Respect and Appreciation

I have a relationship with my mother that is neither comfortable nor loving, as I have described before. However, yesterday she gave me an unexpected gift. The gift of respect and appreciation.

When my parents drew up their wills many years ago, I was named Executor in both. It was what my dad wanted. When he passed away, I got quite involved with making sure everything was done properly, mainly because the lawyer was such an eejit (Scottish for idiot). It didn't make matters any easier that it was a will drawn up here while it was still under British control (and it's now a Special Administrative Region of China), so we had to jump through a few hoops to get it re-validated to satisfy Scottish law.

Since then, my mother has drawn up another will, to make things easier when the time comes. She had never told me about it, nor that my brother had been named Executor. She'd told my sister and my brother, naturally, locking me out of the entire process for some reason. When my sister let slip, not knowing I hadn't been told, it hurt but I figured there was nothing I could do about it and no point in even questioning it. When she finally told me, she said only that she'd signed a new will and so I asked for a copy as I'd had copies of them both before. She said yes, she'd send it to me, but it never came.

Yesterday, she called me and asked me if it would be OK to put me in as Executor instead of my brother. I said yes, of course, it makes more sense with my easier access to communications, my ability to throw time and expense at the issue if necessary. Even then I was trying to give her a comfortable 'out' as to why my brother was her original first choice. She hesitated and said no, it's because I think you are the one best suited to take on this responsibility.

I don't know if something has happened to make her wary of my brother having the role, or if she felt badly that she wasn't honouring my dad's wishes. Whatever her reason, I feel respected, appreciated, valued.

Maybe this is her only way of showing love. But more likely, it's because I'm the one with the least vested interest and I'm also the most practical of her children. The best one for the job, so to speak.

The Double Ninth

Today, we are celebrating (read that as official holiday) the Double Ninth or Chung Yeung Festival. The ninth day of the ninth month in the lunar calendar, which this year falls on October 30.

A traditional Chinese festival, wrapped around the concept that according to the I Ching, nine is a yang number and therefore the ninth day of the ninth lunar month, or double nine, has too much yang (a traditional Chinese spiritual concept) and is thus a potentially dangerous date. To protect against the danger, it is customary to climb a high mountain, drink chrysanthemum wine, and wear a plant named zhuyu.

Well, I live half way up a little mountain so I'm figuring that will count towards satisfying that criteria. I'll have a chrysanthemum tea (vs wine), which is delicious, but as I'm not really into wearing plants, I'll give the zhuyu a miss.

In these more modern times, many families take this opportunity to do a second round of grave sweeping or ancestor worship (the first being the Ching Ming Festival, 104th day after the winter solstice, which fell on the 5th of April this year).

But I'm here at work (and blogging just a little as a respite from a very intense couple of hours spent doing an international benefits survey) because I need to get really caught up as.....

drum roll please

I managed to convince my boss that I can actually be away for a few days so I'm taking to the skies again and will be gone from Friday until next Tuesday. No disappointment this time and 'he' has managed to organise things at his end too. We're both overwhelmingly happy at the way this has all worked out.

I'll only get there in the evening on Friday and I've got an early Monday flight to start my journey back home. Is it a long way to go to spend just a weekend? Yes, it is. But sometimes you just have to step over the threshold of that open door and embrace what lies beyond it.

My arms are open and I know his are too.

1. A World of Time and 2. Doogooder

1. Well you've all just moved an hour further away from me!!! We don't change our clocks here any more, so while I had my usual night's sleep (OK it was the weekend I got a little more), you have all had an extra hour in bed. I hope you made the most of it either by going to sleep later or by waking up at the usual 'time' and taking advantage of an hour more in bed!!

2. Doogooder is gone? Even his emails are being returned. Does anyone know what happened? He has a special place in my heart, being the person who got me into this blogging thing to start with. Wherever you are DG, if you read this, please be well and be safe. Let me know everything is OK, if you can.

Sometimes I Hate My Job

Just sometimes. Like today. Well, not my whole job, just a part of it.

Today the powers that be decided two managers would lose their jobs. Through no fault of their own. By being casualties of decisions to change their jobs into something they don't fit. Jobs that were put there one year and six months ago, respectively. Jobs into which I lured these two people, from good solid long-term employment.

We used to be a lot more ethical than this. We used to know what we were doing for more than a year ahead of us. We used to treat people a lot better than this. We used to be a good, secure place to work. An organisation big enough to be powerful in its industry, and yet still small enough that we knew and cared about each other.

