been afraid of hospital, and blood. We know she's scared to bits, and deep down inside, so are we, me and my siblings. But this operation is something that my mum, and us, have to go through together.

The hospital is such a depressing place to be, and like it or not, that's the place we gonna be as we grow old, one time or the other. The one that she's staying, SGH is really in need of some major overhaul. The false ceilings are all dirty and worn-out and the hospital looks as if it's in need of a new coat of paint which is currently a dreary light green. Why can't they paint the room a cheery pink? Studies have shown that colours do have an effect on the mood of the patients and how speedy they recover from their illnesses.

Please do keep my mum in your prayer.

Category: Personal

A matter of face

So, there'll be no scenic bridge after all.

What was that all about?

Were our neighbours contemplating to grant us access of their airspace in the bridge negotiation? Were they seriously thinking of selling us sand? I thought they said NO and went ahead with the piling work for their side of the bridge anyway. And now we hear Pak Lah has ordered the bridge construction axed because the rakyat is against the use of Johor airspace by the SAF.

Oh well, let's give our neighbour face. The truth is always hard to swallow, is it not? News reports that Johor is a city of car-jackers drew lots of hues and cries from our neighbours who think we are trying to drive tourists away from the state (and they forget that we Singaporeans form the bulk of the tourists). Even our leader was asked to apologise for having said that car-jacking was rampant in Johor years ago. It's like saying, what is true and ugly, we don't want to hear. Hmmm... it reminds me of the Class 95 advert, in which the proud father chooses to listen to the "good comments" made by the tennis coach of his son, and shuts out the negative ones. Can't relay blame them Malaysians. Many of us are like that. We can't handle the truth. Because the truth hurts.

Truly, our neighbours have the propensity to leave our leaders looking perplexed with each of their whimsical move. This is not the first, and it won't be the last. The scenic bridge may never materialise. But perhaps our leaders and that of our neighbours' should build another bridge, a bridge to affirm our bilateral ties, and may peace pervail in this part of the earth.

Category: Musings

爸 爸 哭 了

It's 清明节 or Qingming Festival. To us Chinese, this is the time for the young and old to come before their ancestors, sweep the tombs or the niches in the temple, and offer food to the ancestors. It's a yearly tradition and the rites are important especially to the elderly.

I don't really bother much about such matters for I've always considered myself a Christian. Ok, perhaps I'm not really a practicing Christian, and I'm not proud of this fact. But that's for another post, another time.

My mum has never troubled me to fetch her to the temples, knowing how I feel about such things. But this year, she did, and only because my Dad has problem walking far. They used to take a cab, but because the temple is located in a private residential belt, flanked by terrace houses on both side of the road, they have problem hailing a cab back, unless they walk a distance to the main road.

Having alighted my parents at the entrance of the temple, I drove on looking for a parking space. When I returned, my dad was standing at the entrance, and with tears brimming in his eyes, he told me that was where the urns of my paternal great-grandmother, her brother, both my maternal grandparents urns are being kept. He went on to tell me that he was not sure if he would be able to pay respect to the ancestors next year. Putting my arm around him, I told Dad not to think so much and that he would live past 90.

I remember my maternal grandma, who passed away more than two decades ago. Unfortunately, I have no recollection on my great-grandma, much less memories of her brother, and have very faint memories of my granddad. So perhaps I'm quite devoid of any feelings towards them, unlike my dad.

I love my Dad. The only time I saw him cry was when my grandma was at her deathbed. But I wasn't quite prepared for his display of grieves today. I think he's also worried for my mum's operation next week.

Category: Personal

A cuppa a day ...

First, a little brain-teaser. Can you spot a little man in the sea of coffee beans?

According to the "experts" (read doctors), if you spot the man within 3 seconds and 1 minute, your right half of the brain is developed. If you spot him within 1 minute and 3 minutes, the right sight of your brain is functioning slowly and you need to eat more protein.

Woes to you if it takes you more than 3 minutes to find that little man, for the right half your brain is a mess. You are advised to look for more such exercises to make that part of the brain stronger.

Ok, I confess - it took me more than a minute to figure out that little fella. But I have reasons to believe this brain-teaser is flawed. It just did not add up. Why do I say so?

Well, we all know that the right side of our brain has a lot to do with how creative we are. And the truth is, in my circle of friends as far as BAGUS is concerned, there's none as creative as me. Since young, I am good with my hands. In school, I did very well in Arts. During courtship, I made personalized cards, wrote love poems for my Slim Lady who, quite the opposite, ALWAYS bought me cards off the shelves. At home, I'm usually the person who does up the house, buying cushions and doing the furnishing to make the home cozy. Comes festive time, be it Christmas or the Chinese New Year, I'm the one who put up all the decorations. Oh, my creativity is not confined to my home. At work, I think up "creative" ways to solve problems, and write "creative" e-mails to my bosses and fellow colleagues.

So how could I have taken more than a minute to solve the puzzle???

"Dr" Victor who passed the brain-teaser with "flying-colour", said I should eat a bag of coffee beans to increase my protein intake. Victor really knew how to make my toes laughed. Protein from a bag of coffee beans? I told Victor perhaps he needed the protein more than I, and suggested a source of protein that is "unprintable" here. I have no choice but to deduce that what transpired between Victor and the brain-teaser was nothing more than a fluke.

But what do I know? I just read an article that extols praises on the benefits of caffeine. It claims that caffeine acts as an antioxidant that rids our boides of free radicals. Caffeine also helps to shield us against heart disease and cancer. Indeed, a study done in the US has linked coffee consumption to a reduced risk of colon and liver cancer, Type 2 diabetes and Parkinson's disease. But it adds that one should drink not more than 2 cups daily. Too much of a good thing, as we know, is bad, unless the thing in question is $$$. LOL.

But we can never be sure what the experts, the doctors and the scientists say. They are back-flippers, if you know what I mean, quite known to be "fickle-minded" when it comes to what is good and not good for us mere mortals.

So Victor, I'm not sure about protein, but how about a cuppa to keep us all free of diseases?

Category: Musings

Of old-age, sickness and destitute

When it rains, it pours. This just about sums up what's going on in my life right now.

The past weeks, I've been busy hunting for a nursing home for my father-in-law. In his mid-60s, I don't exactly consider him a destitute. The home is a last resort that ensures 24-hour care for the Slim Lady's father who is on tube-feeding after having suffered a stroke years ago. That was a difficult and painful decision, chosen and unanimously agreed upon by the Slim Lady and her family. Still, my father-in-law is a lucky man. He has a 2nd wife who goes to the home to take care of him almost everyday. Other old folks are known to have been dumped in the home by their children who hardly make visit thereafter.

Then my mum is scheduled for an open-heart surgery sometime this month. She's been complaining of chest pain and difficulty in breathing for the last few months. A series of test at the hospital confirmed our worst fear. The three main arteries of her heart are 95% blocked, no doubt due to diabetic, and largely, smoking which she had picked up when she was in her teen.

My dad is suffering from hernia, among other ailments. But surgery has been ruled out because he refuses to give up smoking which causes his persistent cough. The doctor has told us that as long as my dad is coughing, there's no point going through the surgery. Coughing exerts the muscles in our stomach and that will cause a relapse of the hernia. My dad just lets it be.

There's a Chinese saying that goes, "家有一老，如有一宝" (An oldie is like a treasure in your home). I agree whole-heartedly. Sometimes, we do not treasure what we have in our midst, until it's too late.

Category: Personal

Performance bonus - a bane, or truly a bonus?

Emotions ran high in the office today.

The on-line salary system crashed in the morning. At least 90% of my co-workers were trying to log on to check if they had got what was on the minds of many of us - performance bonus (PB).

