We just got back from a whirlwind of a trip to London. It has been over a year since I went there and for me, it was all nostalgic.
On the London underground, I spent all my time showing Poohi all the stations – my old work place, husband’s old workplace. She has been on the tube millions of times , but I think this was the first time that she understood what was going on. She was a little spooked when I told her that the tube would go under the ground. She was very worried that ‘We’ll never, ever get out again!’ 
It must have been one of the few times on the London tube when I did not read while travelling.
For my husband, tube travel was something he never enjoyed, but for me, traveling in London was the time that I loved – because it was completely ‘me time’. I used to carry books and of course, London Metro or the London Lite( free newspapers) used to be my staple reading on the way and back from work. These newspapers used to be free and would be handed out outside stations. I used to be one of those, who, even in an inch of space, would still manage to read. I think I used to read a lot more in those days because of the uninterrupted time I used to get on the tube. There was a time when I used to travel around 3 hours one way and the only positive part was the reading time. But then I used to read in crowded Bangalore buses, and while waiting for the ITPL shuttle – I actually used to get funny looks then. One of the things that I loved about London as soon as I landed here was that everybody had a book/newspaper in their hands. I was no longer the odd one out.
Bones’ post on reading, touched a chord. Like her, I am not a book snob – I read anything and everything. I remember the first fairy tale that I got when I was 5 or 6 years old. I have not looked back since. Reading has been a passion and an addiction for me. I actually feel uneasy if I don’t have reading material around me.
As far back as I can recall, I used to be fascinated by books and stories. My mom and dad used to tell us stories at night, read to us when we were little. I think, it was all that storytelling that started me off on reading. I started on Reader’s Digests out of sheer boredom during my summer vacation. My maternal and paternal grandparents used to live in the same village but mom and I used to be at my maternal grandparents place, and we used to visit at my dad’s place in the evenings. Now I used to hate that, because my dad’s side had loads of cousins while at my mom’s side, I was the oldest and the only one for a while. So I used to yearn to go over to my dad’s place. In utter boredom, I flicked through my granddad’s collection of Reader’s Digest and started reading those little anecdotes at the end of each article. There was no looking back from there. I started reading the articles next, and before I knew it, I had read every issue that he had and his collection ranged from the ’60s. I then graduated on to P G Wodehouse and used to spend every waking moment reading!The magical, mystical world of books that I would disappear off to, oblivious to everything else around me! My mother used to say that nothing would break my concentration once I started reading.
Those days, I used to be fascinated by all the delicious food that Enid Blyton used to describe! Her eclairs sounded nothing like the Cadburys eclairs that we used to get. And I had imagined scones to be something, oh so yummy! Only to my intense disappointment when I finally did eat it! The eclairs, however, more than lived upto it’s reputation. Sardines – I used to think was something yummy too! Until my granddad showed me what it was! I used to wish and wish and wish that my parents send me off to a boarding school! One of our friends threatens their daughter that if she gets naughty she would be sent to boarding school – and those were the days when I would yearn for that life! These days, of course, Indian authors seem to evoke the similar kind of sentiments. I read a book by Lavanya Sankaran, the other day. The Red Carpet, was a set of short stories set in Bangalore and it evoked a nostalgia, a wonderful feel of the city.
The funny thing is that the kind of stuff I used to conjure up in my mind while reading, might have been far, far away from what the author intended. That I think is what I like about reading. The words would allow me to dream, imagine, in my own way. That, I think, was the reason, why most of the movie adaptations of books leave me disappointed! When we read, I think , each of us conjures up our own versions, our own mental image of the book. Reading for me, is my way of vicariously, enjoying different lifestyles, cuisines, cultures and countries.
I was also lucky in my teachers at school. Even my Maths and Physics teacher was an avid reader. I remember that he had recommended Alex Haley’s Roots and reading that was a revelation for me. I remember being blown away with Gone with the Wind. Waiting with bated breath for the sequel – Scarlet and then being so let down by it! For me, so many memories are linked with books. Books that were gifted to me, books that I got as prizes. Books that have served as milestones of my life. One of the things I always wanted was a library in my home. And I intend to ensure that that becomes a reality once we move to India for good.
