That's What She Says

The First Day Of The Rest Of His Life

2011-11-21T12:55:00.001Z

The tears came easy and fast as we stepped out of the door at home and I could barely see where I was going with them streaming down my face. I told him he was going to be okay and that Mamma was also hopefully going to be okay. I told him how this was going to be a great learning experience for him and us. I took Noah to his first settling in session at his nursery/crèche today. I knew it would be hard, but I wasn't prepared for the belly blow it turned out to be.

I sat in the same room watching him play, and be a friendly, smiley, sociable person, and marvelled at how much of a personality he has begun to show. I watched in amazement how he functioned as a little person, independent of me, and it filled my heart with great pride and joy.

His father and I have been his primary caregivers since he came into the world, and here we are now, ready (or wanting to be) to hand over his care for a large part of his waking hours to someone else. I feel a huge mixture of emotions - excitement, apprehension, wistfulness, guilt and happiness. It hurts more than I imagined it would. I know he'll thrive with all the stimulation, develop great relationships, and learn things we couldn't possibly teach him all by ourselves. I know we'll have good days and bad days, but I hope and pray that, overall, it will be a positive experience for him and us.

Here's to you and nursery, Noah. Mamma will miss you sorely during the day, and she is very, very, very proud of you!

Stocktaking

2011-08-03T21:06:00.001+01:00

This post was meant to be put up on 1st March, 2011, and for some reason or another, remained a draft. Here it is, for anyone who is interested.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five years ago, at around this time of year, we stood at the brink of a brand new future together, Dot and I - a future that was uncertain, but one that seemed full of possibility and the promise of challenge and incredible excitement. We knew it wasn't going to be easy, but it was going to be one hell of a ride. In the three months just gone, we had married, moved countries, and were now going to move country again, but this time together. Many things had fallen into place and the stars had aligned themselves to bring us to this point and we couldn't wait to begin the onward journey.

We moved to the UK on the 3rd of March, 2006, landing in Heathrow on a particularly cold winter's evening, made colder by the fact that everything was new and unfamiliar. Dot's cousins in Bristol opened up their home and their lives to us, and made us feel very welcome. We spent a week or so with them, commuting to Oxford by train every day, where Dot's job was. The job was unconventional and Oxford was gorgeous. We spent a week in a bed-and-breakfast inn run by a Norman Bates-ian landlord, while we looked for a place to call home. We were incredibly lucky and found a beautiful home to rent in a quiet, convenient suburb. We thought we'd give it six months, and ended up staying two years, after which we bought our own home further down the same road - talk about settling down in suburbia!

Our lives since 2006 have been full - there've been good things, great things, scary things, horrible things, but all in all it has been a fun ride. We've learned so many lessons, but most importantly, to not take anything for granted and to seize the day. This country has become home and now we stand on the brink of another big, life-changing step - to be naturalised as British citizens. It's funny how something you didn't ever give much thought to, something that sat in the background as a possibility, and something you put a lot of human and material resources towards (sacrificing being close to family, financial security and familiarity) suddenly is within easy reach, but you find yourself questioning your reasons for wanting it. There is much to consider about where your loyalties may lie as a citizen of a country and how these loyalties are affecting or will affect the way you live your life in that country. There is much food for thought.

As if all of this wasn't exciting enough, I'm very pleased to share with the few of you that still read my blog that we are expecting a baby, due at the end of March.

Here we are again, standing at the brink of the great unknown, full of anticipation and excitement. See you on the other side!

A Tag to Get Things Going Again

2011-08-03T14:05:00.001+01:00

Shilpa tagged me to list the things mommyhood has taught me thus far. While I have miles to go and much to learn, it seems a good way to kickstart things here again. I am not sure I have the capacity to be a dedicated mommy blogger, but my life is currently full of all things baby and probably will be for a long time and this makes for great blog fodder.

So here goes nothing!

1. THERE WILL BE GUILT

As a parent, you will be faced with choices and the need to make decisions every minute of every day - material ones like is it better to get a regular or lie-flat car seat, is it okay to bathe your baby every day, would it be better for baby to sleep in a Moses basket or would a cot/cotbed more comfortable, etc. or more existential ones like how early should you go back to work or should you at all, should you encumber your child with religion or let him choose, etc. Whatever you choose and however you play it, you will feel guilt, self-inflicted or imposed, all the time. The feeling never leaves. It is the stuff that marketing companies selling baby stuff rely on. And because nothing but the best will do for your child, you worry yourself sick about having made a sub-optimal decision or choice and how it will affect his future. The truth, as some sage veteran parents will tell you, is that in the grand scheme of things it doesn't make any difference and that some bad decisions will be balanced off by some other good ones and that it will all be okay. You want to believe them, but struggle. Slowly and steadily, I am learning to make my peace with my new bedfellow - guilt.

2. BABIES HAVE EXTRASENSORY PERCEPTION

My little man is a real trooper. He's a generally good-humoured and calm baby. However, the minute he senses I'm being rushed or distracted with him or not putting my soul into whatever it is I am doing with him, even simple things like strapping him into his buggy or teaching him to play with his toys, he becomes grumpy and is no fun at all. It's as if he reads my aura and feeds off it. I am amazed by it and how it keeps me honest.

3. YOUR LIFE REALLY DOES CHANGE

This one may sound like a hackneyed cliché, but it has to be said. I was always one to say "how different can it be?!" Boy, is it different and how?! Practically, simple things like eating a meal in a restaurant, doing a supermarket run, getting a haircut, all begin to take on the proportions of a military operation. You have to be so organised just to keep afloat. Make sure you have the nappy bag stocked up, choose food that can be eaten with only a fork or spoon (I haven't tried only knife yet, but I'm never saying never!), wear clothes you can breastfeed and ones that don't show drool and sick too much, make sure you are prepared for the vagaries of the weather (rain cover, blanket and sun hat at the ready), make sure you have your phone in your pocket so you are able to answer it without emptying your entire bag, etc. The list goes on and on and on. At a soul level, you begin to focus on being a better person to set a good example and you begin to see how insignificant everything else is in comparison to the immense love and happiness the little person brings into your life. If that's not change, I wonder what else is.

This tag is a work in progress. As I go further down the road of being a parent, I am sure we'll find more stuff to share, but for now, the baby calleth and I must go.

The littlest papoose has arrived...

2011-04-05T13:16:00.001+01:00

... and life will never be same again.

His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI - Cofton Park, Birmingham, 19th September, 2010

2010-09-27T08:48:00.001+01:00

Waiting in the freezing cold, but quite happy with our vantage point location.

Cold and wet is no fun, but I am trying to smile.

As day breaks, they change the lights in the background of the altar to match. I am obviously not impressed and Dot's unusually cheery.

I'm awake at last, but Dot's beginning to give up the ghost.

Dot waving at the helicopter bringing the Pope from London to Cofton Park.

Miraculously, the sun came out and it didn't rain a drop from the time the Pope stepped off the helicopter. Spooky! We are obviously well chuffed at finally seeing the sun. Story of our lives.

The Pontiff is in the house. The crowd was going ballistic like at a rock concert.

The screen shows the Pope in his Merc Mobile kissing children handed to him from the crowd. The choir in the foreground was made up from children from schools in the area.

On the premises, making his way to the altar as seen on the fantastic high-definition screens.

That's the closest we got. He looked very tired and quite frail.

The sea of people.

Beginning to celebrate High Mass. The lady in the circle at the bottom right corner of the screen was translating the proceedings in sign language.

The beatification of Cardinal John Henry Newman, whose image they put up on the background after the ceremony was over. He was declared Blessed John Henry Newman. Beatification is the step prior to being conferred sainthood (canonisation).

Posing with the altar. Looking sleepy again.

The Papal blessing.

He left soon after the Mass and, as if on cue, it began raining! It was an incredible experience. He didn't engage with the people as much as I thought he would and all his speeches were scripted, but he is an 83-year-old man facing huge opposition on this visit particularly because the child abuse (by Catholic clergy) scandals being unearthed. It is a very onerous job and he bears the expectations of a changing Church. We did count ourselves as blessed and lucky to be able to be a part of his historic visit.

Cowardice v/s Self-Preservation v/s Apathy

2010-09-07T12:00:00.000+01:00

Something happened on the bus last evening that took me back 10 or so years.

Last evening, I was sitting with my earphones plugged in, listening to some music (okay, okay, it was corny 80s stuff on my playlist - do not judge!) watching the world go by in my window, getting into town on the bus after work. People around me were either chatting to friends, reading or listening to music and generally minding their business. The bus got quite crowded towards the end of the journey, and I was generally self-absorbed and oblivious to the people standing in the aisles. My reverie was rudely broken by some really loud thumping music I could hear over and above what was coming through my earphones. I pulled out my earphones to check and realised two teenage girls had got on and one of them was playing music out loud on her phone and generally chatting loudly and making a right racket. I tried the glare approach and surprise, surprise, it didn't work. An American girl sitting in front of me was reading before all this noise started and she turned around and said to the girls "could you please turn the volume down, I am trying to read". Her tone was neither rude nor patronising. The girls sneered at her and giggled and proceeded to look away. She asked again and again was laughed at. I decided to step in because it also annoyed me. I said, "could you please turn the volume down? I can hear it over the music from my earphones." They said to each other " Don't know what these bitches' problem is? It's my phone, I want to listen to my music." I said, "it is your phone, but they are my ears, and I don't really want to listen to your music - could you please turn it down?" The girls retorted "you are the only two who seem to have a problem, no one else is complaining," at which point another lady who was reading said, "actually I do have a problem, it is also disturbing me". American girl then said she'd ask the driver to get them off the bus. They said again, "I don't see anyone else complaining". The American girl said, "that's because you look and behave like a bully, and people are afraid of being bullied by the likes of you." It made absolutely no difference. They swore and ranted, and giggled and mocked, and continued doing exactly what they were doing, smug in the knowledge that they had actually elicited a reaction from people.

Now, from experience I know, the people who either play music on their phones loudly in a closed space or put their feet on bus seats and are generally antisocial, are people who will do it irrespective of what you say to them. In fact, they'll do it even more if you somehow let on that it annoys you or bothers you. My problem with it is, what they are doing is not acceptable and unmindful of others in a public space, and there seems to be no way to stop them without getting verbally abused or, in extreme cases, physically hurt because you dared to stand up to someone who was antisocial.

When I say this took me back, I am referring to the problem of women (I travelled in the Ladies' Compartment on the trains in Mumbai) chucking rubbish (chocolate and sandwich wrappers, water bottles, tissues, garlands, etc.) out of the window of a moving train right onto the tracks. Back in the day, I was a little crusader. I got into huge arguments with these people and it would all start with me saying "can you please hold onto that rubbish and throw it in a bin when you get off the train?". I'd then proceed to get told to "mind my business" or get sworn at and then the rubbish thrown anyway, just to spite me. This and the problem of people spitting, especially in a crowded place like a bus stop. I've also ended up being spat at and my family being called names I cannot repeat here.

I've now toned it down because it has never, ever made a difference. Yes, I suppose some might say, it will make the people who do it, think before they do it again, but I really doubt it. In fact, if anything, I think it might actually bruise their egos and make them continue doing it to prove a point.

The point of this ramble is, it was my business 10 years ago and it continues to be. It was my city and the space I lived in that the people chucking litter were ruining. I did and still do have a right to enjoy public space in its original state (even if that state is an unclean one anyway). Similarly, I do have a right to listen to what I want to listen to, and whilst not being unreasonable and kicking up a fuss about people talking, surely listening to someone else's music over my earphones is not something I need to put up with.

