The Roman Invasion

Roman (banners) invasion

The Gunners entertained Giallorossi last night and Wenger fielded a 4-2-3-1 formation. Some missed and squandered chances. *Sigh* Am I alone in thinking that Bendtner is only good as a sub and useless as a starter?

We were the only team to win last night, woo hoo! If you wonder why we do better against European opponents, it’s because we play European football and even the younger players will play better in Champions League matches because of the prestige, compared to playing against some bogey team from the Premiership. And imagine Wenger trying to motivate and impress on them that both matches are equally important in their own way.

BBC Sport Player Rater man of the match: Arsenal's Samir Nasri 8.22 (on 90 minutes).

Let’s hope Dudú (and who knows, maybe Rosický too?) will be fit in time when we pay a visit to the Eternal City in a fortnight. My munchkin, unfortunately, will still be out (although he wanted to play last night, brave maestro!).

Oh, and by the way, did anyone catch RvP as he was entering the second half adjusting his shorts (and underwear) - and very openly too? And did anyone also catch that Roma player who started changing, and was at one point wearing only his shirt and underwear? My God, I was gaping at the sight!

And so coming up soon will be a posting solely focussing on inappropriate behaviour. Watch this space.

Love Stories

It was a marathon of shows for me on Saturday. I watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button in the morning (I found I still love Brad Pitt!) and then rushed over to watch Puteri Gunung Ledang: The Musical at Istana Budaya. Sorry friends, I just knew I’d arrive just in time.

I didn’t have any expectation on PGL and was pleasantly surprised that it was pretty good. The props, the music, the special effects were all superb (my only complaint is that sometimes the dialogue and songs were at times spoken and sung too loudly that I was not able to catch the words/lyrics). I was already sniffling through the Curious Case movie and my sniffles continued throughout PGL. Even my non-Malay friends told me they thought PGL was as good as any Broadway shows.

In case you don’t know, this version of PGL tells the tale of a Majapahit princess who fell in love at first sight with Hang Tuah, the great warrior of Malacca. They promised to meet at Mount Ophir and when Hang Tuah led a delegation to warn against Demak, Majapahit’s enemy, the princess set sail and went to Mount Ophir to wait for him. However, the Sultan also wanted to marry her and ordered Hang Tuah to seek for her hand. She finally agreed but set seven impossible conditions first. Some versions of the legend say that the Sultan was not able to fulfil any of these requests, while others say that he was able to fulfil the first six requests (thus causing the ruin of the Malacca Sultanate) but could not fulfil the final request which would have required him to kill his son.

I had to read the electronic board to understand the story line as sometimes the dialogue was not clear to me and the singing was too loud at times (as I have mentioned above). And I also had to interrupt Mrs. A’s viewing (hope I didn’t ruin your time Mrs. A!) to seek clarification about some of the storyline. For example, when she said she would pursue him, I thought she was going to Demak after him. And how on earth did she expect Hang Tuah to know she had left her palace and went to Mount Ophir to wait for him? When Hang Tuah came on wearing only a sleeveless t-shirt (which he wore into the forest and up Mount Ophir), I even asked Mrs. A if there was a wardrobe malfunction for surely that was a hardly appropriate wear what with the mosquitoes and forest thorns (she told me he wore the same in the first season too).

Both shows that I watched on Saturday didn’t have a happy ending. And the conclusions that I gather are that some love are just not meant to be. Some love affairs like mine are just doomed. And even though both parties love each other and make great effort and sacrifice to be with each other (leaving one’s homeland as in her case and questioning himself about following his heart or continuing being loyal to the Sultan in his case), love alone will not see it through and there is no guarantee of a happily-ever-after ending for anyone, not even if one is a princess or a great warrior. And it is as true now as it was hundreds of years ago.

How sad. How tragic.

And I am somehow reminded of this quote from George Bernard Shaw: ‘There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart’s desire. The other is to get it.’

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A brief update of my bag: I received a voicemail message while I was watching PGL (no reception in the Istana Budaya theatre hall) saying that my bag was ready for collection. I’m confused now, I really am. Will wait until Friday or the weekend before I collect it though.

