quarterisation has commenced

If it weren't so time consuming and hard, it would be quite funny actually.  The packers arrive on Monday. I have to make the insurance / packing list.
Because we are going to the land of the paranoid, where there is nothing, nothing, nothing worse than chewing gum and DVD's (as we don't do the drug /weapons thing and we're planning on a mega party to end it all so that there's no alcohol left, so that puts us at least a little in the clear), I am required to make a list of every single DVD we own.  WTF.

Anyway, yesterday I started on the quarterisation process.  My spelling check says the word doesn't exist. Well it does in this house.  I take everything in a room / area / subject matter, put it all on the floor and then bin / box / give away 1/4 of it.  Actually since my kids are doing fractions at school this would be a good exercise for them. Yesterday was the turn of my clothes, shoes and handbags.  I don't have time to even blog about what I was thinking as I was doing it.  My favourite shoes ever (the Moschino ladybug shoes), my best handbag.  How Bally, formerly my favourite shoe / bag brand has become overprice and under quality. etc. etc.  How I managed to buy a pair of shoes a few months back that I've not worn yet and one shoe is size 37 and one is size 38 (???? mindfulness not my strong point right now)

Today I'm going to start with children's' books.  Would it be bad of me to give my helper the laptop and ask her to do the DVD list?  Is there some scanning software that would do it for me?  This is beyond ridiculous. We don't even have any porn, that's how sad / staid / boring we are.

padding

I've had the movers around to give a quote.  During the course of our conversations, the one guy was explaining in detail how he was going to put padding on all the rough corners, and then wrap the fragile things in a layer of tissue followed by bubble wrap to make sure no harm came to it.

It suddenly dawned on me that my extreme and sudden weight gain may have something to do with this whole process. I'm padding the vulnerable bits with an bit extra and then adding some bubble to insulate the soul from this all.

It doesn't help that artistic girlfriend has just sent me a couple of emails after about 6 months of silence of what she's gone through in terms of depression and loneliness and helplessness after her move to the USA. I'm not talking about a whimpy marginal lady now. I'm talking about a strong sociable, sporty, together lady who has moved nearly as often as I have.  She laments "why does it seem that it gets worse rather than better with each successive move?  Why haven't I become better at this?"

And I can tell you, that to the outside world it probably looks like she's been doing just fine. Getting involved with the kids schools, going to the gym, making new acquaintances, putting on a brave face. She mentioned the countless playdates she's hosted at her home.  She's not sitting around moping and feeling sorry for herself. But she says she's coming out of a 6 month long depression.  I'm sure she doesn't admit to everyone how hard it's been.

And no, neither of us are moving to Syria or Afghanistan.  But it doesn't make it easier to move.

acculturisation

I've just spent a long weekend in Singapore. One which can be more characterised by the long list of things we didn't do as opposed to what we actually did.  Didn't included not going to the night safari, universal studios, etc. etc. and did included lolling around the swimming pool and beach playing piggy in the middle with an old soccer ball in the water with the kids.  And reading the "Straits Times".  Is that a window into the psyche of Singapore or is it not?  I don't know.  Someone please tell me. But I find things rather peculiar.  Today the couple of things that struck me.

A six year old child falls from a 5th floor window since no parents / grandparents are around when he wakes up as they all thought he'd sleep late (obviously a very different type of 6 year old to the type I've ever had).  Long sad story which in the concluding paragraph states: "Mr. Heng said Marson was never a difficult child to take care of, although he was picky with food.  We haven't told his sister yet ... even though the fought sometimes, they were very close," he said.

WHAT THE F?  Your kid dies and this is your final word on it to the newspapers?? Are you insane? He was a picky eater?

Anyway, further I have to report that the things that seem to cut it in Singapore include triumph over adversity, completing exams despite illness, NOT letting your helper carry your knapsack if you're doing military service and having your mother home-sew your blouse if you're an up and coming politician.  And did I mention, if you ever have your name put in the newspaper for anything, including your gap year plans, not only is your name mentioned, but also that of your siblings and your parents and exactly what they are doing / studying, and whether they are upper / lower etc. middle class etc. Spooky.

I have an idea that this process of getting to grips with Singapore is going to take a tad longer than in HK.  I mean we all gripe about the SCMP, but at least all they do is airlift whole articles written by more intelligent and insightful people than themselves.  There isn't such an obvious party line, except to fill the necessary pages and cock an occasional snoot at the mainland and make sure everyone is a bit gripey about their lot.

My son on the other hand is delighted with Singapore.  As we're in the taxi on the way home past the container terminals, high rises etc etc. he starts ranting.  "What is this with Hong Kong? The minute they see a blade of grass they pour concrete over it.  In Singapore you go to and from the airport and you see flowers and trees and more flowers and more plants.  Here it's just concrete, concrete, concrete"
To which I said, that it was rather impressive, wasn't it, all those container terminals.  He just huffed.  So I told him to drop a little letter to Donald and see where that got him. He does have a point though...

yesterday

am. hospital for x-ray, child's suspected broken finger. Not. All OK.
mini bus, university,  Passed test rather well, Chinese floating in around on top of me, maybe I stay
Lunch.  Life, kids, school, Karen Armstrong, peace and reconciliation, Frankl, Kathmandu, learning, education, sense of self,
Beautiful day,
Evening. hustle kids to airport. Free. gorgeous sunset,   Junk trip. Shopping, boarding schools, the royal family, po toi usual, copious amounts of wine,

I feel like a chameleon,

I love this place.