But how do you register discontent or do you at all? Does it make a difference? Do the bleeding hearts all fall away into the chasm of apathy? Is it fair that someone who can physically or verbally abuse you, can most often get away with it and continue to offend? Am I being a coward and too caught up in my little perfect world to bother about something that's happening to someone else? If it obviously isn't going to make a difference, is it worth my peace of mind and time protesting? Can I afford to just not be bothered? Is this just the way life goes? These are questions I have grappled with often and long, and I cannot seem to find answers to.

So, to preserve my sanity, sometimes I protest and sometimes I don't. It still bothers my soul, that I sometimes choose to look the other way. I don't think I will ever make my peace with it.

Thank You, Internet

2010-07-24T23:15:00.001+01:00

So, this post was conceived at 10pm tonight, when I was faced a washer/dryer whose drum didn't empty, there was a less than pleasant smell emanating from the rolling drum and the fabric softener refused to leave the dispenser. I was faced with the prospect of calling out a Hoover engineer at 110 quid a pop and sacrificing a day's holiday waiting for him/her, or I could, in true British spirit, do it myself. And whom did I turn to in my moment of despair? You guessed it, the Internet. A few mouseclicks later I discovered horrible reviews for my make/model of washer/dryer (where were they when I was making my purchse two years ago?) and, wonder of wonders, someone very kindly explaining that one of the reasons for my problem could be a clogged drain pump filter, which was fixable. Wet, smelly and messy, but easily fixable. So there, on the kitchen floor, on all fours, with my face close to the floor peering into the filter, while trying not to gag on the smell and trying to keep my knees dry, I thought, "whatever would I do without/did I do before the Internet"?

Dear Internet,

Thank you for everything.

I've turned to you to look up universities to do a postgraduate degree, read reviews about washer/dryers, find a recipe for Kerala naadan* meen** curry, find love, keep love, buy car insurance, buy shoes, find a home to rent, find a home to buy, buy air tickets, book holidays, do my weekly groceries, look for a car, talk to friends and family across continents, look up exam results, book my driving test, book visa appointments, buy postage, change my reading habit, for Kazaa and Napster, to start and keep a journal, buy clothes, donate to charity, send birthday cards and flowers, decorate my home, find out what that beautiful plant growing by the side of the road is called, get my fix of the news, share mine and learn from the thoughts/experiences of others on forums, aid my clock-watching on a slow Friday afternoon at work, and find step-by-step instructions on how to clean the filter of a washer/dryer, among millions of other things I simply cannot remember.

You took my life and turned it on its head, and things have never been any more complicated than getting on Google, since.

Thank you for it all.

P.S. The washer/dryer has been fixed and will be tested tomorrow morning (because I really don't want to walk downstairs to a flooded/smelly kitchen, first thing in the morning) - watch this space.

*naadan - from the country or traditional (so I am told)

**meen - fish (so I know)

It is turning out to be quite a summer!

2010-07-08T11:34:00.003+01:00

I have my fingers crossed so as not to jinx it.

Man, Woman or Person Who Swallowed a Box?

2010-07-06T15:17:00.006+01:00

I was faced with this at the Thornhill Park and Ride, outside Oxford, while dying for a wee, and so I did not at all appreciate being subjected to an extra two seconds' wait to work out whether I was going into the correct toilet.

Yes, you will now say to me that I really should have just focussed on the tiny skirt (?) or tilted my head sideways to read the very arty-farty metal lettering that, in case you are wondering, says FEMALE. Let's face it, wouldn't it have been easier to have it just read 'Women' or 'Ladies' with the usual bog-standard stick figure image?

As an aside, I find it intriguing and mildly amusing that Baby Nappy Changing Units are always located in the Ladies' toilet if there isn't enough space to give them a separate room. Are there never any men who may a) travel alone with babies and/or b) would like to change their babies' nappies?

Happy Husband's Birthday To Me

2010-06-25T15:39:00.009+01:00

Dot turned a mighty 33 last week and unfortunately was travelling for work on the day and was going to spend most of it in another country all by himself (cue: "Awww!"). His not being in the country, however, did not mean he missed out on presents and/or a celebration (cue: "Lucky, lucky chap!").

Here he is at the stroke of midnight with a few of his presents.

The sheet of paper he is holding up is my present to him - a tour of the BMW MINI Car Factory which is in Oxford. It is the only place in the whole world that builds Minis, and no matter where in the world you drive one, it has come off the production line at their plant in Cowley. Now there's something about Oxford you didn't know! We're not called "the city of dreaming spires and screeching tyres" for nothing.

For MINI virgins like myself, it was an eye-opener to learn that no two MINIs are identical (well about 2 in 200,000 may be) as you can kit out your MINI from a multitude of options ranging from colour of alloys to decal on the wing mirrors. If you don't believe me, try their Car Configurator. It makes choices like colour, transmission and number of doors seem so last century!

The experience of being on the production floor is something I will never forget! We worked our way backwards from completed car to naked metal framework, first visiting the assembly line, where the painted frame comes in from the Paint Shop, and things like the windscreen, the cockpit the doors, the wheels, the exhaust system, the electrical wiring harness, bumpers, lights, etc. get fitted on, one by one, either by their associates (term used for every person who works in the factory irrespective of role) or by robots (Oh My God!). How boring would it be if every car being made had identical features - yawn! The task of finishing a car is made immensely complicated by each MINI having its every detail customised, as you can imagine. It was a marvel to watch how everything was coded and lined up and checked to make sure every piece was just so. We learnt and watched how all relevant information about a particular MINI is coded into its key. From what date/time a certain component was installed to service information and everything else you could possibly imagine about the car statistics, all there - in one key (well they do give you a duplicate, but lose those and you may as well scrap your car).

And then there were the robots!! We visited the Body Shop (where the frame of the car is built) and watched in open-mouthed fascination as in a warhouse-type building (as large as 14 football pitches, it might have been) there were less than 30 human beings and it was full of giant robots. Orange in colour with scores of wires sticking out of and into them, six to ten times as tall as me, flailing their arms about wildly and doing a lot of buzzing and welding and all sorts. There was method to their madness, we were told, as they were resistance welding little pieces of metal together with tremendous precision and consummate ease. Walking through the maze of robots in cages with sparks flying felt like being in the Matrix! At some point, we even began to fear that the machine revolt the sci-fi movies keep talking about may not just be a cinematic

For obvious reasons, photography was not permitted on the production floor, but here is the video from the MINI website that will hopefully give you some idea of the scale and sheer magnificence of it all:

MINI Manufacturing Video

The Paint Shop was off bounds because of health and safety reasons with paint fumes, which was a shame, but we did get to visit the museum which was small but a real treat. Here we are with our overalls and me with my Body Shop protective yellow goggles.

Here I am with the Austin Powers MINI (Dot said it matched what I was wearing) and here is Dot with Le Corbusier LC4 Cowhide Chaise Longue inspired MINI. It is absolutely stunning.

And then there was this Austin MINI Wildgoose campervan straight from the 1960s...

...the Italian Job special MINI customised with bullion decal, autographed by Michael Caine and his daughter Natasha Caine ...

and Dot with a sample robot that seemed much friendlier than the ones in the body shop, considering he was stationary (could be a she - I couldn't say for sure).

Please forgive the extra exclamation points and gushing - I still am overwhelmed (in a good way) and cannot get over it all. If you are visiting Oxford and would like to do this tour, drop me a line and I'll be happy to help you arrange it.

I hope Dot remembers that it's my birthday in November.

Pieces of Home

2010-06-16T12:20:00.000+01:00

The pictures are painted on tile and are (from left to right):

1. A typical Portuguese-built home's window. (Spardha tells me the art form is called azulejo - thank you!)

2. The Basilica of Bom Jesu where the body of St. Francis Xavier is kept.

3. A typical village cross.

4. The church of Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception, a Panaji landmark.

These tiles were bought at the GTDC (Goa Tourism Development Corporation) shop in Mapusa, manned by a very unfriendly and strange man who didn't seem to get a word of what we said in either Konkanni nor English nor Hindi, but kept talking at us and about us to someone else who was in the shop! The tiles were a steal at Rs.200 each! They came with a pre-attached hook at the back, making hanging them up very easy. Their new home is on the beam that runs halfway down our kitchen ceiling and they look very pretty there, if I may say so myself!

Cross-posted here by the lovely M.

Belated Happy Birthday My Darling Papa

2010-05-28T15:41:00.002+01:00

Please don't be mad at me. I didn't forget your birthday - only skipped wishing you publicly. Don't get me started about my connectivity woes!

We went home this year, but it wasn't the same without you. Your side of the bed. Your shelf in the cupboard. The place you kept your 'prayers'* and glasses. Empty.

We did celebrate your birthday, though! It was a lovely day when the family got together in Savio's new home and had a fabulously fishy lunch in celebration. You'd have been very pleased. It was a lovely day spent chilling out and reminiscing, but, above all, being happy together.

One more year without you has flown right by. It hasn't been without its share of drama, and yet, I am grateful for all the good things that have come out of it. I am slowly, and sometimes painfully, learning your admirable quality of serenity. You always said, what will be, will be. I miss you and wonder where you are and what you're up to. I talk about us often - you and me, what you would've said, what you would've done. I still have a good cry every once in a while, but, on the bright side, Dot has taken on the role of official tea-maker in our home and is filling your shoes admirably - you would be very proud of him!

I know I don't need to tell you, but please continue to keep an eye on us. And when life is not going the way I want it to, remind me to look at the bigger picture and to focus on what matters.

Stay cool, my old man. I love you.

*My dad had a little wodge of religious paraphernalia held together by a rubber band which he called his 'prayers' and never went anywhere without it.

The Bag Lady

2010-03-11T16:24:00.000Z

So, I've been on this mission. To try and make local friends of the 'desi' variety. It's a mission born out of much thought and deliberation - a whole four years' worth. The background is too tedious to recount, so I'll cut to the chase.

This morning, I got into the bus at my usual stop, and I spotted the only empty seat, next to this girl I've seen on the bus before. She is most definitely from the subcontinent, and, most likely, Indian. I went over and thought, "this is good - finding a seat and seizing an opportunity to make a new friend - well done me!". I smiled warmly and she did smile back - great start. She began to look away, outside the window. I was killing myself trying to think of something to say to break the ice and then I spotted the perfect pretext to chat. She was carrying a beautiful dark red leather bag - the one I've known to be available in handicraft shops or the likes of Delhi and Calcutta; the ones printed with flowers or a pattern of some sort, with contrasting colours. It did look absolutely lovely.

The conversation went something like this:

Me (Saying): That's a beautiful bag you have there

Girl (Saying): Thank you, it is from Australia".

Me (Thinking): Score! We have Australia in common! This is going remarkably well!

Me (Saying): Wow - it really is lovely!

Girl (Half-smiling, turning to look outside the window, and probably thinking): I love my bag. I am so cool.

Me (Thinking): Uh oh! She's probably a woman of few words. She didn't say anything further so there go my chances of Australia bonding.

Me (Saying): Erm....did you buy it here or online, or in Australia?

Girl (Not smiling and saying): No. It was a gift from Australia.

She then proceeded to clutch her bag really tight and physically turn to the window to reinforce the message. I was left feeling like a right numpty!

Girl (Probably thinking): That'll teach me to smile at strangers!

Dinner at the Lonely Hearts Club

2010-03-03T17:25:00.000Z

It's almost a ritual.

