Singapore 2 - Lebanon 0… Woohoo!

It has been quite an interesting day for me yesterday.

I’ve never been a big fan of the ’22 men after one ball’ game, but I had followed the Malaysia Cup back in the old days, just out of national pride. Can’t really explain it, just feel very ‘Singaporean’ to be supporting the Singapore team ^_^

After Singapore withdrew from the Malaysia Cup, there really wasn’t much point for me to follow the game. I don’t know which S-League team to keep track of, and nope, I don’t watch EPL/Champions’ Leagues, or whatever.

Strangely enough, it was during my time in UK when I started reading the online news about Singapore Lions again. I read about the ASEAN Football Championship (or was it the Tiger cup?) and it was a proud day for this overseas Singaporean when I read that Singapore had won the cup. And it was a bonus to find out that we have a cute hulk as our goalkeeper… *grin*

So I guess you could call me a closet football fan?

Then again, I still don’t watch the ‘holy grail’ of football (EPL) even when BBC was showing them live. I prefer to watch Doctor Who, Top Gear, or whatever criminal shows that was on.

Or I’m just a blind Singaporean following what the ‘national pride of the month’. Whatever.

Just so happened, I read an article on the newspaper yesterday, informing that there would be a World Cup Qualifier between Singapore and Lebanon later in the evening. I thought: since I am free in the evening, and I like to think of myself as a Lions supporter, why not?

I had thought the National Stadium was to be torn down to make way for the new Sports Stadium when I was in the UK, and I was lamenting that I did not have a chance to bid this old building goodbye. I had spent some ‘interesting’ times here in the grand Old Lady, back in 1997, when I was part of the organising team for the SAF Parade (Goodness, has it been nearly TEN years? Darn, I am old now).

Imagine my surprise when I read that there was to be a national match there yesterday night. So, off I went. After work, caught the bus to Tiong Bahru MRT, had a bit of dinner, and to the stadium I go.

I have to admit, I am quite excited about going to the National Stadium to watch a national match. Watching football at the national level in the stadium is going to be so different from the military parade I was involved in back then. For one thing, the audience this time had come to the stadium on their own accord. (Those poor ah-ping-kor (army boys) who was ‘invited’ to attend the 1997 SAF Parade in the Stadium, you know what I meant)

And it was with much pride that I sat among the Lions supporters. Although I was there by myself, I didn’t feel alone at all. I could listen in to all the funny ah-beng comments people around me made of the other team, and I didn’t feel bad about booing to the very theatrical ‘performances’ our friendly rivals shown on the field. It was just so much fun. And there were a few occasions when we had all stood up as one, to cheer for a goal, or groaned collectively when the ball just flew past the net. I never felt more Singaporean then the times when I stood among the other Singaporeans rooting for the home team.

With regards to the details of the match, I’m afraid I can’t really say very much, mainly because I just follow the ball up and down the field, but I can’t tell you what is the formation, who is the striker, or the left wing was free or not. But, I can tell you for sure, Lionel Lewis is very cute leh…

(I still don’t understand why he was given a yellow card for that goal kick, I really did see him do anything wrong. But it was a rare day when he nearly lost his temper at the referee. Luckily, he was stopped by his team-mates, and the half-time whistle was blown)

Although I am very, very proud of the Singapore Lions for yesterday’s victory, but I honestly think we have a bit of work to go before we’re anywhere near the EPL standard. Even this superficial observer can tell the difference between the EPL match and yesterday’s match.

In the second half of the match, I could tell our players were tired. They are not running around as much, they don’t catch the ball as aggressively, nor do they try as hard to regain possession. I guess the Singapore Lions still have to work on their stamina before we’re anywhere near the standards of EPL?

I know there are some people that had told me, what’s the point of supporting the Lions when their level of playing is so low? But then again, why should we go to support some team that is playing halfway across the planet, stay up late into the night to watch some game in some other timezone, when we could follow our own teams? Precisely because our standard of playing is not high, so the teams need our support, to motivate them to play better. (Okay, okay, I’m a supporter of the underdogs, especially if it involves national pride, sue me.)

