Sunday, 8 September 2019

The postman

The postman was a very important person in my life -- when there would be letters replyig to job applications, exam result slips, exciting letters from friends overseas, sometimes even a parcel (!) -- compared to the mostly bills of today. Well, actually he or she is still an important person today but I can't place a face to any of them as I hardly bump into them.

In my childhood days, the postman would be dressed in khaki-coloured uniform, riding a red bicycle. He would crashed onto our gate (maybe his brake wasn't working too well, and there was a little slope from the road to the gate) and slot the letters into our letterbox. He would then ring his bell to alert us to collect the mail (as though the "crash" wasn't loud enough) before he back his bike out -- and crash into the next gate. Delivery was twice a day, around 11am and 4pm, if I remember rightly.

If there were registered mail, he would let himself in through the side gate and gave us a surprise by suddenly appearing at the window, peering in. Spotting one of us, he would grin and hand us the registered mail and a receipt to be signed. On hot days, mum would ask me to offer him a cold drink. He would thank us profusely, mopping his brows.

At times when there were no letters for us or for our neighbours, you could see him soaring down the road, probably enjoying the breeze in his face. I had never seen a woman postman though, in my childhood.

Nowadays, there are quite a few woman postmen. In fact, those whom I have seen at my block, inserting etters into boxes with much alacrity, were all women. And of course, they don't ride bicycles anymore.

Here's a song we learnt in primary school, in celebration of our hardworking postmen:

I like to be a postman
I wake up with the sun
And on my back
I'd carry my sack
And onwards
I would go

Friday, 6 September 2019

The cat who loves fresh laundry

I must rub my hair on all these nice, clean laundry....

The moment I dump the content of my laundry basket onto the bed after a trip from the washing machine, guess who will be lolling on them. Never fails to happen. Only clean laundry, mind you, not dirty ones before washing.

Wednesday, 4 September 2019

Lost keys

Twice, I saw them -- resting on the bus stop seat -- forlornly. Both times, people were sitting respectfully about a foot away from the keys, with expressions that said "Nope, not mine." The first time, at the bus stop near the Zion Road food centre, it was a singular key with no chain or anything else attached (looked to me like a house key, oh dear). The second time, at the bus stop near my house, it was a bunch, including something that looked like a key to a cabinet.

What do you do with them? Take them to the nearest police station? But would they find their owners? I had vision of the police testing the key on all the households in the vicinity and finally exclaiming, "Aha! This one fits! Yoohoo, come and get your lost key, ye occupant of the house!"

Maybe should take the key and place an ad in the papers: "Please claim your key from.... Found at..."

The elderly couple who was seated at the Zion Road bus stop said wisely, "Leave it here. The owner may come back and look for it."

Anyway, it is always better to lose a key than to lose a wallet. You can always call the locksmith. Some are on service 24 hours. But they charge a bomb.

Tuesday, 13 November 2018


Singer, actor, entrepreneur...Chef  Nic. His kitchen is one of the most delightful places on earth. Creativity and re-engineering is the name of his game. His determination though, must be the biggest factor. 
WHEN watching Chef Nic on YouTube, I always look forward to hearing Nicholas Tse's "service!" as yet another dish in his kitchen is ready to roll.

No other chefs I know (in cooking shows which I have watched) say this with such an air of confidence and authority -- even the way he slams the service bell -- is unique.

I am talking about the son of Hong Kong star Patrick Tse, who has his own cook shows. I am a great fan of the father and watched all his movies on YouTube. Now in his 80s, he still holds his charms. But I must say his son absolutely beats him in this department, and I guess in many other departments as well.

It's such a pity that McDonald's doesn't sell his designer burgers here. And one can't find Chef Nic's packet noodles here as well, alas! And worst of all, one can't find his cooking shows on TV here except on YouTube -- and most of those are bits and pieces -- precious excerpts :(

But still, am so glad the kind folks uploaded them. An interesting aspects of the series is the Chef taking his celebrity guests through a gamut of experiences all over the world weathering sun, snow, slush, rain -- the works.  Too bad, Nicholas' Chinese name being Ting Fung (which in Cantonese sounds like "stop wind") -- sun, rain or snow is outside his jurisdiction -- as he used to joke in the shows.

A sense of humour, a very important ingredient too. Cheers, Chef!

My earlier post on the father: