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these are such lovely presents from auntie vanessa. we gave alexandra a tiny fairy book with sounds. in return, we got a myriad of items. some people are just too kind.

snow, snooze

the courtyard directly facing our apartment block looks anorexic, just reacting to the snowstorm, blizzard or the droplets of snow-rain that proliferate the entire year or was that yesterday? it was snowing in London in April. i need more jackets. i need to send my main cold-weather textile to the dry cleaners. but i can't, since it's still winter in April.

the cold weather is conducive to sleep, which i hardly do because my routine is compartmentalised. thus there's a debate within my circadian rhythm.

there's a task every minute. i can't do them all. like right now, the baby needs feeding. gtg.

only two days?

spent two whole days with my baby girl without encumbrances and interruptions, it's pure bliss. to say I long for the innocent heydays of maternity leave is utter understatement. if only i could take a year off and stage a more refreshing return to the job. but that isn't possible even to the very rich. to the heirs and heiresses, the trust fund kids, yes, they don't need to work, ever. but to those who are at the pinnacle, the denizens who run their own empires, it might not be possible to take a few months off.

now that the exchange rate between the philippine peso and other currencies is becoming negligible, it's not fiscally prudent to laze and stare into the abyss of nothingness. it's a point to ponder whether RP is really becoming the newest tiger of SE Asia -- fewer corruption, a lot less politics, very little gossip (?). if we flex our muscles, in addition to brainstorming innovative ideas perhaps it could ignite even more economic passion in our lives. but if we take the Juan T. way of waiting for the fruit to descend from the tree, we'll be staring for a long time. though for those of us in Western Europe, it's hoping for a tiny glimmer of gold.

this was yesterday

since our christmas tree was set up, I've been scouring the shops with the aid of telepathy for Christmas trimmings. since telepathy is science fiction, the tree remains lifeless (can't push prams) turn the lights on however and it's magic.

with typhoons, shootings, even fires afflicting a contained populace, Christmas should be in our hearts (love Jose Mari Chan!). look unto ourselves how to be like Mother Theresa even though we're not Catholic (tall order). the presents with their nicely tied ribbons are lovely. but action speaks louder than any inanimate objects in a sparkling wrapper.

noche buena

celebrated noche buena for the first time in a decade just by myself. did a bit of cooking or the hubby did more but it certainly was a team effort. i cleaned the fish anyway for the escabeche.

i have no romantic notion about Christmas. being Scrooge doesn't hurt despite the literary masterpiece of Dickens. those who toil on Christmas Day every year are to be commended including some close friends, doing night shifts, working on the day itself. dinner parties are the last things on their minds or feeling forlorn, having to deal with the battles of life.

hidden in the cold

the number of my blog posts are way down this year. baby girl is one Huge reason - her screams are breaking decibel levels.

her mummy has never been exactly a straight forward foetal carrier (as history may tell you), too high a blood pressure. hence the silence during the nine months. but we're both thriving in the new environment. sort of (never end a sentence with a preposition). we both like the new space. she can't exactly talk yet but i'm assuming she does like the new digs. why not, it's way quieter, no loud music until 4am.

hard on the back, the mind

buying a property and moving digs are both incredibly hellish experiences. if only, there's a short cut to skip the soul-breaking process. if only we have the money, not needing a mortgage. if only, down payments are acquired with flick of a wand or a click of the fingers, just by magic or fairy dusts. if only, comfort is just there. but there have been morsels of wisdom i've acquired through the ordeal. first, fiscal prudence -- buying only essentials, attenuating whimsy, no more books (in fairness, the sweet one hard-bounds take up more space than my paperbacks), no more magazines ( i will throw away loads in the next few days), no more shopping for clothes that serve no purpose (not really, but give up the old, tattered ones). second, invest in a proper shredder (some archaic receipts encroach on the living area). third, at least minimise the procrastination -- there are tons of chores to do, the clock ticks, the baby wails. fourth, invest in good and proper friendships (they may help out, if not to move, assemble the flat packs? too much? give advice? emotional support?). fifth, still percolating.
tick, tock.