I'll tell you why this is important. It's an indication of where you rank among your peers in the office. It's a recognition from your boss for a job well done. More importantly, it's a pre-indication of what's to follow very shortly - the annual promotion exercise. So you can see, many of us were anxious to find out how much PB we got, or nothing at all.

The performance bonus was implemented years ago to reward employees who had proven themselves in their work. It serves to give a "pat" on the shoulders of these employees and to encourage them to continue their good job. It also aims to encourage the under-performer to work hard. I was never told of the proper guide-lines for the PB and how it is awarded; but here's my interpretation:

1. You get a performance bonus equivalent to one month's salary if you have performed more than 100% of your job scope.

2. You get half a month's equivalent if you perform what is just expected of you. Meaning, you gave only 100%, nothing more, nothing less.

3. You get 3/4 if your work is satisfactory.

4. You get zero if you under-perform.

How's that for motivation? I used to believe in the PB system, until recently. You see, the system works just fine, if every employee were to keep the amount they get strictly private and confidential. However, human as we are, many of us can't help comparing, and many ended up disgruntled and unhappy. You can imagine how the scenario is like:

Employee A: What? That bugger got 100%??!!! What did he do? Everyday read newspaper, walk here walk there, still can get 100% ahh? Screwed up management....
Employee B: Yalor.. NB.... I only get half month. Did all the dirty work, still like that. This system sucks. From now on, I'll contribute only 50%. And no more OT!!

Ironic, isn't it? See how a system that was put in place to encourage employees to perform better could also backfire, and gives rise to disgruntled employees and much ill feeling in the office. So, I'm not exactly sure if dishing out PB is a good thing.

No, in case you're wondering, I'm not one of the disgruntled employees. I'm happy for what I got, so happy that I offered to buy Victor lunch which he declined politely. Good thing he did, or he has to buy me lunch too. LOL.

Category: Office

The other signs of old age

We can tell the signs of old age when we see one - forgetfulness, slow in reflexes, failing eye-sights and hearings, and some would add grumpiness (as in; a "grumpy old man") and long-windedness (as in; you're more "loh soh" then my grandma").

But there are other obnoxious signs of old age which I've experienced personally. You know you've reached a certain age (ok, the right phrase is "growing old") when you're faced with the following:

1. You find your son towering over you, and each time you reprimand him for his wrongdoing, you have to get him to sit down.

2. You start getting frequent emails from the HR department, announcing the retirement of fellow colleagues - a sign that you and your co-workers have slowly, but surely become part of the aging-workforce.

3. You are green with envy when you see housing estates, but yours, embarking on the Lift Upgrading Programme (LUP). And when your estate finally get the LUP, your euphoria lasted all but 5 minutes for it suddenly dawns on you that the LUP is really conceptualized to prepare us Singaporeans for a population that is fast aging.

4. You get wedding invitations from your colleagues. Problem is, it's NOT the wedding of your colleagues; but that of their sons and daughters. (Chai, thanks for the invitation. And for making me and many of your colleagues realise how "old" we have become): ))

I know I've just penned a post on "Growing Old Gracefully". No, I've no hung up when it comes to growing old. And though I can be quite "vain", I'm certainly not afraid of aging (for goodness sake, I'm just 41++!!). But really, come to think of it, a lifetime is really short, even if one were to life till 70. It's been said that aging is inevitable; but growing old is optional. I'm still trying to figure out what "optional" means. To adopt a more "adventurous" and "fun" outlook in life? How does one roller-blade at 60? Or bangee-jump? Do we really have an option? And how so? When all signs are telling and reminding us how "old" we've become?

Category: Musings

Driving habits of Singaporeans that really piss peeve me off

What's with drivers who cut lanes, refuse to signal their intention and behave like hooligans on the roads?

I was listening to news radio 93.8 when listeners were asked to call in to rate Singaporean drivers on road courtesy. Nine out of 10 callers said that we Singaporean make bad drivers. I agree 110%!

Just yesterday, I was making a right U-turn, signal on, when the car behind me tried to overtake me as he intended to turn right into the carpark. I saw his car in my side mirror, and he didn't even bother to signal his intention. I halted my car mid-way as I turned and waved him on. Perhaps it was the flabbergasted look on my face, the middle-aged driver stepped out of his car and raised his voice at me: "Who is in the wrong? Who is in the wrong?" Hello? I had my right signal on, and you were behind me. Unless he's totally blind to the fact that I was about to turn right. It did not matter that I was making a right U-turn. I was still turning right anyway. So who has the right of way? I've no wish to get into a tussle with the man, considering that my two kids were in the car with me. We could argue until the cow came home, and that man would still insist that "I'm in the wrong."

Years ago, when I first obtained my driving license, a bus, loaded with factory workers, pushed me into the road shoulder in the PIE. And all because I overtook it. First of all, the lorry had no business whatsoever in the middle lane. And secondly, it was speeding. Having pushed me into the shoulder, the bus driver stopped his bus, wanting to confront me and probably spoiling for a fight. I slowed down my car, and was thinking whether I should stop my car as well. Thankfully, I had the sense to drive on, or I would have woken up the next day (if I'm still in one piece, that is), and found myself splashed across the ST with the news: "Road-rage: Compact car owner, pushed into road shoulder, assaulted bully burly bus driver". My friend told me always to standby a baton, an umbrella, anything, as a weapon in the car. I'm not sure if this advice is sound.

Why are Singaporean drivers behaving like thugs on the road? Stress in our lives? Impatience? Or simply to show off the flashy fast car? Indeed, the ST has reported that cases of road-rage have gone up in recent years. It's true that driving in Singapore can be very stressful. We have the following drivers to thank for:

1. Drivers, especially those driving big cars, simply choose not to signal their intentions when they want to switch lanes. What's wrong with these drivers? Whatever's the signal function of the car for? Just because they drive big cars, they think they are the kings of the road? It's been said that men who drive big cars are trying to compensate their inadequacy in the bedroom. Just ask Victor. LOL.

2. Drivers who refuse to give way to drivers who signal their intention. More often than not, the former would speed up, rather than slow down, to prevent the latter from filtering into the lane. Maybe that's the reason why drivers in para 1 don't signal in the first place. It's like: If I signal, I'll never be able to filter in. If I don't signal, the driver behind me gives way to me. How ironic.

3. Drivers who hog the road, especially those who drive on the extreme right lane of the expressways. These drivers take their own sweet time, travelling at 70-80 km/h, as if they are sightseeing on the road. No amount of flashing or tooting could get them to change lane.

4. Drivers who tailgate to "push" you out of their lane. Such drivers are lonely people. They have not been kissed for years and if they do, they've probably been kissing themselves with the mirror. So they couldn't wait to "kiss" your car.

5. Lorries, trucks and vans driving above the speed limit, occupying lanes other than the extreme left lane. These big vehicles have been getting rather bold these days, especially after their speed limit was increased from 60km/h to 70/km. Where are the "white mice" when you need them?

I'm usually a safe and careful driver. Victor can vouch for me. On the occasions that I'm not, I put the blame squarely on the above drivers. And I realise something - it makes me feel good when I give way to fellow drivers, especially when the drivers reciprocate with a wave of a hand to say "thank you". I caught a car-decal on a passing vehicle once with this initials "F.I.D.O". Know what that means? No, it's not the name of a doggy. It actually stands for "Forget It and Drive On". Now, that's a sound advice every driver should heed.

Category: Musings

Growing old gracefully ...

Growing old gracefully .... How many of us can do that? Not unless you're Sean Connery or the late Katharine Hepburn. More often than not, our bodies are crippled with all sort of debilitating illnesses that either leave us dead if we are lucky, or bed-ridden if we are not so lucky.