I've never enjoyed this part of HR, the firing part. I much prefer hiring, even if the interviewing process often exhausts me physically and emotionally. At least I get to talk of possibilities with people who are excited to be considered to work in what is, for here, a very long-established organisation with a very good reputation. Or was. Yes, perhaps the time has come to say was.

It's worse when these are promising, enthusiastic, good people. People who deserved better from us, better from me. I remember interviewing both of them. I remember telling them that this is a company which stands by its employees even in the bad times, such as when our business was so severely affected by SARS in 2003. Noone lost their job, noone had their pay cut, noone was put on unpaid leave, noone had to worry about still having a paycheque despite us having no customers.

I remember their delight at being selected as our final candidate and offered the job. I remember talking about their contracts with them. I remember their first day with us. I remember doing their one-month interviews with them, making sure everything was going well and finding out if there was anything else I could do to make them feel more at home here.

Don't get me wrong, I understand that employment is part of being in business and we are here for the shareholders and the profitabilty of the company. I know that contracts aren't promises, I know that we might need you today but not tomorrow. I know all that.

But now, I will have to be part of the process that tells them: Sorry, we just don't want you here any more. We have made other arrangements for your jobs, changed them, and you just don't fit what we want. And I will have to deal with their disappointment, fear, anger, disbelief, sadness, before it becomes just an acceptance, a beaten-down acceptance that they've been crapped upon. At the end I will have to collect back their cards and keys, get them to sign off when they receive their last paycheque. Shake their hands and wish them well. Often I'm the last person people see. The first they meet at the interview, the last to say goodbye.

I hate this, I really and truly hate it. Every time I have to do something like this, it hurts.

"Comfortable In You"

Interpersonal interactions become a joy rather than something to be feared when we are willing to be ourselves, gladly allowing others to see us for who we truly are. Self-consciousness is often the result of our attempts to play roles that require us to deny the very qualities that define our individuality -- we get mired in dread, concerned that others will reject us when they discover the truth that is us.

When we accept that we are unique and are comfortable with ourselves, we no longer feel compelled to hide all or part of ourselves to please others. In opening ourselves to others in this way, we can revel in the pure pleasure of relating to people comfortably and honestly without trepidation.

This is part of a recent Daily Om Inspiration. I like it. I'm very much 'me' everywhere. Day-to-day life, work life, blogging. Very much a WYSIWYG person. When roleplaying was introduced to the chatsite I used to frequent, I fell out with them because I found amusement in the lengths to which they assumed their roles in the Gor environment. I remarked that when they 'spoke' it reminded me of Jodie Foster as Nell with her 'chicopee'. But maybe I just don't have enough imagination?

I'm not 100 percent comfortable with my body - well after all who is? - as I've put it through a lot. But I'm pretty much there in my comfort level with who I am, having survived some very rigorous rocking of my boat (and not in a good way!).

I'm not one for masks or embellishment, or even smoke and mirrors. I like the plain view. And I like it in others too.


Aaaaah - what a lovely and perfectly timed update, from my Om Horoscope, just in:

If you spend time cultivating positive qualities like honesty, friendliness, and helpfulness within yourself, people in the various spheres of your life will likely hone in on the beauty inside your soul. You can create an aura of lasting loveliness around yourself today by simply striving to be the best person you can be at all times.

The beauty we cultivate within is the foundation of the exquisiteness others see when they look at us because inner loveliness is a powerful force. Regardless of the appearance we project outwardly, it is our inner selves that attract people and inspire tender emotions to manifest themselves in their hearts. When we focus on what lies within rather than what is on the outside, we demonstrate our understanding of the subtle forces that draw individuals toward one another.

The love we crave comes willingly into our lives, attracted by our compassion, sincerity, and insightfulness. We needn’t ever conform to others’ standards of beauty when we strive to achieve inner charisma. You’ll feel profoundly attractive today because you have taken the time to lovingly and meticulously groom your soul.

"Because you have taken the time to lovingly and meticulously groom your soul".... how beautiful!!

Red....Blonde....Brunette

I'm by nature, a redhead (on the lighter end of the spectrum). And yes I can prove it!!

My hairdresser likes to, as he puts it, 'brighten it up a bit'. Meaning he is dealing with the grey bits and puts three different highlights through it. During my holiday in Hawaii, I was out in the sun a bit and yes, I was very careful. I applied and re-applied my SPF30 on the bits that weren't covered (not many, I can assure you). But I never thought about wearing a hat and in not doing so, I've become a little bit blonde. Only in the colour of my locks.