Playing standards aside, it was a really good experience for me to watch a home game in the National Stadium. I had so much fun being part of the Lions supporters, kudos to the uncles and aunties who probably shouted themselves hoarse trying to get the Kallang roar going. I think I will be going for more of these games, even though I still ‘catch no ball’ about the game itself. The pleasure of sitting amongst the supporter to support our home team is reward enough.

Home at last… or am I?

It has been nearly 2 weeks since I’ve been back. In some ways, it felt like I’ve never really been away. I can still find my way around the island. I know what bus to take to go where. I know how much a bowl of wanton noodles cost. I still lapse into Singlish with friends. I still linger in bookstores and CD shops. And funnily enough, I still go around with a jacket/cardigan. And I still prefer going around by myself. Nothing’s really changed.

But in some ways, I feel I have changed. I can’t tell exactly what, but I know I had changed. Although I still think cars are useless in a city area like Singapore, but now I am harbouring a secret wish to own an MX-5. And houses are ridiculously expensive here, I am starting to plan a bit (yeah, I KNOW I am growing old when I start making such plans), telling myself to not spend like there’s no tomorrow and put some money aside to buy my own place.

My training experience in the United Kingdom has been such a wonderful learning experience for me. I’ve learnt that I prefer to be myself. Tee-hee.

For most of my life, I’ve always felt like a particularly fat square peg wedged in a small round hole. The fact that I am BIGGER (okay, fatter) and louder than my peers, probably didn’t help. In family gatherings, I have lots of aunties telling me to be more ‘lady-like’ and try not to be so boisterous and not laugh so loud. Compared to me, my cousins all looked like delicate dolls.

In school, I’m what the teachers would describe as late-bloomer. I was never interested in school work, and predictably I didn’t do well in school. And in the school I was in, that was bad news, and they made sure you knew exactly how bad you were.

I never really felt like I really belonged. People never really accepted me for who I am, always trying to fit sterotypes on me. Predictably, I don’t have many friends, and the rare few who accepted my quirkiness, they remain my friends for life.

I supposed after a while, I got tired of trying to fit myself into the social moulds expected of me, and so go all out to break the rules. The more lady-like they expect me to be, the louder I would laugh.(I draw the line at cussing, that’s not not lady-like, that’s plain rude) The more people try to assume a sense of superiority over me, the more stupid I try to be, just to spite them.

It was fun living life on that edge, but I supposed, deep down, I do harbour a secret wish of being accepted.

So when I arrived in the UK 18 months ago, it was with much trepidation. I don’t know how I will be received, and I don’t know if my style of being will be accepted (you know, the English is known for being formal, prim and proper, stiff upper lip and all…)

But I needn’t have worried. As it turned out, the people I met in the UK all accepted my quirkiness as part of me. I may not have followed the mould of the ‘normal’ Singaporean, but they liked me all the more for it. My loud bursts of laughter seemed to amuse my UK friends. They tolerate my outrageous attempts at dirty talking and laugh with me (not at me) for my random chatters.

Everyone had a role to play and we all did our best, that was it.

I don’t have to be the best, and we were not competing amongst ourselves. We worked hard, and we played even harder. Whenever I needed help, people who drop whatever they were doing to help me. The senior operators never threw their weight around (even if they did, no one really took notice anyway), and the junior operators worked hard to pick up the skills (or risk being laughed at by the Evil One).

We fooled around, we shared dirty jokes (oh yeah, the Beastmaster and I entertained the office with our sometimes R-rated conversations), we flirt outrageously (*wink wink* baby, you know who I’m talking about), I teased the ‘Englishman’ (who is actually Welsh), I caress butts (and even gave ranking of who had the best tush…) and I drove them crazy with my ‘Are we there yet?’ every other minute.

It was fun, proper, proper fun.

I don’t know about office politics, or back-stabbing, but I knew we had treated each other with sincerity. And probably for the first time in my life, I felt accepted. I felt like I was home.

Which presented me with a dilemma, I knew who I am, I know I love Chinese music and I know I love Singapore. But yet, here I am in the UK, away from everything I am familiar with, and I feel myself thinking about having a future in this country. I’m not sure about the country itself, but I loved the people I worked with there, and I feel that I can really be myself there.