These days, I try and pick up obscure books that I have never heard of. The libraries here are amazing in that respect. The huge collection they have, ensures that I can experiment different authors. Some time back I had picked up a book by a Srilankan author. I had never heard of her- but loved the book. I have learnt to rely on my instincts more these days. There was a time when I used to haunt the best sellers and pick them up. These days, I go for books that I have not heard of, and I have to say that I have been fairly lucky so far. I do get some good books. Over the years, the one thing that has not changed for me, is the passion for books and reading.
The only thing I regret is that I cannot read in Malayalam. My parents had a wonderful time when they came to London. They found lots of Malayalam books in the library there and they made the most of it. Maybe, one day, I will try and learn enough Malayalam to read a book..
The world of books opened a new horizon for me. My love of reading has contributed significantly to the way I think, the way I interact with people.. If I could gift anything really precious to my daughter, it would be the love of books.. The joy of reading…
Half of Britain’s secondary school girls consider some form of cosmetic surgery as an option to enhance themselves.
Apparently, the number increases with students who are not doing very well in studies or are from an unprivileged background. Self respect or lack of self-respect/self-esteem seems to be the reason behind this. That and the fact that cosmetic surgery is being peddled as the one stop treatment to all issues.
We were watching a programme on Channel 4 called The White Beauty Myth. It dwelled on how people wanted to look ‘white’ as the Caucasian looks are considered by a lot of people around the world as the ultimate or supreme and how a lot of people were resorting to surgery to ‘deracialise’ themselves. Not getting into the details of the white beauty myth itself, I was appalled to see how many people felt that their success depended on how they looked.
There was a Malaysian man who was considering getting leg lengthening surgery, people wanting to change their jaw structures, noses, breasts, the list is endless. It makes one wonder what makes these people be so ready to go under the knife. In some cases, the issue was clearly self-esteem. They felt that making their looks change would change the way the world looks at them.
Cindy Jackson has been named, for the 11th year running, the most surgically enhanced woman in the world. She has had 50 or more cosmetic procedures at the cost of over £100,000. She talks about how she felt the same people treating her better after she had cosmetic surgery. While most people do not go to such lengths, a lot of people seem to feel that some sort of cosmetic surgery is definitely an option.
With celebrities coming out in the open about the surgery that they have had and television programmes on how a little nip/tuck makes a huge difference, and people weeping tears if gratitude after a successful procedure, must be changing people’s minds, especially those who already feel uncomfortable with their appearance.
The truth is that while cosmetic surgery might make a positive difference for a lot of people, for some, it might just turn too costly, some pay with their lives. After all, just like any surgery, things could go wrong even in cosmetic surgery.
Body image is fast becoming very important for a lot of young people and cosmetic surgery is one industry which appears unfazed by even the recession. One plastic surgeon apparently ‘redesigned’ his wife. The latest is a criminal who outwit the police by going under the knife. Japan’s number one fugitive, outwit the police and escaped capture fortwo and half years by altering his appearance.
To me, the most worrying aspect is that so many young girls seem to feel that cosmetic surgery is an option. The fact that they are worried enough about how they look, to even think of going under the knife to change their looks! As teenagers, with their lives ahead of them, it is sad that the lack of self-esteem is pushing them to take such measures.
Is it getting more and more difficult for people to be comfortable in their own skin? Is our media and our environment giving us signals to be ashamed of our bodies? Will opting for plastic surgery to tweak that nose or getting a slim tummy become just as common as visiting a dentist is for us today? Is the way we look starting to define how successful we are – irrespective of which field of work we are in?
He always brought her flowers. Red roses.. as red as her bruises…
He was loving and tender.. as tender as her body felt….
The more she hurt, the bigger the bouquet, the more loving he got..
But today was the last.. she was free at last. Free from the roses, free from the tender loving care.. free from the sudden eruption of rage that left her hurt and bruised. She was now at peace, nobody could hurt her anymore.. This time, the roses were for her funeral.
October is the Domestic Violence Awareness Month.