Now I'm considering trying out how a brunette (on the red end of that spectrum) feels. I'm a bit worried though, that going darker will only serve to draw attention to my thinning pate!!! And I'm not sure how I'll feel about having mismatched carpet and curtains. Or how it will look when it grows out.

Maybe I should just buy a wig and try it out for a while.

To Be Disappointed...And To Disappoint

There is someone I care for and not just a little, but a whole helluva lot. Someone who is good for me, and good to me. Someone I hope I'm also good for and I definitely try to be good to, though I will admit that I sometimes miss the mark. 'To boldly go', in the realm of relationships, is not that easy for me. I've been let down so many times.

It's a complicated situation but we want to meet. We will meet. We were planning it to be next month but I was disappointed in that work won't allow me time away. And in turn, because of this, I disappointed him.

The strength of him and I, is our ability to see beyond the disappointment. And I'll admit, he bolstered me before I could bolster him. We're disappointed and I'm the source of the disappointment, but we both see beyond. To the day we will finally touch and kiss. And I believe that day will be the perfect day, the right day for us to do that.

I can only think that next month just wasn't the right time, that there was a reason for the disappointment. And he insists I could never be the source of any disappointment for him. In that very statement he does more for me than any other man has ever done, for he believes in me.

I want to live up to that expectation because he's very special. I hope that all my past disappointments have taught me how to not disappoint.

Could You Do It?

I've been on some 'glass floors' on platforms on tall buildings - but this, no way could I do this. And I live on the 35th floor!!

Grand Canyon Skywalk

Today

Today you would have been 74. Before the dark, painful, difficult days, it would have been just another Saturday to you. A day filled with promise, with books, with plans, with seeing friends, with walking the dog. I never even let myself consider, that the day you turned 72, it would be the last birthday I'd get to share with you. Those last few years were so terrible, that evil disease fighting to rob you of your life. And, sadly, although you met it head-on with such courage, such valour, such determination, it won.

The loss of my Dad.

This is your second birthday since you left. The second date marked in my diary when all I can do is think of you - and this year post about you. The second time there is no phone call of congratulations, no words exchanged about aging and love and how special you are to me. The second time that I have no gift for you, no silly card that makes you smile.

Today, I can give you only this gift. This gift of sharing you amongst my friends. This gift of telling people about the man who anchored me, who cherished me, who always called me 'Fi-Fi'. I was always his little girl no matter my advancing years.

My Dad, Craig. My wonderful, caring, patient father. Whom I not only take after physically but whom I take after inside. We have the same sense of humour, the same practicality, the same generosity. Just sitting in a room together, we shared. He was a self-made man, a provider to all. His funeral in Scotland, the home he returned to after 48 years, brought out so many people. People who hadn't had contact with him in almost that many years, but who continued to remember him with honour, friendship and pride. He filled the church that clear cold March day.

I read some words and we bowed our heads as we heard him spoken of. I upset the minister by insisting we sing 'Jerusalem' as it was his favourite hymn. For those in the know, you'll understand that all references to 'England' caught in the throat of the Scottish minister. But oh how my Dad would have laughed at that.

Happy Birthday Dad. I'll never stop missing you.

And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England’s mountains green?
And was the Holy Lamb of God
On England’s pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England’s green and pleasant land.

And to end with a beautiful image - I love this pic of my Dad with my 'chosen sister', Nooj, (taken years ago at my wedding):

The Night I Lost My Internet Connection

After a long day out, Rhona and I got back to the room. I had my shower (I sleep in the nude but for the sake of decency with her around, I put on a longish t-shirt until bedtime) and vacated the bathroom for her. While she was showering I sat at the desk to check my work emails. I know, I know, I was supposed to be on holiday!

I'd brought my own notebook and had purchased the one-week special broadband connection package which allowed for easy log-in whenever I wanted to use it. I opened the cover, turned it on and waited for the connection prompt. It didn't appear so I did all I could to check it, and even resorted to that well-known IT expert tip of 'turn it off and back on again'.

Same thing again, no connection prompt. So I referred to the little card on the desk and it told me to contact their 24-hour technical support team at a 1-800 number. I spoke to a very nice man, Mike, who had me walk through it all again - and a few things I hadn't tried. This went on for quite a while and he was clearly as frustrated as I was. The conversation at that point went like this:

Mike: OK, let's unplug the modem and then plug it back in. It's located on the wall under the desk.

