In A Bad Way

10.28
Now dealing with a Big Problem. I'm suffering a particularly savage bout of sciatica, down my left leg. This developed yesterday morning just before we drove down to Melaka. I spent the journey flat out, on the back seat. Went to a doctor's on the way, desperate for pain-killers and he prescribed something called Tramadol, amongst others. Looked it up on-line. It's opiate based and possibly addictive. Not good, then. But necessary, I'm afraid. We're going to try and get to Singapore this afternoon, where I think I'll be seeking a hospital. Wish me luck, Gentle Reader. I need lots of it!

20.30
Got back in one piece with the Missus taking command. Some improvement in my condition. No longer in pain all the time, which is a great place to be.

A Sense Of Curiosity

We played host this afternoon to Linda and Sharif and their one-year-old-and-a-bit identical twins, Zahra & Jannah. In their two hours with us the little girls managed to be interested in everything in our living room. Fortunately they are not yet walking, otherwise the bounds of their interest would likely have proved limitless. Their parents informed us they, the parents, had both lost weight since the birth of the twins. Given the need to deal pretty much constantly with the kids' insatiable curiosity it was easy to see why. I felt exhausted just sitting there and watching them.

More Plastic

Couldn't help but notice just now, when we were in the very well organised and excellently stocked supermarket at Melawati Mall, that almost every item on the racks for vegetables was wrapped or covered or housed in some sort of plastic. I don't think this would be the natural state of the foodstuffs, so someone, somewhere had gone to a lot of trouble to get this done. But I'm not at all sure why. Presumably it makes it easier to buy, or sell. But at what cost?

Going Places

Aiyoh, so much happening around here! Noi noted pithily as I very narrowly avoided running down a pedestrian who for some obscure reason best known to himself was strolling across the slip road from a highway joining another highway, even though there was no where at all for pedestrians to walk along in the vicinity for a good half a mile. It didn't help that the slip road was barely illuminated - despite the fact that major roadworks were taking place all along it. That's a typical feature of KL roads, by the way: you think you are driving on a major highway when it suddenly turns strangely minor, as if you've lost your way, when you're simply been following the only way to go.

But I must say, despite all the complaining above, this evening saw something of a minor triumph for us regarding journeying across the sprawling Malaysian capital. For the first time ever we were able to follow the directions of our GPS without once going wrong, taking us from our abode on Bukit Antarabangsa to the big IKEA outlet in Damansara. The feeling of actually knowing what we were doing and where we were going was pleasantly unfamiliar. Must try this more often.

Bad News

A brilliant cartoon/comic in today's Guardian concerning The United States of Plastic did little to restore cheerfulness to my person, which can only be a good thing given the scope of the environmental crisis we have created. I can't say I have any great, or even weak, ideas on how to tackle the problem, but if somebody else has I'm more than prepared to listen. Sometimes putting things into perspective can be troubling.

Still Moving

Now in Maison KL, having driven up here this afternoon. I surprised myself by managing most of the driving. To be honest, I wasn't at all sure I would be able to cope, given the levels of protest of which my back is capable at the moment, but the aches and pains involved remained this side of bearable, for which I am deeply thankful. In fact, the most uncomfortable part of the experience proved to be the hour or so on arrival getting the house shipshape. I'd forgotten just how much lugging round of various items is involved. Still, accomplishing the necessary is a way of fighting back, I suppose.

Entertainment

Just finished reading Jo Nesbo's The Snowman. I'd felt the need for something with narrative pace and a bit of mystery about it and heard enough good things about this particular bit of Nordic Noir to take the plunge. In the event I found the plot mildly preposterous but not so silly as to make me stop reading. But the level of unpleasant violence, particularly against women, with links to sexual obsession did make me wonder exactly why I'd chosen to entertain myself in this manner.