When I know Dot is going to be away, I make fanciful plans for what food experiments I am going to conduct. These experiments are much easier to conduct when you're not thinking about the central reason why all food should be eaten - to satisfy hunger; as is the case every evening when we get home from work. Also, he does lab-test all my endeavours for me, but it just seems unfair to keep subjecting him to it. So when I learn of Dot's impending travel, my chef brain goes into overdrive. Elaborate lists are made in preparation for evenings filled with mixing, baking, tasting, etc.

I also make very grand plans for how much housework I am going to achieve when I get home from work. Indexing bills, restoring civilsation to the wardrobe, bleach-scrubbing bathroom grout, ....you know, things that you would like to do (or wish they got done by themselves somehow) to validate your domestic goddess status. I like to have it all, thank you very much.

And yet, it happens every single time.

I spend every evening he is away, horizontal on the couch, watching reality TV dross, eating....wait for it........instant noodles. I fall asleep dressed in the same clothes I went to work in, wake up at 1am or thereabouts with a crick in my neck, drag myself upstairs, change (sometimes) and get into bed to continue the sleeping.

Rinse, repeat.

I really must miss him.

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

2009-12-09T10:05:00.002Z

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!)

2009-11-12T15:40:00.018Z

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

2009-09-24T13:40:00.005+01:00

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

2009-07-29T11:20:00.007+01:00

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

2009-06-17T13:14:00.003+01:00

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

2009-06-12T09:30:00.001+01:00

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

2009-05-18T11:28:00.010+01:00

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

2009-05-17T13:15:00.000+01:00

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

2009-05-16T09:45:00.000+01:00

Another Big Year

2009-05-08T09:15:00.005+01:00

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

2009-02-27T10:43:00.002Z

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

To Do is To Be

2009-02-27T09:48:00.001Z

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

2009-02-16T10:26:00.003Z

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

2009-02-04T10:36:00.003Z

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

2009-02-01T18:23:00.004Z

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?

(Image courtesy: Treehugger)

Back in Business

2009-02-01T18:10:00.002Z

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.

Truth

2008-12-05T13:43:00.005Z

"There's no such thing as a winnable war.
It's a lie we don't believe any more."
--- from Russians by Sting

Thanks, but no thanks.

2008-12-01T11:07:00.002Z

I have always wondered what gain is achieved by politicians/leaders resigning just after a crisis.

It seems like the easy way out - fail miserably at the job you've been entrusted with, and then when we need to ask you questions about how we ended up in a mess, make loud proclamations of condemnation and outrage, and then announce your resignation, attempting to accrue mileage by looking like a martyr for the cause. Easily done. You won't have to defend your actions or be held responsible.

I'd rather they stayed all in their posts and were hauled over the coals appropriately.

It's all about getting your kit off

2008-11-11T12:21:00.000Z

Here are some of the shows on primetime free-to-air British telly that have to do with either going starkers or doing it on camera:

How to Look Good Naked
Miss Naked Beauty
Dawn Gets Naked
Embarassing Illnesses/Bodies
21st Century Girls' Guide to Sex
Sexcetera
Sextastic
Porn: A Family Business
How to Have Sex After Marriage
Trinny and Susannah Undress the Nation

It's not like we're complaining.

Once upon a time in America

2008-10-28T11:25:00.028Z

It's only been a few weeks and yet it seems like it was a lifetime ago that we were last in the great land that is America. It's like a pilgrimage for us. It never ceases to surprise, amuse and entertain. Our most recent American jaunt took us to the state of Washington, to see Nodot in Kirkland, a few miles inland from Seattle. Here's a little vignette of the Seattle skyline by night as seen from the ferry that goes to Bainbridge Island.

We loved Seattle and its 'burbs. Gorgeous views, great wide roads (I might move to America simply for the wide roads), friendly people, and orgasmic food. Enough said.

As you go further out, you see it is a very beautiful part of the country. We also seem to have picked a good time to go. We saw spectacular autumn colours in the scrub forming a backdrop to the evergreens. This was the view on one of the trails leading up to Mount Rainier.

Just in case you think you're not quite in America, Washington also has all the usual American-ities like frighteningly friendly people (Dear Girl from Terra Cafe: I hope your team wins big and that your course at night school goes really well, and I regret not asking you your name), large cars (not as large as in Texas but definitely larger than in the UK), and large everything really. And if all that is not enough, there is stuff like having to cross the road (on a marked pedestrian crossing, mind you) with a bright yellow flag so drivers can see you.

This holiday also ranked very high on our food-happiness charts. There was the meat fest at the Ipanema Grill in Seattle and the divine sushi at Blue Fish in Kirkland. The one joint that piqued my curiosity along with my appetite had to be CanAm Pizza, 'CanAm' apparently being short for Canadian American. I suppose you get a lot of Canadians in this part of America and they wouldn't want them to feel left out. That's all well and good but what the name of the pizzeria or its website doesn't tell you is that it is run (through and through, from cooking to managing) by a group of Indian women (most of whom seem to be WAGs*/relatives of the male techies that abound in and around in the area). I don't know why but I couldn't stop myself gawking at the production-line style of unattached efficiency with which this band of women went about their work and cringed everytime someone asked them anything other than "how much will that be?" or blurted out their order. And yes, once we managed to find the place, the Tandoori Chicken Pizza was to die for.

On the family front, it was great to be all in one place and do things together. There were birthday celebrations, multiple visits to the Holy Land of Technology, out-of-town expeditions and high-blood-pressure-inducing-for-the-boys shopping trips.

Though we ended up somewhat gypping (sic) Clarence from Enterprise (serves him right for being smooth-talking and promising more than they could deliver - little did he know whom he was making the promises to!), we were mobile all through the trip, and that, as you know, can make a world of difference in America. That said, there seemed to be great public transport services in place. We had the moose for the first couple of days and I felt like I was sitting on the top deck of a bus! We later chickened out and swapped it for a more British-sized Dodge Avenger, which isn't the sexiest car on the planet, but to be fair, did the job of transporting the family cargo safely and happily.

We also visited Boeing's magnificient Museum of Flight. Their 'parking lot' has a couple of historic US Air Force One planes and a Concorde.

The inside of the SAM 970 is a little walk backwards through time. It's the plane that ferried JFK, Eisenhower, Johnson and Nixon and has grave things like the Air Force One Safe which carried codes to initiate a nuclear strike when the president was on board, and also random things like a special pipe rack for President Kennedy. The Concorde, while stunning to look at, seemed mighty uncomfortable on the inside; thank goodness it went as fast as it did!

On our last weekend in Washington, we caught up with a dear friend of mine, from university, who lives near and works at the Boeing site in Everett. We drove to Leavenworth which is a, hold your breath, Bavarian (!) town nestled in the Cascades.

Leavenworth was once a thriving logging community whose economy was adversely affected by re-routing of the major railway line away from it. To save itself from obscurity and dwindling revenues, the people in charge decided to turn it into an alpine German-themed village (talk about random!) and it seems to have worked. We went during Oktoberfest and the place was heaving. Bier, Bratwurst, Bayerische barmaids und alle!

Dot had to fit in a work trip across the border to Victoria in Canada, and I went along to be a lady of leisure, with nothing to do except take in the sights and flex my credit card! We took the Victoria Clipper from Seattle and were in a lovely hotel room overlooking the bay. I spent hours watching the float planes land and take off.

Victoria is quite like England both weather- and scenery-wise. We had marvellous sunshine on our first day there and I walked around Government Street, Chinatown and Market Square. If you visit and there is only one shop you can go to, it has to be Oscar and Libby's! Also, if you are eating out in that part of the world, you must sample the Dungeness Crab. Try not thinking about your arteries when you're feasting on 'Two Poached Eggs on an English Muffin, Dungeness Crab Lobster Cake, Wilted Spinach, Chef’s Potato & Hollandaise' for breakfast. Sigh!

I cannot say enough how interesting and lovely Seattle is! The fabulous restaurants, the mom-and-pop and antique shops, the quirky coffee shops, the lively downtown area - we loved it all. And then, if all that is not enough, like a cherry on your sundae, there is Pike Place Market.
*Wives And Girlfriends (acronym courtesy: The British Press)

Us @ Mt Rainier

2008-10-02T21:22:00.000+01:00

I have a truck. A big red shiny truck.

2008-10-02T20:43:00.001+01:00

Less Space?! Yeah right!

2008-10-02T19:21:00.000+01:00

Smoke on the Water

2008-09-29T14:06:00.001+01:00

Dawn @ Lake Washington

Such a softie

2008-09-29T14:02:00.000+01:00

Windows here we come!

GOBAMA!

2008-09-29T13:57:00.000+01:00

Obamania in downtown Seattle

Today's 'Most Annoying Thing In the World'

2008-09-18T10:19:00.003+01:00

A colleague chomping away on Kellogg's Fruit and Fibre, straight out of the box, mouth semi-open while fervently masticating, attempting to contribute to the round of morning office chatter, loudly smacking his lips and licking his fingers in celebration of what must be ultimate breakfast satisfaction. Aaaarrrrrgh!

They have got to be having a laugh.

2008-09-16T22:31:00.006+01:00

Tue 16-09-2008 18:20

Christmas pudding on the supermarket shelves. On the 16th of September.

Picking wild blackberries along the Thames Path

2008-09-15T16:45:00.004+01:00

Quite The Loser

2008-09-08T15:06:00.004+01:00

I regularly, routinely 'lose' my stuff around the home; my phone and its charger, my favourite hair clip, my tweezers, my work ID, my bus pass, the padlock to my gym locker, my sunglasses, my keys, documents, an especially sharp pair of scissors; you name it, I've 'lost' it, only for it to surface after much heartache, usually very safe, in the safer-than-safe little corner I put it last. How annoying is that?!

My misplacing stuff is usually a consequence of my manic handbag-changing, and it drives Dot up the wall and around the bend. I can almost hear my father saying "you never put things back where you took them from; it's no wonder you have trouble finding them!"

Pray tell, dear readership, are you the obsessively religiously organised sort, or do you find yourselves running around, hair flying, not being able to find the things you need when you really need them? Is it just me?

I've had a good month

2008-09-05T10:50:00.011+01:00

Chakli has honoured me and my blog with this:

I feel all warm and fuzzy and flattered (in a good way). Thank you my lovely! Though, like I said to her, I've got to now at least try to be 'brilliant'. Gosh! No pressure there!

I must say I have had a stellar month overall. First the driving test, then exciting times at work, and now this reminder that I have a loyal, albeit small, band of friends who read my random raving and ranting and are kind enough to say they enjoy it all.

I find, probably like everyone else does, you go through phases where nothing seems to be going anywhere; you drift from day to day without anything significant happening, and then suddenly the clouds clear up, the sun comes out (forgive all the weather analogies; I live in England) and your world is all good and upwardly mobile again. You get bit after bit of good news (for mamma, mummy and daddy: no, not 'that' good news), and though the good phases don't happen as often as they should, when they do, they make up for all lost time.

If only for this moment, my world is beautiful, and I'm loving it.

Coming back to the award, the rules are:

This award is for blogs whose content and/or design are brilliant as well as creative.

The purpose of the prize is to promote as many blogs as possible in the blogosphere.

1. When you receive the prize you must write a post showing it, together with the name of who has given it to you, and link back to them.