Me: OK, I'll put the phone down and do that. I'll be right back. (I proceed to slide off the chair and crawl under the desk on my hands and knees, finally locating the small plug on the wall.)

Rhona (just out the shower and no sign of me in the room): Fion? Fion?

Me (mumbling under the desk): I'm under the desk.

Rhona (clearly not having heard me has walked around the beds to the desk): OH MY GOD I CAN SEE YER ARSE. OH MY GOD FION GET YER BIG ARSE OUT OF ME FACE. FION WHAT ARE YOU DOING? (cackles of laughter)

Me (mumbling louder under the desk): Rhona I'm on the phone!!

Rhona (in fits of laughter): EEEWWWW EEEWWWW FION GET YER ARSE OUT OF ME FACE!!

Me (finally coming up from under the desk and grabbing the handset to shove in her face): Rhona I'm ON THE PHONE and if my arse was in your face you were putting your face at my arse!!

Rhona: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. (louder laughter)

Me: Hello Mike are you still there.

Mike: Yes Ms. A.

Me: Oh good. Well I've done as you say but there's still no connection. (And thinking now, what a lovely voice this man has and do I hear laughter in the background.)

Mike: Well as you've pre-paid for a week of service, I'll insert you manually, every day, for the rest of the week.

(Do you have ANY idea how hard it was for me not to respond to that??!!)

Me (in my sexiest voice): Why thank you Mike, that would be great.

Mike: You're very welcome.

Me: Mike, you've been so helpful and I just wanted to let you know that I think you have a really lovely voice.

Mike: Why thank you Ms. A. Be sure to call again if you need any more help.

Me: I'll be sure to call you.

Hmmmm....I wonder if Mike likes fat bottomed girls.


Sing along with me:

Oooh yeah them fat bottomed girls
Fat bottomed girls
Yeah yeah yeah
Fat bottomed girls
Yes yes

A Day Out With Rhona

We caught the local bus and travelled to the North Shore to spend the day, in the hope of checking out throngs of surfer dudes, only to find the beaches relatively deserted:

So Rhona quickly jumped into the frame to make the beach look a bit busier:

before taking the plunge (and wishing she'd brought her boogie board along):

But seemed pretty pleased with herself anyway:

Of course we weren't totally disappointed and this surfer dude kept us entertained a while:

Afterwards we went in search of food and drink and investigated the local delicacies:

only to settle for a while....here:

which of course required some sustenance more substantial than fruit and tequila concoctions:

We just caught the last bus back to Waikiki that evening...and she still wanted to hit the strip!!! That will be for another post.

Ignorance is Bliss

I'm still sorting out my holiday pics and will post some more soon, but right now something is bothering me and I need to get it off my chest (and no, it's not my sister's coconut bra!!). It's something that happened between my mother and I when I was in Scotland.

It's my aunt's birthday, so we (my mother, my sister and I) all trundle up to Edinburgh to take her out for lunch and spend the day with her. Lunch is great, everyone had a wonderful time and I had carefully positioned myself to the outside of the table (and spoken with the maitre'd on arrival) to make sure I can take care of the bill as my aunt is very forceful about 'paying her way'.

I manage, despite much waving of arms by both my aunt and I, and threatened assaults by both of us on the wait staff to 'give me the bill', to take care of it. My mother later berates me for doing that, saying she wanted to pay. I kindly pointed out that due to her location at the table, that would have been impossible as she was in the far corner and past my aunt. Therefore, I took care of it as I knew the plan was that my aunt would not, under any circumstances, be allowed to pay. I should have sensed that would not be the end of it.

Later that afternoon, there is some reminiscing about the early years in Scotland by my mother and my aunt (this, for me, is birth to age 2). They were talking about where they lived and so on and suddenly my mother comes out with "She was an awful baby, a real bitch (looking at me)." I was somewhat stunned at this reference to a baby as a "bitch" and said so. My mother continued on, referring to me again as an "absolute bitch" due to the fact I apparently cried and screamed a lot. To the point she wanted to throw me against a wall. She even said that when my dad came home from sea, he told her that he couldn't bring himself to even like me. I think that hurt the most.