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Arsenal hosted Sunderland on Saturday. I was happy to see Shava make his debut but not happy with the overall lethargic lacklustre display. The Gunners were firing blanks and simply not flying at the Emirates. Like we could afford to drop more points? I was so angry that I went to bed seething and fuming.

Cesc’s return can’t come soon enough. He has plenty of reasons for a speedy recovery. He had said he expected to be able to kick a ball soon but I know he has already started training with his team-mates in Colney on 19 and 21 February 2009.

The Curious Case Of My Bright-Orange Bag

I sent my pouch/bag to repair its lining, hmm, let’s see, on 17 January 2009 at the KLCC outlet. The chap (hereafter referred to as K) who served me said he would check whether it would be possible to replace the pouch lining and that he would call me the following Monday. If the lining could be replaced, it would take about 2-3 weeks. That’s OK with me as I was in no hurry to use the bag anyway. I waited and waited but didn’t receive any call.

Finally I called up the store on 7 February, yes, three weeks since I dropped off the bag. The bloke who answered said he would check the status and call me back. I must have misunderstood him, I don’t know why, but when he said he would call me back, I thought he would call me back within 15 minutes.

Finally I marched over to the store (it so happened I was in the neighbourhood) and what do you know, K (whom I was supposed to liaise with) had been transferred to the Starhill branch. How convenient, I thought. I was attended to instead by N who promised to call me the very next day as soon as she found out the status of my bag.

She didn’t call me the next day but she did call me on Monday, 9 February, and told me the repair cost would be RMxxx. She also said that K told her that he had called me earlier and that I didn’t want the bag to be repaired. By then, I was this close to snapping already. I told her I had received no such call from K so how could he be saying that I didn’t want the bag to be repaired. I didn’t hide my anger and impatience but assured N that I didn’t blame her as it wasn’t her fault. The poor girl must be wishing she was not picking on someone else’s job anyway.

Lo and behold, less than ten minutes later, my mobile phone rang again and it was K. He said that N had misquoted me the repair cost and that it would cost RMxxx instead (half of what N told me). By then I was getting royally confused already (and I was nursing a cold and a headache too). He also told me the bag would be ready for collection on Wednesday but as I wanted to collect it from the KLCC outlet instead of the Starhill outlet, I could collect it anytime from last Thursday (12 February).

And guess what, when I went to the KLCC store last Saturday (I thought I’d give them two extra days), I was informed that my bag hadn’t yet arrived. N then called up K at Starhill and he apologised saying he would check immediately with the repairer where my bag was. That was it, I blew my top. I told him I didn’t appreciate being given the run-around and being given conflicting messages about the repair status and progress, and not being informed at all. It was me who had to call up the store and it was me who had to visit the store. Leave it to K and my bag would probably never repaired or worse, be lost somewhere and no one could trace its whereabouts. After I hung up, N told me she would handle my transaction (no longer K, phew) and that she would call me on Monday to update me on the repair status.

She didn’t call me on Monday.

This morning, I called up the store and was informed by the store manager that my bag was not among their stock of already-repaired bags. Half an hour later she rang me to inform that my bag would now be ready on 26 February.

*Sigh* We shall see whether it would actually be ready or not. That, my dear readers, is the curious case of my bright-orange bag. I’m now just about ready to believe that I will never see my bag ever again. And I’m beginning not to like the brand anymore and all because of some shop assistant’s incompetence. Good thing I only have one such bag of that brand.

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Dudú picked up a hamstring injury shortly before being substituted on his fairytale return on Monday and will not be able to play for the next two weeks. Anyway, it seems Shava will be making his debut tomorrow (against Sunderland, another bogey team).

Good luck to the Gunners and have a good weekend peeps!

Back With A Vengeance

Eduardo started for Arsenal last night in the fourth round FA Cup replay against Cardiff, shortly after helping Croatia beat Romania last week and being a sub in the match against the scum Spuds. And Dudú marks his return 358 days after being stretchered out with his career in doubt - with a bang and a brace (an early birthday present for himself and the club too)! What a comeback it was! Bendtner and van Persie who substituted Dudú also scored to make it four nil to the Arsenal.