2. Choose a minimum of 7 blogs (or more) that you find brilliant in their content or design.

3. Show their names and links and leave them a comment informing they were prized with ‘Brilliant Weblog’

4. Show a picture of those who awarded you and those you give the prize (optional).

5. And then pass it on!

My nominees for blogging brilliance from my blogroll are:

Dot
The Elfin Goddess
Educated Tatya
G
Chinty
Mumbaiwallah
Nodot
Jay
Kabes

I'm sharing the luuurrrvve.

Convenience Personified

2008-08-21T13:15:00.002+01:00

Dot and I love our morning cuppa . I used to be more of a coffee person but Tetley changed all that. Now the folk at Tetley have come up with the very clever drawstring teabags. Like Chakli here, I love to try new products (quite the opposite of Dot who thrives on familiarity) and every once in a while, you stumble upon a gem like this. Simply brilliant.

(*Image courtesy Famous Foods.)

2008-08-14T15:01:00.000+01:00

Vrooooom Vrooooom!

2008-08-14T15:00:00.001+01:00

That's right ladies and gentlemen; I passed my UK driving test and I am chuffed to the gills!

It has been a very interesting road to here. I got my first driving license in India in 1999 but we didn't have a car and my folks didn't feel the need to own one, given the abundance of public and private hire transport in Bombay. That meant little or no driving for quite a while. A couple of years into my working life, I contemplated buying a car and restarting the driving but by the time I got around to it, I was moving temporarily to Australia and my folks just wouldn't drive themselves, and employing a driver was extremely extravagant and wasteful to their strong middle-class values (it still is). In any case, that meant another few years of no driving. I was too skint to afford lessons as a student in Sydney and I wasn't sure I was going to hang around long enough to really need to be able to drive. However, ever since we've moved to England, I have wanted so badly to drive. We would be able to do so much more, both work and play, if I could drive. The first year we moved was when I should've done the whole take-a-few-lessons-and-have-a-go-at-the-test-routine, but our first year here was emotionally very hard and I hung back. I didn't feel ready. When I did get around to restarting lessons I found that I was dealing with the baggage of being older and therefore too cautious and sometimes hesitant. Any good driver will tell you how when you drive, you do need to have your wits about you and keep safe, but you also need that little bit of confidence, bordering ever so slightly on cocky (for want of a better word), to earn your space and respect on the road.

Well, it took me a while to get there but I've done it! I am now a fully licensed driver and very very proud of it! At the risk of this sounding like a sappy Oscar acceptance speech, thank you Pat, you're a superstar! Dot, darling, you're my voice of reason, punching bag, and my inspiration; I love you. Mamma, Mummy, Daddy and Nodot thank you for not once doubting I would do it; Nodot especially for being my source of driving gyaan. Papa for being there with me every time I'm behind that wheel (do you know I took your glasses with me to the test as a little something familiar?!; I hope you didn't pull any favours and that I passed on my merit!). To all my extended family and friends, you know who you are, and you've been so lovely and supportive all along this journey - thank you heaps.

It may all sound terribly silly to those of you who drive every day without giving it a second thought and think of it as a skill as basic as walking or talking. To me, it's a blessing and a privilege, and so, do indulge the gushing.

That's me after my maiden drive in our car with my congratulatory flowers from Dot.

I assure you this was only a pose for the camera. I do usually wear my seatbelt when I drive.

The two of us beaming. Thanks for the picture Oscar.

Une Petite Suisse

2008-08-06T11:22:00.027+01:00

Switzerland.

The country that (horror of horrors!) does not have a common national language; where everything costs the earth; where trains and all public transport runs incredibly on time (First Great Western and Oxford Bus Company are you listening?); where people getting in don't wait for alighting or exiting passengers on buses, lifts, and the like; where people smoke as if their lives depended on it; where people are so fit and outdoorsy, despite all the smoking, it makes me want to cry; where areas of outstanding natural beauty are always just around the corner; where you could enter two countries through one airport or one railway station; where bathrooms don't have windows and all windows have secondary shutters; where clean is a state of being; where renting is not considered second best to owning your home; where you have proper summers and proper winters; where beer is a pale bubbly lager or, as Martin* eloquently put it, Eurofizz; where banking is a religion and is über efficient; where rules are everything.
(*Martin's a very respected phonetician and speech therapist and a good friend of ours.)

Dot and I were in Lausanne, Switzerland, a couple of weeks ago. Half of our week there was spent with Dot working (yeah, right) and me being the ultimate conference accessory wife, and the rest of our time was spent meeting friends, old colleagues and attending a friend's Spanish-Swiss wedding.

While Dot constantly laments the absence of a place he can call home, Lausanne is home to him, and he has lots of wonderful ties to the place and the people. I too have met almost all these friends and visited all the haunts quite a few times, and so this became a wonderful nostalgia trip.

Here are some pictures:

Dot playing around with the macro lens.

Want more? Go here. Dot's photoblog is no longer fed from his mobile. It's now a proper photoblog which he promises to update. So there.

Drinking Monaco, which is 2/3rds Eurofizz, 1/3rd lemonade, topped with a splash of grenadine syrup.
This is the remarkable Sauvabelin Tower built entirely with recycled materials and offers panoramic views of Lausanne and beyond.

See what I mean when I say outstanding natural beauty?

We spent an afternoon at Thermalp Ovronnaz. A thermal bath in summer sounds ridiculous, I know, but I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to lie in an open-air jacuzzi with the stunning mountain landscape as a backdrop, could I? That said, a thermal bath is best done in the winter. Picture it - snow-capped mountains, minus-2-degree-Celsius weather, 36-degree-Celsius pools, saunas, Turkish baths, fondue in the restaurant - do you see what I see?

I know you do, except when you're wearing sunglasses and your head is taking a pounding from a hot water spout.

And then there was the wedding. What a wonderful end to a fantastic trip!

It must be my name

2008-07-15T14:37:00.004+01:00

I wonder what else might make me a soft target for stuff like this?

Dear f (name changed to protect the remnant shards of my identity),

Please drop me a mail if you want to transfer money from UK to India so that I can help you out in booking the transfer and also see to that you get a good exchange rate for your transfer form UK to India

As a Relationship Manager I will see to that the money reaches to your bank account safely

Waiting for you

Regards
Paul Stephen Jayraj
Relationship Manager

Waiting for me...seriously? No one's done that for me before. Awww.

Who are you again?

What are the odds...

2008-07-09T16:23:00.010+01:00

...of you taking your car to the garage and being handed the keys to a brand-spanking-new, 2.0 Turbo Sport Saab, with 300 miles on the clock, as a replacement car?

...of you driving the said replacement car to an arboretum (posh word - I know!) with a chap wearing a Stetson in the backseat and encountering a flash thunderstorm on the way?

...of having the three-quid-a-head arboretum entry fee waived?

...of you seeing an ostentation (posher word - I know!) of peacocks sauntering casually across your path?

...of you coming back to the said swanky replacement car in the car park only to find two of the said peacocks on the roof of the car, and about six others around it?

...of one of the chaps atop the car, read my lips, f-l-y-i-n-g to the nearby tree to join the other tree-dwelling peacocks?

...of nothing (including throwing twigs, shouting and waving arms, trying to get mobile phones to play jangly ringtones, and trying to toot the horn or set off the car alarm) working to get the lone peacock off the top of the car?

...of the chap getting comfortable enough to take a dump on on the shiny blue top of the said swanky replacement car?

...that what it would finally take to get the determined and now relieved peacock off the car would be a petite lady park ranger shooing him away with a red A4 ring binder, no less?

You don't believe me, do you?

Except, may be, the part about the chap wearing the Stetson.

Now, off to deal with the peacock poop on the roof.

Young'uns

2008-06-30T17:11:00.003+01:00

We've had a spate of 'baby news' from friends and colleagues (sometimes mutually exclusive) lately; it must be all the long, cold, indoorsy winter months. We've had pictures in our mailboxes of beaming parents and grandparents holding, trophy-like, the gorgeously kissable and snuggly little ones.

With all the parenting love doing the rounds, we thought we may as well introduce you to the latest additon to la nostra famiglia. I assure you that despite her tough look, she is very kissable and snuggly.

Here she is:

Isn't she an absolute heartbreaker?

I Did It!

2008-06-09T14:09:00.020+01:00

It took over two months of excitement, a shameful aggregate of about two weeks' worth of training, lots of encouragement from friends and family, and 52 long minutes to get across the finish line of the Race for Life 2008 and all I can say is that it was so much fun!

Those who know me will know that I'm no athlete and will not go anywhere near any activity that can even remotely be described as 'running'. I can walk for miles (try not to look too surprised, will you?) quite happily but attempting to run is a different matter altogether. I knew I'd be able to walk the 5k but I thought to myself, maybe, just maybe, I could give jogging it a shot. I tried it and loved it but couldn't do more than 1k at a stretch. I huffed and puffed my way through training, walking and jogging in alternation, hating Dot for pestering me to keep jogging instead of falling off into a slow tired walk. The only time I came close to jogging the entire 5k was on Friday evening when I did about seven laps of about 400m each, stopping for a few minutes after every couple of laps. I was quite happy with this and would be happier to repeat this on Saturday.

Race Day dawned too bright, too early, and I began to seriously doubt my ability to do any jogging at all. There was this fabulous carnival atmosphere all over Oxford with lots of gaily dressed people obviously going to my race - some serious-, some mad-looking. I made my way to University Parks my trusty cheering team of mother and husband (also my 'coach/manager') in tow. I was meant to meet my friends Mandy, who is also a work colleague, and Narola who is also our neighbour who were going to be walking the stretch. Let us just say these ladies are dedicated serious walkers and would give any runners some serious competition! The race began with some cheerleading led by some lads and sponsored by Nivea, and some warming up to 'Greased Lightning' led by some girls from the Rosemary Conley bandwagon.

More nervousness followed and I was dying to get it over and done with.

When the race finally began, I started off jogging and I kept thinking to myself, I'll do five minutes of jogging and then walk and keep doing that - rinse and repeat. As I went on, I though, I'm not 'that' tired yet, let's jog a bit more. This went on till we came to the 2k mark. I then thought, 2k worth of jogging is very cool - I'm not too tired - I wonder how much further I can go before starting to walk. Halfway through the third kilometre my feet hurt from hitting the uneven ground and I felt very hot and thirsty because I couldn't be bothered to carry a water bottle around the track with me. At that time, University Parks proved to be the perfect venue because every so often we'd come to a leafy shady grove and there was this lovely cool breeze. I met Dot a few times standing by the track, taking pictures and cheering me.

It was too much for Mamma to keep following me around and so she sat on the grass enjoying the sunshine and chatting up a storm.

I have to say that after the 3k mark, I just didn't feel tired any more. It was so encouraging to think I had done the 3k without stopping once (except to redo my shoelace) and then on, at the risk of sounding preachy, it was simply a case of mind over matter.

In my head, I wasn't tired or bored, and enjoying myself thoroughly. It was easy to keep the end in sight and when I crossed the finish posts I was the happiest person alive! I gave Dot a rib-crushing hug all while wheezing and trying to tell him how I didn't stop jogging all through!

A giant THANK YOU to all of you who donated so kindly and generously (I raised £90!!) to my cause and made me believe I could do it. I did think of you at the 3k mark and you were one of the reasons I didn't take the easier (for me) way out.

You know what? I think I might just do this all over again!

Aren't you glad you don't live in Oxford?

2008-05-28T13:32:00.004+01:00

Go Illini!

2008-05-13T15:45:00.008+01:00

He's the baby brother. Not mine, but it's almost like he has always been.

Side-splittingly(sic) funny, very talented, maker of very brave decisions, frightfully grown up and, as this picture proves, bloody darned clever!

