Stepping back to catch my breath I left for home early a few days ago, taking the afternoon off to spend some time with Kiddo. I felt I have not been in touch with what her life has been like lately, and that she needed some input on the home front. I got home around 3, and we went out for some coffee and ice cream. We sat down, talked and I caught up with what’s been happening in her life lately. She’s got a whole range of songs in her iTunes collection – songs I’d never imagined would find a place in our home. She knows all these songs and can sing along with most numbers. She’s totally part of this iPod generation, I guess. I asked her why she would want – why anyone would want – anything more than say, 10-20 songs in her iPod and her response summarises the fact that I don’t get it. I don’t, I guess. I don’t get why you’d have more than the number of songs you’d listen to at any one time. On a typical day, I ride something like 45 minutes each way, on the train and tram. Even if I had an iPod plugged into my ears right through, that’s approximately 15 songs. For a return journey, assuming I’d only listen to each song once, I need a maximum of 30 songs. That’s what – 250MB? If she needed more songs, it’s a simple act of plugging that iPod into a PC and load up or swap around. Like most people her generation, she’d probably sit in front of a PC some time during the day anyway. So I don’t get why anyone would find it necessary to have a 4GB or 8GB iPod. Maybe this generation has a thing about having everything on call at the press of a button with minimum hassle. After coffee and ice cream we drove around a bit, then we went home and we talked some more before doing some other fun stuff like watching video clips and playing a play station game. While I felt terrible leaving work early when things have been busy at the office, I felt this was necessary to try and get kiddo and I back on track for a bit and for me to see how she’s doing. I hope she found this as beneficial as I did and that we’d have a continuous “centring” process like this. CSI I’m not quite sure what it is but it isn’t Crime Scene Investigation. It’s a group at work which does some charity work and does stuff like selling chocolates for funding. I think it means corporate and social involvement or something like that and its pet project (pun intended) is sponsorship of a guide dog. Last Friday afternoon, it organised a barbeque where it sold sausages, veggie burgers and soft drinks. It also asked staff to come in to work in casual clothes and those who do so contribute a “gold coin” ($1 or $2). So for the privilege of wearing my khakis to work and having a veggie burger and diet coke, I paid $5. The better bit must be the hour or so spent at the park where the barbeque was. Just idling on a park during lunch on a warmish spring day was really very pleasant. This was the sort of work environment I had imagined being in, when I thought about moving over to Australia. Yet it is almost 3 years later before this happened and it doesn’t look like it would be the norm. I guess globalisation means competitive streaks have crept into every nook and cranny of every trading nation. No longer is there anywhere in the world where you’d head for an easier workload or more relaxed lifestyle. Someone mentioned, during the barbeque lunch, that it was the first time in a few weeks he had taken a whole hour off for lunch. That has been true for me as well, with lunch often meaning a quick bite at the desk or a quick dash to the takeaway around the corner. Instead of the fabled 38 hour week the average Melburnian professional probably puts in easily 50-60 hours on the low end and closer to 80 hours on the other end and that is probably a conservative ballpark estimate. I don’t know what quite to do. On the one hand there is enough work to keep me going till late on most days. I probably should (work later), just to keep up. On the other hand, I don’t want to fall into the trap of getting into a work cycle which robs me of a normal family life – ie, one where the family regularly eats together and everyone talk to everyone else every day. This didn’t use to happen in KL, where there were many weeks when I talked to kiddo only on weekends. As always, balance is the Holy Grail.