I was at Lee Ah Mooi's nursing home at Thomson today with the Slim Lady and her brother. Our mission - to check out the home for the admission of my father-in-law who has become invalid for various medical conditions - stroke, diabetics and hypertension. See? My father-in-law is not so lucky, if I may say so.

The sight at the home is pretty depressing. The able-bodied old folks were seen sitting around the compound of the nursing home quietly, looking listless and kinda bored. The invalid folks, some requiring tube-feeding like me father-in-law, were all in a room, confined to their respective bed, some lying down staring into the ceiling, others lying on their side on their bed, watching the TV.

We were met by a bare-chested man of 60 in his office. I suppose he must be the caretaker of the home, or the "manager". He was business-like in the way he explained the various charges to us, never mind that he was without a shirt or a singlet. There was only one vacancy left in the nursing home. The man told us that Singapore is in shortage of nursing homes. It wouldn't be enough even if the government were to build another 10 nursing homes, he added.

What he said hold much truth. Our workforce is aging, the problem made worse by declining birth rate. Though our life expectancy has gone up, we aren't exactly as healthy as people in the days of yore, like our grandparents. We may live longer, but our bodies can also be inflicted by various life-style diseases such as hypertension, diabetes and strokes that require lifetime medication. Eat healthy and exercise regularly? It's always easier said than done, isn't it?

I know I should never harbour such thoughts. But how fulfilling can my life be if I were to be admitted to a nursing home? What quality of life? How would I feel, watching my muscles and sanity wasting away as I live through the last of my days, under the mercy of care-givers at the nursing home? Is it not better to just let go?

Category: Musings

Popiah feast at Evan's Chris'

I've We've had enough of waiting. How long is a man supposed to wait, before he starts tearing his hair out in frustration? How soon can the man be served his food, before he perishes in hunger?

Whatever happened to the popiah feast my blogosphere friend Evan was supposed to organise? I can understand Evan's concern in hesitating to meet Victor and Chun See, despite Victor's offer to get the popiah skin on his account. After all, mummy always warns little girls about the danger of meeting strangers in the Internet. Is Evan worried that Victor or Chun See might turn out to be wolves in sheep clothing? Hey Evan, I'm certainly no wolf, ok? And I'll come to your rescue.

I guess Evan was just being cautious. She wouldn't want to end up like Lil Red Ridding Hood, I'm sure. ROTFL.

Thankfully, I don't have to depend on Lil Red Ridding Hood for my craving of popiah. The Slim Lady has been on a 1-week leave, and today, she said she wanted to try out my mum's popiah recipe.

She bought the ingredients yesterday and did much of the chopping and cutting of the veggies. It took her about 3.5 hours just to get all the veggie ready. It's really a lot of hard work.

I too took a day off from work today, just to spend time with the Slim Lady and to help her prepare the popiah. But it turned out that I was the one who actually did all the cooking (and most of the eating as well). It's really quite tedious - preparing the different veggie, cooking them separately, and having to mix them up in a big wok in the end. But we had great fun cooking the popiah together, husband and wife. All the hard work in preparing the popiah is worth it.

Having cooked the dish myself, I also appreciate my mum's popiah even more. When she prepares the popiah during CNY, she always get up at the crack of dawn at 5 am to prepare all the ingredients herself. I've no idea how tiring this is, just the tossing of the veggie! I'm still quite amazed at how she could accomplish that herself all alone.

So, what's the verdict of our first attempt at cooking this special dish? The popiah veggie tasted a little sweet, quite unlike those prepared by my mum. We thought perhaps we've added more carrot then we should. But my mum told us that the sweetness was actually from the turnip. Here're some photos of the yummilicious popiah...











The cut veggie also didn't look as "refined" as my mum's. I told the Slim Lady that it was probably because of the old grating board which has been with us for years. Time to change a new one, and maybe the next time round, the veggie would be refined as sugar. I know what Victor is probably thinking when he reads this: "hmmmm.. here's a workman blaming his tools but himself ...."

All things considered, I rated the popiah 8 out of ten. Though the veggie is a wee bit sweet to my liking, once it's wrapped up in the popiah skin with the sweet dark sauce, the chilli and the peanuts, it tastes almost as scrumptious as the popiah prepared by my mum. In fact, my Dad said our popiah tasted better! (I'm inclined to believe that Dad has lost his taste bud... considering he's getting on in years...) LOL.

So Evan, what you waiting for? When can I see photos of your popiah in your blog.... Hee!

Category: Food

My fascination with the Chinese Horoscopes and Fengshui

When I read Sumiko Tan's personal column on how her life was dictated by her superstitions in fengshui and the Chinese Horoscope, I couldn't help but notice some parallels in her belief and mine.

See, I'm also fascinated by the Chinese horoscopes and fengshui. Someone please tell me if this is against the Christian faith.

Though I'm fascinated, I'm not obsessed. I've never engaged the service of Geomancer into my home to make my home or its occupants lucky. That would have been too drastic. But I'm thirsty for books on fengshui and the Chinese horoscopes and have in fact bought a couple by the famous fengshui author Lilian Too.

When my office shifted to its new location two years ago, I consulted Lilian's book on the direction my new cubicle should face, armed with a compass. There was more I consulted. Should my desk be facing the pillar? Where should my rubbish bin be? Within sight? I love greenery, should I keep cactus on my desk? And what about dry flowers? In case you're wondering, the answers to the all above is NO. Most of my colleagues saw what I did, they borrowed my book and my compass, and followed suit. It made me realise that, like it or not, many of us are superstitious. And can you blame us? Nobody wants bad luck to befall us.

When 2006 beckoned, I purchased Lilian's latest book on “2006 Fengshui and Luck Outlook” for the Chinese zodiac sign of the Dragon, the year in which I was born. I also bought one for the Slim Lady, on the zodiac sign of the Horse. The book was in Chinese and I have a fair bit of difficulty trying to understand all the chapters due to my limited command of the Chinese language. But I somehow managed and what I've read so far is cold comfort.

According to the book, 2006 spells nothing but trouble for those born in the year of the Dragon. The Dragon's crime? It has fan tai sui (犯太岁). I don't really know what's 太岁 , but I guess it means offending an entity of sort.

The more I read the book, the more paranoid I become. But I couldn't put it down, for it's like taking a peek into the future - my future, on my career and family life. This is beginning to sound very un-Christian-like, I know. The bible did warn us against dabbling into the unknown...

The book says because Dragons have 犯太岁, those born in the year of the Dragon will be down on their luck. They will suffer in health and wealth. They will lose some of their close friends, get backstabbed by colleagues who are consumed by jealousy over the Dragons’ brilliance and competence. And horror of horrors, Dragons will be accident-prone in some months in 2006. It mentioned the month of February in the Lunar Calendar, May and the 2nd half of the year!

And believe it or not, last Friday, driving home and waiting at a junction for the traffic to clear, my car slide backward and "kissed" the car behind me. That kiss was simply a "peck on the cheek" but it was enough to leave some deep scratch marks on the bumper of my car. My NEW car! Coincidence?

The book also said I'd be troubled by an inter-departmental reshuffle in the office. Indeed, a reshuffle is soon to take place according to my office management. What I heard today through the grapevine confirms my worse fear. Coincidence again?

I know how easy it is to lose our head and become all irrational and paranoid when it comes to fengshui and the horoscope. It sometimes bothers on the silly. The Slim Lady doesn't have it better. The book on Horse says that she's likely to be robbed of her money this year. Now she’s afraid to carry cash and taking the lift alone. I regretted buying her the book :(( and have to tell her not to believe everything that's written in there. Or not to believe anything at all.

When I related the “kissing” incident accident to Victor, he asked me why did I go and make the prediction from the horoscope come through? He obviously thinks the book is crap. I want to believe the book is crap, too.