Captain Fantastic and new boy Shava were in the stands watching the game. Shava signed too late to play in this round of the Cup, wait, in fact he almost signed too late to play for Arsenal at all. Cesc was smiling widely when Dudú and Colbert hugged.

The only sour things were Bendtner’s unnecessary lunge towards a Cardiff player earning him a yellow card and at the goalie (shame on you Bendtner and fie on you for this rant), and a mobile phone thrown by a travelling Cardiff fan at Fabianski. And we could have scored so many more goals had the shots not misfired. It could have been a tennis match score - and the Cardiff fans would probably have prayed for another sudden snowstorm (but it was a comparatively mild evening in north London apparently).

No repeat of this last night

BBC Sport Player Rater man of the match: Arsenal's Eduardo 9.41 (on 90 minutes).

Gotta Be Somebody

This time, I wonder what it feels like
To find the one in this life, the one we all dream of
But dreams just aren't enough
So I’ll be waiting for the real thing, I’ll know it by the feeling
The moment when we’re meeting, will play out like a scene
Straight off the silver screen
So I’ll be holding my own breath, right up ‘til the end
Until that moment when, I find the one that I’ll spend forever with

‘Cause nobody wants to be the last one there
‘Cause everyone wants to feel like someone cares
Someone to love with my life in their hands
There’s gotta be somebody for me like that
‘Cause nobody wants to do it on their own
And everyone wants to know they’re not alone
There’s somebody else that feels the same somewhere
There’s gotta be somebody for me out there

Tonight, out on the street, out in the moonlight
And dammit this feels too right, it’s just like déjà vu
Me standing here with you
So I’ll be holding my own breath, could this be the end
Is it that moment when, I find the one that I’ll spend forever with‘Cause nobody wants to be the last one there
‘Cause everyone wants to feel like someone cares
Someone to love with my life in their hands
There’s gotta be somebody for me like that
‘Cause nobody wants to do it on their own
And everyone wants to know they’re not alone
There’s somebody else that feels the same somewhere
There’s gotta be somebody for me out there

You can’t give up, looking for a diamond in the rough
You never know, when it shows up, make sure you’re holding on
‘Cause it could be the one, the one you're waiting on
‘Cause nobody wants to be the last one there
And everyone wants to feel like someone cares
Someone to love with my life in their hands
There’s gotta be somebody for me, ohhh

Nobody wants to do it on their own
And everyone wants to know they’re not alone
There’s somebody else that feels the same somewhere
There’s gotta be somebody for me out there
Nobody wants to be the last one there
‘Cause everyone wants to feel like someone cares
There’s somebody else that feels the same somewhere
There’s gotta be somebody for me out there

Scumdog Milksops

I coughed and sneezed throughout the weekend. After summoning the strength to clean the house on Saturday – the chore was overdue as I was away for the past two weekends – I went out to run some errands and what a scorching Saturday it was. It must be 38C or thereabout, it was that hot.

Dithered on going out to the Gaza charity bazaar at BSC on Sunday morning. Had made up my mind to go when I decided to take off my ear-studs. Reached out for my old toothpaste to clean them and thought, ‘What if I accidentally dropped them into the sink?’ but immediately pooh-poohed the idea. And what do you know, just as I dismissed this thought, one slipped from my hands and into the sink it went. Poof! Arggghhhhh! Do you ever have one of those moments too when you think of something and the next minute it happens?

I spent the next 20 minutes or so trying to fish it out. Was close to getting it twice but I just couldn’t coax it out of the hole before whoosh, it dropped again. Finally I poked enough to push it further down the sink hole. There was only one person who I could think of calling – a plumber I’d call before (and he lives somewhere in Kajang or thereabout too). He said he’d come the next day (Monday).