Domestic violence is one of the most widespread and the most under-estimated crimes. Domestic violence is just not between spouses. Domestic violence may also be perpetuated by members of the extended family. Domestic violence may also be against children. Domestic violence knows no barriers. It exists in every community, country, race, ethnic group , class of people, sexual orientation and gender. It could begin in any phase of a relationship. It could happen to any of ‘us’ not ‘them’.
There is no excuse for domestic violence. Nobody ‘asks’ for abuse. It can not be justified. Once one slap is endured, it might just be a matter of time before it escalates to full-fledged regular abuse.
In India, the societal structures make it even more difficult to combat. After I had my daughter, I had a lady who used to come and massage me. She used to tell me about another person who she used to massage, who she was sure was a victim of abuse. Apparently the lady, just weeks after giving birth, had black and blue marks all over her. And at no point was she allowed to be alone with this lady – either her sister-in-law or her mother-in-law would sit by, while she massaged her. Apparently new bruises would appear every now and then. Hearing all this broke my heart.. Here I was being pampered by my parents, and there was another young mother, possibly younger than me, but being treated so badly.
In India, it becomes even more difficult to tackle as a lot of times, even the police refuse to intervene citing it to be a personal matter – between the spouses, to be resolved within the four walls of the house.
I remember another friend whose sister got married to a man settled abroad, who used to abuse her so much that she finally separated. It was terrible for her to live in a new country, with an abusive spouse. Thankfully for her, her parents and family stood by her. She was not sent back to her husband and told to adjust, to compromise…as happens with so many other young women. When reputation in the society and what ‘the neighbours think’ become more important that their daughter’s life.
Physical abuse is not the only thing that is part of domestic abuse. Although we tend talk about women mainly, because going by percentages, more women than men seem to be the victims of domestic abuse, domestic abuse can happen to anybody – irrespective of the gender. Mental abuse is just as part of domestic violence as physical abuse is. Keeping the woman from meeting her friends or family, keeping tab of what she does, checking her mail can all be classified under domestic violence, because of the effect of such activity on the victim. A lot of abusers are extremely gentle and nice in public making it difficult for others to even imagine that the abuser is capable of such atrocities.
Apparently, most people affected by domestic violence are often unaware of the resources available. Which is where campaigns like Bell Bajao become so important. A lot of women will not feel so helpless if they are aware that help is at hand. And a lot of abusers may think twice if they know that their victim can get help!
One of the biggest myths surrounding domestic violence is that a couple should stay together, despite the violence for the sake of the children. Children are NOT better off in an abusive environment. I remember reading about a girl who grew up in a family where her mother was periodically abused by her father. She grew up thinking that it was normal and ended up married to another abuser. It was much later that she realized that she could and did break the cycle. There are long-term effects that have been seen in children who grow up in an abusive environment such as loss of confidence, stress related illnesses, they could copy the behaviour to become either abusers or victims later in life, blame themselves for it. A happy and secure environment with a single parent is far better than an abusive environment with both parents.
Some interesting links.
Title inspired by a book by Jenny Tomlin called Send me no flowers, which tackled the subject of abuse and was one of the most brutal and shocking books that I read on the subject. It also brought home the different kinds of abuses that comes under the umbrella of domestic abuse.
Well, before I go there, I would like to thank Blogadda for featuring my previous post in their Spicy Saturday Picks and Sols for tipping the post! Thanks a lot! It totally made my day!
Apologies for not posting the answer sooner. I got really tied up and will continue to be strapped for time, thanks to a long long to-do list that I have. The fact that daughter’s nursery is on a mid-term break does not help at all.
Now for the answer, according to her, they are duck footprints So many of you guessed it right.You guys really are creative! I could not figure out what it was until she told me 
Here’s the list
Smita – ‘Is that a duck or it is something like leaving foot marks?? Hmm’
Nancy – ‘or ducks webbed feet????’
Tara – ‘pigs footsteps or maybe duck’s.’
And lots of you guessed ‘footprints’ right
Pallavi – ‘footprints of the little piggy?’
