Hello Swine Flu!

I’ve had a ticklish throat for a couple of days. Yesterday, I was feeling quite tired with a slight headache. But no … it’s not swine flu. If you’ve got swine flu or normal flu, the effect is quite dramatic. Today, you’re perfectly fine and tomorrow you’re laid up in bed, feeling (if I recall from my last bout of flu several years ago) that you’re about to die!

I’ve read that over here there is a one in five chance of catching the virus. And if you’re got kids at school, which we have, then the chances are greater. So, hello Swine Flu, here I come! (The thought of it sends a piggish shiver down my spine)

Luckily, the effects are not as bad as first thought. Fairly mild actually. Headache, cold, body aches, fever. One of the teenage boys at Karate was down with it. He said it wasn’t too bad. But he’s healthy. Then again, the old and the young, seemed to get badly hit by this bug. There are a lot of contradictions out there.

As you know people have died from it and will continue to do so. Usually because of an underlying health problem. This includes obesity … so maybe for some of us it’s time for that diet. Diet or die, has a certain ring to it. My apologies, the horror writer in me is surfacing.

A couple of friends thought that it’s a good idea to deliberately catch swine flu now whilst it’s in its milder form. The idea is to get resistant to it, so that if the thing does become a real killer, then they may escape the death sentence.

The good news is that the vaccine is being made. Unfortunately, it’s still a couple of months away. Hopefully, the virus won’t turn real nasty before that time.

Know anyone with swine flu yet?

–> By the way, MPH Online, in its support for local authors, and are currently offering “History of Malaysia: A Children’s Encyclopedia” at a promotional price plus a FREE poster. Go check it out!

Who was Frank McCourt?

I met Frank McCourt several years ago within the pages of his childhood autobiography Angela’s Ashes. It is indeed a wonderful, funny and moving book about his hard childhood growing up in Ireland.

Whilst Ray Kroc is often cited as an example that it’s never too late to start a successful business (he was essentially the founder of McDonald’s) since he started the business in his 50s, Frank McCourt is often cited as an example that it’s never too late to start writing. The author published his best selling book in his 60s. So there … you’re never too old!

Frank McCourt died a week ago. I was fortunate enough to hear a radio interview yesterday that was replayed on ABC Classic FM.

One thing he mentioned was a seven-course Irish meal. “Wow,” I thought, “this must rival an 8-course Chinese dinner?” He then said, and I’m sure with a huge grin on his face, that the seven-course Irish meal was a 6 pack of beer and a potato!

What wonderful Irish wit!

The other thing he mentioned was writing requires simplicity and clarity. And you need to be a story teller too. He said he learnt all of this when he was teaching teenagers in New York.

He sounded like a very nice man.

Frank McCourt, rest in peace.

My BFM Radio Interview

On my last trip back to KL, I was interviewed by BFM radio.

It was great fun ,,,

Shazmin, the DJ, did a great job and I was made to feel very comfortable.

To listen to it, just click here.

One day I’ll learn how to insert the media player (if that’s what you call it) here. I tried embed the podcast by pasting it but the html just disappeared every time I tried to publish it. One day, I’ll find out …

At the moment we’re moving furniture around at home, particularly the children’s rooms. We felt like we needed a change. It’s also a good opportunity to declutter, to get rid of unnecessary stuff. I read somewhere that all that unnecessary stuff we hoard gives rise to negative energy.

Mostly, I find that change is good. That’s why we go on holidays, just to have a change from our normal lives.

Here’s a photo of me in Hyde Park …

I like the David Bowie song “Changes”.

Do you like change?

Who was Nadra?

I read yesterday that Bertha Hertogh passed away.

Who was she?

You may well ask. This tale is half a century old but remains poignant today.