There was nothing left for me to do so I went to BSC. I managed to get a self-help book, a book on The Meaning of Quran, two DVDs (one in English, one Korean) and some knick-knacks. The Sultanah of Pahang and the Minister of Federal Territories came too at around 1 pm and I was watching the bazaar from the first floor of the newly renovated shopping centre when someone called out my name. It was one of my FB friends whom I’ve never met before (yes, I know I probably shouldn’t have done that, accept total strangers as friends...). She recognised me from my photos (I wonder if I’ve posted way too many photos?) and that she loved to see photos (apparently there’s an option for that which I didn’t know). Anyway, I was glad we’re friends because she came across as such a pleasant, friendly girl – I would have been glad to know her better.

After sneezing and coughing my way through BSC and risking infecting other shoppers, I decided it was time to head home to rest for that night’s derby. Another FB friend also approached me at the exit. What a small world!

The derby turned out to be a bit of a letdown. We had a goal wrongfully disallowed. I was aghast at Arsenal’s woeful passing. And Adebayor acted so nonchalant, indifferent and disinterested, I was screaming for him to be substituted. Perhaps we should have just sold him after all for his poor performance thus far. In a way, his hamstring injury was a blessing for he was substituted. Didn’t he learn anything from the Shava saga; Shava did all he could to move to Arsenal while Adebayor looked like he couldn’t be bothered with playing.

Then the boo boy Eboue acted childishly and immaturely enough to earn the second yellow card (even if the first was harsh and probably undeserved, he should have kept that in mind. The referee was another scumdog or a scum Spuds sympathiser). That was just so stupid and selfish of him. I say selfish because he didn’t think of his team-mates, only of himself when he reacted to the scum. The result was that for his personal satisfaction and short-term gratification, he robbed his team and the fans of the opportunity of an eleven-man team playing for three points. I know that the scumdog milksop Spuds and any other opponents will try to provoke us every now and then but why stoop so low to their level? So Arsenal had to play with only ten men, with nine stretched to their limits (Almunia did a good job as a goalie too) for close to an hour. My heart almost stopped every time the scums attacked and thank God, the ball didn’t find the back of the net. Not even the returning Kop flop Keane could score. So while Arsenal was bad, Spuds were pathetic. What else were they if they could not beat a ten-man team?

I was screaming and frantically sending telepathic messages to Wenger for someone to be substituted. Why not give Shava his debut for even five minutes? But I think the airwaves were congested as Wenger didn’t get my message and only made a substitution when Clichy was injured. Such a brave guy, he played until he was bleeding unlike some other idiot. Anyway, we held on for a measly point (we squandered what few and far between chances we had). In my opinion, Men of the Match were Almunia, Nasri, Clichy, Sagna, van Persie... with Adebayor and Eboue the Morons of the Match.

One last line on footie: Big Phil and Tony Adams sacked from Chelshit and Pompey respectively. Oh and I thought I’d also share this interview with RvP (did you know he plays dart pretty well?). Seen below with the winner Phil Taylor at the World Professional Darts Championship in January 2009 (he was there to support his fellow countryman Raymond van Barneveld).




The plumber came on Sunday afternoon and I was reunited with my ear-stud only five minutes within his arrival. SK, that’s my precious ear-stud and irreplaceable! (I got it at a bargain from Gucci.)

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I am appalled and shocked at the raging inferno Down Under and horrified that it was started deliberately. Why would anyone do something like that? Whole villages, towns and communities had been wiped out and burnt down; hundreds of perished lives and injured people; total destruction and devastation... it just doesn’t make sense. The Oz PM has termed it mass murder and I agree. It doesn’t help that Oz is becoming an increasingly arid country although ironically, the north is under water.

New Kid On The Block

Everyone is now satisfied with the Arshavin deal. Heck, Arsenal are hardly to be blamed. It’s not as if we were purposely and intentionally trying to prolong the saga (and suffer heart attack and heartache in the ‘on again, off again’ saga), it’s his old club which was delaying the whole process.

Anyway, while he’s still hot topic, thought I’d share his views on banning women from driving and smoking. Heck, I’m not at all offended with his views (I must be in the minority) because what I’m more interested in is what he can deliver on the pitch. Besides, we don’t all know the Russian culture now, do we, and I bet if someone else says it (someone who’s not as famous, say some guy in the street), he wouldn’t attract as much attention apart from a moment or two of indignation.

