A city like this

7.15 pm on a summer Saturday, Bus 55 chugged merrily along. Somewhere near Goodge Street, I stopped daydreaming.

A lady standing on the pavement was earnestly pleading with the bus driver with many variations of 'Please, pleeeease wait, she is coming right now'. Presumably an old folk.

A pause. About twenty pair of eyes waited to see who it was.

But suddenly, the bus started moving. Everyone let out a hugely disapproving 'Ohh!'.

It was so disapproving that the person standing nearest to the bus-driver had to defend him: 'He's just pulling over to wait for her.'

And then a collective 'Ahh'.

Three seconds later, the heroine stepped up onto the bus. The punkish-looking teenage girl nearest to the entrance stood up from her seat.

(I have great respect for punkish-looking folks; they are often the most decent people.)

When I'm 70 and walk like a snail, a city like this is where I'd like to be.




Clarification: London is not the city like this. I'm happy to say I've written several letters over the years (often prompted by my mum) to commend bus drivers in Singapore for their kindness. One particularly stood out. He didn't just stop and wait. He got out of his driver seat, helped the shakey 80-year-old passenger to a seat then got back in to drive on.

Hope

Why bother jumping out of the way of a speeding car?

Because it is interesting to set yourself a challenge in an age of abundance.

(In addition to far more urgent and obvious reasons of course.)

I »pledge to:

1. Continue doing laundry at the lowest temperatures because it is also good for my clothes.
2. Continue relying on natural light in the day because I also have the most gorgeous view.
3. Continue separating out my trash because they have already made it so easy.
4. Chuck a folded plastic bag in every of my bags, because conference pears and fresh milk keep badgering me to bring them home. 
5. Spend only on good quality and design, picking up mundane items like holepunchers from thriftshops. (There're a ton of mundane stuff in our lives that don't need to be new at all.)
6. Never throw another battery into the trash out of laziness unless »the country doesn't have battery recycling bins.
7. Plug my phone charger in a conspicuous socket so that I will turn it off when not in use.
8. Use the stairs on the way up, instead of just on the way down.
9. Reduce the amount of trash I generate to one bag per week.  (Currently 1.5)
10. Switch off common area lights in the day even though I don't pay the utility bills.

Finally, I pledge not be affected by sniggering folks who are too cool to do anything, or too blasé to have hope.


P.S. I'm still reeling from the revelation that flying is the worst thing an individual can do to her carbon footprint.  I'd have to think of how I can adjust my penchant for travel to this unfortunate fact of life.

Tragedy of the commons

If the shared printer runs out of paper, is it the responsibility of the last person who caused it to run out to refill it, or is it that of the unlucky person who next tries to print?

Today I refilled it and also taped up the annoying cover which keeps falling off. Then someone returned my favorite sock which I had left behind in the dryer.

It's nice when people take the trouble.

(But humans tend to try to get away with doing as little as possible. We're all a bit shitty that way.)

A beautiful night at the opera

That's how Mr D describes his daughters.

Instructions on how to comb the hair

So. The man will comb his hair without a mirror, working his open hand through it. The woman will make her reflection into a tower or treetop, whatever peak, where the lines of storm and the blue mark of the broody kingsfisher can be found. She'll know how to stem sweetly that flow from tenuous high tides, how to light the fires of remembrance without smoke. To comb the hair will be to take auguries for the rising day, give shape to the lover's secret thought, instruct from the blood the son not yet born.

When it comes to children, let the air comb them.

- Julio Cortázar, 'Historias de Cronopios y de Famas'

The parents of this boy are the lovely folks who invited me to share their New Year's Eve.  He has exactly the same tousled hair as his father, it's amusing to watch.

Happy Christmas Day!

Born free

Today, I am pleased to declare, is the last day of my indentured servitude!

Tara two weeks ago

She must be prettier than ever by now.

Curious girl

Have a look at »her study of anatomy at Art HK.

So tickled

I was there but I obviously missed the joke!

Mikaela turns one

[Embedded slideshow - go to original post to view if you don't see anything.]

The riddles are three, life is one

In the dark night flies a many-hued phantom.
It soars and spreads its wings
above the gloomy human crowd.
The whole world calls to it,
the whole world implores it.
At dawn the phantom vanishes
to be reborn in every heart.
And every night it is born anew
and every day it dies!

»Riddles of Turandot

What is it about children that gives us hope?

Hope is a strange thing.

They say that of faith, hope and love, love is the greatest.

I say hope is the greatest. Hope is the undying belief that good things - like faith, like love - will come. Truly, what would life be without hope?

Seeing a park full of happy children on a day of blooming sakura, one cannot help but feel Hope.

Hope with a capital H!

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Kobe, Kanae and Hayato

I have been wanting to put up cute little Hayato's pictures but never found a good pretext. Now there is one - it's spring and I am going to Japan! For work yes, but I am going to swing by Kobe to see Kanae and Hayato.

楽しみみてる！

Jojo at her most maternal

My best friend just sent me photos that she took of me in Europe - this is definitely Jojo at her most maternal.
I can't stop gushing about this big-eye baby girl from Nice.  She's French mixed African, Chinese and I think Portuguese. Ooo-la-la.

(Sorry if you can't see my small Chinese eyes beside hers )