Congratulations Nodot.

You make us very proud.

P.S. Thank You Kabes for this and the other pictures.

Things Your Mother Should've Told You, Young Girl @ Bus Stop: 101

2008-05-13T09:39:00.004+01:00

NEVER wear gaily coloured, floral- or Disney-printed, full-coverage granny knickers under white trousers of any description. NEVER.

ALWAYS shave your underarms if there is even the remotest chance that they might come into public view. ALWAYS.

Garden Weekend

2008-05-12T12:26:00.016+01:00

I have always taken the sun for granted and fought to get out of it back home. Two years here and I have morphed into a little bit of a sun-lover. I don't think my sun-seeking behaviour will ever be or that I want it to be quite as intense as that of the great British public, but boy does it lift my spirits to catch a glimpse of some sun! This weekend we had picture-perfect early summer weather, and we spent most of it in and about the garden.

The garden at our earlier home was easy to maintain. It was a square(ish) plot bounded by neat strips of soil beds and the central area was covered in gravel. While gravel is not the prettiest, it's child's play when compared to grass, we were soon to discover. Grass needs to be cut and fed and aerated and a whole lot of other stuff I dare not find out about for fear of being bothered by it.

The term lawn takes on a whole new meaning at Oxford. No pressure then.

Here's a peek the fruit of our labour - stripes and all.

Dot took it upon himself to photograph the blooms in the garden. He's not quite done yet, but there is always next weekend.

Here are the ones I know the names of,

Ruffled Pansies

Apple Blossoms

Daisies

Holly

...and some others I am yet to learn the names of.

Most of Sunday afternoon was spent horizontal on a garden chair pretend-reading The Book Thief while snoozing away in the shade.

Life is good.

(Many thanks to Dr Simon Ho for the picture of Worcester College.)

Doesn't it get your goat when...

2008-05-12T10:20:00.003+01:00

...you are entering your address into a web form on a US website, they give you a dropdown menu to choose the country your order originates from, but in the "State" section, only give you US states to choose from, and then, as if to push you over the edge, throw up an error message to say "Please check the field(s) marked * and amend your entry"?

Ergo, I am now resident in Oxford, which is in the state of Illinois, in the United Kingdom.

Aaaaarrrrgggh!

Did you think I'd forget?

2008-05-08T09:51:00.005+01:00

Two years on, it's all still so vivid.

I remember celebrating your 73rd with you, by your hospital bed, grateful and glad that you had made it. You were in tremendous pain but you kept your big-toothed smile on. I was proud of you, proud of us. We had weathered the storm, together. Little did I know then how much our lives would change in the next ten days.

You've missed so much you know. I'm a big girl now. We bought our own home and I can cook even! You would be so proud of me. I know you are proud of me, wherever you are. When I sit in the garden, enjoying the sunshine, listening to the birds, I know you're there, watching, taking it all in, smiling.

It's ironic how two of your most significant anniversaries happen to be in the same month. Yet I choose to 'celebrate' only this one, and that's how it's always going to be. Happy 75th Papa. I ~~still~~ miss you.

Lifeblog post

2008-05-01T09:27:00.003+01:00

Lifeblog post
Originally uploaded by fortyfiveminutes.

Wed 30-04-2008 19:33 30042008009 Ma

The title of this post and the strange numbers are all testament to the fact that the author of this weblog is now the happy recipient of a brand spanking new Nokia N95 8GB mobile phone.

She is so happy to go back to using a Nokia, she could cry. Nokia ki jai!

She can't help but rub her hands in glee at the endless possibilities and the mine-is-bigger-brighter-and-shinier-than-yours advantage over her significant other. It makes him want to cry.

For you, the uneducated masses, she will list some of the virtues of this magnificent device:

The Lifeblog - gives her the ability to post pictures and blogs straight to her Flickr account and here.

The SportsTracker - she can now make a science of her training for the Race for Life (and give Dot the incentive to accompany her).

The GPS Navigator - she now won't lose her way and end up at the shops at lunchtime.

Don't you wish you were her?

A Weekend in the French Pyrenees (and a quick lesson in Franglais)

2008-04-07T14:51:00.067+01:00

I have always been more of a beach holiday person. Not much of a surprise considering I've lived most of my life in Mumbai (does that make me an 'islander'?) and my Goan heritage which ensured I got dragged to Goa (quite happily, might I add) during every school break. Since meeting Dot, I have 'discovered' the mountains. We did some walking and trekking/climbing the few times I visited him in Switzerland, and like standing in front of the ocean, being in the mountains can be humbling and uplifting all at once. We made quite a quick weekend trip to Pau, in the French Pyrenees.

We landed at the tiny but ever-so-modern Aeroport Pau and met one of the most amusing people I have met in my 30 years (he's up there among the greats). This gentleman with a collared red tee with a couple of neck buttons undone, gold chain, black leather jacket (the kind with the elasticated wrists and bottom), navy trousers, very white trainers, and a bum bag sitting atop his tummy. Let's call him Mr J. He was there with his daughter who stood by their baggage trolley, looking very disinterested, while he father walked around purposefully with his/their large passport pouch, squinting at the display boards through glasses perched at the end of his nose. Dot poked me in the ribs saying I should go chat up and try to help my lost-looking makapao brethren. We struck up a conversation and I found out that Mr J was very "katlick" but from Karnataka and now an American citizen (ah, that explains the very white trainers), who had lived in Germany for a few years, and is now visiting relatives in London (more like Southampton, but it's always London for the Indians; a little bit like all the Bengalis you meet come from Calcutta and all the Tamilians come from Chennai). So Mr J was doing the rounds of the holy places in Europe with his daughter who had never travelled out of America. They had been to the Vatican and were now en route to Lourdes, through Pau. Dot's French got us a wonderfully friendly cabbie who agreed to drop us off and then take them onward to the train station. We rode into town with Mr J and the daughter. He then proceeded to ask, like only Indians can, us how old we were, how long we had been married and why we didn't have children, and told us we should have children immediately because 'it's not good to delay'. Among lots of other interesting little stories, we exchanged numbers and they promised to 'return the kindness' if we were ever in California.

The weather was fantastic that day - almost 22 degrees and clear skies.

These pictures were taken from the Boulevard des Pyrénées which is a long elevated walkway that runs along one side of the city, with a magnificent view on the mountains. The interesting bit is that the portion of the walkway railing you are standing at, at any point, will give you the name of the peaks you can see from there. The clear weather made for some stunning vistas and a very shutter-happy Dot.

We thought it would be fairly easy to get to the mountains from the city centre but it was apparently about 60km away, not easily accessible by train the same day, so we decided to stay and explore the local area.

Sunday brought crazy weather and the tourist office suggested Lourdes which quickly appealed to my Catholic soul. It was only 30 minutes away from Pau on the terribly comfortable French trains. It turned out to be a wonderful experience. For one, it wasn't as crowded as I've heard it can get during the tourist season. The sky was overcast and it was very windy, and yet there was an eerie calm, like we were on the brink of a storm (which, as it turns out, we were!). We went down to the grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes, sat and prayed a while, and then took a long leisurely walk along the stream. The views were beautiful and we took pictures, as usual. We attended a service at the church. As luck would have it, we were indoors when the storm started and it was still raining when we made our way back into the town centre. Being Sunday, everything, and I mean everything, was shut. The Europeans take their Sabbath very seriously, I tell you. We made our way down winding roads and we could have well been walking in the Bandra Fair.

Watching French TV on on Sunday night, we were introduced to the phenomenon the French call LE BINGE DRINKING. It is a vice they say has made it's way over from the neighbouring L’Angleterre and one that is causing the French much worry. The news item involved a first-hand report from a mother who said her son met some random people on 'le MSN messenger' and they met up in some isolated spot for a round of LE BINGE DRINKING. While we agreed the message was serious, we were in stitches about the newsreaders dropping their voices, going all grave, and in the Frenchest (sic) of accents, saying 'LE BINGE DRINKING'. One more for the Franglais diaries.

Monday, the last day of our trip, we trekked alongside the swollen Gave de Pau river for a few hours, and went across it into the Jurançon district, not quite making it to the vineyards the region is famous for. We also got some all important exercise along the way.

We got back to a surprisingly sunnier but as-terribly-industrial-looking-as-ever London Stansted on Tuesday morning. I have to say this trip was made more fantastic by the following:

My lightweight, completely waterproof and completely cool (and pink!) walking boots:

My fabulous (and very red) Peter Storm trail jacket: And our new trusty friend the Joby Gorillapod which makes taking 'together' pictures much more interesting than our 'nostrils' approach:

Plug

2008-03-26T13:01:00.002Z

If only I could write like him...

I am Racing for Life

2008-03-20T11:18:00.002Z

I am so not the sporty type, but I thought a 5k run/walk/skip/hop/roll/whatever may be good for my body because it's exercise and my soul because it will give me something to work towards. I think the Race for Life is a fun way to get involved in the movement to fight cancer and who better to do it than my cancer clinical trials sort!

I clicked "Submit" on my entry form for the race and it dawned on me. This is the first time in my life I have committed to some sort of sporting activity and it is scary! I don't know how it will all go, but I am going to give it my best shot. I will put up training updates so you can 'virtually' countdown to the race, huffing and puffing with me.

Here's my page on the Race for Life 2008 website. Dig deep and see if you can spare me a buck or two and I'll see you there!

Tagged I Am

2008-03-10T10:13:00.002Z

Chakli, my new blogger friend, has tagged me to match (more or less) some of my older posts to five categories. So here goes.

Family: What I know to be family, has changed so much in the last couple of years. I married and got a fantastic new immediate and extended family, but I also lost someone precious. I miss you Papa.

Friend: This is also something that has changed drastically since I moved here. I miss having a girlfriend. The wonderful women I knew when back home still remain and we do keep in touch. But it doesn't come anywhere near the luxury of being able to drop by unannounced at a ridiculous hour, chat or do simply nothing for hours on end, and go on crazy eating or spending expeditions.

Yourself: I, believe it or not, am a very private person (I can see Dot and Nodot rolling in the aisles here!). So here's an insight into my sordid real self.

Your Love: Now, I have to confess I have two loves - Dot and travel. Somewhere, sometime, I must've done enough good and accumulated enough good karma to be blessed with Dot. And since I've met him, we've done much travelling and it's been so amazing. I love airports, love buses, love the idea of going somewhere, the planning, the anticipation, love it! Dot, on the other hand, 'hates' it. He ends up having to travel a lot and I get to tag along. I guess it's what keeps us together! But often, because he knows I love it so much, he does something wonderful like this.

Anything You Like: I am always on the lookout for a good deal. It makes me happy like nothing else. Overpricing grocery to make it seem like a better product is something that bothers me and something I try and fight. I'm not ashamed to say that I'm the one trying out a cheaper or 'own brand' alternative before making up my mind about what I like.

So there you go. That's my tag done. Thanks ever so much Chakli. It was great fun to do!

I am supposed to pass on the good karma and I am going to tag the Elfin Goddess, Ms Cute Pants and the Zen Denizen. Have fun chaps!

Fare Trade

2008-02-29T13:56:00.001Z

There was much rolling of eyes between Dot and me, when our local church announced a "Fairtrade fortnight". What does that mean, you ask? I'm not sure I quite know what it is myself. Fairtrade (yes, it is a brand) and ethical shopping are the latest fads doing the rounds.

