Hold My Hand

When we were small, parents would hold our hands wherever we went. To the shops, across the road and sometimes even to the loo. 

As we grew up into toddlers, young children, adolescents and young adults, the hand-holding disappeared bit by bit until one fine day, we suddenly realise that that special clasp of hands - the very one which we yearned for its protectiveness and warmth just not too long ago - is no more.

Isn't it about time that we started holding our parents' hands again?

My Inner Child

Err.....

Mum likes to tell me how difficult a child I was - if I can ever be called one. To the best of her memory, I was 'the boy who wanted to be an adult before his time' (in fact, she still repeats it now on several occasions). 

I was the boy who wanted his own room at an age when others still slept with their parents.

I was the boy who would rather learn to wash the dishes and do the laundry than hire a new maid when the last one got married.

I was the boy who would never smile and have a perpetual frown on his face.

I'm going to have to find a different inner child to get in touch with for my current paediatrics posting.

Who Told You That?

A little bird squirrel told me that the scholarship is coming in tomorrow.

That squirrel had better be right. My pockets are about as dry as the wit of your average Brit.

Note to self: remember to squirrel away some money before splurging the rest on toys....errr..I meant books. Yes, that's it. Paediatrics text books!

200 Quid For This Squid

Looking forward to good times

For those of us who have spent all their lives with their feet cemented firmly onto dry land, the offer of going out to sea may sound like an exciting - and dare I say romantic? - idea. And why shouldn't it give off such an impression? Did Captain Jack Sparrow not have the adventure of a lifetime battling some squid-faced chap who pursued him relentlessly across the seven seas? Was Russel Crowe not dashing as the captain of the HMS Surprise (I wonder what kind of surprise) relentlessly pursuing some French ship to 'the far side of the world'? And who hasn't heard of Blackbeard The Pirate? Granted, his head getting chopped off and hung from the Maynard's bowsprit isn't exactly what you'd call romantic, but it sure was exciting, wasn't it?

Actually, the truth could not be any farther than that, and I'm not just talking about some squid-faced dude going after your arse. The truth is, unless you are a merman/mermaid or were born with gills on the front of your chest, going out to sea is a very dizzying experience that will most likely leave you in a state of constant desire to toss your cookies overboard. Plus, you will need to pay a sum of money for all your troubles at the end of the trip.

See the bunting with the string at the back? That's your toilet door for you.

So the next time you are inclined to say 'let's go and catch some squid', do yourself a favour and just catch some from a nearby wet market. Take it from someone who tossed some cookies (and a few slices of bread with kaya too) overboard during his recent trip to sea.

Tell Me That I'm Wrong

For all of my cockiness and humbuggery, I humbly admit that I am not one of the best diplomats that you will come across during your lifetime. If you send me for negotiation talks to call for a ceasefire in say Sri Lanka, between the 'freedom fighters' and the government, I would probably succeed instead in getting more civilians being kidnapped as hostages or getting shot in the head. Yes, I am that bad.

Also, I am not the kind of person that you would want to meet on a first date. Chances are, I'd offend you at the drop of a hat - never mind the fact that I won't be wearing one to the date in the first place. In fact, I dare say that I have offended or at the very least got on the nerves of one person more than I would have liked it to be.

As a rebellious, angry, emotional teenager with a bone to pick with any form of authority teenager, I would have rather walked the plank into a sea full of sharks - or anchovies, preferably - rather than admit that I was in the wrong. 'What is bloody wrong with 'im? Tis not my fault he dinna git wot I meant! Nae shall I apologise!', I fancy myself barking in a thick Scottish brogue that would have definitely made Sir Sean Connery beam in pride.

Sidenote: do Scots talk like that? Any Scotsmen here to clarify the matter?

But it's true that with age comes wisdom - or at least to those who pray for it. I have slowly seen the folly of my ways and learned that no good comes out of thinking that you're always right. That would explain why I haven't become a politician yet.

So yes. These days I am very much open to asking others what have I done wrong and apologising. I find it settles the problem much quicker without any sticky residue. The only problem is - are people willing to be equally open in telling me what I did wrong?

That Competitive Edge

As I was driving the car to fetch my dad just now, I turned on the radio because I do not rather fancy driving in silence. Well, that is not particularly true since I actually do like driving in silence - especially when I am alone - because that way, I can give my full attention to what's ahead on the road. Until I doze off in the middle of driving, of course.

Anyway, I turned on the radio and there was this advertisement for a certain brand of junk food on air. Never mind how silly it sounded when the person talking suggested that putting that brand of snack in between two slices of white bread makes for a really good way to relax after a hard day's work. If you ask me, putting snacks in between two slices of white bread makes for a really good way to waste two perfectly eatable slices of white bread which could have instead been smothered with mayonnaise and eaten together with cheese and lettuce. But that's just me.

However, it wasn't the notion that snacks can be made healthier by eating them together with white bread that got me chuckling. It was instead the competition put up by the manufacturer that asked listeners to send in their wackiest shot while eating the said brand of snack.

In my books, this is - without doubt - a winner.

I find this very ticklish mainly for two reasons - (1) I started imagining what kind of facial expressions people would put on to win and (2) I imagined what kind of facial expression I'd put on to win, knowing the fact that I have absolutely no luck whatsoever in competitions.

I swear it's true - when it comes to competitions, my Lady Luck seems to have ditched me in favour of some other guy who's probably better looking, is financially better off and has the build of Hugh Jackman playing the role of Wolverine. Well, I hope that she gets torn apart by his adamantium claws by accident.

If ever I were to have my own competition, I'd make sure all the rules would give me a 101% chance of winning:

1. Only one participant per competition.
2. Said participant must be the owner of this blog.
3. To be eligible for the grand prize, the participant should have written at least one entry in the said blog anytime in between then and now.

And just to be doubly sure, participant must have had a really bad history of losing in previous competitions prior to this one.