And while he can design clothes, I’m not so sure if his talents extend to singing. Here’s a video clip of Andrey singing a song from the long-running children show Cheburashka. This is a translation I got (it’s not all that clear but well, does anyone speak Russian here?!), thanks Katya:

*****

Show is called ‘Good Jokes’ (?!)
Translation of the conversation:
- Well. Continue? The song performed (Andrey stand up) Oh! Andrey Arshavin will sing for us! Excellent! A guess would be Leonid Slutsky (coach of FC Kryliya Sovetov Samara)
- Moveless person from Leonid
- Leonid connected to a group of ‘Clough Finger’
- He did not tremble (?)
- By the way, this team, he adjusts his club. During the break. They come. And he he: Hmm!!!!! Kick It! Kick It! Stumps ball
- (They pulled)
- Andrey, we are ready
- In the microphone, loud and clear, well-known song in Russian. Silence. Studio. Record.
Andrey sings:
Let pedestrians fleeing in puddles clumsily
Let the water run on the asphalt like a river
People do not understand why in such a dirty day I am Happy
- Bravo! Great!
- Andrey also acting!
- On the face of Andrey when he sang, it was written: why should I do? Why am I here?

*****

Hmmm ... I don’t think he’ll be auditioning for the Russian Idol anytime soon if there ever is one. Anyway, this is what we can and hope to expect from him on the field.

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I’m feeling under the weather today. I’m feeling feverish, feeling like I can’t stop coughing and generally feeling lousy. The weekend can’t come soon enough. I’m off now, have a good weekend, peeps!

The Man From St Petersburg

* The Man From St Petersburg is a thriller novel by Ken Follett and among my 2008 reading list.


But in this entry, I’m talking about the new Gooner**/Gunner who has just arrived at Arsenal from St Petersburg. I’m still happy that Arsène has finally managed to sign Arshavin for Arsenal (say ‘Arsène signed Arshavin for Arsenal’ a few times to test your tongue!), kicking off his addiction to signing teenagers for once.

** I heard him say a few times that he was a Gooner rather than a Gunner and am concluding that he has been a Gooner for a while before even signing a deal with the club. Today’s edition of The Sun confirmed it too.

Even after arriving at the Emirates, the Arshavin storm kept brewing (read more about it here, here, here and here). If anything, I think the blame should be placed on Zenit who couldn’t make up their mind how much they wanted to sell Shava for. But actually the deal was done in the nick of time and even sped up by Shava himself. I like this chap already for his commitment to join Arsenal and his focus!

A fellow Gooner saw an interview with one of the agents that worked on behalf of Arsenal to get the deal done and it was quite interesting he said -
- Arsenal ended up paying more than they had hoped. He didn’t reveal the figure but probably around 15 million
- Zenit were almost impossible to deal with and didn’t seem to want to sell no matter what until the very last moment
- Arshavin late yesterday afternoon (2 February 2009) was near despair and sat down on the floor with his head in his hands saying. ‘This is not going to happen. They won’t let me go. They won’t let me go.’
- All paperwork was faxed before 5 and he called it ‘a miracle’
- Arsenal went ‘above and beyond’ to make it happen and were ‘extremely positive’ in their negotiations
- He went out with Arshavin for a drink last night and Arshavin was so excited about the move and happy to be an Arsenal player that he wore an Arsenal shirt the whole evening.

Another Gooner said the same thing: ‘Arshavin late yesterday afternoon (2 February 2009) was near despair and sat down on the floor with his head in his hands saying, ‘This is not going to happen. They won’t let me go. They won’t let me go.’ (When it materialised) Arshavin was so excited about the move and happy to be an Arsenal player that he wore an Arsenal shirt the whole evening.’ Bless the chap!

‘But now I am a Gunner,’ Arshavin said, with obvious pride, before issuing a stirring rally cry to the Arsenal faithful. ‘Trust in me, and trust in Arsenal,’ he concluded.