Vimmuuuu – ‘I guess its your foot prints going zig zag, trying to run behind her’
Saritha – ‘foot prints on sand in the beach’
N – ‘left its footprints after playing.’
Pixie – ‘Is it footsteps that she has painted?’
I might have missed out someone, thanks to a very hurried posting – so please accept apologies in advance and do let me know if I missed including your guess – will edit and add
Hitchy asked me in the comments, ‘What’s baking?’ Here’s what – Banana Muffins Please help yourself.
I still have to reply to comments in the previous posts – will start on it today and have not been blog hopping – will do that too, today, if I am really lucky
This post was picked by Blogadda for its Spicy Saturday Picks. Thank you Blogadda and Sols!
In my working life, we used to have a lot of workshops and courses aimed at making us think beyond boundaries, to help us work out ‘out of the box solutions’, to unleash our creativity.
Most of us used to struggle to find these magical, outlandish ideas which would provide wonderful solutions to our clients while staying within the budget. I am not sure how much these workshops actually helped, but it certainly opened our minds to other possibilities, than the steady stuff that we were used to. It also helped a lot of us think and look beyond what was obvious, so I think they did make some difference. In today’s competitive world, creativity and the ability to think beyond the norms is what is going to count. Companies that innovate, that try to better what they do, that strive to excel are what are the most successful.
It was after my daughter was born, that I really appreciated how staid and strait-jacketed my own thinking was. Something ordinary and regular for me , would be interpreted in a totally novel way by my daughter, when she saw something the first time. It just reminded me how creative we were as young children, and how slowly and steadily, our thinking gets restrained by the limits set by society in various forms. The creativity that we are born with gets stifled in so many ways.
Right from childhood, if a child is not encouraged to try out different things and fail, she might never learn how to succeed. For example a child who fails at something he tried and does not get the necessary support from his parents, might never try something out the next time, and a truly brilliant thinker might just have been killed. Similarly in workplaces, if a team member comes up with a weird idea, but is suppressed or ridiculed, might never voice his ideas again and a really creative idea that might have come from him, might just never happen.
I find that I subconsciously do it, without even realising it. The other day, we bought a paint-it-yourself piggy bank for daughter. Now they had provided a bunch of paints and ideas to paint it. Daughter decided that it would be more fun to paint random colours all over and for a minute, I was going to guide her to follow the patterns provided, when I realised that I might just be stifling her creativity. If I cannot let her original thinking guide her for painting a piggy bank, would I ever encourage her later, with any thing creative? What difference would it make if her piggy bank looked a little different, after all?
This is how her piggy bank looked in the end
And could you guess what was in her mind when she painted this? Apparently this was not just general doodling – it is supposed to be something – according to daughter!
Answer in the next post, lets see how many of you get it right I certainly did not!
Yesterday, Kapil Sibal proposed that the minimum marks to enter the IITs would be raised possibly to 80-85% in the Class 12 exams. Since then he has back-tracked, but I still wanted to talk about this.
On the face of it, it seemed alright, but the more I thought of, the more I was convinced that this was just not a sensible move. One of the reasons that Sibal states is that coaching centres have been mushrooming around and this move will curb it.
Now, if we do take into consideration, the much maligned coaching centres. The reason, we have so many coaching centres is
1. Our Class 12 syllabus is not geared up to allow a student to successfully meet the IIT standards
2. Our school teachers are not competent enough to teach the children
Surely, if we do need to curb the culture of coaching classes, what we need to do is, ensure that our Class 12 syllabus is geared up for the competitive exams rather than increase the focus on marks in the Class 12 exams. And we need teachers in schools who are able to guide the children through these exams. We have children going to tuitions and coaching classes from Class 1 onwards – surely, there is something wrong in the system? And not in the way the IIT entrance criteria are structured? The fact that so many of our students need coaching outside of school is just an indicator that somewhere our schools are not performing the role they are meant to be.
Secondly, to increase the eligibility percentage to 80-85% also assumes that every board has the same standards and marking policies. Most of us would be aware of how different every state board is. I know, some states, where scoring an 80% is no big deal while some states where it is very difficult and only the very top students manage an 80%. So students studying in some state boards are automatically at a disadvantage. There is a distinct difference even in ICSE and CBSE boards scoring standards. Without a common board, such a proposal is just recipe for disaster.