Sure, I didn’t have the best of luck while I was there, but the people I had met there made up for all the unpleasantness. If I were to choose again, I won’t have given up the chance to meet all these people, even if I have to go through all the bad things again. Because they had made it all worthwhile.

Which brings me to the question, would I go back to work again, now? People had asked me, and I had said frankly, I would, only if the people I had worked with are there. There’s really no point me going back there, if they are not there, because it had been all these people that had made it so much better for me. I am now sure of what I want to be because of them.

Doesn’t matter what the future hold, right now, I just want to thank all these people who had made my life so much better. My outlook in life is so much different and brighter all thanks to them.

I had said before, but I still want to say it. A big thank you to everyone in Slough. I love you all, and I am missing you all. I will work hard here, so as not to disappoint all of you. I will try to be myself, as you guys have allowed me to be.

Till we meet again.

Road trip… to nowhere.

I went for a road trip recently. It was a completely impulsive decision, on a thursday, I thought, ‘I have a super-long weekend coming up, what should I do?’ Then a little voice in my head squeaked, ‘Road Trip!’. And so I did.

I had absolutely no idea where I wanted to go. I would go to Wales again, but I had been there so many times, my colleagues are starting to think I have a secret Welsh lover… hmm… Maybe, but let’s not tell anyone, shall we?

Instead, I went onto the budget hotel Travelodge’s website, and looked at their last minute deals. I decided I am just going to head North, and that was it. I looked for the northernmost branch the hotel chain has (which would be in Scotland, somewhere) and looked for any cheap deals there. Kinross, it was.

Then after deciding on my ‘endpoint’, I just have to find a pit stop on the way up, and another pitstop on the way back, and I am sorted! I looked around, and randomly clicked on ’somewhere on the map between Kinross and Slough’, and ended up with Blackpool, for the route up, and Leeds on the way back.

With the accomdations settled, I just had to rent a car for the duration, and go home after work to pack my bag, and I am off.

And so I did. I go the car from the car rental company, a little Fiat Punto. (I had asked for a Ford Ka, but that was what they gave me… ^_^|||) Frankly, I’m not too impressed with that car, I could have floored thee accelerator, and got nowhere in a hurry. (Note to self: if ever I want to buy a car, it will NEVER be a Fiat Punto)

With a rough idea of where to drive in my head, I set off. It all became even more fun, when somewhere 2 hours into the drive, I realised I had left the map I had printed off Googlemap at home. Okay, not exactly the most auspious of starting, but… hey, now I really get to go freehand.

I knew which motorway I had to follow, to a certain point, then after that, I would check the road directories on sale in WHSmith everytime I get to a rest stop, just to figure out which direction I am to go next.

And I am off, I don’t really care where I was going. I was just enjoying the drive, with my favourite music bellowing from the CD speakers, and not so much a care in the world. I’m off, and I am free.

There are some people I know will freak out at such travelling. I had travelled with people who planned their every move, where they are going and what route they are taking. To tell the truth, that really drive me crazy. Sometimes, I don’t really care what I am supposed to be seeing, I just want to enjoy the ride, not the end destination.

Sometimes, its not about getting there, but more about how you get there.

I drove and drove. Outside, the weather was glorious, quite a bit of sun (even in winter), and the sky looked really beautiful. And perhaps because I was driving in the opposite direction from the communting traffic on a saturday, the motorways were relatively quiet, and I don’t have to ‘overtake’ so many people, not that the Punto can do that too often anyway.

I drove when I can, stop to eat when I get hungry, and continued on again. It was quite Forrest Gump-ish, but I can understand why he ran from coast to coast, and back again. Because he wanted to.

A part of me felt a bit guilty, for leaving such a ‘carbon footprint’ on a whim, but the part that had came up with the road trip idea quickly sat on it and stuff it out of sight.

On my way from Blackpool to Kinross, I passed by the Lake District. I took the long route right round the area, to admire the beautiful hills and scenery. When I finally settled into the hotel room in Kinross, after being on the road for more than six hours, it was with great sadness. Because tomorrow, I would have to start the journey back.