In Arsene we trust. And now in Arshavin we trust too!!! It seemed like the whole transfer saga was a miracle come true! Arshavin deserves his chance to live his dream. Oh but did you know that Arshavin is a multi-talented player too (besides his new Captain who can draw!)? He can design clothes!

Read Tony Cascarino, take on the winners and losers of the transfer window here.

Return To The Walled City

Abah had been wanting to visit the Walled City ever since he couldn’t join the trip that Mummy and I went on last year so in June 2008, I bought tickets for us to go there. I didn’t mind visiting the city again and Mummy, well, she didn’t need to be asked twice.

Saturday, 31 January 2009

An early morning for us. We left in the morning drizzle for the airport. Not as many people at the airport this morning as it was just a week earlier when I went to Solo. Alas, our flight out was delayed by about half an hour but we arrived just ten minutes later than scheduled at the northern city of the country with the youngest Prime Minister in ASEAN (if not Asia) at its helm and, dare I say it, one of the most good-looking Premiers around too.

Having signed for a half-day ‘Home Industries’ tour at the airport, we took a taxi to our hotel but the driver was oh so slow and unlike most taxi drivers proud of their city, he took the ‘unscenic route’ - back alleys and narrow lanes passing unimpressive sights.

Our driver for the tour, Tong, was already waiting at the lobby when we came down. We crossed the Ping River leaving the city of Chiang Mai behind (Tong told us that the Ping River runs all the 1,500 km way down to Bangkok) to where the home industries were located, about 8 km away from the city.

We stopped at the Sa Paper & Umbrella Handicraft Centre; a silver workshop and showroom (where we were greeted by a bored-looking manager); Gems Gallery (one of the four in Thailand besides Phuket, Bangkok and Pattaya. We spent considerable time here); a lacquerware shop; Jolie Femme silk workshop and showroom; and finally a leather showroom.

We reached the hotel at 4.30 pm and rested. After evening prayers, we went out to the nearby Anusarn Market for dinner at Roummit Restaurant (the very resto that Mummy and I frequented every night on our last visit) which serves halal Chinese Thai food. Then feeling energised, we explored the stalls at Anusarn Market (stall prices at Anusarn Market were quite good) and the stalls along Chang Khlan Road before going to the Chiang Mai Night Bazaar complex (which I found sells things much cheaper than at the stalls lining the road). The bazaar complex is next to the spanking brand new Le Meridien (which was still under construction last year).

Sunday, 1 February 2009

This was not a trip to be spent hiking or trekking or cooped up in a van travelling with more than a dozen other strangers as we did last year (on our trips to Chiang Rai/Golden Triangle and to Maetaman Rafting & Elephant Camp) as Abah may feel tired on such trips. So this morning, we walked along Chang Khlan Road. It felt like a dead part of town: almost all stores were closed (most stores here only open from 6 in the evening and so most tourists would go for trips out in the day). I had sighted The Plaza (next to the Chiang Mai Night Bazaar complex) on our way back from the half-day tour the day before so we went there and waited for it to open at 11.

While waiting, we visited Masjid Ban Ho at Charoenprathet Road Soi 1 just across the street from the Plaza. The mosque is quite huge and there was a Sunday school in session at the building to the right of the mosque as we could see from the many Muslim pupils in attendance. Along this road, you can find a number of halal eateries and some Muslim-owned businesses. By the road was a stone sign with faded description of the Ban Ho Community. This is what I deciphered from the sign: ‘The Ho people are Chinese from Yunnan. They were in contact with Lan Na since days of old, especially as caravan traders in the time of King Inthawichayanon (1870-1897). A group of Ho Chinese settled here and built a mosque Hidayatun in 1887 as the centre of their community.’

Alas, The Plaza is still a work-in-progress and so we left after a while. We walked on to Ton Lamyai Market (a fresh food market) and Waroros Market opposite it. Waroros Market is the largest market in Chiang Mai and is where the local come to shop for herbs and spices, and clothes and fabrics. We didn’t spend long here though. On our way back to the hotel, we stopped at Khao-Soi Islam, one of the halal stalls at Charoenprathet Road Soi 1 for lunch.