Initially, when Kapil Sibal spoke of reforms, the impression that came about was that the system would change from rote learning to practical, from the basic learning. IIT entrance exams, if anything, are a very good test of how good our basics are. I think to shift the weightage from the entrance exams to the Class 12 scores is a sure-shot way of shooting in the foot, the reforms that Sibal spoke of.
Since then, Kapil Sibal has back-tracked. He is doing a lot of things in the right direction, to reform our education system. I think IITs is one place where things are functioning the way it should and he should just let it stay the way it is.
I just had to get that out of my system!
As long back as I can recall, the jungle book and Mowgli has been part of my life. Rudyard Kipling’s enchanting tale of a little boy brought up by wolves, befriended by the friendly but dangerous when provoked Bagheera , the lovable Baloo and the terrifying Sher Khan!
It had all the elements of a block buster, come to think of it, and I remember being enthralled by it. I remember reading the book, coming across abridged versions in English text books, brought to life by my wonderful teachers, who knew just how to modulate their voices to enact the vicious, bitter Sher Khan, the sweet cuddly Baloo, and the cutest of them all, Mowgli!
One time, we had a huge production of the Jungle Book, as part of our school Annual day celebration. It involved students from all the classes and Mowgli was my classmate. All of us who had itsy bitsy roles were delighted! I was a firefly and though all I had to do was dance around wearing a black dress, holding a torch – I loved it! It was amazing – a whole lot of fun. As part of the preparation, we used to get to watch the original animated movie of the Jungle Book and that was the biggest treat of them all. I remember being totally zapped by it. This was before Jungle Book came on DD – so it was a totally awesome experience for all of us.
Today, I read in the that it has been 42 years since that animated movie came out. Reading that article brought out a torrent of memories.. of reading Jungle Book, of watching the movie, fond memories of teachers trying to get us work on the annual day adaptation of the story and a lot of memories of the Jungle Book on DD.. After the ‘Chaddi pehan ke’ song came out, my classmate who played Mowgli had a tough time in class, with all of ribbing him for it,even though it had been some years since he enacted Mowgli.
Now, daughter has fallen in love with the Jungle book stories and was delighted to see the above video today. Every time I read the story to her, I relive my childhood memories. Although, I normally love books more than the movies adapted from books, I guess, Jungle Book is one exception, where I love both the book and the movie.
PS: Belated Happy Diwali to all of you! Hope you all had a lovely time!
Edited to add: The Bare necessities song. I don’t know how I missed out putting that up Thanks guys, for reminding me
Thanks Hitchy – Jungle Book Part 2
The Tower Bridge of London is one of the most well known images associated with London. One which a lot of people mistakenly assume to be the London Bridge. The first time I saw the London Bridge, I was quite disappointed, but as I read more about London, the history behind the bridge enthralled me. The simple, normal looking bridge is one of the most well known bridges in the world, and has a fascinating history, right from the time when London was a Roman Settlement. It is the latest of in a series of Bridges to be called the London Bridge.
The iconic Tower Bridge (Courtesy: Google Image Search)
The unspectacular London Bridge.(Courtesy: Google Image Search)
Funnily, when I was searching for images of the London Bridge, I got loads of the Tower Bridge, mislabeled as London Bridge.
For such a nondescript bridge, it does have an amazing history. A bridge has existed at this place right from the time of Roman settlement, over 2000 years ago. One of the first bridges to be built over the River Thames.