It had been such a wonderful drive for me, I am almost reluctant to turn my car around and point it in the direction I had come from. I wish I could just drive on forever, but even after many hours, the road will have to come to an end eventually.

Finally, another update… NOTHING!

Actually, I have nothing to update. The stupid broadband at my place is still down. Or rather, they are telling me, ‘The computer system is indicating that the system is trying to process your request (ie, terminate the account), and so there’s nothing I can do here’. Wonderful.

Everything in limbo, waiting for ’something’ to happen. URGH!

Simple. Ha!

I really don’t know what I want anymore.

I just want to live my life quietly, but of late I have realised, ‘quiet’ is not the exact description I would give to my current state of affairs.

Out of no fault of mine, the phone line at my place was disconnected.  And because I have a 12-month contract on broadband, I have not choice but to have to get the phone line reconnected. Which I expect should be quite simple, right?

Apparently, BT (British Telecom) doesn’t do ‘Simple’. The phone company promised it would be reconnected in a few days’ time. That was more than a month ago. I had called the company so many times, and each time I was put on hold for more than half an hour. (Now, if I have too much free time on my hands, I know how to amuse myself, call BT’s engineering line)

I tried to call their customer service line: “Sorry, I’m unable to help you here, you have to call this number xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx” (That was the same number that keep people on hold for hours, literally)

I tried the online customer service: “Thank you for your feedback, our customer service officer will get back to you shortly” (That was a month ago, maybe even longer, guess BT’s officers are still trying to learn how to spell to reply to my email?)

I even tried writing in: “Thank you for your letter, your complaint has now been directed to the relevant agency who will look into the matter.” (The reply came back 3 weeks after I sent my letter, and that was I-don’t-know-how-days-ago)

Finally, I had given up on all hopes of getting through to anyone. (All that just to get a bloddy line connected!)

So I call the sales line again, and requested for a new line connection, instead. And they did all the same things again, asking for my details, and what-not. Finally, just before the deal went through, that bright person on the end of the line suddenly say, “Oh there was a pending order on that same line.” Really?

And guess what, all the hours I had spent to try to get to someone about that order, could have been saved by calling the sales line, to re-order a new line!!!!!

Finally, after such a long wrangling with the stupid phone company, the phone line was finally connected. Now I have to call Sky Broadband to tell them my line is up.

Guess what? According to the ‘nice person’ on the other end of the line, I have to wait 10 days for them to request to BT to ‘disconnect’ the broadband on the old line, and another 10 days to reactivate broadband on the line (which happened to be the same number!). And get this: They can sent out the disconnection request to BT then, but I have call back to Sky to request the reactivation! (Apparently, the 486 computer they are using can process the disconnection and reconnection order at the same time)

O.M.G

What can I do? I am forced to call the company again, after the so-called 10-day period for BT to disconnect the broadband (which should have been due on 19 Oct). I called again yesterday (22 Oct) and guess what? The disconnection order is still PENDING.

Oh Dear God.

All I wanted was to reconnect a darn phone line and broadband, which I don’t even use. The broadband was on the request of my housemate.

So goes my simple life.

Quotable Quotes

Doubt thou, the starres are fire
Doubt that the sunne doth move
Doubt truth to be a liar
But never doubt I loue
-Hamlet, Act 2 Scene 2

To Wales, with love

So many places to go, yet I still like to go to the same old places.
Quite a few of my friends kept asking me why I kept returning to Wales, and somehow the explanation of ‘I love the Welsh coast and coastline’ just doesn’t suffice. Maybe ‘I’ve got to go meet a bloke there’ is a bit more acceptable to them?

Sounds funny, doesn’t it? I could be trekking my way overland every week to meet a guy, and that would be okay, but I can’t travel to Wales to enjoy the scenery?

Why the heck do I have to explain myself anyway?

ANYWAY.

I’m back, from another trip to the Rhossili Bay. Can’t explain it, but I really like Rhossili Bay. There’s something about the tranquillity of the place, even though the wind was howling right across the cliff face. I had stood facing the wind. The wind so strong I could actually lean into the wind, and not fall off the cliff, the last time I was there.