missed? (at the Olympic park 2)

there were 24 beeb channels during the Olympic fortnight and mostly accessible venues for the live events. it seemed each sport had a corresponding television coverage for every participating nation or the likes ( i mean, yeah, weightlifting). the ticketing process meanwhile, was complicated. if you get tickets, you get tickets, if not, witness the marathon, triathlon, the two-wheel time trial and the road race along the alleyways of London's picturesque locations, if you can manage to wake up earlier than the Olympians.





we didn't even have to watch the men's handball preliminary competition between Iceland and France. all i ever wanted was to get inside the Olympic park and marvel at the contour of the aquatic center. we were there during its busiest weekend hence not finding a bench for chow. i could capture the spirit of the games within the confines of the park. we skipped the second match between Hungary and Spain, it was late and i missed our tiny tot.

bench kindly enlightened me that it took her three months post childbirth before going out on a date with her hubby. it took me only less than three weeks to leave baby girl for a few hours with grandma. it's the Olympics and i was definitely aware of the significance. now i'm with her almost every minute of the hour. still trying to write and understand more than ever the spirit of patriotism and jingoism and with a confounding query, are gold medals worth more than silver and bronze combined?

after 17 days

there are only a few highlights in our lifetime, London 2012 is one of them for me. the chance to be able to go to the games brings forth a unique sense of euphoria. i kept pinching myself, if all these were real. yes, the venues were merely a tube ride away. the television and interactive coverage were beyond expectations.
a few athletes provided moments of inspiration; this page recognizes david rudisha, the brownlee brothers, mo farrah (the one exceptional gooner), michael phelps, tom daley.
RP didn't medal, again. but mark anthony barriga has real talent. he lost by a point in his second match. maybe in Rio, when the officials would get their act together, the home country would be in the medals table. sports is about funding. money rules, specially in the Olympics.

let's go to the gymnastics, one of the blue ribbon events, particularly men's individual all-around. yes, there goes the exhausting adage, we were there, as we tell our future grandchildren, to bear witness to the brilliance of kohei uchimura right before our eyes (one of the greatest gymnast ever, how cool is that?) at the O2 Centre. the three-time world champion maintained his composure and captured the Olympic gold medal that eluded him in Beijing. the action was unfolding live, our attention was divided with two to three gymnasts performing at the same time. we were enlightened. so this is how gymnastics tournaments work? we were doing maths through the giant scoreboard.

the volunteers were all too helpful and nice, almost saint-like. the spectator was catered and served. the home crowd were maybe too eager and patriotic (hey, which country doesn't want to conquer the world?). but it's their Olympics, their taxes, the repercussions are for the greater good.
it's not over yet, there is still the Paralympics. the time to re-visit the Olympic Village (i'll talk about handball in between screams and wails).

view from the setee

writing about sports has not only helped me out financially in the years gone by but it has also given me such tremendous joy since my childhood.  i could never be an athlete in terms of physique, drive or talent. nonetheless, i simply enjoy watching sports, live from the venues or merely on television, even on delayed telecast.

living in the city where the Olympics is currently held is great, the atmosphere is intoxicating, in addition to being able to relate with the nuances of the opening ceremonies. it was a mishmash of everything British. a few portions could have been deleted, to fast forward to the parade of participating countries and athletes which took forever. it will be all over by week's end but it has been a fabulous fortnight.

for 10+ months

my husband wanted to purchase an official Olympic stuffed toy for our baby girl, personally, the sweetest baby ever. i'm tired from the round the clock feeding sessions. but she's our baby girl, who stops crying by the time she hears mummy sing. and how i wish i can even carry a tune.

at the Olympic park 1

been having olympic fever since '84, i was 10. now 28 years later, i'm blogging at the Olympic Park in east London. a week and three days ago, i was able to catch the Torch relay at Wembley (pictured). it was a hot day, school's out, i had to fight my way around a hundred children in order to get a view.

the Torch guy was obscured but i got a tiny glimpse, the camera just didn't catch it.