As per the Wikipedia,’ The bridge fell into disrepair after the Romans left. As Londinium was also abandoned, there was little need for a bridge at this point, and in the Saxon period the river was a political boundary between the hostile kingdoms of Mercia and Wessex. With the impact of the Viking invasions, the reconquest of the Roman city by the kings of Wessex and its re-occupation by Alfred the Great, the political conditions arose for a Saxon bridge crossing to be placed here. However, there is no archaeological evidence for a bridge before Aethelred’s reign and his attempts to stem the Sweinian invasions of the 990s. In 1014, according to a much later skaldic tradition, the bridge was pulled down by the Norwegian prince Olaf, as he was aiding King Aethelred in what, if true, was a successful bid to divide the defending forces of the Danes who held the walled City of London plus Southwark, thereby regaining London for the Anglo-Saxon king. This episode has been thought to have inspired the well-known nursery rhyme “London Bridge is Falling Down“
After the 1136 destruction of the bridge, a new replacement was commissioned – an inhabited bridge. It took 33 years to complete. The bridge itself was about 26 feet (8 m) wide, the buildings on the bridge took up about 7 feet (2 m) on each side of the street. Some of these buildings projected another seven feet out over the river. The road for traffic was thereby reduced to just 12 feet (4 m) wide. This meant that horses, carts, wagons, and pedestrians all shared a passageway just six feet wide, one lane going north and one south. There were a few places where houses and shops were not built, which allowed people to get out of the traffic and enjoy a glimpse of the river and the shorelines of London. It was completed in 1209 and was also the first stone bridge in the world. Most of the shop owners lived in the houses above the shops. Apparently, it had 20 arches, and none of them similar. It would last for 600 years and was demolished because it had become very congested and because of the detrimental effect the bridge was having on the river, thanks to its narrow arches.
An artist’s impression of how the medieval London Bridge must have looked like. (Courtesy: Google Image Search)
In 1831, a new bridge, Rennie’s Bridge was opened a few yards upstream and that became known as the new London Bridge. This bridge, however, had a flawed design and could not take the load, so was soon replaced by the current London Bridge. The Rennie’s London Bridge was dismantled and re-constructed in Lake Havasu City, Arizona.
The Old London Bridge in Lake Havasu City, Arizona((Courtesy: Google Image Search)
The most fascinating avatar, if I may call it so, for me, of the Bridge that I found myself captivated by, was the inhabited bridge. I found it fascinating that people actually lived on the bridge. I read loads about it and was lucky enough to be able to see an existing inhabited bridge in Florence. It is the oldest Bridge in Florence, and is still inhabited and was spared damage in the World War II – apparently by Hitler himself. Here are a couple of photographs that we took when we were there. It was a smaller scale(and much less grand – at least in my imagination) version of what the medieval London Bridge must have been like..
There were lots of shops inside the bridge and most of them – jewellery shops!
I just wanted to add, that one of the books that totally captured my fascination was Edward Rutherfurd’s London. It has the London Bridge as a main protagonist, while he sketches the history of London through 2 millenia.The first time I read it, we were living in London, I used to work at Southwark and used to pass the London Bridge station everyday. One of our favourite walks by the River Thames used to be from the Tower Bridge to Waterloo and we used to cross most of the historical places mentioned in the book. I used to feel the history behind those places.. Yes, I am a hopeless romantic! I am now re-reading it and it now makes me all nostalgic and thankful that so much of the history is preserved, with plaques commemorating important events and through these wonderful books which give you a flavour of the time…
Most of the information is from Wikipedia and from some random reading that I had done earlier. There are so many more interesting pieces of information in connection to the Bridges, that I had a tough time deciding what to include and what to leave out.
Today was one of those days when little goes according to plan.
I had my work all chalked out, but was disrupted when I got caught in a chat by email marathon with some of the looniest characters in blogworld (you guys know who you are, let me not name and shame all of us ). Before I knew it, time had flown right out of the window.
Now this is one of the things I hate about living here, no maids, having to run around doing stuff all by myself, and before I knew it, it was time to pick up daughter from the nursery. Now she goes to another nursery 2 days a week and it is a mile from where we live. I have perfected the art of leaving at the last minute possible, in order to pick her up, dot at 1:00. With careful iterations, I have reached my best time of 15 minutes door to door, and today, it was 12:50 before I could get out of the house. And I had not even had the time to have lunch – which in my case is a disastrous thing to do.