Just in case you haven’t heard her story, here it is :

Because of poverty and hardship during the Second World War, a Dutch woman in Java gives her 5-year-old daughter, Maria, to a Malay woman for adoption. The Malay woman raises the girl as a Muslim and later relocates to Kemaman, Terengganu. Eight years later, when Maria is thirteen, her Dutch parents, after discovering the whereabouts of their daughter, now want her back.

One commentator wrote:

“Who will lose their daughter in this heart-wrenching case? Will it be the Dutch parents who were forced to give her up because of the hardship of the war or will it be the Malay woman who treated her as her own daughter for eight years? Whoever wins, we know one side will suffer and so don’t be surprised to be told that no judge or experienced lawyer will have the gall to say that the law is fair. Justice and fairness are not the same thing. In case you don’t know the full facts of the case and intend to read the [The Nadra Tragedy by Haja Maideen], I shall not reveal who ultimately gains custody of Maria Hertog or Nadra, to use her Muslim name. But I will say that this is a tragedy in the true sense of the word. Nobody wins, everyone loses, everyone is hurt. The fact that eighteen die in the consequent rioting only underscores the tragedy.”

In fact, the judge in Singapore gave judgment in favour of Nadra’s Dutch parents and so the girl was taken away from her Malay foster mother to live in Holland with her biological parents.

As a grown up Nadra said that her happiest times was when she was growing up in Malaysia. The case became a political and religious one, but for me it is the human one that is the most touching. I understand that her life story is being made into a movie. I hope it’s a good one.

History has a lot to teach us. It certainly repeats itself.

But are we willing to learn?

Victor Hugo’s House

On our last day in Paris, we visited Victor Hugo’s house. It is in the Marais district at the Place des Vosges, said to be one of the most symmetrical squares in any city. There was a small ticket counter but entry was free, though a printed ticket was still required and up the old grand staircase we went …

You may know Victor Hugo as the author of the novel Les Misérables, which became a modern-day popular musical. He was also the author of Notre-Dame de Paris (The Hunchback of Notre Dame) which was published in 1831 which also became a much-loved Disney cartoon feature. One consequence of the novel was to bring about the restoration of the cathedral which today is a “must-see” in the city of lights.

Victor Hugo lived here from 1832 to 1848. In the apartment are collections of drawings, paintings, and documents. There is a room filled with Chinese furniture and ornaments. There appears to be a “rigidity” about the household, but that was how people of means lived two centuries ago. Victor Hugo did not always live here for he later spent, due to his political views, several years in exile in Jersey, and finally settled with his family on the channel island of Guernsey.

After saying farewell to Victor Hugo, we went back to the flat we had rented, collected our luggage and boarded to Eurostar back to London. (Where we later strolled down Portobello Road and the house George Orwell lived! More about him in another post …)

I Wrote A Letter

I recently found out an old friend’s address from another friend. Well actually both pals are old school mates from 27 years ago. I also discovered, and it really made me laugh, was that my old buddy did not “do computers”.

What does this mean? He, I assume, does not use computers of any kind. No word processing. No spreadsheets and certainly no internet. That means no email and you can forget about Facebook and Twitter.

How refreshing it is to find someone who doesn’t use computers!

Does this guy belong to another age, I hear you ask, one not far removed from the realm of dinosaurs? I don’t think so. It’s a matter of choice. Why follow the crowd? Why bunny hop in the same direction? Why fall off the cliff like so many lemmings? Exactly what this metaphorical cliff is I can’t tell you.

Anyway, I wrote my friend a letter. I saw black ink tangling its way across a page. My handwriting didn’t seem too bad. It was wonderful to pen such a letter. I can’t recall the last time I had done so. Perhaps it was in the days before email. (I think I sent my first email across the internet around 1997 and the first web page I downloaded was the Star online which took many minutes to appear).

The letter will get there in about a week or so. Hopefully, I may get a reply in 3 weeks. This is indeed something to look forward to. No instant communication. No instant gratification. This is real snail mail. Time itself slows.

Do you have any friends that “don’t do” computers?