Category: Musings

Laugh (and the world laughs with you)

We were filled with laughter, and we sang for joy
- Psalm 126:2

Laughter, as the doctors will tell us, is the best medicine. And I'm sure God, our creator, would want our life filled with Laughter and Joy. Sometimes life is hard. And it can be very cruel. But if we take life with a pinch of salts and remember that we are but living in a transient world, it somehow makes our living more bearable.

Some of the following have been extracted from a nifty little book called "God Is In The Small Stuff (and it all matters). God sure has his sense of humour :))

1. If you doubt that God has a sense of humour, look in the mirror.
2. Our five senses are incomplete without the sixth - sense of humour.
3. Laugh at yourself. Laugh with others.
4. The best jokes are painless and profaneless.
5. If you can laugh at yourself, you are guaranteed a lifetime of chuckling.
6. If someone tells you a joke you've already heard, let him finish and laugh anyway.
7. Humour works best when it brings joy to others.
8. Be happy and smile always - it takes more muscles to frown than to smile.

Hehe...

Category: Musings

The power of motivation

I don't know whether to cry or to laugh.

Junior brought home his report card today. Mummy has promised him a Notebook if he scored Band 1 for his Maths, English and Chinese in his CA 1 exam. I still think my wife is it is insane to have promised the child the sun and the moon.

Alas, Junior got two Band 1 and a Band 2. So, there'll be no laptop. But I told him mummy and daddy are proud of his result and happy that he's tried his best, and announced that we'd reward him with something other than the notebook. He said ok, but there's no doubt the look of disappointment on his face.

But I was pleasantly surprised to hear Junior say, "I'll try harder for my SA 1 exam to get the notebook."

I hope we're not inculcating in him the evil of consumerism and materialism. No, I don't think we are. What I see instead is the power of motivation. Maybe the Slim Lady knew something that I don't. She did something to motivate the child. And self-motivation, as we know, is the key to many successes in life.

We parents always tell our kids that at this juncture in their lives, their main job is to study hard in their studies. If they do so, and prove it in their results, they can have all the things they want, and by "all the things", we meant:

1. The freedom to play the Playstation, on-line games and computer games for as long as they want on weekends;
2. The freedom to be a couch-potato for as long as they want over the weekends; and
3. Being pampered with any toys or gadget not more than $50.

But the notebook offer took me totally by surprise. Now I know why we men don't get it. It's because they women never bother to discuss it. Sigh.

Category: Family

The passions of Singaporeans

Ask me about Singaporeans' passions, and I could name you FOUR.

Eating;
Shopping;
4-D and Toto; and
More eating

Yes, we Singaporeans simply love to eat. Many eat to live, but many more like me, live to eat. We eat wherever we go and whenever time permits, in between shopping, work and even in the wee hours of the morning when we should be sound asleep. To say Singapore is a food paradise is an understatement. And is it any wonder that most of us are out of shape, with many men carrying pouches paunches of all sizes? In my company's annual medical screening last year, more than 60% of the employees were found to have high cholesterol. But does it make any difference to any of us? I doubt so. Food, the doctors failed to understand, is our passion.

Ahh... shopping. Don't we just love blowing our money away? Retail therapy is not only good for our souls, it's also good for our economy. The exchange of money helps to generate income for various sectors in our economy. How nice to think that we're doing a "charitable" act when we shop, shop and shop! It doesn't matter that I have THREE MP3 players in my possession. I'm thinking of getting Creative's Zen Vision which allows me to watch movies (IPOD be damned). And my wife, God help me, has promised Junior, who is in P2, a laptop (yeah, you read it right, a NOTEBOOK) if he scores Band 1 in all his subjects in the current CA1 exam. My wife This is insane. No, I'm not trying to justify my wife's extravagance (ok, so I just bought a car; but it's really more out of necessity than anything else), but Singaporeans really do shop till we "drop". Let's not keep too much money in our POUCH, I could almost hear Victor dispensing his sound advice, and let's live today like there's no tomorrow. LOL

When it comes to 4-D and TOTO, my sentiment is that as long as one doesn't go over board, buying 4-D is also some kinda charity. Singapore Pools is known to have done its part in donating money to various charity bodies. But there's no denying that this is a form of gambling, albeit a legalised one. Truth be told, I'm not really into buying 4-D or TOTO, mainly because my luck has never been good in them. The last time I won any money was last year, after having spent money for several weeks on a number I can't even remember. And struck I did, to the amount of $65000. I thought lady luck is starting to smile on me, until I realised that amount was just enough to cover what I've spent "invested" over several weeks. Still, you can't deny that I've won. Hee.

Since I took delivery of my car, I've been told by well-meaning friends that it's unforgivable not to buy my car number. Some people say buying 4-D is fine, as long as it does not become an obsession. We're buying a hope. If we don't buy, there's no hope (所谓买个希望，没买就没希望). But I know of relatives and friends who easily spend hundreds of dollars each week on 4-D. My aunt is one of them. She buys a lot and she wins a lot, but she also owes a lot of money to many people, including some loan sharks. My uncle "bailed" her out a few times. But her children, all grown-up, refuse to talk to her. The end result? A broken family. Therein lies the danger of gambling.

But there's no explanation on this thing called LUCK. Some people simply have all the luck, especially those with "ruddy" hands like Chun See. Others, like me, has to slog hard as an ox in the office to accumulate my "wealth". But I know God is always fair. Whatever is yours, will be yours.

And the thing people do to get lucky. My colleague, MJM, advised me to place an orange each in the four corners of my car the day I collected the car. And it has to be done BEFORE anyone, including the sales agent sit on my car. The last time he did so with his new car, he struck thousands of dollars in the 4-D. Victor followed his advice when he got his Scenic. I'm not sure if he's been lucky. If he has, he's certainly keeping mum. But I know Victor, he'll throw a feast if he's struck any money at all. Such is his generosity. So maybe the oranges didn't work for him? Maybe it's just all hot air? Or maybe lady luck is still waiting for the right time to strike?

Did I do as told? Placing the oranges in my car? This borders on the superstition really; but it doesn't harm anybody in any way. So why not?

Category: Musings

The Circle of Life

Soon Beng was laid to rest on Monday. The day before, I was at my sister-in-law's, celebrating baby Joven's 1-month-old. And today, BAGUS and OKD threw a celebration for Victor, who will soon turn 50 this coming Monday.

The circle of life - Birth, Life and Death. I guess God had it all planned out. Maybe God thinks this world is just too small to accommodate all. Someone just have to go, to make way for the new. Makes me wonder if heaven is crowded? Maybe angels float around often, or they are always on God's missions. So we don't need much space in the house of God? And God always has room for all his children.

Gee... I don't know what got into me. I was going to blog about Vic's birthday celebration. But this past week has been quite a ride. It's been both sad and happy. Sad because we've lost a friend and colleague. And happy because of baby Joven's "coming of age", Vic's birthday and me collecting my brand new car, of course!

Let's come back to Vic's birthday. That man crossed the half-century mark, and any man who's crossed that mark deserves my respect. So, there'll be no snide remarks about Victor in this post. I half expected Vic to break into the Hawaii-five-O theme song, but he never did. Busy eating, I guess. Oops sorry, I take that back!


For a man his age, I must say Victor still looks pretty good. He is quite unlike most men his age who usually spot a "spare tyre". Some much younger men, like me, already has a pouch!

He's still slim, tall (shrinkage will come much later in life, Victor), and his pimple dimples remain intact, his face defying the force of gravity. It must be his good genes. And if everyone has genes like Victor's, the plastic surgeons will be out of business in no time. There'll be no end to Wuffles Wu's ruff. I'm also quite upset that my attempt to fatten Victor to make me look slimmer failed miserably, for Victor is never a big eater, nor a junk eater.

