WOMAN

Been feeling poorly, under-the weather, out-of sorts or just plain knackered!!

My usual remedy is to go through my magpie collection of old books and this made me smile.

But first, listen to this  ...........




You see, I have this Duckworth's Encyclopaedia from 1891.

 Amongst other hilarious entries, I discovered this.

The Wife's Duty

Here are some of the main points.

1.Be careful in your purchases.  Let your husband know what you buy and that you have wisely expended your income. ( I don't, especially after a spending spree at Charity shops like "Animal Rescue"in Leicester.  And if he notices them I will shrug my shoulders and say it's coming from my state pension, lah, which is about 22 GBP a week!)

2.  Let no wife devote a large portion of her time to society work which shall keep her away from home daytimes and evenings, without the full concurrence of her husband. ( The spouse reciprocates this rule except when he disappears into a second hand bookshop.)

3.  Beware of entrusting the confidence of your household to outside parties.  The moment you discuss the faults of your husband with another, that moment an element of discord has been admitted which will one day   rend your family circle.  ( Isn't that called backbiting which no one, whatever the relationship, should do to another.  As for me I call the spouse a MOG or Miserable ole git, a SOG or Silly ole git  and he regards me as his 'Tart' .  And we say that to all our friends and relatives!!)

4.  Beware of bickering about little things.  .......  he is in the habit of giving commands  .... and the same dictatorial spirit may possess him in the domestic circle.  ( I have to remind the spouse that  all items in the kitchen should be properly kept, there's a place for everything and everything has its place. )

5. Be always very careful of your conduct and language.  A husband is largely restrained by the chastity, purity and refinement of his wife.  ( For a number of months last year the spouse was unable to do the driving.  Three times a week I had to drive to Tung Shin Hospital at Pudu.  Such is the level of driving in Kuala Lumpur that you cannot keep your sanity without screaming expletives in the car.  All the spouse could do was to roll his eyes upwards in despair and once asked,  "Where did you learn those words?".  I gave a short crisp answer,  "From my workmates in Leicester!!"

6.  Whatever may have been the cares of the day, greet your husband with a smile when he returns.  Make your personal appearance just as beautiful as possible.  ( I will when he does.)

7.  Be careful that you do not estimate your husband solely by his ability to make display.........  The superior qualities of mind and heart alone will bring permanent happiness.  ( When either of us say  "I love you" to the other - the response is always the same - "What for?" )

8.  A man does not alone require that his wife be a good housekeeper.  She must be more; in conversational talent and accomplishment she must be a companion.  ( I'm not a good housekeeper but I always try to have the last word  and I'm also an accomplished listener.)






AND FINALLY - a tip from 1891 for all those who do not know how to make money -  especially those who live on the urban fringes and in the rural areas.  It is still applicable today and it must work - when you see the well-heeled and influential scoundrels surrounding us today.

Hallelujah!!

A Patchwork Story

No matter how much we try, we usually end up with the habits of our mothers that used to irritate us.  Looking back I realised how mean and horrible I was with the old lady.   Knowing what a hoarder she was, I took it upon myself to regularly conduct a spring cleaning in my mother's bedroom.  I would crawl under her bed to excavate her collection of tins and boxes containing bits of string, rope and wire, old plugs, screws and nails, obsolete flash-lights, paper and plastic bags - the sort of stuff I would stash away in the nooks and crannies of my abodes here and in Kuala Lumpur!

It was unkind of me to do that to her - as I am now guilty of being a magsquire  (magpie cloned with a squirrel) just like her.  Like mother like daughter, except I lack her patience and forbearance.

In the last few weeks I've been packing my paraphernalia or my karung guni collection into boxes to be sent off as freight to KL.  And  in the process I re-discovered , tucked away safely in a plastic bag (where else?) on the top shelf of the airing cupboard - my mother's gift  when I moved to Leicester - a beautiful patchwork batik bedspread.

Mak's patchwork present from the late 1980s

We both love sewing.   I sewed my niece Maria a patchwork bedspread made up of sample material from Liberty's of London as a wedding present in 1996.   For his 21st birthday I did the same for Shah, my brother's first-born.

A patchwork spread, no matter how simple the design, is made with much patience and love.   Designing, cutting and joining the pieces are a long and painstaking task.   It represents an old-fashioned idea of recycling and preserving scraps of textiles into useful, beautiful and unique household items.   And so it embodies the virtue of "waste not, want not" - something almost absent in today's throw-away culture.