I had sat there at the top of the cliff and watched the tides go out. There’s a magical air about the way the waves slowly relax its grip on the coast, and slowly but surely the land beneath the waves slowly appear. Nothing even looked different about each wave that hits the shore, but it must be retreating, or submerged causeway wouldn’t be surfacing.

I must have had spent hours there, sitting in the cold, biting wind, watching, just watching.

I think modern society had everyone bustling about, worrying about where the next meal, worrying about the next paycheck, worrying about the next holiday. Everyone’s rushing, to get to work on time, rushing for lunch, rushing for meetings, for the next deadline… rush, rush, rush. Everyone’s rushing. How many of us had the time to stop and enjoy the tides going out? How many of us had stop in our track to admire the rainbow in the sky? How many of us gave ourselves a rest, to enjoy the morning breeze, the autumn change of colours?

I certainty hoped I would never lose the child in me that lets me marvel at the golden leaves on the trees, and still could be mesmerised by the waves of the ocean. Sure, it’s always there, but today’s waves would never be the same as those that had crashed yesterday.

So when I went to Wales again, I had to go back to Rhossili.

This time when I got there, the tides were already out. The causeway was exposed, and I had just enough time to make my way to Worm’s Head and back again.

Worm’s Head looked so far away from where I stood on the cliff, but when you start walking out there, it ain’t half as far as it looked. I had gone onto the big island on Worm’s Head last time, and this time, I went to the little one (aka the tip of the ‘Worm’s Head’)

I even went as far as the Devil’s Bridge, and walked right over it. Scary it was, looking down and the sight of the waves crashing onto the ragged rocks below.

On the way to Worm’s Head, I had to walk across the once submerged causeway, and it was another surreal experience. The surface was covered with mussels or some other crustaceans, and I had to crunch my way through thousands upon thousand of them. I think they are still alive, with their shells tightly clamped together. I wonder if mussels can think, and what do they think of us human treading on them at every low tide?

——————

The drive across Wales, from Cardiff to the Gower was beautiful. Although I missed the times when I could just sit back and enjoy the scenery (can’t do that while driving, you’ll miss the turning, or worse!). But I really enjoyed the drive along the highways and the drive through countryside. I think I am starting to understand why people like driving so much. And if I ever live in a country like the UK, maybe I may get a car of my own. It certainly saved quite a bit of time, if the places I wanted to go didn’t have any public transport, or have buses that run infrequently.

I don’t think I would get a car in Singapore, because everything is just so conveniently served by public transport. Besides, I really don’t fancy driving in busy traffic, and never subscribe to the ‘environmental cost for the sake of convenience/face’ belief.

Driving across countryside, on the other hand, is actually quite relaxing. I’d admit I had seen too many traffic accidents arising from speeding that I don’t to drive above the speed limit. Nevertheless, it was quite a scenic, leisurely drive across the Welsh countryside.  And the little car that I had rented was just the right size for me, nothing too fancy, or too petrol-guzzling…

The drive to Rhossili Bay and Pembrokeshire, across the M4 expressway was quite smooth, and I didn’t get lost. (I got lost on the smaller roads, but… minor details… I swear it wasn’t my fault, I tried to follow the road signs, but kept missing the turning cos the junctions were not clearly marked!) I wish could take photos of the drive there, there were quite a few stretches of road that was cut across huge expands of pasture, with lolls of hills in the background, and dotted with cute ‘fluffs’ of sheep ^_^. Some of these sheep had the most comical of faces. I so wanted to stop and admire the view, but I don’t think the cars behind mine would be impressed.

Pembrokeshire North Beach was quite the nice beach people told me about, but I supposed it was autumn and so the beach was naturally deserted. The brightly coloured houses along the coast really contrast with the quietness of the beach, and the tranquillity of the beach accentuated the void left by the sunbathing crowd.

I supposed it would have been quite nice to sit at the beach, getting a proper tan, but I think I rather like it now. Peak season traffic, people falling over each other… too much flesh exposure… I’d take a quiet stroll on the off-season beach over a crowded beach, any day.