I said, and this is indeed my understanding, that a baby doesn't cry for nothing, there has to be a reason for it. Oh no I was told, you were just a bitch. I was so stunned I really didn't know what to say. So my mother continues on about how wonderful my brother was, how if I wanted one of his toys, he gave me it even though she told him not to, with him saying "it's OK mum, I don't mind". And what a wonderful boy he was, and man he is. My eyes started to sting a little as my brother and I have a very ugly relationship about which I've posted before and about which noone in my family knows. What she does know is that he tried to kill me several times before I reached my teens and she often recounts these stories (the two she knows about, there was one other I never told her because he threatened me at the time) and makes jokes about them.

When I was in Hawaii with my sister, we spoke about our mother a bit, about dealing with her and how we can be there for her in the difficult months ahead. I was taken aback when my sister said: "You know Fion, mum's really really nasty about you." I didn't even want to ask how, or what she'd been saying. I'm the one who has been the most supportive, I made sure I was there with her when she got her diagnosis and was the one able to ask the important questions, the answers to which are what have helped her decide what she wants to do about her illnesses. I'm the one who shops online for her for things she can't get locally, who goes out of my way to think of things she needs or might like to have. Who does more than call her on a regular basis (which is all my brother does), instead trying to make sure her life is made more comfortable. Even my sister has asked me why I do all this for her if she doesn't appreciate it. I guess I feel duty-bound in some way.

Since my dad passed away, I like my mother less and less. I care about her less and less. It's almost as though she's fading away already. It's almost as though, too, her affection for me has disappeared since my dad left us. I wonder if the two things are related and if she ever even liked me, or just made a show of it because my dad loved me so much.

More about my mother

Should I continue to just swallow all I hear and be the respectful daughter during whatever days she has left? Should I tell her how her beloved son stole my childhood and fostered such fear in me, which she would probably choose to deny anyway? Or should I just do what right now I feel like doing, and avoid her as much as possible?

I no longer feel as though I'm losing my mother, I feel as though I never had one.

They All Said Yes

I sat at the table and asked questions of thee
I wasn't alone for with me were three
to my right sat my heart, tired and beaten, though with a will to fight
to my left was my soul, dazed and confused, lost in flight
across was my pride, strong and firm, and ready to go
pride jumped up and yelled "Let's get on with this show"

I asked "When he goes by how do you feel?"
Pride boasted "To me it's no big deal"
my heart smiled and stated "The way it's suppose to feel"
my soul flew high and said "As if he were free"

I asked "And when he is close enough for us to touch"
my heart leaped up and yelled "It's just too much"
my soul was off waltzing as if a great dancer
pride sat silent, she would give no answer

"And when in our arms and it's him we do hold?"
My soul sprang forth "The place I have searched for years untold"
my heart beat fast...fainted...and fell to the floor
pride just smirked, another question she would ignore

"And what would you ask him to give?"
Soul said "Nothing, he has already given me the will to live"
"Kindness and love" said my heart wearing an incredible grin
pride just mumbled "An occasional win"

I asked "And in return what would he receive"
my heart stood tall "If in me he would believe all the affection and love that I am able"
my soul answered "THIS" and threw herself across the table
then pride smiled and said "If he were by our side for him I would never be foolish and always step aside"

"One more question for all to reply and to this one nobody may lie"
"Is he our true love, you must now confess"
without hesitation, they all said "Yes"


~ written by a friend of mine ~

Charity Begins at Home

This is one of my bugbears.

I received in the mail, a lumpy envelope from World Children's Fund. Inside I found a letter, a donation form and....a very nicely constructed keychain with their logo. And a request that I make a donation "to help provide life-saving relief assistance".

I am returning the keychain to them in the postage-paid envelope provided, with a note advising them that I don't support charities which waste donations like this. To add insult to injury, there is even a little note on it postage-paid envelope: "Please help save money for the suffering children by affixing a stamp on this envelope".

I cannot abide charities that send 'gifts' to potential donors. The worst are those that send money and say "these coins could provide food for a child for a day". I always send it back and say....bloody well use it for that then!!!

Don't get me wrong, I support several charities, just not those that do this.

Grrrrrrrrrrr.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

On my last day in Scotland we had this magnificent rainbow which turned into a double after a little while:

oh and this is how close my mum's house is to the sea - washes up against the front wall. The green 'leaf' on the bottom of the window is a piece of seaweed!! From the wash of the tide onto the house (it sounds like someone is taking a sledgehammer to the outside wall):

12 Hours and a Creased Face

I slept!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh boy did I sleep. I managed to last until 4:45pm at work. Hell I even ran a medical insurance meeting and it was the strangest thing, almost like an out of body experience, I could hear myself as though it was someone else speaking!!! I don't remember too much about it, I just hope I haven't agreed to anything untoward.