The problem with the whole serial killer genre is how essentially uninteresting the obsessive monsters on which it feeds, or thrives, turn out to be. Indeed, I suppose that's true of actual serial killers. The central premise that the world is an ugly sort of place leads inexorably to insistently shallow cynicism.

Entertaining

Quite a few visitors today scoffing, and rightly so, for it is eminently scoffable, Noi's grub. Even after all these years I'm not sure how she does the magic, but I'm very happy indeed to be spellbound.

Doing Something

No let-up from the pain in my back, or, to be more precise, the pain running down the left side of my body, centred upon the hip and the region just above this. Thinking about going to the doctor's again for another jab, but hoping the problem will mysteriously ease of its own accord, as has happened in the past.
 
Quite pleased with myself for doing all the cleaning in Hall planned for June in the last four days. It was necessary to grit my teeth (and then some) to accomplish this, but once started the process was not quite as painful as I thought it might be.

I remained baffled as to why keeping things in some sort of order is so satisfying - indeed, necessary - for me. It's extremely useful to know this, though, providing an odd sort of anchor in somewhat troubled times.

A Bit Partial

I'd strongly recommend Rob Young's Electric Eden to anyone interested in British music of the twentieth century, especially what we think of as folk music. It's a fascinating if somewhat partial account of a wide range of musical endeavour. Indeed, part of the fascination lies in just how personal an account it is. It was enjoyable to read enthusiastically detailed accounts of particular albums - like the early Incredible String Band stuff - but puzzling, though not in any bothersome way, as to why other seemingly worthy albums are given just brief nods, or ignored completely.

The essential thesis of the book - that a nostalgic drive to find once more, or somehow embody, a version of a lost paradise related in some sense to the landscape is central to the music of the British Isles - seems to me accurate and useful as a very loosely organising principle. And the loose organisation of Electric Eden I found delightfully relaxing. Above all, this music should be in some sense loose and fun. Actually there were more than a few examples of downright silliness involved on the parts of the various participants: always a good thing.

Waiting

We found ourselves in a queue today at the Starhub outlet at Vivo City. Forced to arrange a switch to fibre to receive our usual service, we've found it difficult to convince the company to come round and do the necessary for reasons that remain astonishingly opaque. Today we needed to provide proof that we do not inhabit business premises but actually live in an ordinary domestic apartment. You'd be surprised just how difficult it is to convince companies of this. It took us more than a year to satisfy Singtel that we're not a business, even though they were happily billing us as domestic users. Come to think of it, the billing thing is also true of Starhub.

As has regularly proved the case, as soon as we get to talk to an actual human being we are given a genuinely sympathetic listening ear. But when it takes over an hour for your queue number to appear, the irritation generated by just pointlessly waiting can seem close to overwhelming. But this is the way the modern world works and there's a wisdom in patience - and for making sure that you have a takeaway cup of tea with you as you sit there staring at the numbers. I do wish, though, that the air-conditioning in these outlets was a little less severe: I was freezing after 10 minutes.

By the by, the guy we eventually got to talk to was very helpful and it looks like we might have succeeded in convincing the company to keep on taking our money.

Time To Think

Tried to get on with some cleaning today and managed a bit, but still incapacitated to the point that much of the day was spent flat on my back trying to minimise the on-going discomfort caused by rebellious muscles. Actually this left me with considerable time to think about the world around me and I spent a fair amount of time following various developments in the news through various electronic sources.

I end the day feeling slightly more informed about what's going on, and considerably more alarmed.

Not According To Plan

Today I was supposed to swing into action cleaning all the books in Hall, finishing off the day with a trip to the gym. It was not to be, I'm afraid. A ferociously aching back precluded any of the fore-mentioned. The plans remain in place for another day, but I doubt that day will be anytime soon.

Others

Noi took command of the driving today as we made our way back to base. I'd been hoping for a fairly swift recovery for my strained back after getting the magic muscle relaxant jab on Friday, but this was not to be. Am struggling now, in fact, just sitting down and writing this.