——————

I knew I had to come by to Southerndown Beach again if ever I come to Wales. I had heard about the beach the last time I was there, and my new Welsh friend had driven me down to the beach. He knew I liked Doctor Who, and that was where they had filmed the series 2’s climatic scene (where Rose and the Doctor bid farewell). When I went there the first time, it was everything I had expected it to be.

I’ll be lying if I say I am not influenced by that parting scene in Doctor Who, but when I am standing on that beach, I could not but feel the whole beauty of nature bearing down on me. The coastline was lined with jagged edges of history. It was like someone had cut right down the hillls and exposed the layers upon layers of geological history before me. It was just utterly beautiful. It is officially my favourite place in Wales.

So, this time, there was nothing that could stop me from driving all the way from Swansea to Bridgend, to Southerndown Beach. I had to come back to soak in all that serenity and maybe even ponder about that scene in Doctor Who that still threatens to make me cry everytime I watch that episode. I had to try to bring back the photos I had taken of there, to bring back something to remind me of that beach in Wales. And I did.

Wth the cutest little girl on the beach to complete the picture ^_^

I climbed onto the cliff overlooking the beach, and sat there, taking in the view before me. I think some people might think I am wasting a fair amount of my time getting to places, then sitting there doing absolutely nothing. But how often do you find the time to sit down and doing NOTHING? I can.

It was actually quite a difficult thing for me to bid Southerndown Beach farewell. A part of me just wants to stay there and do nothing forever. But, we all live in the real world, and to the real world I must return.

——————

The drive back to Cardiff was as pleasant as my drive out, and I managed to return the car in one piece, without a scratch. (Believe me, that was considered quite a feat, bearing in mind what kind of a walking disaster I had turned out to be here in the UK! I’ve come to expect something to happen to me every turn of the way now.)

Even after I relinquish the rented car, there are still places I had to visit in Cardiff. Luckily, the public transport in central Cardiff makes things so much easier for this traveller.

One of the stops I had made was the St Fagan Museum. It is actually a small Welsh village, made up of real Welsh houses (brought over brick by brick from all over Wales), and concentrated into that small area. There is a small gallery that explains about the history of Wales, and why there are so many Jones, Thomas, Davies and Williams there, even though they are not related. (It’s complicated, and would take more than a page of blog to explain, you’ll just have to take my word for it)

And there was this quaint little shop house in the village, manned by a nice Welsh shopkeeper, who was teaching the children visiting the shop about the old currencies once used in Wales, and other parts of England (penny, half-penny, shilling and crown).

——————

And in central Cardiff, there was another place that kept drawing me back, the Millennium Centre in Cardiff Bay.

I don’t know if it was the words etched into the windows and walls of the building, or the rather ‘organic’ nature of the design. It just kept drawing me back. I went there in the day…

At night…

And at times in between…

There were some nice shops in Mermaid Bay, but I barely went into them. I just kept wandering around the building taking shot after shots.

 

I supposed I am just overwhelmed by the feeling the building gives me. I know it’s going to sound absolutely oxymoronic, but that’s the feeling I get.

It somehow seems to be quietly ‘screaming’ for people to release themselves, to follow their hearts, to release their true self. A complete sense of conflict and peace, if that is ever possible.

I spent the last few hours I had in Cardiff, sitting outside the Millennium Centre. I wondered. If it is ever possible for me to follow my heart and be where I truly want to be? I supposed, right at that moment, there and then, I was already there. And that was the most valuable memory I will bring back home with me.

To Wales with love.

Luciano Pavarotti (1935 - 2007)

I had the television on while I was pottering about in the house in the morning. Somewhere in the back of my head, I had heard, ‘He was the greatest opera singer of our time’ and ‘Pavarotti’, and I was thinking ‘was’?

I do not profess to know a lot about classical music or opera, but I had heard a couple of his songs. I’d admit that I would prefer to hear songs I can understand, but something like that O Sole Mio just seem to resonant inside and touch the soul.