Category: Family
Kiddo and Work
Stepping back to catch my breath I left for home early on 2 days ago, taking the afternoon off to spend some time with Kiddo. I felt I have not been in touch with what her life has been like lately, and that she needed some input on the home front. I got home around 3, and we went out for some coffee and ice cream. We sat down, talked and I caught up with what’s been happening in her life lately. She’s got a whole range of songs in her iTunes collection – songs I’d never imagined would find a place in our home. She knows all these songs and can sing along with most numbers. She’s totally part of this iPod generation, I guess. I asked her why she would want – why anyone would want – anything more than say, 10-20 songs in her iPod and her response summarises the fact that I don’t get it. I don’t, I guess. I don’t get why you’d have more than the number of songs you’d listen to at any one time. On a typical day, I ride something like 45 minutes each way, on the train and tram. Even if I had an iPod plugged into my ears right through, that’s approximately 15 songs. For a return journey, assuming I’d only listen to each song once, I need a maximum of 30 songs. That’s what – 250MB? If she needed more songs, it’s a simple act of plugging that iPod into a PC and load up or swap around. Like most people her generation, she’d probably sit in front of a PC some time during the day anyway. So I don’t get why anyone would find it necessary to have a 4GB or 8GB iPod. Maybe this generation has a thing about having everything on call at the press of a button with minimum hassle. After coffee and ice cream we drove around a bit, then we went home and we talked some more before doing some other fun stuff like watching video clips and playing a play station game. While I felt terrible leaving work early when things have been busy at the office, I felt this was necessary to try and get kiddo and I back on track for a bit and for me to see how she’s doing. I hope she found this as beneficial as I did and that we’d have a continuous “centring” process like this. CSI I’m not quite sure what it is but it isn’t Crime Scene Investigation. It’s a group at work which does some charity work and does stuff like selling chocolates for funding. I think it means corporate and social involvement or something like that and its pet project (pun intended) is sponsorship of a guide dog. This afternoon, it organised a barbeque where it sold sausages, veggie burgers and soft drinks. It also asked staff to come in to work in casual clothes and those who do so contribute a “gold coin” ($1 or $2). So for the privilege of wearing my khakis to work and having a veggie burger and diet coke, I paid $5. The better bit must be the hour or so spent at the park where the barbeque was. Just idling on a park during lunch on a warmish spring day was really very pleasant. This was the sort of work environment I had imagined being in, when I thought about moving over to Australia. Yet it is almost 3 years later before this happened and it doesn’t look like it would be the norm. I guess globalisation means competitive streaks have crept into every nook and cranny of every trading nation. No longer is there anywhere in the world where you’d head for an easier workload or more relaxed lifestyle. Someone mentioned, during the barbeque lunch, that it was the first time in a few weeks he had taken a whole hour off for lunch. That has been true for me as well, with lunch often meaning a quick bite at the desk or a quick dash to the takeaway around the corner. Instead of the fabled 38 hour week the average Melburnian professional probably puts in easily 50-60 hours on the low end and closer to 80 hours on the other end and that is probably a conservative ballpark estimate.
Momentum in Malaysia
Riding on a momentum in Malaysia
Malaysia seems to be on the verge of very positive stuff. I have just received another email (one of many in circulation, I’m sure – I am now in receipt of at least half a dozen each week). This email contains a letter/article written by a veteran civil servant critical of the current leadership and recent events.
The author of this latest letter/article is actually a retired state Chief Police Officer who was also a senior Special Branch man. He thought the IGP (highest ranking police officer in Malaysia) at the time he was state CPO (Tun Haniff) had great integrity and served well. He wouldn’t have been a career cop if he had anything less than unwavering belief in his higher ranking colleague so his glowing reference is to be expected. I would have been more inclined to believe him had he not given a similar stamp of approval to the next IGP after Haniff, which is Rahim Noor. Apart from Rahim’s criminal assault on Anwar (and created the most famous black eye Malaysia has seen), Rahim has been known to be accused of many other sins. For this CPO to allude to Rahim’s assault on Anwar as an aberration means his other accounts have been badly coloured.
So what was so good about a hackneyed and somewhat biased piece by a retired cop? It demonstrates the point that a number of people have now spoken up against the sins of Badawi’s government and his band of thieves. This ranged from royal family and retired big wigs to ordinary office men or business owners. Many agree something has to be done. In fact, apart from the dominant party of the ruling coalition, I think most people think something has to be done. Many are of course asking what can be done. The lawyers have gone on a march. A march by a couple of thousands of lawyers with widespread press coverage is a rarity in most societies, let alone Malaysia. So that was great. But apart from speeches and articles and marches, what else can be done?
Many have resorted to prayers. As a Christian I believe in that very firmly. I know prayer changes things. I have advocated prayer (as a cure for Malaysia’s problems) for many months now. However, just as we do not just pray when someone is sick (we send him to a doctor) and we do not just pray when we are hungry (we go out and find food), so we should also think about what else we can and should do with the malaise plaguing Malaysia, even as we pray. Someone once said that a miracle is to keep doing the same thing but expecting a different outcome. What can Malaysians do which haven’t been done before?