Mind you, I'm not struggling as much as sister Maureen and brother-in-law John. John has contrived to scald his one remaining foot by pouring tea over it - don't ask - and his mobility is more limited than ever. Maureen fell over a weeks ago and painfully broke her ankle, requiring a couple of operations to try and put things right. But she also is still severely limited in terms of getting out of the house. This means they're dependent on John's daughter, Louise, for running errands for them.

They were complaining to me about all this when I phoned just now, but in a cheerfully miserable manner, which is a good sign. Funnily enough it made me feel almost pleased that my problem is so relatively unproblematic.

More Sad Stuff

Picked up a copy of Rob Young's book about England's visionary music Electric Eden in Books Actually the other day. I bought a copy for John Simpson a few years back, when we were in the UK at a time coinciding with his birthday, and I dipped into it on a subsequent visit, feeling quite envious that he had a copy and I didn't. Never expected to come across something so quintessentially English in this part of the world.

The early chapters dealing with English composers from the early twentieth century are particularly good, but I suppose at the heart of the book are the chapters covering the sort of folk/pop of the late sixties and early seventies. I'm reading these at the moment and learning a lot about musicians and their relationships with each other I've always been aware of but from afar, as it were. It's surprising how much of this speaks more of loss than of achievement. The segments on Sandy Denny and Nick Drake particularly leave something of a sour taste in the mouth. I must play some of their stuff when we get back to remind myself of what beauty they managed to give the world despite their frailties and the brevity of their careers.

Uncertainty

Got a jab of muscle relaxant and associated pills from the doctor at Alor Gajah this afternoon. But still not bouncing around. Hoping to recover in time to drive back on Sunday morning, but this is by no means a certainty. Funnily enough I seem to have recovered from the sore throat and sniffles that I assumed were harbingers of something much worse to come. The worse turned out to be something quite different - and even worse than the worse.

A Bit Sadder

Not bouncing back, I'm afraid. Not bouncing at all. Now my back is aching, for reasons I can't quite fathom as we've just installed a firm mattress in the room we're occupying. The Missus just pointed out how often my vacations are marked with such problems. Certainly it's interesting to note how true this is. Also irritating in the extreme.

A Bit Sad

I've been happily surprised in recent weeks over the fact that I haven't succumbed to illness when so many around me have. That happy state came to an end yesterday evening when my throat started to itch and my nose to run. Luckily I remained in reasonably functioning condition, well enough to drive up to Melaka earlier today, bringing along Fafa, who's flying off on a jaunt to Korea with her cousin Ayu from KLIA this very evening. Noi has gone with her, along with the rest of the family, to the airport to see the two off whilst I have remained at Mak's house, nursing a bit of a headache and feeling suitably sorry for myself.

I'm hoping to bounce back a bit tomorrow, but for the moment I'm enjoying having nothing to do for once except wrap myself in gentle melancholy.

Less Than Perfect

I remain puzzled as to why some students develop handwriting that gives every appearance of being designed to be unreadable. In cases where what's being written is close to nonsense there is at least some logic involved in a desire to disguise just how bad the work is. But I sometimes come across scripts which for the most part appear to be saying quite sensible things, yet are indecipherable enough to put this in doubt.

Do the kids doing this make the assumption that the reader at the other end will somehow be prepared to make the effort to wrest from what is in front of them the meaning that was intended? It would be nice to think that the average examiner has such patience. Nice, but extremely naïve, I'm afraid. When I find myself marking this kind of script, as I did with the very last of my load of May's marking, I feel sort of sad at not being able to match up to the expectations of the writer as the perfect reader. But they'll never quite know that, I suppose - and, hence, will never quite learn something that really might be very useful for them to know.

Some Actual Fun

Marked yet another batch of 30 scripts today. In fact, I completed the last one just 10 minutes ago. But since Noi and I also got out to enjoy a somewhat delayed Anniversary Dinner (featuring ice cream for afters) all was not lost. (And possibly a kg or 2 may have been gained.)