I had hoped that I could perhaps get a chance to hear the man in person, but after his retirement, that would prove impossible. But I had watched a few of his ‘Pavarotti and Friends’ concerts on TV and they were impressive. And maybe more than merely about the music, it was the heart behind the concert that would touch people.

I guess he will be missed, much for his big voice, but even more for his big heart.

I love aliens… Daleks, especially

I think aliens are cute. even the evil, intent-on-killing-Earth variety. Cos you know what? At least they are focused and easy to understand.

What’s there not to understand about planning some huge, crazy, diabolic plan to destory all life on Earth so that they can take over our little polluted planet? Why they want our planet, I really can’t tell, but if they really want it so badly, they can have it anyway. They just want to survive, to perpetual their species, spread their genes. Like every other living being.

Maybe aside from humans, maybe.

Humans are such strange beings. It all started out simple. Hunters-gatherers. Find enough food to last the day, breed, survive. Then they started stocking up food and supplies, for future uses. For the lean months, to survive.

Then some bright bulbs decided that they wanted to do more than just stock up. They want to have more than their neighbours. Why have one when you get TWO, one more than the next guy? Why not TEN? HUNDREDS?

More, and more they want. More and more they take. Nothing else really matter. Never mind if the Earth is being drained by their greed. Never mind all the plundering is taking whatever there is for their children and future generations. They’ve got their fancy cars and fancy holidays, THAT’s good enough for them.

At least when those crazy Daleks were killing everything, they were doing it so that they can have more resources to make more little Daleks… Those silly little pepper-shakers with a blender for a weapon and a toilet-plunger for an arm. Going around screaming “Exterminate!” in such diabolic screams. Killing everything else so the world can be populated only of Daleks. What’s not to like about them?

Too kind, too stupid

Sometime I think I am a right sucker for anyone to just come and take advantage of.

When i first moved into my current place, I had moved my Sky TV (a UK cable package) along. As my place is shared among 6 other people, it was natural for me to offer to put an additional sky box in the common living room, provide everyone in the place pays me for the additional subscription required. The Sky Multi-room subscription was to be £10 a month.

Then when the company Sky decided to offer free internet with the TV package, AGAIN, I offered to share the free internet with the rest, provided they help to share in the initial installation costs. I had emphasised that the free internet came with a cap of 2GB download, and the rest were agreeable.

I thought I was helping everyone by offering to share my SKY package. Then what happens?

First I got a whammy of a bill (£66, instead of the usual £25). Apparently, we had exceeded the download cap, and were charged for it. And since we don’t know who had used up all the downloading bandwidth, I had to stop the internet access. I changed the password.

Then one of my housemate, A, decided that he really, really needed the internet. So he asked me if we could upgrade the internet package, and he’d pay for the subscription. Since he was willing to pay, I agreed, and upgraded to the unlimited internet for £10 per month. And because the rest are not paying for it, I promised not to share the internet access unless they offered to chip in.

Okay, the count for now, I have to pay £15 (my original SKY package) + £10 (Sky multi-room) + £10 (internet) = £35.

Now what?

A suddenly decided that the internet was slow, and that would be because I MUST have shared the internet access with someone else in the house. Now he is demanding that I give him the administrator access for the internet, so that he can check and ensure that I am not screwing him giving anyone else the access. I’m kind, but not that stupid. I refused. So A says he’s not going to pay for the internet anymore and asks me to terminate the subscription. Problem is, like all packages, it comes with a 12-month contract, and terminating early will incur costs. (which I do not think he would be eagerly reaching for his wallet for)

I tried to offer A a compromise, to pay £5 instead of the full £10, but he had still had to pay the multiroom contribution. But no, A thinks I am trying to pull a dodgy deal with him and refused.

Then I get another note from another one of my housemates, Dr-J, who said that someone else in the house has been hogging the TV and he can’t watch it, so now he doesn’t want to pay for the multi-room subscription anymore. (Which is like £2 a month for him… )

What is wrong with people? Am I supposed to be responsible and paying because you can’t resolve who can watch the TV? I have half a mind to terminate everything except for my own SKY subscription, but I have to check up how much the bloodsucking TV company wants to get from me.

And all I want to do is just live everything quietly and peacefully. Why is that so difficult?