With 5 minutes already eaten up and the nursery charging by the minute for every minute we are late, I had to somehow reach on time. So I drew up a back up plan. As soon as I reached the walking trail, away from curious eyes, I would have to sprint. Walking was not going to take me there in 10 minutes. So as soon as I reached a point in the walking trail where no nosy-parker could see me, I set off, only to come to a grinding halt in under 3o secs. I almost ran into a terrified toddler, clinging to his mother, terrified at the sight of my hurling down the path, handbag and fleece jacket flying in the air. I must have looked like Phoebe
After that, I tried running after the toddler and his mum were out of sight, but my legs refused. They refused to be punished for my wasting away my time and expecting the world out of them, without providing them with adequate nourishment . Not only did they refuse to run, they also refused to walk as fast as they normally do. Talk about disobedient legs! And ways, after a lot of cajoling, they decided to up their pace. By then, not just my legs, my tummy was protesting in hunger too.
Finally, despite my short lived sprint, I reached the nursery only at 1:05, and picked up daughter. They did not mention anything about being late – but I guess, next month’s bill will.
By the time, I got daughter to leave the place (she loves her nursery so much, that she tries to linger there as much as she can – am sure those people must be thinking that I torture her at home ), I wasdelirious with hunger and my legs were killing me. Turns out, daughter wanted to add to that. She was in the mood for some running. So off she went, and I had to run with her, my legs cursing me with every step, and tummy rumbling ominously.
If all that running was not enough, she also had to go and play in the park. Now, I want her to be active, but sometimes, I do wish she would say things like, ‘Can we go home quickly and sleep’, instead, her park time fun never ends. It was 2:30 by the time, I managed to pull her away from the park, and haul ourselves home and get some food inside me. What bliss, to be able to eat something!
Starving for 2.3 hours, almost killed me. Tell me guys, how do those amongst you who fast, without food or drink, manage? My admiration for you guys, have increased manifold after today.
I never thought I would say this, but I have managed to go and get hooked on things other than the blogworld.
In a single day, I leapt from blogville to farmville.
For the last few weeks, I had been getting requests and gifts from friends wanting to suck me into the quagmire called Farmville. And I was proud that I resisted. Until last week. My friend told me of how addictive it is and how her husband wakes up thinking of his farmville chicken. I was like, yeah? But it can’t be as bad as blog addiction! Boy, was I wrong.To think that a few months back, I never even logged into Facebook.
I haven’t yet started dreaming of chicken, but I have a rather busy farming life going on. And before I know it, I am trying to convince Hitchy and Swaram to join too So now, to detox myself, I have decided to come back to blogville.
The last 2 weeks, I have re-discovered the joys of walking. The feel of the fresh morning air, the lovely smell of nectar from wild flowers and the feel of light rain on my cheeks.. I take detours on my way back after dropping Poohi and never have enough. It has been just wonderful and we have found a lot of little walking trails and hidden paths – all very adventurous Surprisingly daughter has started loving the walk too. She walks the whole 1.5 miles from her school to home and has a lovely time, of course, walking for her does involve counting wild blackberries (and every other coloured berries), watching ‘horseys’ prancing around and of course spotting snails. This morning, I was dismayed at the sight of pelting rain. Daughter on the other hand was delighted. ‘ I can wear my wellies, my raincoat and carry my umbrella’ and of course, she had to jump in every puddle on the way. It was a blessing that we still reached on time.
All this walking, I do hope helps in reducing weight, else Twitter is always there. Apparently Twitter can now help lose weight. If only we knew before we bought that cross trainer.
My broadband is not very happy with my addiction either. It has decided to make my farming and blogging life rather difficult. It has decided to switch itself off and refuse to switch on. In fact, today, it switched back on only after husband came home. Rather inexplicable, I think. Unless husband and broadband have a deal between themselves.. hmmm.. worth exploring, don’t you think?
Now, I am going to sign off before the broadband starts to act up again. Have to mind those chicken, pigs and cows. By the way, my farmville addiction is something daughter loves too. She finds my farm far more exciting than Daddy’s withered farm with no animals ( he is too busy to farm ) while my farm has cows mooing, pigs oinking, ducks quaking, horses neighing.. No, I am not being paid to write all this.. It is that addictive