I think those who can, should lead a peaceful revolution. Those who can are the non-political Malay professionals, technocrats, teachers, office workers, housewives the Chinese and Indian businessmen, professionals, teachers, office workers, housewives – ie, everyone! Or, almost everyone – anyone who has up until now limited his or her political activity turning up on polling day to check off a ballot paper – can participate in this. It can be a very simple act. For example, organize a day where everyone collects the household rubbish, put it in a black garbage bag, and take a drive to the nearest and highest ranking politician’s office and deposit that bag of rubbish there. Call it rubbish day. Ideally all this rubbish can be deposited at the front of an identified person – Fairuz, Khairy, Badawi, Rafidah, anyone who is easily identifiable and can be a symbolic figurehead and representative of the stink that has become unbearable for most Malaysians. That is just step 1. I don’t know though if even a simple act like this is something all Malaysians would be bothered with. Any concerted efforts which is non-violent but sends a loud and clear message, ought to be a great first step. Someone should capitalize on the momentum and do this, I feel.
Full-on (and therefore un-relaxing) weekend
A good mate of mine is in town right now. He flew in from Malaysia a few days ago with his family. They’re here for a final reconnaissance trip, before making the move in December this year. They’re looking for a house so last night he came over to our place and used the internet to do some research. They were here from around 4pm and by the time they just a little after 9pm, I was so knackered I could barely stay up a minute longer. I think we all were. It was a bit of a hectic weekend.
Earlier yesterday afternoon, as we were limbering up to leave church after a long lunch there, I received a telephone call from a friend. She said her car was on fire and she wondered what she could or should do for the insurance. After my jaw stopped dropping, I told Theresa what happened and we both drove straight from church to this friend’s house. We arrived some 20 minutes later and when we sent into the driveway, we saw that the front of their Camry wagon was almost completely burnt off and the smell of burnt rubber and plastics was still hovering about. After giving some general advice on what she could do, we hung around and chatted with her and another friend who has also come to just be around. We were all old friends, and shared a flat together in our university days back in the mid to end 80’s in Sydney. As we chatted, we reminded ourselves it has been over 20 years since those relatively carefree days. We only left when my mate rang and said they were at our house!
Earlier that morning, we had busied ourselves getting ready for church and the lunch which followed thereafter. We left home earlier than usual, I dropped kiddo and Theresa off, stayed around to chat with a few people and then left to pick up another member and her mother and baby. They’re from Hong Kong and have been attending our church for a few months and we recently offered to give them a lift to church. The baby is absolutely adorable and I suspect she has begun identifying me as the taxi man as she no longer look at me as a stranger and even smiled and waved at me. She’s only about a year old and contrasts well with another baby in the church, also about a year old and a girl, who is much chattier. They are now both friendly to Theresa and I.
So from baby hugging to lunch preparation and wining with mate, yesterday left me tired this morning, when I struggled to get into the gym. The reduced 30 minute runs I have these days wasn’t as laboured as I was afraid it would be but I am still one luc short of a bright and chirpy fellow. Saturday was no better – after the usual weekend house cleaning we dropped kiddo off at her mate’s place in Canterbury. We also spent some time with that mate’s mother, who just had back surgery and was recuperating at home. After that we went and did some shopping, collected some boxes to do some more packing and got home by about 2pm. I lugged a whole bundle of clothes down for ironing and by the time I finished, the footy grand finals was already half way through. It was obvious then the cats were going to win this one and end that other drought plaguing Victoria. When the lead stretched to about 70 points soon after half time, it was a question of whether Port Adelaide was going to be able to ward off getting beaten by the greatest ever margin in grand finals history. It turned out they couldn’t and the final 119 points margin was something coach Williams was going to take some undoing. As the final quarter was drawing to a close, I started cooking dinner.
We were supposed to meet at A Hooi’s house to prepare the dessert for the lunch next day. She was going to cook a curry and I volunteered to cook some noodles to go with it. Theresa had gone to someone’s house in Box Hill earlier in the morning to collect some heavy duty pots for this. I cooked the noodles, Theresa went to pick kiddo up from her mate’s place and we made our way to A Hooi’s. The peeling, cutting and dinner finished by about 9pm and by the time we got home it was close to 10pm.