It is all the rage to have the picture of a black person (who is generally quite well and happy looking, but with tatty clothes) with Fairtrade branding emblazoned across. The implicit message: Buy our products. Save the world. Especially this poor black man/woman/child. Pay more than you would to assuage your guilt about having more money than this black person.

Fairtrade is being pushed more as a brand and less as a concept, with everybody and his mate rushing to claim a slice of the pie. There are several aspects to trading fairly, and I know and understand only a few of them. Yet the policy seems to be 'lets charge more for average-ish quality and do a little group hug, snug in the feeling that we've faced up to poverty and done something about it', with the Fairtrade lot laughing all the way to the bank.

It'd be interesting to see a Fairtrade product that's superior in quality and actually priced lower than the "unfair" (for want of a better word) ones. It'd be interesting to see how many of the middlemen and importer profits can be cut, so that I, the consumer, am not the only one contributing to the the better prices for the producers, and to ensure that the prices the producers eventually get are indeed better.

Christchurch College on a foggy Oxford morning

2008-02-20T14:05:00.001Z

Bus Wisdom

2008-02-13T09:53:00.005Z

Girl in conversation with a friend, on my bus, this morning: "I measure success not by where people are in life, but by how far they've come from where they started."

I am wont to look at 'successful' people my age, where they are in life and what they do, and feel terrible about where I am and what I do. It's always, "what did I do wrong; what did I not do." What this girl said on the bus this morning grabbed me by the collar and slapped me in the face. It really isn't about where you are, but how about far you've come. And yes, there are some things I would do differently if I could do them again, but the moments have passed.

I hate the frizz in my hair. I hate the fact that I love food so much. I would've liked to be an investment banker or anything that pays me shedloads of money. I regret not fully learning to play the piano. I am short on patience and perseverance. I made choices and decisions, some educated, others completely random, on a wing and a prayer. Given everything that could have and has gone wrong, I am here and happy. Yes, simply happy and content.

Don't worry. I haven't OD'ed on the positivity pills. I can be a very naggy (sic) grumpy old (the big three oh looms on the horizon) woman when I like. The truth remains: I have a lot to be grateful for, and, most importantly, I have come a long way.

If you believe, they put a man on the moon...

2008-02-07T10:56:00.000Z

Biting the Bullet

2008-01-29T11:24:00.000Z

We've finally done it. We've bitten the bullet, grasped the nettle, crossed the Rubicon (okay, okay! I did use the synonym finder!). We've gone and bought ourselves a home!

There goes our D.I.N.K. (double income, no kids) lifestyle. Let's face it, owning your home and tending to it is like having a baby in the family. That said, it brings you tremendous joy and pride, and right now, we (I take the liberty to speak for Dot) are over the moon! The process has not been without its hiccups and I look back and think of the many times we wondered whether it was worth all the aggravation, but I think I can safely say yes, it is absolutely worth it!

We move this weekend and there are a million things going on.

This is what the general landscape of our current home looks like:

Okay, may be it's not all this neat, but you get the idea.

Boxes, bags, limbs et al, we should be in the new home this coming Sunday.

The gory moving pictures are to follow. Watch this space.

Today is...

2008-01-15T10:18:00.000Z

...foot-firmly-planted-in-mouth day.

Note to self: Read entire e-mail and delete dangerous bits before hitting 'Forward'.

D-oh.

More Englishspeak

2007-12-03T15:08:00.000Z

After I hit "Publish Post", on my last post, I thought to myself, 'hang on a minute - there are so many you forgot to include!'

So Englishspeak is going to be a work in progress. I will put up words and phrases I've neglected to mention and new one's as I encounter them.

This should be fun!

Englishspeak

2007-11-29T11:09:00.000Z

It's not like I've lived in Britain forever, but there are words I've learned here that are now a part of my vocabulary - words I used to find very amusing the first few times I heard them.

pants & knickers – underpants

pernickety - picky, fastidious

rude - sexually suggestive

banged up - in prison

banger - sausage

tosser - stupid, badly-behaved person

make a pig’s ear of something - mess something up

snog - kiss

shag - have sex

bird - girl

suss it out - assess and understand a situation or thing

moreish - make you want (to eat) more

lose your rag - get angry

a different kettle of fish - completely different matter

afters - dessert

bollocks - rubbish

bobby - policeman

chuffed - happy

go pear-shaped - get ruined

lido - public (seaside) swimming pool

mac - raincoat

naff - bad (looking)

nosh - food, eats

posh - fancy

quid - British pound

take the mickey - poke fun at

take the piss - same as take the mickey

bells and whistles - trappings

yonks - ages

How could you not love the language?!

A Very Sorry State of Affairs

2007-11-22T12:45:00.000Z

From a BBC news item today:

"President Musharraf is widely believed to have declared the 3 November state of emergency in order to purge the Supreme Court that he suspected was about to rule against his re-election, says the BBC's Barbara Plett in Islamabad."

"The verdict was expected to go in Gen Musharraf's favour since he has appointed new judges to the bench who are considered more loyal."

"Meanwhile, President Musharraf has amended the constitution to prevent future legal challenges to his actions."

And they have the gall to call the elections that may (or may not) be held, 'free and fair'!

Things about me I hate to admit

2007-11-22T12:08:00.000Z

1. I proudly carry all the baggage that comes with being an only child.
2. I wouldn't walk up to me and strike up a conversation.
3. I have a very confused fashion sense.
4. I am much too easily affected.
5. I want a job that requires me to wear a business suit and high heels.
6. I can generally do better, but I just couldn't be bothered.
7. I am not a 'people person'.
8. I am judgemental.
9. I am obstinate, especially if I know I am wrong.
10. I am, quite often, penny wise and pound foolish.

Joyeux Anniversaire Pour Moi!

2007-11-16T23:03:00.000Z

Dot gave me a birthday present of a weekend away in Nice & Cannes on the French Riviera - he really does love me, sigh. I'll let our pictures do the talking.

There was food...

...Dot trying very hard not to look like the luxury-yacht-owner really he is,

... palms in Cannes (now you know where Palme d'Or comes from),

...pretty little terasses,

...still water,

...Dot on an ego trip,

...Dot with his flea-market, €5, hundred-year-old reading glasses,

...happy feet (with fat legs),

...happy nostrils,

...French accents,

...lots of loving,

...railway stations,

...le boucher miniature,

...beautiful windows,

...glorious pears,

...views to die for,

...more beautiful windows,

...little toy trains,

...crème brûlée,

...saucy and racy menu presenters,

...more food,

...wise men,

...a bad dye job,

...glamour on the beach,

...glimpses of heaven,

...fruit that looked like it could have been waxed perfect for a photo shoot (may be it was!),

...yours truly, trying very hard to look glam,

...spice markets,

...matrons with canes,

...solitude,

...sex,

...shoes and poodles aplenty,

...the compleat angler,

...forgotten treasures,

....money,

....strawberries,

...streets with no names,

....and then there was the wine.

There were Alexanders in America

2007-11-14T14:09:00.001Z

The United States of America (the more you roll your 'r's and drag out your syllables, the better it sounds!) - the land of opportunity, dreams, plenty, and whatever else you want to call it. For me, it fit every cliche ever written about it, and still was very unique and wonderfully weird - quite 'aaawsumm', if you ask me! Dot, Nodot and I, spent 10 days across the east coast and south of America in September. We did New York, Boston, Provincetown (Cape Cod), Austin and Houston.

Here are my random observations about America and about me in America:
- You replace the word 'please' with 'hey' or any other random attention-drawing word you like, before you ask for directions or for any help from a stranger - you then just leave and ignore him/her like they never happened.
- Your tip at a restaurant could leave you filing for bankruptcy - and the food needn't have been that good - you just empty your wallets.
- Bostonians have an accent that's a cross between Aussie and Southern American - and they take great pride in it. (This affects our family more seriously than we imagined. Dot gets a little bit carried away with the whole New England thing and keeps saying "Baaahstunn" every two seconds of our two days there. If that's not enough, he even gets a tee-shirt to remind us of it).
- Airplane stewardesses are too sincere and friendly for my (wannabe) snotty British taste and will tell you why their mother's sister had to look after them when they were young, all in the space between the plane taxiing to a halt and you stepping off it.
- Waitresses are also frighteningly friendly but have a rehearsed happiness and reel off the specials like only thambi in your local Udipi joint can (sending a little English hello out to Britney from the Joe's American Grill in Boston).
- The local Walmart is usually the size of England.
- You cannot buy regular whole milk, only a series of percentages.
- Texans may carry guns but they seem more genuine than New Yorkers.
- New York is over-rated.
- Boston is what I imagined New York would be like.
- Ashwin is an entertaining driver - never mind the fact that you could get killed. Seriously though, we owe him bucketfuls for showing us around. Thank you Ashwin - you're a star!
- I didn't ever think I would live to see a whole gay proud town in America - go Provincetown!
- Clam chowder (or chowda) is orgasmic.
- Nodot and me knew before everybody else that Frank Gehry's Stata Center looks very WRONG.
- I hate Sparkies or whatever that horrid place we went to for a Mexican breakfast is called. Their Migas (puréed beans) had me (and not to mention my two consorts) gassing for a whole day!
- I don't think the IHOP deserves the bad press it gets. At least it delivers a pile of pancakes with maple syrup at the unearthly hour of 11pm in a very ready-to-go-to-bed Austin.
- You cannot cross the interstate or any other road. Walking is not even a concept. We had to summon Nodot out of his working day to ferry us across to the other side.
- All the houses are chalet-style with wood slats on the facade - and boy do they fly the American colours (or should it be colors) with pride.
- Taking an Amtrak train from NY's Pennsylvania Station to Boston, was a great idea and the American countryside is lovely.
- I saw more SUVs in NY than in Texas - that said, the Texan ones were beasts!
- The NY metro sucks, but is the stuff of legends nevertheless. Where else in the world do you get a rastafarian singing out the next stop and doing a one-minute news capsule about the tourist attractions that go with it? Actually, probably only in Mumbai.
- It is not humanly possible to not get dazzled and be awed by Times Square at night. The lights, the people - fascinating!
- The view of the Manhattan skyline at dawn from aboard the Staten Island ferry is breathtaking.
- Clothes are cheap! Three pairs of Levi's for sixty quid!! Aaawsumm!
- Visiting the Johnson Space Center in Houston, being in an actual mission control room, being in a real astronauts' training chamber, seeing a real space shuttle made me feel very insignificant and yet very very proud.
- You can replace words in your vocabulary like 'good', 'okay', 'alright', 'yes', all with one exclamatory 'aaaawsum'!
- I like driving an automatic car - it's like go-karting.

Click on my Flickrama section for pictures.

Why do I not blog?

2007-11-12T12:52:00.000Z

I have what Dot calls the 'magnum opus complex'. I want every single one of my posts to be clever and funny, and I want the whole WWW clamouring to read and blogroll me. Thank you to ye olde faithfuls who still bother coming back to check for updates. Since my last post, lots of exciting things have happened, a couple of those which were a new job and holidays in America and the South of France! I have a bagful of tales.

That's What Orkut Says

2007-09-20T15:46:00.000+01:00

Today's fortune: You have an unusual equipment for success, use it properly

The moral of the story...go figure!

2007-09-11T13:02:00.000+01:00

Context: I am looking to change mobile phone providers, and 3 Global Networks offers a range of phones called the X-Series, which are Skype compatible. Dot wanted to investigate the offer for me and logged on to a LiveChat tech support utility on the 3 website.