We had lunch at a little restaurant at Pasir Panjang. The restaurant is called Manhill, though it certainly does not sit on top of a hill, and it certainly not only welcomes men, but women as well. The dishes it serves are not something to shout about. But I love the noodle we ordered specifically for Victor. It's a Chinese tradition to serve noodle on one's birthday. It symbolises longevity. And it means Victor can look forward to the other half-century mark. LOL.

We even bought him a cake bean-paste bun that resembled the face of a man. Alas, it had room for only 1 candle. We sang Victor the birthday song and made him blush like a red tomato.

Call me a sentimental fool, but I've always treasured the company of friends more then the variety of food on the dining table. And as we age, we could do well to remember this saying, "Count our age with friends but not with years".

Happy Birthday, Victor.

Category: Personal

Roll up your sleeves and let's roll the POPIAH!

This post is dedicated to Evan, whose Kitchen Ramblings leave many of us salivating...



Mum's the world's greatest cook. This is a sentiment shared by many people of their mothers. Except for my kids, who think yours truly a better cook then their mum, the Slim Lady. If that's the irrevocable truth, and I think it is, I have my mum to thank for.

See, like most people, me too think my mum is the world's best cook. She's thought me how to whip out a mean bowl of laksa, a plate of glutinous rice, and my favorite kim kueh mee or pumpkin noodle. When it comes to cooking, my mum is the sort who subscribes to the theory of "agaration" (an acronym of Malay and English words meaning Estimation). There's no hard and fast rules on the ingredients or amount of seasoning used. Everything is based on estimation, and anything goes.

Having said that, my mum cooks other fabulous food such as braised duck, hor-fan and yu-sheng, the kind that goes with congee, just to name a few. I've been wanting to put into writing my mum's many recipe or they will be in oblivion when my mum makes her exit one day...

Evan, a 'blogo-friend' of mine, has asked me for my mum's popiah recipe when I did a post on Chinese New Year goodies recently. See, popiah is a staple food for my family during CNY. My mum usually prepares 3 big pots of the popiah veggie, enough to serve all our relatives and friends who come visiting, with left over to last at least another 3 days. It's become a tradition of sort, having popiah for CNY in my household. And it's really quite a joy to see all my aunts, uncles and cousins rolling up their sleeves and rolling the popiah themselves, basically having a rolling-good time (no pun intended).

So, Evan, here's the recipe, courtesy of my mum. Be warned though, that I've yet to try it out myself.

Ingredients

1. Shredded Carrot (5x)
2. Shredded Turnip (3x)
3. Long bean (2 packets)
4. Cabbage (1 roll)
5. Bean-curd (2 packet. My mum says to buy them from the supermarket. Each packet contains 4 bean-curd)
6. Pork belly
7. Suan Ah (10x). [I don't exactly know what this is called in English; but in Hokkien, it's called Suan Ah]


Method

1. Cut bean-curd into tiny cube; then fry them
2. Stir-fry carrot, turnip, long beans, cabbage and "suan ah" separately
3. Slice pork belly into tiny pieces, stir-fry it.
4. Mix ALL ingredient together.
5. Add salts and MSG (optional) for taste

Chilli

In my humble opinion, the chilli is one of the most important ingredient in popiah-making (just like the Hainanese chicken rice), without which the popiah simply won't give us the ooommmpphh! My mum uses only three ingredient for the chilli - the chilli itself, garlic and a bit of salt. First, grind the chilli. Then add the garlic and continue to grind. Lastly, add the salt.

Peanuts

You also need peanuts. I'm not sure if my mum prepares this herself. But you can get the ready-made one in the market.

Popiah skin

Can get the traditional one from Joo Chiat as recommended by Victor. No car? Never mind, get Victor to buy for you. Just pay him petrol money. Or repay him with TEN rolls of popiah. :P You might as well ask him to deliver some to my house. ;) Actually, those ready-made skin from the supermarket is just as good.

Other ingredients

You can add prawn, mashed egg etc. And don't forget the sweet sauce. Another ingredient that is a must is the Chinese lettuce (or Pang Chai in Hokkien).

I guess that's about it, Evan. Apologies for the delay. So when do you think Victor and I can sample your popiah? :P

Category: Food

Farewell .... Soon Beng

Blog updated after a visit to Soon Beng's wake on 25 Feb 2006....

Many of us fellow-colleagues turned up today at his wake to pay respect to the man who's lost his life so early. He was only 32.

There was no joss-stick at where the coffin was. And no funeral prayers of any kind one would expect to hear at a funeral. It transpired that Soon Beng, ever the joker that he was, had written an email to a group of friends sometime last year, thanking each of them for being his friends, and the happy time he had with them, and how appreciative he was of their friendship. That emailed was aptly titled "When I'm gone, there's no need for joss-sticks. Just a bow and it's enough to make me smile".

Many of us thought it was uncanny that Soon Beng should write that email. Some thought it was a premonition of sort. But I thought otherwise. It was just an email from a friend who liked to "horse around". And his family has decided to follow his wishes to keep his funeral simple - there would be no joss stick and the dins one would expect from a funeral. And he's also requested that rock music be played on his funeral.

Almost 3/4 of those present at the wake were fellow colleagues. Most of us sat solemn faced, some crying quietly, and others who looked as if they have been crying.

There were also some busy engaging in conversations. Some of these colleagues are friends whom we have not seen for a while for they work at different sites. So, it's a sort of gathering at the wake, if I may say so. And yes, there was laughter along with the chatters. Some would have thought it inappropriate. But I think Soon Beng would have liked that we keep smiling and laughing, like the way he was when he was with us....

I was numb with sadness when I received news of a traffic accident that claimed the life of my colleague, Soon Beng today. The accident happened after office hours at the stretch of road near my office building.

Handsome, big and a little chubby, I remember Soon Beng as a happy-go-lucky sort of guy. We work for the same company but in different departments. So, I can't say I really know him well. But do I remember his ever ready smiles and cheerful dispositions whenever we ran into each other along the office corridors, in the gents and in the lifts. Our pleasantries never went beyond "hello" and "good morning" though, and I never got the chance to know him better on a personal level.

Two years ago, I attended a self-awareness course with him, and I realise how Soon Beng could be the joker in class, the sort of life-wire that livens up the classroom. He's always happy and jovial, the kinda guy who could make light of a tight situation. During the self-intro, Soon Beng said that one of his passions is writing. I wonder if he kept a blog?

Years ago, Soon Beng, a bike enthusiast, had a close shave with a traffic accident that left him hospitalised. He was lucky then. But fate dealt him cruelly this time round.

The fragility of life - now you see it; and now you don't. It makes me realise how important it is to treasure what we have, to get to know our fellow colleagues better, to be nice to our fellow human beings and yes, to adopt a positive outlook in our life. After all, we never know when our time is up or if our name's next in God's computer print-out up there.... Sometimes, we forget that we're living in transience in this world, and most things don't matter when we're gone.

Soon Beng, wherever you may be, we'll miss you; and your memory will live with us forever ......

Category: Personal

A doctor's work ethic

It's incredulous what doctors are capable of doing these days. I'm not talking about medical advances; for these will come to naught if doctors refuse to treat patients. I'm talking about doctors who choose to turn away patients who are not regulars in their clinics. These are GP which operates until mid-night in the heartland for the benefits of their so-called regular patients.

A reader of the ST Forum wrote in today to lend his support to the doctors' practice, adding that these doctors "are loath to accept patients who see their competitor doctors but take advantage of their clinic's services only when their regular clinics are closed". Did I read right? "Take advantage"? When one is sick and in pain close to mid-night, who simply goes where the nearest medical help is available. I would hardly consider that "taking advantage" of the doctors!

It was also reported that a clinic in Serangoon has rules stipulating that only regular patients are entitled to see the doctors when the clinic is open on holiday, and no new patients will be attended unless brought in by a regular.

