Where's my sharp tongue when I need it most?

Background: Dot gets his hair cut on the parade of shops just round the corner from where we live. The main-man barber is a genial gent called Gary. In Gary's absence, his Algerian Muslim sidekick fills in. Also on the parade is the traditional local chippy (slang for fish-and-chips shop) which is not-so-traditionally run by a Punjabi family from Birmingham, who are probably way more British than I am. More on that/them later sometime.

Dot went to get his hair cut on Saturday morning and Mr. Haircutting Sidekick is the one cutting his hair. He asks Dot, while going through the motions of cutting his hair, are you related to the chap who runs the chippy?

Dot narrated this episode to me back at home, half annoyed, half amused. I said "you should've replied: I'm related to him in about the same way as you are related to Osama bin Laden. That would've shut him right up."

The "where are you from" or "does the caste system still exist in India" line of questioning does get my goat. Nevertheless, I am happy to put it down to mostly curiosity and sometimes ignorance, and I am even happier to help piece together the puzzle of my brown skin, Western name and surname, and my being a baptised Roman Catholic. I assure you, this has made for many an enlightened dinner conversation.

Yet, it happens very rarely that someone will say something so  racially ignorant it makes me cringe, and in even rarer cases, it will be offensive and make me hopping mad. Trouble is, in those very rare instances, instead of telling them exactly what I think, I am reduced to a quivering angry mess and blurt out something lame in response or, worse still, say nothing at all and smile. 

Ah well. I suppose I'll get them next time.

P.S. I have to shamefacedly admit that this incident happened close to six months ago and so did the post. Please do not bite.

Run of the Mill (Not!)

Whoever said 'running 10k is simply doing 5k twice' is probably really good at maths but also barking mad. Yet, we are very chuffed to say we did it! Dot in 1 hour and 16 minutes and me in an hour and 44 minutes. A special Thank You goes out to Greg; Mashi, Anu & Uncle Saby; Kali; Bricio; Ian; Mummy & Daddy and Ajith . We are very grateful for your love and generosity.

The venue for our race was the beautiful Dorney Lake which is a purpose-built rowing lake measuring exactly 5km, going around it once. Race day dawned bright, sun-drenched and cold - a typical autumn morning. Dot, bless his little trainers, was very disciplined before the race, training to schedule, come rain or shine. I, on the other hand, was typically excited to train one day, and horribly lackadaisical the next, as only I can be. There was no escaping the inevitability of the race, but when the day arrived we were both quite charged up and in bring-it-on mode which was a good place to start. 

The environs of the lake are spectacular and we arrived there early enough, Mother in tow, to find a good (or so we thought!) spot to park and get ourselves sorted before congregating at the main area. Numbers and messages were pinned, photos were clicked and we left Mamma to watch us and the bags, and went down to the stage where the group warm-up routine was being held. 

A (very very fit) lady from the Rosemary Conley Club made us groove to some Greased Lightning (if I remember clearly) to warm up. It was crowded but great fun, especially when you are asked to take two steps back only to end up on someone's lap!

Here's Dot going through his paces. Don't ask me where I was - I was taking the picture, silly!

They had us start in groups of those who expected to take 45 minutes or under to complete, and then rest. Needless to say, we stuck in the second group. From my experience of doing the Race for Life which is 5k, I knew these races could be fun or serious depending on what you made of them. So, while in the Race for Life there were the serious runners, there were also those who jogged or walked with costumes, babies, pushchairs, balloons, children, and all sorts of other paraphernalia. It simply meant, though I jog at a fairly steady slow pace, I was confident I would complete in a relatively reasonable time, and I did. 

Starting this race blew away all of that confidence, because everywhere I looked there were hardcore runners who blitzed away from me right at the start. The lake looked calm but the breeze blew cold and hard making me very grateful for the warm up. Armed with my bar of Bounty Dark and a random shuffle on the iPhone, I set out to take on Dorney Lake. I believe Dot had a bar of Twix and an endless loop of Nickelback on. Again, needless to say, I almost immediately lost sight of my now very quick husband. Above is Dot, smiling for mamma's camera while he comes around finishing his first circle around the lake - one more to go! And here I am, doing the same about twenty minutes later! I hobbled through the last two kilometres with very very sore knees from the pounding on the tarmac. Serves me right for not being good with my training! 


But I have to say, finishing was (and still is) the most magnificent feeling! Nothing compares. Here we are finishing and then with our medals.

Thank you for supporting us in spirit and also by donating to our cause. We couldn't have done it without you.

Of course, all the hurting was made worthwhile with a trip to the much vaunted (among South Indians) Saravanaa Bhavan in Hounslow.