When I laid out my mother's patchwork on the bed, I could not help but notice that the remnants she had stitched together had, inadvertently, preserved parts of her history and mine.

During the 1980s, on my trips home from my job in Brunei. I would wander around Bras Basah Road, People's Park,  South Bridge Road, Chinatown, and Victoria Street to ferret through  the little kedai selling stationery, kitchen utensils, hardware items, umbrellas and raincoats and basic crockery items from China.  On one of these expeditions I  found a shop on South Bridge Road selling batik shirts, blouses, dresses, handbags, purses, housecoats, hats and sarung kebaya outfits in the style of SIA's uniforms.  I also noticed the shopkeeper had placed bundles of batik scraps and remnants in a plastic bag on a table just outside his shop, priced at five dollars each.    I made an inquiry and left the shop with two bundles.  Mak and I drooled over this textile lode and with her blessings I made another trip the next day to buy another load - almost clearing all the shopkeeper had on his table!  In the next few months, whenever I came home from Brunei, I would replenish our stock of batik remnants.  Sadly the supply dwindled and eventually stopped altogether.  I suspected the shop owner had diverted his stock to an agent.

That put an end to our collection.  It was such a shame.  They had such beautiful colours with very unique floral, abstract and paisley patterns and they fed  Mak's and my appetites for sewing.

Some of the pieces from the South Bridge Road shop

I may be wrong but the dark blue pieces were used for SIA's uniforms in the 70s and 80s.

But that's only part of this patchwork story.  For Mak had used other remnants - from my sister's Esbi Line, for example, and her own MARA batik baju kurung '

From my sister's red Esbi Line cotton and  my green paisley baju kurung

But this one takes the prize - a very special patch from my mother's Baju Kurung Teluk Blangah.

The middle piece is from mak's kain sarung and the gems are the ones to the left and right.

This baju kurung is now my very treasured and favourite outfit which I proudly wear whenever the occasion arises.

Smiles from Lely and AsH in her mother's baju kurung 

But this textile archive does not stop here.  Into her patchwork Mak also sewed these pieces:

Cool Cotton bought in India

These two pieces recorded my travels with the spouse in India in the 1980s.  During his sabbatical leave from Leicester University, Iain would make the journey to the Academy of Development Sciences in Kashele in the state of Maharashtra.  This institution was run as an NGO to advise and support the Adivasis: India's aboriginal people who live deep in the rural areas.  The Academy ran a clinic, schools, carpentry and light engineering workshops and a large herbal garden for doing research on Ayurvedic medicine.  They were a dedicated group of young and middle-aged Indians, some with their families in tow, who pursued no hidden agenda (like snatching souls for conversion) other than to help to improve the health and education and employment opportunities for a group of people that have been marginalised from India's development.

We began our journey in Bombay (or Mumbai).

Iain's drawing of Pitha Street in Bombay (click to enlarge)

We always tried to get away from Bombay as quickly as possible to get to Kashele.  From Victoria Terminus we boarded the train for Karjat - a journey that took nearly 2 hours.  At Karjat railway station,  we crossed the track to catch the bus for an hour long trip to Kashele.  From there we walked for nearly two hours to reach the Academy.  This drawing tells it all although the spouse made it look like the urban chick walking with him was as tough as old boots.

Kashele - here we come. huff, puff, puff!

But, once we got there, our sojourn in India took on a very fulfilling turn.  There was so much to see and to learn from.

Iain recording the activities of the young Adivasi workers.

For a city girl from Singapore, it was for me, initially, a real culture shock.  But you soon learned to find space in the shrubbery for your very own private toilet, to spend the nights by oil lamps and starlight, to make a fire to boil water for a mug of tulsi tea.  (You picked the leaves from wherever you found it growing.)  You also learned to take a bath and to do your laundry in the river with the other ladies during the early mornings.  And you took off your hat to this little Community for their inspiring commitment and enthusiasm.

There was much joy and camaraderie in our relationship during the time we were there.

With three lovely ADS workers

No fancy hotels, no beach getaways, but the time we spent at Kashele was one highlight of my life in the 1980s - helping to quell and soothe the trauma of my youngest brother Akim's death in 1982.

I have never forgotten those wonderful people and at 69, it's so heartwarming that I will always be reminded of those marvellous times.

AND IT'S ALL BECAUSE MY MOTHER MADE ME A PATCHWORK BEDSPREAD!