Still Not Much Fun

More marking today - another 30 scripts. Not a lot to enjoy in that. But managed to get out with Noi for a cuppa during the day, whilst purchasing some mutton. And we've just got back from a new place we've found at which to scoff prata, so the day has not been entirely wasted.

No Fun At All

Spent a significant part of the day marking scripts from the IB May examinations. The paper I'm marking for was set for a much later date than usual, and I'm facing a very tight deadline for clearing my designated load. The problem is, though, that it's just impossible to mark more than 30 scripts in a day without feeling completely brain-dead and even managing that number does unpleasant things to the psyche. But I did the necessary despite the attendant unpleasantness and, crucially, managed to give full and fair attention to each script through to the end.

It's salutary to think that what becomes an almost meaningless chore for the marker might have a profound effect on someone's future. Something one needs to remind oneself on dealing with each and every script.

Aging

You know you're old when the best part of going out is coming home.

It's Never Easy

Got to the gym this evening for the first time post-Raya. Thought I'd have quite an easy time without being concerned with having fasted during the day. Couldn't have been more wrong. Ran out of energy 15 minutes before the end of my stint. Only just kept going in desultory fashion. Figured out this was likely due to dehydration. The last five occasions I've been in the gym I'd just loaded up with liquid after breaking the fast. This time I'd neglected that aspect of preparation, thinking that after a day of drinking what I wanted when I wanted it just wasn't necessary. Now I'm pretty sure it was.

Funnily enough I'd been chatting about exercise with Hamza and Fuad after prayers on Hari Raya, thinking of myself in a quiet way as a bit of an expert. This evening's struggle certainly brought me down to earth.

Blessings

Hari Raya Puasa, Eid ul-Fitr; 1 Syawal 1440

11.00
Just back from prayers at the masjid down the road, followed by coffee with Hamzah, Fuad and Aiman. How odd it is to be drinking during the day. And how splendid.

15.30
Envelopes distributed and several cups of tea consumed. Off in a little while for the first of our visits, then we've a barbecue to contend with in the evening. This is indeed plenty.

19.00
Three houses visited and lots of salams delivered. And, indeed, to all who find themselves happily celebrating this day I wish: Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfithri - Eid Mubarak!

All Clear

30 Ramadhan, 1440

18.45
Now at Mak's house in Melaka. The final buka puasa due soon. Food already appearing on the table. A sense of ease in the air.

And we were blessed with the easiest of journeys earlier, sailing through the checkpoints on both sides. Much to be thankful for, indeed.

23.15
Prayers have been said for Mak, and the fast broken with much appreciation for the splendid grub provided and the fact that we'll be eating and drinking to our hearts' content on the morrow.

It's been a challenging month, which is as it should be. The rewards are more than plentiful.

In Readiness

29 Ramadhan, 1440

Furious preparations now underfoot for our departure to Melaka tomorrow morning. We'll be to-ing and fro-ing for the next couple of weeks, but there'll be no shortage of biscuits and other goodies at the ready to ease the journeys ahead:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alight

28 Ramadhan, 1440

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We enjoyed a bright and sweaty evening at Geylang yesterday. (Pictorial evidence above.) In contrast to this evening when we aborted a planned outing to a new eatery on Clementi Road due to a ferocious rainstorm. Proving that you never can tell, can you?

Going Back

27 Ramadhan, 1440

We were back in our stomping grounds of old in Geylang this morning, paying our zakat at Darul Arqam, after seeing my back doctor at the hospital nearby. The Ramadhan market was quiet, it being before noon, in contrast to how it's likely to be later this evening when we're going down there yet again for our first real visit of Ramadhan.

Inevitably I found myself reminded of previous visits, sometimes in what is now the far past. Yes, it's changed and, yes, somehow it contrives to stay the same. Much like ourselves, I suppose.