South Indian vegetarian thaali rocks! 

We're Doing It Again

This year, we, as a family, came up close and got personal with the big C.

Up until then, it was relatively distant. Working in the area of oncology clinical trials brought me quite close to the reality of cancer but it was still just a disease - a really bad disease that we were working very hard to fight.

And then, just like that, it became our personal fight. Since then, we've cried hard, fought with the powers that be, blamed it on whatever we could in desperation, felt utterly helpless, and have often selfishly asked "why us?"

Where we stand today, we know there really is no answer to that question. All there is, is a renewed appreciation of life and people, and a desire to seize the moment and live it to the full.

This is why, we're doing it again. Dot and I running 10km to raise money to fund research into cures/support for cancer. The money you donate on our page will go directly to Cancer Research UK. If you prefer to donate locally, to your local cancer charity, please do. We will be grateful for any form of support.

We'll see you on the other side of the finish line!

Reality Check

We were treated to a reality check about being prepared to have children, when we had little S (3.5), his littler sister O (2) and their parents, from next door, over for dinner on Saturday.

To say it like Borat, we are so prepared, NOT!

We quickly realised that to our two tiny guests, nothing in our house was as it should be.

Our bread was brown and wholegrain, our jam had whole fruit in it and had no added sugar, our frankfurters were not fried, our chips were hand-cut rustic wedges and oven-baked, our ice-cream was Vienetta, and our apple juice was cloudy. To add to the equation, our couches and beanbags are super-absorbent and do not wipe clean, our coffee table has a precariously-perched glass top, our ceramic vases are on the floor and/or within easy reach, and either have prickly things sticking out of them or are full of water.

On the positive side, our carpets can be bleach-cleaned, we have flowers on our toilet paper, and to our orange-juice-soaked-crumbled-Madeira-sponge plus strawberries plus whipped cream dessert, little S proclaimed, "I LOVE IT!"

May be there is hope for us, after all.

I'm a Spelling Nazi

There. I've said it. Over the years, after offending many when I have pointed their spelling transgressions out to them, I have learned to "internalize my trauma" (thank you Chinty for that fabulous phrase).

Here are some gems from my work e-mail that make my blood curdle:

wierd for weird
must of for must've
accessable for accessible
defininately for definitely
refered for referred
seperate for separate
indispensible for indispensable
guage for gauge
effect for affect (and vice versa)

Cringe with me, and don't get me started on text/SMS-speak.

P.S. Now that I've said this, it will all blow up in my face with people trawling my blog for spelling mistakes. Help!

Pressing The Right Buttons

Background: The buses in Oxford operate on the standard press-button-to-request-stop principle. When the button is pressed you could either get a 'trrrring' bell-ringing sound or a 'beeeep', and the loudness of this varies greatly.

The other day, this girl I know rode the bus home with me. The bus made 10 or so stops along the way, and for each of them, the button was pressed and the 'beep' followed. The first time it happened after we got on, she went "how annoying, why is it so loud?!" I shrugged and said I had never noticed it to be particularly loud or particularly annoying. The second time it went off, she was more than mildly annoyed and was frowning as if the sound had hurt her physically. And so it went on, with every stop the bus made. She was fuming and had worked herself up into a frenzy, covering her ears and grumbling ad infinitum about how bad the sound was and that it shouldn't be there at all because 'surely everyone can read the sign that says STOPPING!'

It fascinated me then, how something so small could get someone so wound up. The more I think about it, I find that we're all like that - extremely relaxed and unaffected by some things, horribly bothered and worked up about others.

So, while I can totally shut out bus bells, I absolutely must have the caps put back onto bottles. While Dot is markedly indifferent to the idea of replacing caps on bottles, he blows a fuse when I don't get the scraps off the plates before putting them into the dishwasher.

Go on, tell us what washes over you and what soaks you to the bone and makes you raving mad.

Pictures from Race Day

Warming up...







Off he goes...



Blazing a trail...



The home stretch...



Socialising along the way...



Finishing in 1:20:49 and picking up his medal



The man & the medal...



For Mummy

Beaming

Us in the car park after Anil's very spirited 10k at the British Heart Foundation Charity Run at the Blenheim Palace grounds in Woodstock, Oxfordshire. He braved horrendous weather and treacherous little hills to complete the course in an hour and 20 minutes. He makes me so proud!

Very Very Smart

Another Big Year

Happy Birthday my darling Papa.

What a year eh?! We've had so much growing up to do. There have been lots of fantastic happy spells and quite often it has felt like too much, too soon.