Have these doctors lost their bearing? Whatever happened to the doctors' work ethic? Are they not trained to save lives? And to ease the suffering of the sick? Regardless of who the patients are? What kind of society are we living in, when the doctors can pick and choose the patients who depend on them to save their lives?

The practice is so wrong. These doctors are giving the medical profession a bad name.

Category: Musings

Parents beware: Idiots disguised as educated tutors

I can't help but recall my own experiences with private tutors when I read an article on how parents have been duped by poorly qualified tutors who advertised themselves as straight-A students with brilliant results.

Years ago, I called up a tuition agency, requesting for a tutor with at least an A-level qualification to help tutor my son. I specifically told the agency that I would like to take a look at the credential of the tutor and was assured that there was no problem.

On the day the tutor arrived at my home, she told me she's forgotten to bring her cert. I'm usually a man of reason. If you didn't bring it today, just show it to me the next time. But I was caught off guard when the tutor quipped, "is it really necessary for me to show you my cert? I'm from Outram Institute and I passed all my subjects. If I show you my cert, so what if you're not happy with my result?"

What audacity, I thought. I was left speechless momentarily but recovered enough to tell her that I have the prerogative not to hire her then.

Anyway, I don't know what got into me, but I hired her and let her coach my son. She didn't bother to bring her cert on her 2nd trip, nor the 3rd nor EVER.

But I fired her after just one month. I was beginning to seriously doubt her competence as a tutor. She bought assessment books for my son to practise and simply marked them without much explanation. An idiot could have done a better job.

I also found her teaching maths most of the time, and neglecting English which she was also paid to teach. When I told her to give my son compo-writing, she did so without bothering to give the kid any helping words. No explanation whatsoever that the first paragraph is the intro, the 2nd paragraph is where the main story is and so on and so forth like what we were taught in school.

My kid's future is at stake! And I decided to take matters into my own hand. But I was diplomatic when I called her to say that her service is no longer needed. I even lied to say that I'm going to coach my son personally. And her response? "Fine, just credit the amount you owe me into my bank account xxxxxx". I won't be surprised if she's used this line one time too many.

It was reported in the article that many of these tutors are lying about their qaulifications. And they were encouraged to do so by the tuition agencies. Parents really owe it to the kids to make sure that they are being tutored by truly dedicated and qualified tutors. What these people are doing is worse than the unscrupulous service-industry players highlighted by Victor in his latest entry "Unscrupulous Ways of Doing Business". They are playing with the future of our kids who, someday, will be the leaders of our nation!

Category: Personal

Sugar-coated candies

Politic isn't my thing. But what does one make of the sweetenings dished out by the gahman?

The writings are on the wall. I can't fault the gahman for dangling the carrots. It's the only logical thing to do to score big on the BIG DAY, anytime between a few weeks to a couple of months. Any sane gahman will do likewise; and the oppositions too, if they have the means.

I'm mostly happy that the bulk of the 2.6 billion Progress Package is going towards helping the lower-income strata of our society. Now kids of poor families have the chance to lift their families out of the vicious cycle of poverty.

But surely, we know there's no such thing as free lunches. And our gahman makes sure we know that as well. To qualify for the payout to low-income earners, one has to be in employment continuously for six-months last year, and another six months this year to get the other half of the payout next year. The gahmen is telling us: You help yourself; and we will help you.

I think it's commendable that our gahman is taking care not to turn our republic into a welfare state like some western countries where people choose to live on dole. Perhaps their unemployment rate is really dire, but with the gahman handling out money and food, what incentive is there to find a job?

Category: Gahman

You don't bring me flowers anymore ....

"You don't bring me flowers...... You don't sing me love song...."

The only two verses I know of a song by Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand.

But no matter. The Slim Lady is the sort of lady who does not fancy flower anyway. Female colleagues of mine told me not to believe this crap. They swear that girls from kids to 92 love flowers. One implication is that my wife is LYING. The other is that I should buy flowers for them. LOL.

Neither is my wife too keen on my singing. She never has a ear for music, save those sound-tracks from those Korean serial featuring hunky men and SYT (sweet young things). Sometimes, I wonder if she's tone-deaf.

Valentine's Day used to be sooo romantic. I bought dozens of flowers for her, sometimes having them delivered to her workplace. I painstakingly hand-made her Valentine's Cards. And then there was the candle-light dinner. Florists and restaurants were laughing their way to the banks. And what do we do? Staring lovey-dovey into each other's eyes. My wife said that if we were to do that today, she would try to stare pass behind my eyes to see if I still have a brain. Imaging spending a bomb on a dinner that would otherwise cost 50% less.

Valentine's Day, along with Mothers' Day and Father's Day, occasions meant to appreciate our loved ones, have become overly commercialised. When the face of commercialism rears its ungly head, it leaves me cold sometimes. The practice by retailers, florists and restaurants to mark up prices by 50-80% smacks of exploitation. That's partly the reason the Slim Lady and I decided to have no part in Valentine's Day.

But alas, being a sentimental fool that I am, I bought a flower, just a stock for my special lady today . She asked me "how much", like she always does. And I said "don't ask", like I always do each year. There was no candle-light dinner, though. And no exchange of presents. To us, everyday is a possible Valentine's Day.

I smsed the Slim Lady a Valentine's Day love note today first thing I reached the office:

"Happy Valentine's Day my dear!"

She in turn smsed back:

"U too pse fetch Junior after sch yr mum said tab asked us to tell ah boy not to play with her comp...."

That was followed by another sms on matters relating to some family "emergencies". Valentine's Day, did you say?

So much for romance .....

Category: Personal

A weighty issue

On this last day of the Lunar New Year, I stepped on the weighing scale and discovered, to my consternation that I've put on 2 kilos! I'm not entirely surprised, though. For the past few days or so, I could feel myself somehow getting "heavier", my movement getting sluggish and clumsy. And that little pouch of mine - the spare tyre - it does seem more "pronounced" than it was 2 weeks ago.

It's all thanks to Chun See. That man advised me to put on hold my resolution to cut down on food for CNY. Now see what he has I have done! Chun See, like Victor, always dishes out sound advice. But I'm afraid the advice he gave me this time is quite.. well, unsound.

Do you believe I've been on an eating binge non-stop since the first day of CNY? It started off with the steamboat reunion dinner comprising prawns, crab, sotong, cockles, abalone, among others. My mum also prepared popiah, a standard fare each CNY. And I could easily consume 4 rolls at one go! The amount of popiah my mum prepared usually last for days. So you can imagine the number of "rolls" I have had since Jan 29.

Then there was the many CNY goodies - pineapple tarts, love letters, chocolate and sweets and the "must-have" bakwa. As if these are not enough, there are those that colleagues brought from home, the so-called "leftovers" from CNY celebrations, doesn't matter that technically CNY is not yet over even as I write. And what about the lohei? I've had at least 4 times of these. So, it's hardly surprising that I put on weight.

Maybe I could take a leaf from our very own MM who is 82 going on 28. He's fit as a fiddler despite his age and has a mind like a 28 year old - quick and always thinking on his feet. The secret to MM's longevity was out in the Sunday Times today:

1. Eat less than we should or eat only 80% full.
2. Exercise every day.
3. Work hard every day.
4. Sleep well every day.

The four points look simple enough for me to follow, though we know it's always easier said than done.

Wait... I have a plan. If all else fail, I'd do just what Garfield, the FAT cat did. In one of this famous cartoon strip, Garfield was standing just in front of a huge hippo, grinning from ear to ear as usual. The caption reads:

If you feel insecure and FAT, just hang out with friends who are FATTER than you.

Now, to devise a plan to make Victor, one of the BAGUS gang, FAAATTER than I am .... LOL.

Category: Musings

Fast to cut, nice to look

Call me sua-ku, but a novelty of sort has sprung up in Eastpoint shopping centre, a stone's throw away from where I live. These days, not only do we have fast food, fast-car-wash, fast cars, fast women and fast everything, we also have "fast-hair-cut". In a corner of the shopping mall sits a unisex barbershop that promises to cut your hair all within a space of 10 minutes.


Victor, in one of his posts, waxed lyrical about the barbers of yore who operated in the backlane of many pre-war houses. And yes, they can still be found in the backlane of Aliwal Street and Mohamad Ali Lane as discovered by Victor. The photo on the right was "ripped" off Victor's blog without permission, just like Chun See did. See? Victor's blog is just full of photos that it's slowly becoming a photoblog. Victor may be blissfully unaware that he is giving the National Archives of Singapore a run for its money.

All through my childhood in the 70s and 80s, my dad, brother, cousins and myself all had had our hair cut by the only Ah Pek barber we knew existed in Club Street. Visiting the barber then was a simple affair. We paid between 40 - 80 cents and our hair was done, all in a matter of 20 minutes, without any fancy trimmings. Needless to say, we all ended up spotting the same hairdo - what one would call the "aeroplane" style (飞机头). The Ah Pek sometimes would engage in small chatters with me while cutting my hair. And because he practically knew my family, our conversation was usually centred on family matters, like how my father was doing and how I was doing in school. The conversations were short and to the point.



As I grew into adulthood, entered NS and subsequently started working, I went upmarket and started visiting unisex hair saloon. A simple "cut & blow" back then cost between $10-$12, considered dear in those days. I was (still am) not rich but vanity always got the better of me. I once tried to save money and played guinea pig in a Hairstylist Training School where I had my hair cut by young apprentices. That haircut felt like half a day and I literally dozed off. I swore off training school after that and patronised established salons. I vaguely recall one of the salons I visited as "Peter & Guy" (dunno if it's still around). I found the air-con in the salons comforting, but was far from comfortable with the many hairdressers, mostly females, trying to chat me up make small talk with me:

Hairdresser: Not working today ah?
Me: Er.. nope.
Hairdresser: Your hair a lot hor?
Me: Like my father one.
Hairdresser: Where you working?
Me: NS.
Hairdresser: oh... Want to highlight your hair? And perm a bit to give it more "body"?
Me: Ermmm... no lah.. NS cannot highlight hair one.
Hairdresser: Why cannot? You not BOTAK mah
Me: Later CO gimme extra duties than weekend cannot book out...
Hairdresser: x

As you can see, conversations with the hairdressers always bordered on the trivialities. They just wanted me to spend more money on my hair (and God knows what). Sometimes, I would close my eyes, pretending to be asleep just to shut them up.


Then I switched to the Malay barbershops, the "Sri Dana", "Sri Kenangan" and what have you. The one thing that stands out in these barbershops is the Malay pop music blasting away either from a mini-compo or from a TV hung high up against the wall. Conversations with the barbers tend to be minimal, limited to the usual "slope cut?" and "want to keep your sideburn?". On one rare occasion, I met one particularly chatty barber who warned me against dyeing my hair to cover up some "grey matters" lest I ended in the hospital like he did due to allergy to the chemical found in the dye. By and large, the Malay barbers are friendly and I do not feel the discomfort I usually feel in a unisex salon.

So you see, a haircut session has the ability to evoke different feelings and sentiments, depending on whether I have it done by the Ah Pek in the backlane, the hairdressers in the chic salons or Ali from Sri Nada. But one thing remains constant - my hair. It ALWAYS looks the same, bearing the same 飞 机 头 style. It does not matter who the hair-cutter was. Frankly, just how many ways can you do up a guy's hair?


Today, I thought I'd give the 10-minute-hair-cut barbershop a try. The sign outside the barbershop says "Sophisticated technology and systems that allow us to offer 10-minute haircut for $10. Service does not include hair washing, facial cleansing or shaving. Our shop respect your precious time. New comb made of environmental friendly material. Alcohol hand cleaner to disinfect hands of staff and customers. High sanitation standard." Hmmm... I liked what I read.

At the entrance of the barbershop stands the "ticketing machine". I slotted a $10 note into the machine and out came a credit-size ticket bearing queue no 3. How neat, I thought. The store is manned by three female hairdressers, all busy nipping away. I proceeded to sit on the bench and quietly await my turn.



While waiting, my eyes started wondering. I was struck by the shop's neatness and state of hygiene. The shop has a nifty vacuum cleaner in the corner of the room that simply sucks away the hair on the floor left behind by the previous customer. There are also sterilizers that look like microwave ovens that sterilize the combs and razors with ultra violet ray. The hairdressers who were all in white-overall. The whole setup looked clinical, but I thought it was very clean.

What caught my attention was the fact that all the three hairdressers were wearing surgical masks. Thank goodness, I thought, no more small chatters with the hairdressers. But on this occasion, I was feeling particularly chatty. I wanna ask if they have other branches in Singapore, who the brainchild behind this new haircut concept was, etc.

I was soon to find out the answers. Just below the mirror from where I was seating was a LCD monitor running a short film that went on and on about the branch's HQ in Tokyo, Japan. Trust the Japanese to come up with ideas that are always innovative and ingenious.

Did the store live up to its claim of a haircut in 10 minutes? Unfortunately, the answer is no. In my case, the hairdresser took 20 minutes. But guess what? I'm not complaining and am very likely to visit again for my next haircut. I love the cleanliness of the shop. The hairdressers were also very polite and despite wearing a mask, they managed a muffled "Thank you and Bye" to customers when their cut is done. Besides, the Slim Lady has commented that my new hairstyle looks "nice". Of course it is! 飞 机 头 is timeless, and is always nice!

Category: Musings

Why do I feel as if I'm on an "Electric Chair"?

The wait outside was agony. Was that a scream I heard coming from the room? Or was it a fragment of my imagination? Too much movies, perhaps? But that was reel. And this is real.

Twenty minutes later, it was my turn. The door swung open, and I slowly approached the chair, with much dread and apprehension. I plonked myself on the chair and open my mouth.

There was no scream. But something else - a scalpel, was probing my mouth, gently and mostly on my teeth. The man in white standing behind me said, "Relax, and you don't have to open your mouth so widely."

I paid a visit to the dentist today, unbelievably my first since 1986 when I was in primary 6. Everyone knows a visit to the dentist is one of life's most unnerving experiences, maybe next to having an injection. Can't blame me for procrastinating.

Yes, I remember the much dreaded dental clinic in my primary school all right – the "medicinal" smell, the "clinking”sound of dental tools on the dentist's tray, the sound of drilling..... and the occasional groans of pain and scream! Aarrgghhh!

Back then, we kids call the dental room Torture Chamber no. 2, the first being the principal's office. Nothing scared us off our pants shorts/skirts more than the sight of a school kid came a-knocking at our classroom door with the much dreaded A-3 size yellow dental card. It did not help that sometimes the kid would appear with bloody looking bandage dangling in between the corner of his lips, no doubt suffered at the hands of the nasty nurses in the Torture Chamber prior to knocking at the door. We kids would wait and pray with bated breath, hoping that our name would not be called. None of us kids liked to visit the dental nurses.

There were two dental nurses in my school. I remember one of them, only because of a huge mole located somewhere near her mouth. We kids privately called her "The Mole". A woman of huge proportion, the Mole would often yell at us kids to "open your mouth wider!" or passed cruel remarks like “your mouth stinks! Don't you ever brush your teeth?” A classmate of mine whose hair was lice-infested got the worst treatment of all. She was always at the receiving end of The Mole's horrible torture, occasionally being slapped for not doing anything about her hair. No one likes to stand behind a ball of lice-infested hair, I'm sure. But getting physical was just being abusive. Those were the 70s and 80s when being slapped by teachers and principals was common practice. If the dental nurse were to pull this stunt today, heads would definitely roll and parents would write to the forum, no doubt. Have our kids become "over-protected"? That's another subject for another day.