WOTTADAY

As of last week I embarked on a major project that would divert my grey matter from working its normal routine.   My plan was to ship several boxes of our stuff back to Kuala Lumpur.

Part of the loot

But today turned out to be a day full of surprises.  Yes we were warned about the change in weather  - another cold spell because of the northeast winds.  It was not only bitterly cold but sitting here in my study I observed the weather behaving like a lass who can't make up her mind as to which outfit she should be wearing.

I woke up to this at 7.25 - albeit not much to complain about.

7.25 am

Soon enough the snow disappeared,  but at 9.56 am. the sky turned grey. with promise of more of the white stuff.

9.56 am

But it changed it mind because eight minutes later  at 10.04 :

10.04 am

it turned a bright blue.

We braved the bitter cold to hobble along to Leicester Animal Rescue Charity Shop.  Skedaddled back home for scones and a cup of hot tea.  And voila! at 12.38  we were given this display.

12.38 pm

So another cuppa to warm the toes  - but  31 minutes later at 13.07 the picture changed to this.

1.07 pm

I give up!   It was just too much for this LOL  (Loopy Old Lady) to cope with.  So, she dipped into the case  packed with nonsense to give away to the grandchildren.

She then ejected the spouse away from his warm comfort zone in the kitchen  ....

....  to document his soul-mate modelling these headgear for the two five-year olds in KL,  Ilyas and Emir.
WARNING:  You may find these images distressing.

The green-eyed monster from the deep.

The red-eyed alien bug.

Clap! Clap! Clap!   The show is over.  Cheerio from a loopy Ash on this very different day.



What a difference a day made. 

Going Home (Leicester) from Home (Kuala Lumpur)

We used to be like this ...

......ancient like Methuselah and as tough as old boots.

But history repeated itself .....

.......when in April,  Mr Tough Boots was brought down by three slipped discs.  It left us knackered - just about ready to be dispatched to the glue factory.

But thanks to Prof. Du Wei, Assoc. Prof. Wei Hong Xin  (Tung Shin Traditional Chinese Medicine) and Dr. Low Eu Huat (Tung Shin Western Medicine)  and without depending on pain killers, they put the spouse back together - just enough to enable him and AsH to make the trip back for winter in Leicester.

We're off tomorrow and InsyaAllah when we get back in 3 months' time we shall look like this.

Eh yop - me duck!

Or perhaps, as we'll be hibernating this winter we may regress and devolve into two 13-year olds.

And so, salam and love to all in Singapore, Johor Bharu, Kuala Lumpur and AsH's readers in the ether.
However, I wish to record a special thank you and  xxx to our new-found and lovely friends (and neighbour) - Kakak Siti Zainon, Ken and Zarina, Daniel and Haiqal and  4-legs Spice, Betsy and Two-Socks.



"I'll have to say good-bye, until next time I fly."   Lely, this song is for you.

Rocking at Tung Shin Hospital

Tomorrow the spouse will be undergoing hip replacement surgery at Tung Shin and I promised him we shall go to a rock concert .....

.....  as soon as he recovers.  Read about the rocker on  http://anaksihamid.blogspot.com/2011/04/prelude-to-fire-of-love-csh.html

This will be an opportunity to test the new titaniun-cobalt hip bone.

So, next week this blog will not be able to rock as AsH will be busy organising a gathering of the spouse's old friends and follies.

Firstly ,

These three are now running a very successful Tourist Agency at Temburong, Brunei

She met another 'ang mo' with a three-piece suit and is now the manager of a Chippy (Fish and Chips Shop) at Burton-on-Trent

Amanda is now a grandmother of 10 from a brood of 10, living at Tamu Darat, Sabah

Hyacinth put her money to greater spiritual use,  doing missionary work teaching English as a Second Language (after training at the Summer Institute of Linguistics, USA)  in the jungles of Cambodia.

Remember how pleased they were to see you, another 'Tuan'? Sir Malcolm MacDonald was the last one, but he only came to take photographs of their topless mums!

This was your one success on that Sabbatical trip but the University wanted you to recruit more foreign students to top up their coffers and you failed to do so!

So, be of brave heart and cheer for tomorrow.   Rock on me duck!!!

FIRE OF LOVE - THE ULTIMATE SEQUEL .