post a label

not including today, i had an early morning snooze the past two days. it has become even more challenging to get out of bed, to stand up from a chair or even to take a 100 meters walk. the sun is shining at this juncture, maybe until the afternoon or whenever, not really that concerned. the stump of tiny feet from upstairs, is gone for a month to chill with the folks in good old former iron curtain or so i heard. it's quieter during the day. but they have friends move in temporarily, who also love to display their washing in public. as the hours are not exactly inundated with drizzles, let us see.

i want to do some heavy cleaning but it's next to impossible. i'll be trying out some recipes later. my birthday snack menu is still in the process of reckoning. some of my invitations are still with me, maybe by tomorrow i could distribute to the remaining invitees.

the summer solstice is already next week. the days would become shorter, the status quo of longer nights would fall back into place. our area is still on hosepipe ban. i'm hoping for abundance of rain during winter, to fill the water reservoir, stop the water companies from moaning too much. it's gloomy during winter but i'm hoping this year, the array of clothes would be sensational and lift up the spirits. from here until august though, in the topic of fashion, i guess Kate Moss is right (about summer-wear, not wife-wear).

now, let's check the BP and savour my newly- arrived Olympic tickets and travel cards.

on the 10th

so manny pacquiao lost in a split decision, his first defeat in seven years. since it was shown (or streamed) in such ungodly hour, UK time, it was a relief  i was asleep. i wonder if Bing was there in the ring (rhymes) during the introductions. enough of politicians and some Filipino slebs out there in Vegas, all smiles for the cameras at the after party, ready to display their clout, the i've been to Vegas i must be rich and important brigade ( i should really stop glancing at the society pages).

being a boxer is of course only one of pacman's many roles. he's a tv star and he serves his people as a congressman of saranggani. undertakings which are by-products of his being a boxer. he's got an entourage. i always wonder about men and their entourage or boys and their barkadas. as if their lives would be incomplete without their alalays. manny's rep is probably still intact, i saw some unofficial media score cards where he was ahead in almost all 12 rounds. there could be a rematch or he could just retire and conduct his daily prayer meetings in earnest.

 one-on-one sports (including chess and darts) are 50-50 propositions. an upset is part of the grand plan. but the pacquiao saga is also part of twitter race relations. i read (was it in March or April?) from Tyrone's (a mayweather fan) tweet that pacman has no defense and he's a so-so boxer. i don't want to bring stereotypes or how fast a person walks into the argument. but it's obviously there and we compete through our flags, national anthems, continents and shapes of our eyes.

laze

just reading and planning next to nothing kills the mood certainly in this rainy month of june, though i should avoid salty snacks (pictured). for the first time in a lifetime, i don't mind the downpour. the jubilee celebrations are almost over, the sight of camilla waving to the crowd at Buckingham Palace has never been a hallmark moment, even during the wedding of 28th April '11. anyway, stayed away from all the hoopla at the Thames or the television coverage. spent most of my time sleeping as i do every single day, channelling a lot of karl pilkington of the ricky gervais show, taking a breather from stressors. promised myself to find a project minus the huffing and puffing, that means no heavy lifting or hoovering.

i was glued to the BBC news channel for the eurozone updates. i could see how Spain succumbed to bad loans, we had an ultra-cozy train ride from Seville to Madrid in 2011 -- nice stations, excellent transport links, why not for the fourth largest economy in Europe. while in Greece, all the bars provide a little bit extra; cushy sofas, complimentary tasteful nibbles; cheaper public transport than most European countries.

there's also the sensitive issue of Syria. kofi annan's speech at the UN this afternoon contributed greatly to my snoozing. that was mainly because of tiredness, nothing to do with mr. annan's soft voice as he was uttering his speech.

hop, skip, hop

dropped by Westfield in Stratford for the cute guy's birthday. i like malls and shopping centres, as long as they're not crowded or deluged with strolling teens. the branch in Shepherd Bush is actually bigger and gives way to breathing. although, if we didn't go to Stratford, we wouldn't be able to peek at the Olympic Stadium and the Athletes Village. there would be loads of people during the Olympics. the tubes would be rammed, as in more jam-packed than during the rush hours or usual weekends.