After dinner, we took a three-wheeled tuk-tuk (you even need to bargain before taking a tuk-tuk) to the Sunday Market at Tha Phae Gate. The market sprawled to the other side of the wall all along Ratchadamnoen Road which was blocked off from traffic. I thought the Sunday Market was better than all the street stalls put together, honestly.
Monday, 2 February 2009
This morning, we took a songthaew (a two-benched van) to the Central Plaza Chiangmai Airport Shopping Centre (I notice that the city name is spelt as one word by the locals). The Central Plaza is a big, huge sprawling mall with Robinson as its major tenant. We spent a few hours here before returning to the city (I really should consider leaving my credit card behind). Lunch was again had at the same stall we patronised yesterday and this time, I had seafood khao soi (unique to northern Thailand) - essentially yellow wheat noodles in curry. It wasn’t hot and I liked it. As I was feeling unwell, I quickly ate my lunch and returned to the hotel ahead of Mummy and Abah.

No prizes for guessing where we had dinner. We headed for the Chiang Mai Night Bazaar complex again after dinner for some last-minute shopping.

Tuesday, 3 February 2009

We checked out of the hotel just before 9 am and took a cab to the airport. As the fare to the airport was not fixed as it was from the airport to the city, we had to bargain for the fare. It was a long queue at the check-in counter – there were many holidaymakers returning back to KL today.

Fortunately Mummy and Abah could board the plane together with those with express boarding tickets as they are both over 65 (I always think that a family needn’t have purchased express boarding for everyone – why not just buy purchase express boarding for one or two members and have them book your seats for you). As for the rest of us hoi polloi, well, everyone was pushing and shoving each other and the poor airline representative had to speak out loudly for order. A shouting fight almost started among some passengers too. Sigh. Still on foreign soil and all the ugly behaviours had come out for the world to observe.

Our bags were late in making their appearance; some bags had appeared some 20 minutes before ours did. When our luggage came out, they were wet. Ahh, that explained it. It must have been raining heavily outside delaying the baggage reload and transfer. As we had to wait a while for our bags, we could only take the 1545 bus out to KL Sentral.

When we arrived in KL, it had started to rain cats and dogs. Such heavy torrential rain that no cabbie wanted to take my parents home. So I had to bring them up to the arrival hall for ERL passengers where the taxi counter was less choosy (I always dislike the taxi counter downstairs, unscrupulous people). Alas, my bus had left by then and I was made to wait and wait for the next (not at all) Rapid bus.

Similar to last week where my clothes were drenched by the can of isotonic drink that burst somewhere along the journey, this time, my clothes were drenched from the rain. And some idiot also took the liberty of opening my outer baggage compartments (and I’m pretty sure it’s someone at this airport rather than at Chiang Mai’s).

Similar to the Solo/Jogja trip, I didn’t manage to go to a spa or get a massage. Hmm, this warrants another trip somewhere surely.

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Thanks again to SK who texted me Saturday’s footie result (no ESPN over there OK). Grrr, I was just so mad when I heard it was another draw. Get well soon and come back quickly my Captain Fantastic por favor!

Because it’s a whole new month

But at least, Arshavin has joined Arsenal at long last at the end of the transfer day deadline. This was what he said on BBC Sport: ‘I’m a Gunner. I’m happy to be at Arsenal,’ Arshavin said. ‘I like Arsenal’s style. I like Arsene Wenger as a coach. I like some of the players from this team.’ Awww, Shava, I like you too ever since I saw you at Euro 2008. Go here for a hilarious account of the day (and of the weather!). Oh and Kop flop Keane is back with the Spuds. Good riddance Poo. Once a Spud, forever a Spud!

From Russia with love


And oh look at the winter wrath hitting London and England overall prompting a prolonged transfer window and a postponement of the FA match. This is one time when I don’t miss England. I don’t miss the cold and I don’t miss the snow. To me, it’s just a novelty that wears off as quickly as the snow melts into dirty sludge of ice water.