[aa] What are the x-series rates for India from the UK
[Nargis] Hi.
[aa] Hi
[Nargis] Are you an existing customer with 3?
[aa] Yes, but asking in order to recommend to a new customer
[Nargis] Could you pls elaborate on your query.
[aa] I just wanted to check what the rates were from the UK to India using the X-series phone using Skype out or any other means
[Nargis] If you have access to skype on the handset and also the other person has an access to it you would not be cherged then.
[Nargis] If you sign up online today we will give you a promotional code which gives you a free bluetooth headset
[Nargis] the code is bt10090719 and the code is valid till midnight today so you need to do it soon ok
[Nargis] The code is valid till midnight today. And you might want to write the code down, as the conversation disappears when we are finished talking …
To claim your free bluetooth headset, simply enter the given code in the Promotional Code box which is at the bottom of the Personal Details page
While stocks last, with every compatible handset, each customer will receive a free 512Mb Memory card.
[Nargis] Pls note this code down and give it to your friend.
[Nargis] I hope you have taken down the code.
[Nargis] Is there anything else I can help you with?
[aa] so otherwise it is the Skype rate to India?
[Nargis] It would be free.
[aa] That is Skype-to-Skype
[aa] What about Skype-to-phone?
[Nargis] It would be free.
[aa] You dont seem to understand my question I am afraid
[Nargis] If the handset supports the feature it would be free.
[aa] Are you aware that it is possible to call from Skype to a regular telephone (i.e., not another skype user). This is charged by skype
[aa] What I would like to know is what 3s charges for this are
[Nargis] customers that services accessed via Skype will use their megabyte allowance just like any other material they download. Skype's claim of 'free calls' is subject to this megabyte limitation. Remind customers that this is no different to accessing Skype from the office or on their home broadband connection.
[aa] alright...that makes sense...So it will be charged at the regular skype rates?
[Nargis] We provide you with only internet connection to skype for any further queries pls contact www.skype.com
[aa] Sure.. thanks
[Nargis] I hope you have taken down the code.

Check Please!

2007-09-10T13:44:00.000+01:00

Why I get lukewarm shoddy service, at best, from Indian waiters at any Indian restaurant I go to, outside India, I have never understood. With a few exceptions, I have found that generally, you will have a menu shoved into your hands on your way to the table, will have to do everything short of stand on your chair to draw their attention, your order will be dumped unceremoniously in front of you, your plates will get cleared before you've finished, and from start to finish you will have to contend with a surly, moody maitre'd and his similarly mannered retinue. It's particularly weird because you'll have a table next to you with non-Indian customers and the same lot of wait staff seem to be falling over themselves to please, and whether the restaurant is fancy and pricey, or cheap and cheerful, the same observations hold.

All that said, I probably haven't been to a multitude of Indian restaurants outside of India. It's a vicious circle for me. I anticipate the poor service and I don't want to go. I know that stellar service can more than make up for average food, but if the service sucks, the food had better be seriously good.

And to the mother ship they went...

2007-08-29T15:51:00.000+01:00

We made the 'pilgrimage' to Southall this weekend - a shrine to India in the heart of London's suburbia. We came back amused, entertained and stuffed to the gills (Punjabi pun intended)! The place is a smörgåsbord of all things Indian or rather north Indian. You have the 'Glassy Junction' pub where the signs urge you to 'maujan mannoo', several 'Gold Factory'-ies, the 'Chaudhary Express', dahi puri at 'Chappan Bhog', dental surgeries where the list of practitioners reads like the who's who of Chandigarh, a marriage introduction and welfare advisory service, and shops selling nylon-polyester-sequinned thingummies for £700 (down from £1450 - definitely one for Swast Ani Masta), among other delights. My poor very South-Indian bedfellow was not impressed with the near absence of South-Indian representation until he found his poison - very sweet, very Punjabi lassi - heaven!

This picture sums up our experience, and yes, we will go back for more!

P.S. More pilgrimages to come, especially to East Ham, to our South-Indian roots. More pictures here.

Home again, home again, jiggety jig!

2007-08-29T11:14:00.000+01:00

I went home (or what 'was' home), to Mumbai, to surprise my ma on her 60th birthday, and boy was she surprised! For me, it was a mixed bag - it felt fantastic to be back in familiar territory, surrounded by familiar faces, spending time catching up on the changes since I was there last. Strangely, though I do love the big bad and mad city, this time around, I found it intimidating and quite grim. I don't know why, but I feel the need to disclaimer here. I went back this time after little over a year, but the circumstances of my trip last May were different, so in reality, it's more like a year and a half since I've been back. I am not sure the city has changed much, but I think I have. I was always the first to scoff at the nouveau NRIs coming back with thick foreign accents and grumbling about the crowds and filth. Yet here I was, scared to cross the roads, not wanting to take an autorickshaw because it left me exposed to the elements, and complaining about the heat! I even actually missed being 'home' in Oxford!

It has been a very interesting journey for me. I never quite understood why Dot didn't instantly fall in love with Mumbai. After this trip, I think I am one step closer to understanding. I think when you live in Mumbai, you train yourself to shut out the squalor and hordes - it's a survival mechanism. You learn to see only the good stuff, like the 'development' and the 'economic growth'. You know you can grumble all you want but the problems are bigger than ever and are only getting worse. So you force yourself to look at the bright side, make that seemingly endless journey to work every day, spend most (or even all) of your waking (and or sleeping) hours there, and trudge back, trying very hard to enjoy the ride. The salaries are headed skyward and money makes a great insulator. As Nodot once wisely said (among other wise things he usually says), "tinted (car) windows seem to make the hovels and street-crapping urchins seem almost endearing". But what lurks under there is real and not going anywhere.

There are great aspects of Mumbai living I know I won't experience anywhere else in the world, but I'm not ready to go back in a hurry.

The Lifestyles of the Very Wet and (Therefore) Famous

2007-07-30T17:12:00.000+01:00

Look what you get when you mix 'pissing down' weather and a hot-shot journo friend!

Be very careful of what you ask for...

2007-07-26T11:47:00.000+01:00

... you just might get it!

In the context of the current flooding situation in England, the title of my last post is almost eerie!

Just Water Please

2007-07-09T13:28:00.000+01:00

There's an ad that runs currently on British telly, for Oasis, a fruit-flavoured still water (though I'm not sure it really is water) which has a tag-line that reads "for those who don't like the taste of water". Pray tell, how can one not like the "taste" of water? I guess you could (by some elaborate stretch of the imagination) not like the fact that it has no taste. Other than that, I see little or no trouble with it. I can hear the collective groan from all hardest-water-in-the-universe sufferers from the south of England, but that's easily remedied by using a water filter (which I think should be something that is dealt with at the municipal corporation/district council level, but that can be the subject of a whole new blog).

It doesn't add up - all the millions of taxpayers' pounds spent on health promotion material extolling the virtues of plain old water, talking about it as being central to keeping well and fit, and on the other hand, conflicting messages coming from advertising like this. It is hard to believe that all a fruit-flavoured drink contains is fruit and water. The thing is, I am apathetic to Oasis itself, it's just the thrust of the advertising that makes me very uncomfortable.

Ruddy Stunner

2007-07-03T10:35:00.000+01:00

Therapy

2007-07-02T10:44:00.000+01:00

Dot got himself some new local office space and that left us with a room that looked like a tip after the office furniture had been moved out and the remnants dumped in a pile on the floor. Call us sad but we spent virtually the entire weekend going through the papers, books, CDs and various other strange-looking bits and bobs (I will post pictures to illustrate 'strange'), and I am very proud to say we now have a clean room and a blank canvas. We hope to make this a 'den'. Hope is the word. We'll see how we go. Oh, I must say we didn't spend the entire weekend cleaning - the latter half of Sunday was spent lying horizontal on the couch watching live coverage of 'The Concert for Diana'. Yes, I can see our being-sad quotient going through the roof!

It is therapeutic - cleaning, and watching pretty-young-things-in-tiny-outfits, boys-with-underwear-and-bottoms-hanging-out-of-their-jeans, and has-beens (or should it be have-beens) perform live - you should try it.

On an unrelated note, we have pinky spiky poppies in the garden now!

The Way We Were

2007-06-21T16:03:00.001+01:00

In addition to the usual must-see touristy bits, Oxford has some gems tucked away that we have been introduced to (thank you Keith). The University of Oxford's Museum of Natural History is one such fascinating place. The interior is awe-inspiring with tall iron pillars and cross-beams framing a glass roof that lets the light in. The exhibits take you back eons, and you get the feeling of being part of a bigger plan. Dot and I have been here several times and we make it a point, time and walking capacity allowing, to bring our visitors here. We learn something new every visit. The majority vote is "love it!" If you do swing by these parts, I promise to take you there.

The Stars of The Show

2007-06-21T12:13:00.001+01:00

... or the reason you will find me peeping out of our bedroom window every so often.

Aren't they absolutely gorgeous?!

A Quick Refresher in Logic

2007-06-20T14:19:00.000+01:00

Girl cousin is expecting her T.Y.B.Com (final year, Bachelor of Commerce) results today. Mumbai University has made available a website on which people can check results - in theory that is. All I have been getting for the last four hours is "the server at www.mu.ac.in is taking too long to respond" and mostly blank pages with a few scattered broken links to images.

Fact 1- Tens of thousands of students took this exam.
Fact 2 (resulting from Fact 1) - All of these students will have some result or another.
Fact 3 (resulting from Fact 2) - Almost all of these students will, in this day and age, have access to the Internet, and if they don't, may even make special arrangements for access, to log on to a given website and check the results - and yes, this will all happen at the time the results are declared.

Isn't it then only logical that there will be tens of thousands of hits on the given website, all around the same time? I wonder what it takes to realise this and make sure the website is up and running (well) at the time it is needed the most. This is India we are talking about - the globally acclaimed technological superpower. Why?

Can you stop the bombs please?!

2007-06-13T10:14:00.000+01:00

This is not about Iraq.

It is about bombing my mailbox with forwarded e-mail that goes 'this-is-so-bloody-funny', 'you-will-die-or-rot-in-hell-if-you-don't-send-this-to-millions', 'you-are-a-heartless-bastard-if-you-hit-delete', 'you-are-my-mostest-bestest-friend-in-the-whole-galaxy' and tons of other tripe. I will not have it. I am a sucker for funny, and I do appreciate the odd tidbit from friends, but I hate people picking up my address from someone else's list to send me arbitrary mailings or just hitting 'forward' because they don't want to die because they didn't. Hate is the word. I will tell you (and badly) that your unsolicited mass mailing is not appreciated. I know you think of me and it makes me very happy. It would make me much happier if you didn't hit 'forward' every time you did.

P.S. You could shout the title of this post in the manner of Richard O'Brien in Crystal Maze - "Can you start the fans please?!" (Ping me if you need a crash course in '90s television appreciation.)

Talking Dirty

2007-06-04T10:45:00.000+01:00

The one big difference I find between job advertisements here and those in India is in talking about money.

Let's face it - how much we get paid has a lot to do with why we're doing that job. Here, when a job is advertised, you are told clearly what the grade of the job is (for sectors like government, university, health), which corresponds to a predefined scale, or you are told what the salary offered is - plain and simple. This may be a generalisation, but from experience, I can say it is largely true. In India, however, other than government jobs where the grade is advertised, every other posting reads "salary will not be a constraint for a deserving candidate", "a compensation to match the best in the industry", "salary will be commensurate with experience", or better still, "apply with expected salary", or no mention of salary at all!