 i'm just moaning because i don't live any closer to the Olympic grounds.

is it overcast?

a little bit of rain wouldn't surely hurt London, the heat wave is pushing the citizens into vests or tank tops overload.  i don't mind shorts and the likes but walking along the sidewalks or pushing prams draped only in vests seems odd.  or i'm just too prudish for my own good.  i know it's hot out there.  it's very hot even for me.  the weather forecasters been discussing and predicting drizzles and more showers in the early evenings or late afternoons this week but where are they?  these rays of sunshine and a bit of wind are just giving the neighbors upstairs ammunition to parade their undies in our common front garden.  i miss the old neighbors.  the single ones with no children.  the ones who didn't raise their voices in ordinary conversations.  someday, we'll move to a habitat where the neighbors are a little less tacky.  at this point, all i could do is wait for rain.

not just taste

as a child of Bacolod, the tantalizing aroma of a chicken inasal is a saving grace from a bad day.  it tastes so good, this chicken on a stick  it's not available in London but the Philippine archipelago has fallen head over heels with its wonderful flavour, hence this list.  in my household, unless it's not  the chicken du jour.  i couldn't find istewetes anywhere, or am i deft hand with the grill.

on that note, let's dive head-on with this culture-divide ditty.  as people of the world and different countries, we cater to our homegrown flavours, mashed potatoes probably are great, but not for two meals a day. nonetheless, it's a western staple.  although the hubby reckons it's silly to eat every single day.  we hardly have mash pots in a year.
my weakness is rice, here, there and everyday if possible.  with chicken inasal, adobo, hardly any vegetables.  although i now delve into salads these days.  growing up, the only salad i was aware of was macaroni with kaong and mayonnaise, super bad for my blood sugar.  that is maybe the reason why type 2 diabetes runs in my family.  we were not educated about our triple-carbs habits, including desserts. coming from an all-sugar delights capital, there's no way to go but insulin injections.

now, i have to do some ironing, just had some chocolate ice cream in this very hot weather.  i feel guilty.

hurry, hurry rain

woke up early this morning, trawled the web, read this and that in the lifestyle pages of Philippine papers and basically went back to sleep.  i have stuff to do.  there are always stuff to do. and my blood sugar levels don't like sleep that much, i need to iron clothes and uniforms from the clean hamper box.  nevertheless, i  feel sleepy and tired.  who knows if it's going to rain or shine today, i still don't like clothes being hanged in front of the house (as dwellers upstairs do).  i think it's tacky.  at the back garden, go ahead (not having a back garden is no excuse). but in front? no.

 as i'm getting really older, we need to save enough money for a new abode.  the thfc friends and acquaintances are great.  who isn't happy and lighthearted in the company of friends? but they not only expensive, listening and reading their posts on a lot of issues in the forum sometimes, is desolating.  is blonde really more beautiful than all other hair color?  is the caucasian exterior the be all and end all of  beauty?  mostly the banter about team dominates talk and proceedings.  i guess for the hubby, it's better than staying home and catching it on the telly, like all other plastics.  my company is not that entertaining, or alluring.  but an away match specially, costs hard-earned cash and the eurozone is imploding right this very minute.  recession is not a nice word.

now, i have to check my BP and blood sugar.  hoping for good results.

all drought, all rain

it's going to rain until the end of may, if we're thinking of the worst case scenario.  yet the drought continues because it's the wrong month for rain, it does not refill the underground deposits of water companies. what is needed is rain in the winter months.  there wasn't enough winter rain during the past two years, hence the drought and hosepipe ban.  if only it rained during winter . but when it's freezing, one hardly ever noticed the rain.

it's different from the sunny climes of last year. or was it  madrid in april or greece in september?  at least it's not yet the time of the year for the denizens to exfoliate and show some skin.  although there's nothing really wrong in not wearing our coats anymore. however, i still feel cold, especially in the mornings.