Back to my dental appointment today. I had suffered a rather bad toothache two weeks ago and called the dental clinic to book an appointment, only to be told that the next available date would be two weeks later. This dentist came highly recommended by the Slim Lady so I chose to wait, while enduring the toothache with painkillers. When I finally saw the dentist today, my pain was all gone. I thought of giving the appointment a miss but decided to go through it since I've not had my teeth checked for decades.

Unfortunately, the doctor told me that both my wisdom teeth and the molar teeth next to them have shown sign of decay, and advised me to remove them all. To do so, it would cost me an arm and a leg at about $1000! It's not about the money, though. It's the pain I fear.

The doctor "promised" me that my pain will surely and DEFINITELY come back to haunt me. It's either now or later. But I like it that he was not pushy about it, unlike some doctors I heard.

I'm usually not a procrastinator. But when it comes to pain, it's a different story altogether. I must be wise beyond my years. How else do you explain the wisdom teeth? So "wisely", I'd wait....


Category: Musings

What I really feel about blogging, now

Lately, I've been pondering over the true meaning of blogging. I didn't set out to blog. That day on May 23, 2005 when I first created my blog and published my first entry, I did it all in the name of fun. Junior has started to cycle without the training wheel, and having read so much about blogging, I thought I'd put that memory down in writing, so what better way to start a blog?

Over time, what started out as a journal of sort became a platform where I express my feelings and emotions over many things in my life. Like a piece of canvass, my blog is where I paint what I want, how I want and when I want, depending on my many moods. It is where I pen my inner most thoughts, express my joy and happiness; wallow myself in grieves and disappointment; reminisce about the past, gripe about everything in life and yes, "bitch" about fellow-human beings. So, you see, there's no central theme in my blog.

There are others who blog for a host of reasons. People like Chun See blogs mostly about nostalgia and the Singapore of yore. Thanks to sentiment fool like him, he does so with such passion and I must applaud him for providing so many valuable lessons to the youngsters of today on the history of Singapore. Frannxis blogs about his love for the Chinese Opera and he's shown that someone who loves serious stuff like the opera can be quite humorous as well. Just take a look at his post on the "Three Smiles".

Victor, my good friend, blogs to rise to my challenge that "an old dog [like him] can still do a good blog". I must add that Victor has proved his point and has used his blog to his advantage with his many swipes at the people around him. Unfortunately, I've been at the receiving end of most of his many jabs, swipes, sneers, jeers and contempt, just as he is from mine. Of course, we both know we are just horsing around, taking things with a pinch of salts. It's really quite challenging, this game we play. And I delight in having the last jab at Victor, as much as he has the last laugh sometimes.

Then there are those who blog for fame and money that commercial endorsement bring in. As you can see, blogging is really a matter of "different strokes for different folks".

I remember my enthusiasm then, when I started my blog, and how I happily announced, with an email, to my close colleagues about my blog, including one to my boss.

Victor, who shared my love for writing, soon followed suit. We used to be each other's No 1 fan, always leaving comments for each other. Our friendship was mostly forged over a plate of Kway Chap or Bah Kut Teh during lunch with BAGUS. But there is no question that blogging is a medium which re-affirmed our friendship, for its through blogging that we sometimes bare our most inner thoughts on the issues of life. Some of our other colleagues told us they, too, were reading our blogs, even though they didn't leave any comments. That sort of turned my heart cold.

I used to think I can blog just about anything (well, almost) under the sun. But when I became aware that people whom I know are reading my blog, I began to practise self-censorship for fear of hurting and offending them. It became apparent to me that I must think twice before blogging about that "seagull manager" in my office, or that apple polisher who waste not time sucking up to our bosses. I force myself to refrain from commenting negatively about the "power that be" in the office. I can't imagine the repercussion should they read about my blog.

Likewise my family. I have issues with my siblings but I can't put that down in case they chanced upon my blog and our relationship took another nosedive. Washing dirty linen anonymous is fine, but not in full view of colleagues and friends, though. Of course, the logical thing to do is to shut down my blog and start anew one that's anonymous, an option that I'm seriously considering.

I can no longer be truthful to myself for the thing that I blog. The situation now is such that instead of blogging for myself, I find myself blogging for an audience who only read what they like to read. You know you're not blogging for yourself when you start to “lug” a digital camera with you wherever you go, snapping photos and collecting materials, animated or otherwise for your next blog. It not only becomes a chore, it can be extremely dangerous too, as Victor so aptly put it in his latest post. I would NEVER subject myself to such risk, just to blog for an audience. Victor, contrary to what you may think, this is not a swipe at you. It's an advice to you or one day, you'll find yourslf in SEVEN EIGHT pieces. ROTFL.

Category: Personal

Baby you can drive my car

It's all thanks to Victor.

I just blew more than 45 grands on a brand new Mitsubishi Lancer. What was I thinking? For the longest time, I've been toying with the idea of giving up driving altogether. The cost of car-ownership is anything but cheap in Singapore. In fact, Singapore is widely known as a place where the cost of having a car is the highest in the world. No other place on earth comes a close second. It's crazy. A car is basically made of tin, is it not? Just like a can of coke? Why should it cost an arm and a leg?

Having said that, I do feel that owning a car is a matter of personal choice. It all boils down to the kind of life-style one is pursuing, and it has nothing to do with being materialistic.

Take the example of my family. It takes me about 1.5 hours to travel to work with public transport but only 30 minutes if I drive. If we were to measure the time wasted in terms of man-hours, can you image how much that would be? It does not matter that we have a near world-class transport system. It just does not make sense to waste so much time travelling. I've considered moving to a place near my office. But dropped the idea when I realised that that was going to cost me the other arm and the leg (then I'm left with just the torso. How to drive or do anything? LOL)

Having a car also means that I can drive my kids to school, not that I mind being a chauffeur. What better ways to bond with your kids communicating with them in the car as you drive, never mind that most of the time they are half-asleep at the back, responding to my questions in a monosyllabic fashion.

And yes, I also chauffeur my elderly parents around, sometimes to visit relatives, other time for their monthly check-up at the hospitals, and bringing my mum to do her marketing during festive seasons.

Isn't it crystal clear that a car to me is ABSOLUTELY necessary? It's definitely not a luxury as some of my colleagues put it.

Ok, I do realise I've been trying to justify my car purchase. A colleague of mine says a Libra has tons of reasons for doing the things he wants to do. Don't we all? Besides, everyone agrees that the time is right for me to replace my 8-year-old trusty (but not rusty) Nissan March since the COE has nosedive to almost "pit bottom". I sure am gonna miss my Nissan. She's been good and has served me well. Sniff.

Thanks Victor, for your time and your sound advice. And for Gilbert.

Category: Personal

孙 子 满 堂

Baby Jovan has had enough staying in the safe sancty of his mummy's womb. Already over-due by a couple of days, he decided to make his grand entrance into the world today in the wee hours of the morning at preciously 0408H. Welcom to the world, Baby!

Slim Lady was quite taken in by little Jovan when she visited him at the hospital and smsed me to tell me how cute as a button he is. Little Jovan is a real whopper, weighing 8.21 lb, breaking the record of Senior Junior when he was a baby at 8.11 lb!

我岳母大人的家，可说是孙子满堂啊！With the arrival of Jovan, she has a total of 11 grandchildren. My mum only has 3, plus 1 coming in June (Not mine though cause Sim Lady's factory has long closed down for business. I'm so happy that my younger brother is finally gonna be a Dad!).

Category: Personal