Theresa’s back
Theresa got back from Malaysia yesterday morning. After gym, instead of making a quick dash to the station to catch the 7:08, I casually got into my car and drove to Tullamarine. I got there just before 8am, and when Theresa called to say she was just only about to retrieve her luggage from the carousel, I realised it may take a while before she could get out.
At the dinner at Oliver’s last Sunday, there was a conversation on the parking in the airport. Someone said you can no longer pick passengers from the arrival gate; apparently this is a security consequence from the Glasgow airport incident. J said when he went to pick his daughter he was warned and was told he would be issued an infringement notice for picking her up from a spot which he wasn’t supposed to. As I drove through the areas outside the arrival area, I realised it was filled with tour vehicles and there was a 1-minute pick-up section but it was right at the end of a long stretch.
Anyway, satisfied that I would have an area to ask Theresa to wait for me, I drove into the McDonald restaurant on Centre Road to wait. There wasn’t a spot to park in so after slowly circulating, I thought I might as well take my time through the drive-through for a coffee. This would prove to be my undoing.
Theresa finally rang, I drove up to pick her up and we headed off into the city. I was going to get into the office a little later and had hoped to get in by about 9am or slightly later. The drive from the airport into the office however, was reminiscent of my KL days. The traffic jam, though not quite of Jalan Sultan Ismail or Jalan Tun Razak proportions, felt like one of them. We had left the airport a bit after 8.30 but it took about an hour to get to St Kilda Rd, where the office was. The very short detour I made at McDonald’s at the airport for a tall flat white proved a disaster under these traffic conditions so that by the time I got into the office around 9.30am, I was a total wreck. Once in the building, I did an Asafa Powell to the men’s room and as I stood at the urinal swaying, I wept … from my eyes…
At the office that day, I was very disorientated. I think some of the waste product the disposal of which had been forcibly delayed, made its way to the brains and my thinking was a bit more unconventional for much of the day. It also turned out to be my birthday. I had a piss-up in a different sort of way I guess…
All up, it has been a sort of a zombie type of a week. I drift off to sleep in my bed with the laptop next to me, in Theresa’s place. Sometimes it just goes into screen saver mode the whole night for no reason. That laptop is going back into the briefcase. Theresa got back from Malaysia yesterday morning.
Weekend Without Theresa
It has been such a disorientating week and a half. Two weekends ago Theresa wasn’t feeling too well and her visit to the doctor’s that Saturday morning left her reeling for pretty much the whole weekend. Then it was a busy week for me and while putting out little fires in the workplace, we had also begun to address little matters which needed attention for the new home. They all added up and created a bit of a hazy and spinning sort of atmosphere – like things are very unsettled. Then Theresa was off on Tuesday night. She’d be away for a week and though we communicate through phone and emails a lot, it isn’t the same.
Even after what – 15 years, I still feel great when she’s around and not so great when she isn’t. I don’t know how one copes when one loses a life partner. I dare not even think about it.
Two days ago (Saturday) I took kiddo on the train to Flinders’ Station. From there we hopped on a tram down St Kilda Road and stopped at the Domain Interchange. We walked the couple of hundred of metres or so, to come to Mac Robertson Girls High School. It was my second time there, having handed in her acceptance papers about a month or so ago. It still looked a bit old to me but for kiddo it was a great looking place. We walked around the school compound a bit and on the way back, I kept asking her to trace the steps – the train to take, the station to get off, the exits to take, the tram stops, etc. I hope she feels comfortable using these transport modes when the time comes.
After leaving the school, we tracked into the city and she said she needed food so we found a dumpling place. It was a tiny grotty place in the middle of the tourist belt on Swanston St. The food was forgettable but cheap and it was what kiddo wanted. After dinner we walked around the city, ending up in Myer to look at iPod dockers. Closer to 6pm, we made our way to Melbourne Central thinking we were going home when on a whim and fancy, decided to take in a movie as well, since Hoyts was in the Melbourne Central complex. Bourne Ultimatum looked good, though kiddo was a bit apprehensive. She said she hadn’t watched the first two so wasn’t sure she could follow this one. In reality I suspect it wasn’t her kind of movie. It was my kind of movie and I was paying so we watched it. I loved it. We got home well after 9pm and on the way home we had heard Hawthorn were taking a bit of a hammering from Kangaroos, much to my disappointment. I had taken to the Hawks recently and had been seriously thinking about choosing them as the club to root for. I still think I’ll do that, no Grand Finals notwithstanding.