Checking into Hotel Singapore can be a nerve wrecking experience.  In the old days, circa 1970/1980s they would look up your name  in a big black folder - look you over sternly and you wait in apprehension for the stamping of your passport which affirmed that you are kosher enough to enter Fortress Singapore.

Much has changed for our hero since he left Singapore in the late 6os.  He had transformed from this ......

....... to this, with a bit more fur on the face.

Shah, my brother's son was dragged into the picture.

Also "The Skye Boat Song" had become his trademark serenade since a holiday on the island of Raasay, just off the island of Skye.  As for "critics and half-baked intellectuals", they are not welcome anywhere.

As soon as he left Paya Lebar Airport our hero got busy on his fieldwork - he was after all on sabbatical leave from his university.

He extended our 1930s-1970s collection of Malay records - to complement my own treasure hoard of Malay EPs, 10 inch LPs, 12 inch LPs and 45 rpm singles of Singapore's 1960s pop groups like the Crescendos,  Naomi and the Boys, Henry Suriya, Heather and The Strollers.

He also made additions to our  cache of Chinese bowls and plates, the everyday domestic crockery that was in use from the 40s/50s - not Ming and Sung vases though.

The 1944 plate in the middle was a fascinating discovery.  There was the V sign over the flags (from left to right) of Russia, USA, Britain and China  (Kuomintang China?) .  The girl who sold him the plates was given a good ticking-off by her mother - she (the mother) did not want to part with them at the price charged - when she saw what the customer was. 

My mum was on hand to see that his energy level was  topped up with sambal petai ikan bilis, rendang, sambal goreng tahu/tempeh and of course sambal blacan.  For pudding there was always naga sari.  My mother made the best naga sari north and south of the Causeway.

In true Malay fashion our hero washed his hands before eating. How I screamed with laughter when he said to me mum,  "Mak, saya sudah mandi tangan."  The old lady had to stifle a giggle and corrected him,  "Basuh tangan Iain, bukan mandi tangan."   Often, I am told to 'Tutup atas' when I remind him of this linguistic bungle.

He then departed to Sabah to conduct the real fieldwork....

BACK  ISSUES  OF  FoL

Prelude to  FoL  -  25  April
Episode  1 - 28 April
Episode  2 - 7 May
Episode  3  -  30 May
Penultimate Episode  -  3 June

APPENDIX

This is what little Shah looks like now.

Shah, Adam and Adila - about 39 days ago.

Fire of Love - The Penultimate Episode

Margaret Wicks or Peggy.......

Peggy, just after the Second World War

..........was his favourite Aunt.  She was for me, the best aunt-in-law in the world and when I started life as a married woman in England, Peggy and Dorothy were my best girlfriends.  She's gone now.  But she led an amazing life, a brave and very generous woman although she had very little in the way of  fortune.  She deserves a posting of her own, my tribute to a wonderful lady.

We met up with Peggy in Bishop Auckland where she lived and decided to take a little holiday up north in Northumberland.  Peggy knew this area like the back of her hand but 'sir'  ( what she used to call him when he got stubborn) the geographer insisted on using his map.

So we got lost looking for the Cheviots!!!  Maizie was cross and Peggy had to cross her legs because we could not get to the Youth Hostel at the arranged time.

Peggy wanted us to visit the tidal island called Holy Island or Lindisfarne.  It was connected to the mainland by a natural causeway that was only passable at low tide.  He did try to to leave us stranded on the island but he would not be able to find his way home without Peggy!  Drat, double drat he said!

 We usually cooked our own meals at the Youth Hostel - it was cheaper and more homely.  Peggy and I did the cooking and 'sir' did the washing-up. For this, I ticked a pass in his Report Book - to add to his credentials.  He still keeps to this duty today. 

One night, in a fit of generous madness he gave us two women a treat of fish and chips at Wooler.  That was great fun and I shall never forget the exotic experience of eating fried potatoes and fried fish in batter all wrapped up in newspaper.  I cannot remember eating better fish and chips!

In the years to come we had many little sorties with Peggy - we would visit her about 4-5 times in a year.  She was lively, cheerful, intelligent and great fun to be with.  On one of those trips she presented me with this wooden-peg doll.  She made it herself and the hair for the doll was her own hair!  That doll has pride of place in my home here and in my life.

I love the little handbag and dog and the umbrella and the other intricate details. This doll is only 5 inches high!

For the final episode - there will be a change of scene.  Our hero, who has a pathological fear of flying decided to return to another island which he left about 13 years ago - to return to Singapore.