I got home, immediately took a melatonin, got naked, turned on the air-con, crawled between the sheets and within 10 minutes I had crashed. And I woke up 12 hours later and I think I'd turned over only once during the night, if at all, because the right side of my face was all creased from my pillow. NOT an attractive look to go to work with.

But, I do actually feel human again. I am woman, hear me roar!!!

A Promise is a Promise

Ian - may I present one Scottish grass-skirt-and-coconut-shell-clad lassie for your viewing pleasure.

Please excuse the white knickers, not part of the standard outfit but then looking at the sparse skirt perhaps a blessing she still had them on!! Or maybe not!!

And I'll have you know this cost me a bottle of dry white hastily consumed in the room - glass still in hand in the first pic.... and looking decidedly non-hulaish in that one!!

Discombobulation

It's 5am and I haven't slept. Which makes a grand total of six hours' sleep over the past three days (two hours on the plane, four last night, zero tonight).

Jet lag - worst I've ever had, not sure if I'm Arthur or Martha

Angst - some things said by my mother

Heartache - if loving him is wrong, I don't want to be right

Starbucks - I have to wait until 7am but they are going to chalk up a venti soy latte with, well I think I might have to make it an eight-shot

I feel numb and no it wasn't mass consumption of mooncakes, I had only a half of one and it was a three-yolker so it didn't leave much room for the lotus paste!

Update:

Me to Starbucks barista: Good morning, one venti skim latte (decided against soy) with four extra shots, extra hot and no foam please.

Silence...I smile at her

Starbucks barista to me: Four extra shots?

Me: Yes, please

Barista: One two three four?

Me: Yes, one two three four

Barista: In one venti latte

Me: Yes, thank you

Barista: Wow I've never made it like that before, that's really strong, it already has three shots

Me: I might be back in an hour for another one

Barista: (Wide-eyed and with a smile appearing)...I can give you a bag of beans to chew on

Me: I'll take one to go!!

I love a sense of humour in the morning!!!!!!

Mooncakes and Jet Lag

As per Wikipedia: Mooncake 月餅 is a Chinese confection that is traditionally eaten during the Mid-Autumn Festival, although they can be eaten at other times of the year as well. Typical mooncakes are either round or rectangular puck-shaped pastries, measuring about 10 cm in diameter and 4-5 cm thick. They have a relatively thin crust (2-3 mm), which surrounds a thick pasty filling and may contain yolks from salted duck eggs. Mooncakes are typically rich, heavy, and dense compared with most Western cakes and pastries. It is usually eaten in small wedges accompanied by Chinese tea.

While I was away, we celebrated the Mid-Autumn Festival here. Part of that is the consumption of vast numbers of mooncakes. I have something of a penchant for these delectable little pieces of scrumptiousness (yes, I know that's not a real word, but it should be!!). So, I asked that someone get me one as they have a very short shelf-life and once the festival is over, so is the supply of mooncakes.

I arrived back to not one mooncake! Nope, not one.... but SIX full-size and two minis. I personally am not keen on the eggs and tend to dig them out, but it doesn't do much on the calorie front as the egg's role is really to be a relief from heavy sweet lotus paste. "Usually eaten in small wedges"? A small wedge would never be enough for me. But I need to remember that one mooncake has reportedly close to 1,000 calories in it.

So I'll be sure to drink lots of Chinese tea!!

Apart from that I'm totally wiped out with jet-lag, too many time-zones in too few days. But I shall revive myself and get to work sorting out my pics into those that are not too blurry or dark (Rhona had major problems with her camera, it's a new one and she's not worked out the flash rules and so on).

I've a few tales to tell, memories to recount, snippets of my last two weeks to write about. And some affairs of the heart, too.

Walking the Streets of London

Well, streets and bridges to be precise. I got into London last night and after a few hours' sleep, and with it being a relatively warm and clear Sunday, I took a walk along the riverbank (north) then crossed over this bridge (The Millenium Bridge)


walked along the southbank and crossed back over this bridge (Westminster Bridge)

I've quite knackered myself out as the saying goes! Sitting here drinking a bottle of Marks & Spencers freshly squeezed lemons....soooooooooooo good!!! Next I'll be doing my London postcards so be ready all of you on my list.

Will be home on Tuesday and then sort out the photos, of which there are many and not all of them good. I did get Rhona into a grass skirt Ian, get yourself ready for that one.

Gosh I'll be glad to get home. I've missed you all.