The talk of money is considered dirty and unnecessary, and that makes me raving mad! All the subjectivity and airy-fairyness (sic) in discussing wages is a waste of the advertisers' and applicants' time. Is 'deserving' not a subjective attribute? What are the best salaries in the industry? Is 'experience' perfectly commensurable? I could 'expect' the world - would you give it to me? It is hugely unfair to keep applicants in the dark about what the salary set aside for a position is. You could either sell yourself short or be seen as expecting too much and thus not be considered favourably.

I remember looking for a job when I got back from doing a Masters' degree in Australia. As usual, the ad had no mention of a salary. I applied, got called for the interview, and was offered the job, all without any mention of what the salary was going to be. I tried hard to be diplomatic and introduce the delicate subject. They asked me what I 'expected'. When I replied appropriately, I was promptly asked what my last salary was. I was a bit cheeky and asked whether they wanted my last Australian salary or my last Indian one. They didn't think it was funny at all and said "Indian". I told them and they said "we'll offer you four thousand rupees more than that". I lost it at that point. I said, "it's been a year and a half since I earned that salary, and I have since got a Masters' degree, worked the whole time, and I am much better equipped and skilled than I was a couple of years ago. They turned around and said, "but you can't go to a very high salary just like that". Needless to say, I didn't take the job. This wasn't very long ago and I don't know how much it has changed. If the job ads in the Times of India's Ascent supplement are anything to go by, it's still not looking good.

I am older and wiser, and I am all for talking dirty!

Forgive the Silence...

2007-06-01T13:21:00.000+01:00

I (we) have had a full house and full lives for the last whole month, and have only just begun to breathe. I'm sorry I have neglected you. I am back. You know you love me.

In the Presence of Greatness

2007-06-01T12:20:00.000+01:00

"The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I knew, I'm learning again
The more I know, the less I understand
All the things I thought I'd figured out, I have to learn again"
- 'The Heart of the Matter', Don Henley

Listening to Amartya Sen, on "What Theory of Justice?", at OU's Sheldonian Theatre, was an enlightening and a humbling experience. I am not ashamed to say, there was a whole lot I couldn't quite grasp. I have never been a reader of economic theory and have always been intimidated by numbers (I can see you shaking your head, going "whoever said economics has to do with numbers?!"), but I did listen and learn at the lecture, and I feel a tiny bit more informed and therefore, I daresay, enlightened. And yes, I paid for the enlightenment with a very numb bum! I know I risk public damnation, but I wasn't very impressed with the Sheldonian Theatre. I do see and value it's place in history though, and I know it is almost hallowed with all the great minds it has housed.

This makes for an interesting argument (for those interested). How can you objectively evaluate something that is known to be 'great' without running the risk of giving it too much or too little credit? What if it really is mediocre and lives in the bubble of global media hype? What if it really is brilliant, but you just don't know enough to see the brilliance?

Dot and I (yes, we have a collective philosophy, for some issues, that is usually hotly debated and then agreed upon) believe that history and dominant public opinion count for something. They cannot, simply, tell you though - yes, this is good, or, no, this is bad - but can give you something to start with.

If you still haven't got my drift, these conversations might illustrate the point I'm trying to make:

Conversation 1
Us (Dot and I): You have to hear the Christ Church Cathedral Choir perform; they're brilliant! Some say, one of the best in the world!
BoyCousin (after hearing the choir perform): They were okay. My choir at St. Paul's sounds much better than them!

Conversation 2
UndergradIndianBoy (outside the Sheldonian, after the Amartya Sen lecture): This lecture was f***a***! He didn't give any solution - only mentioned the problem! That even I could do. I knew the answer to who should get the flute. It's very simple. I was not impressed at all!
UndergradIndianGirl (same place, same context, not listening to the boy, while she is busy unlocking her bicycle): Yaa, I agree with you ya!
Us: Sigh!
Dot: I've heard this somewhere: if you're not communist at 18, shame on you; if you're still communist at 30, shame on you.

It would've been a very happy birthday Papa...

2007-05-08T10:13:00.000+01:00

...had you been here. I am told you're in a "better place" and you probably really are. It's just that it's bloody hard getting used to you not being where I thought was best - here with us. I had a long hard think about it yesterday, watching the news filled with depressing stories about death and loss, and I see how hard not knowing is - for the parents waiting for news of Madeleine McCann, their little baby abducted in the Algarve; for Becky waiting for news about Ken who was on that Kenya Airways plane. After what happened to you Papa, I also see how hard knowing is - for the family admitted to hospital with food poisoning being told that the children didn't make it, for the six people whose car broke down on the M25 and whose rescue vehicle subsequently collided with a truck killing all of them. Just when you think everything will be alright, it all comes to naught. Like you used to say so often and so wisely, "man proposes, God disposes".

I love you Papa and I miss you very much. I just wish you didn't have to go away.

I found Mr. Happy Squiggles

2007-05-03T13:55:00.000+01:00

The background track to the Orange advert on telly is my current favourite sing-in-bathroom-sing-randomly-sing-loudly-when-the-ad-comes-on song. I googled the lyrics this afternoon and they are lovely. Here they are, with my favourite bit highlighted.

Little Yellow Spider (Devendra Banhart)

One, two, three, four

Little yellow spider, laughing at the snow
Well maybe that spider knows something that I don't know
'Cause I'm goddamn cold

Little white monkey, staring at the sand
Well, maybe that monkey figured out something I couldn't understand
Who knows?

Well, I came upon a dancing crab, and I stopped to watch it shake
I said, "Dance for me just one more time
Before you hibernate and you come out a crab cake"

And hey there, little snapping turtle, snapping at a shell
Ah, there's mysteries inside, I know
But what they are I just can't tell for sure

And hey ya, little baby crow, you're looking kind of mean
I think I oughta spit before you start letting off your steam
For sure

And hey there, little sexy pig, you mated with a man
And now you've got a little kid with hooves instead of hands
For sure

And oh, all of the animals
All of the animals

And hey there, little mockingbird, they sing about you in songs
Ah, where you been? Have you broke a wing?
I haven't heard you in so long

And hey there, little albatross, swimming in the air
Ah c'mon, you know I can't fly
And I, I think we really oughta play fair

And hey there, Mr. Happy Squid, you move so psychedelically
You hypnotize with your magic dance all the animals in the sea
For sure

And oh, all of the animals
All of the animals

And hey there, Mr. Morning Sun, what kind of creature are you?
I can't stare, but I know you're there
Goddamn, how I wish I knew

And hey there, Mrs. Lovely Moon, you're lonely and you're blue
It's kind of strange, the way you change
But then again, we all do too

(Note: I have been singing Mr. Happy Squiggles and now see that it should be Mr. Happy Squid. I stand duly corrected.)

Do you have a girlfriend? (also the title of a very annoying Billie Piper song)

2007-05-03T11:32:00.000+01:00

I need to find someone who is at the same place in life as me, shares my angst, bitches with me, shops with me, gets mad at me and with me, laughs at me and makes me laugh, who doesn’t make me feel ashamed and weak when I cry, hugs me and likes being hugged back, and who can be on my speed dial. A proper ‘girlfriend’ is what I miss more every day since finding the love of my life, marrying him and moving to another country – lovers can be friends, but it helps to have friends you’re not sleeping with, to keep you sane.

P.S.1. Here are the lyrics to the song - you know you want them.

P.S.2. I am not sure a 'boyfriend' will do, though that's what I've had for most of my life.

Ditto

2007-05-02T13:38:00.000+01:00

They say pets look like their owners, or vice versa, given time. They also say couples look like each other (may even be in the same sort of way as pets and their owners), and here's proof picked from people I know very well.

(All (almost) the photographs have been used with the permission of the subjects. P.S. Sue & Vidhya, please holler if you're unhappy about me using your pictures - I just got bored of waiting for you to check your inbox and get back to me...sorry!)

1. Marika & Keyur - Married 2005 2. Freddie & Suzanne - Married 2003

3. Rakhi & Kunal - Married 2007 4. Diago & Vidhya - Married 2005

5. Anil & Faye - Married 2005 6. Jardin & Avril - Married 2004

The (Unsettling) Shape of Things to Come?

2007-04-18T14:08:00.000+01:00

Just when we've begun to relax about our 'highly skilled migrant' status, there comes news of an proposed change in the immigration system here in the UK with an aim to model it on the way it runs in Australia. To quote Liam Byrne (UK Immigration Minister), "a new Australian-style points-based system will be simpler, cheaper and easier to enforce."

The Highly Skilled Pigrant Programme (HSMP) is a relatively new work permit category introduced with a view to bringing into and keeping skilled talent in the United Kingdom. This has been achieved, to a large extent, by dangling mainly the ease-into-permanent-settlement carrot. Also, before HSMP, if you had a work permit it meant you were tied to one employer and your status was dependent on them. HSMP allowed you the flexibility to do whatever you liked, as long as you could show you had been 'economically active' for the first probationary year, after which you were given a three-year further leave to remain (FLR) extension, after which you would be eligible for indefinite leave to remain(ILR), after one year of which you could apply to be a citizen of the UK, if that's what you wanted.

To cut a long story short, when the HSMP scheme started, it looked like this:

Initial 1-year HSMP -> 3-year FLR -> 1-year ILR -> Citizenship

It was then changed to this:

Initial 1-year HSMP -> 4-year FLR -> 1-year ILR -> Citizenship

Then it was changed again to:

Initial 2-year HSMP -> 3-year FLR - 1-year ILR -> Citizenship

This doesn't look terrible on paper but they've also made a significant fundamental change in that it's not sufficient to prove you've been 'economically active' (yes, you can shelve 'that' idea now) but you have to retake the points test and prove that you've been in what the government deems to be skilled occupation. This again, may not sound like the end of the world, but what is most unfair is making this legislation effective in retrospect. Additionally, you have to take an IELTS test and get a minimum score, which seems unecessary if they thought your English was okay to come here in the first place and now that you have lived in this country for one year! On reassessing themselves with the new points scale, a lot of people have found themselves terribly disadvantaged especially on the counts of age and earnings. Basically, if you were over 30 and didn't earn a Canary-Wharf salary (our euphemism for the ridiculous figures paid to the 'professionals' in uptown London), you could now be in serious trouble.

So you decide to move to England, get all your information together and apply, stating on the application form why you are keen to make the UK your permanent home (yes, that is one of the questions on the form) and sign it, saying you understand the terms and conditions they explain. When your application is approved, I believe the government enters into a sort of 'contract' with you, assuring you it will support your legal endeavours to make the UK your permanent home, particularly so if you are required to live here with 'no recourse to public funds' and yet pay full taxes to augment those 'public funds'. That is precisely why it seems absurd to have to prove your eligibility and immigration-worthiness all over again, using new critieria at the end of one short year. I am all for review and change with a view to improving efficiency, but I very strongly believe it is grossly unfair to make the new regulations applicable in retrospect.

We were lucky we were able to meet the new tighter regulations when applying for our extensions, but who knows what it's going to be like when we come up for our ILR permits? All this said, we really have had nothing to complain about since we've been here - and yes, a country has to put its own interests before all else. In that light, it looks like it's going to be change for the better. It just makes you think longer and harder about where and why you want to want to 'settle' or if you should really 'settle' at all.

I do apologise...

2007-04-17T14:52:00.000+01:00

...I have been posting all over the place - the Google Checkout post should've been before the supermarkets one. I type in an idea for a post and save it as a draft before it goes right out to where it came from. I will try to organise my posts sequentially - I promise. If I still don't get it right, I'll apologise again and point you to where you should be looking - I promise.

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