When I'm at my lowest, I am reminded of you smiling and gently saying, "man proposes, God disposes."

It helps me see, that no matter what grand plans I hatch, and no matter what dreams I dream of the wonderful course my life is going to take, what has to happen, will happen, and the best (and only) way to survive the storms is to take it one day at a time.

I have learned (the hard way) that there is this huge pool of good karma; you've got to give, and give, and give, and someday somehow, either directly or indirectly, it will find its way back to you; and even if it doesn't in your lifetime, you will have led a rich, full life and be happier for it.

I miss you heaps and I love you bigger heaps.

Sin

The simple reason it is nigh impossible to even try to be good at my office.

To Do is To Be

I meet them every once in a while. People who, for instance, are professors at a prestigious university, doing cutting-edge research, and are also are champion cross-country cyclists and are also very keen (and darned good) wildlife photographers, and so on. It never ceases to amaze me how persons like these fit so much into their lives, and I can't help wondering how I consider keeping a full-time job and maintaining a modicum of order in my home a huge achievement. Thinking back, when, at social gatherings, people ask me "what do you do?", I assume they're asking me about my profession, and they probably are. Unfortunately, in all honesty, I don't "do" very much outside of work.

Escaping the rat race in Mumbai was a huge incentive for me to move to England. I longed to break the endless cycle of going to work early and coming home late, working for most of the weekend, and trying hard to find time for friends and family, and where the only recreational activity was eating/drinking out or shopping.

Funnily enough, I find I did lots more when I was in India. The main out-of-work activity for me was singing. It was my passion and I did a lot of it. I helped out at my local church and in the community, teaching Sunday School and doing youth work. I wrote the odd article. I made the effort to catch up with my friends, snatching conversations on the way to work, meeting up for a quick drink after, going shopping together and the like.

Now, though I have way more time to myself, because of my regular work day, and beautiful, healthy environs to spend it in, I find myself thinking "why bother?" I tried a spot of singing, but gave that up. I am a lazy blogger and an even lazier photographer. I don't exercise regularly, I don't garden as much as I could, I just couldn't be bothered.

When I meet passionate people, who live every day using all the faculties and facilities available to them, I am reminded of the abundance of capabilities I have which I refuse to use. After all, passion feeds itself and most passions are rewarding. You blog, readers comment, you blog more. You exercise, you get fitter, you begin to enjoy it. You get involved in local issues, you make friends, you become a part of the community. You get my drift.

Though I don't make New Year resolutions, I have resolved to get off my backside and do more. Wish me luck.

It's that time of year again

The clear roads. The smiling and tolerant, even polite, drivers. The superquick record-breaking bus journey times. Traffic moving so beautifully, you could well be watching a ballet recital. One week of sheer bliss to look forward to when you can get to work on time and have a cuss-free journey in.

I LOVE HALF-TERM.

Homeschool them all I say.

Baby Cute, Baby Beautiful

I've had a few e-mail requests lately from very enthusiastic parents requesting me to vote for their babies in some random online contest or other called "Cutest Baby" or "Most Beautiful Baby" or something like that. I, of scathing-email-in-response-to-spam-forwards fame, haven't replied telling them what I really think of their request.

Here's where I stand. I know you think your baby is cute (such an abused word!) and beautiful and cuddly, and you are most probably right and I will most probably agree with you. Trouble is, so does everybody else entering their babies in the competition. So, the way I see it, when I vote for your baby, I'm saying I think the other babies are less cute (God, I hate that word!), which is not true.

Honestly, to persons other than family, babies looks like babies. Nice and soft and little and amusing. Not one cuter (kill me now!) than the other. Some of you might say I hold this view because I haven't yet met an ugly baby and you may be right; but I really don't think pitting the little persons against each other in a contest of appearance really proves anything or is even entertaining in any way. So the next time you enter your baby into a contest, leave me out of the vote petition list please. I'd rather not have an opinion in the matter.

Under the Over

I (foolishly) thought that I was the only one in the Universe who had given much thought to the subject of the appropriate way to hang a roll of toilet tissue, but as it turns out, there have been many before me (Treehugger) and it looks like there will be several after! They even get quite judgmental about it going as far as calling one method Good and the other Bad. Who would've thought?! In my book, I agree with the Treehugger people, and it does bother my soul when Dot puts the roll on the Bad way. Naughty Dot.

So, which way do you roll?

Over or Under?
	Over
	Under
	Don't really give a s#%t
pollcode.com free polls

(Image courtesy: Treehugger)

Back in Business

I've been M.I.A. because of a combination of being busy and being out of sorts. Not an excuse at all, but a reason nevertheless. Normal programming resumes now.