At church yesterday, the recent drive to get involved in missions and be the “salt & light of the world” stepped up. The letter to appeal against loosening abortion laws was finalised and I now need to follow through with the final touches of getting the corporate version signed and mailed out. I must also remember to mail out my personal version.
Last night kiddo and I joined some church friends for dinner out in bush-town. I don’t mean to disparage the suburbs – I am an inhabitant. I mean only that it feels so far. It’s about 30 minutes drive for us into the city. We were at Berwick for dinner last night however, and it was about 30 minutes further out east from where we were. Had we been city dwellers it would have been a 1-hour drive each way. The restaurant (Oliver’s on Clyde) was alright and the food was okay but the company was pleasant and kiddo seemed to enjoy it so it was good. It was however a late night and by the time we got home, it was almost 10.30pm. After fixing lunch, etc it was well past 11pm…it was a very tiring weekend, and I miss my wife…
The Hunt Ends, Abortion and Malaysia at 50
Last weekend was a bit of a whirlwind one for us. It started however, in a pretty mundane manner. After the usual housekeeping matters we went to look at a couple of houses. These have been on the list and since technically we still haven’t got a binding deal for 87 Vicki Street, we went to see these properties. One in Forest Hill was already sold. It was however, a unit in a development of 6 and it looked pretty run down. We went to the other one in Blackburn, on Malabar Road. It was a smallish 2 bedroom weatherboard home. Inside, it was beautifully renovated with fantastic finishing and the kitchen in particular was nice. I must say however that the one in 87 Vicki Street is much better. This property on Malabar Road was for auction that same day so we hung around to see what sort of price it would fetch. It was sold for what can be considered an obscene price for a property of this nature, so our fears about current property market were further confirmed.
After that auction we dropped kiddo off for her class, after which we went to 87 Vicki Street to meet up with the agent. To our (pleasant) surprise, there was a stream of very interested parties inspecting the property and several were keen enough to want to make offers. It was listed as an auction property so these people were a little upset when told that the property is already under offer. We sympathised with them but we too have been in this situation before and I feel bad about this but we were a little elated to now be on the other side of things. We confirmed matters with the agent, collected some paperwork and left to pick kiddo up.
We drove straight to J & J’s housewarming in Wantirna South. News travelled fast and when we got there our friends were more excited than us, with our new acquisition! It was J & J’s afternoon so I tried hard not to steal that away from them but the fact that this was a party of Christians and our new house would be so close to Koorong, the well known Christian bookstore, meant that it was an instant talking point which continued till Sunday afternoon when we were at another church friend’s house for a thanksgiving lunch. Meanwhile, after we left J & J’s place, we had kiddo’s Saturday night church program to attend to, which started at 5pm. Theresa cooked some pasta for them – I had to have the leftovers for lunch yesterday!
Abortion – abort the idea
Recently the Victorian state government under new Premier John Brumby proposed to decriminalise abortion. It isn’t actually his proposal so much as it is his party’s plan which was sitting dormant for a while and has recently been brought to the front burner. As you can imagine, this long-festering all-time favourite election issue continues to stoke deep seated emotions. There will always be clever and progressive sounding arguments. It would seem perfectly normal, liberal and progressive to allow a woman to exercise her freedom of choice on issues affecting her most. Like I said in an earlier piece (see Gay Church piece below) all the considerations must be subject to what God has said on the matter. That has to take precedence. In this instance, the sanctity of life demands we do not consider aborting a child unless it is necessary to save the mother’s life. I appreciate the complexities arising from every point and every conceivable circumstance but we must not allow ourselves the danger of allowing those complexities to colour this very simple principle. I am not saying the decision involved is a simple matter. It never is. Having faith in God however means trusting Him to deliver the outcome whatever that may be. We have to trust that outcome is the best not because it is the one we like the most or because it works for us, but because it is one based on obedience. There is a lot in the phrase “trust and obey”. It takes so much faith to obey, especially in circumstances with so far-reaching repercussions. If we truly believe He is our loving heavenly Father, we have to trust that He would take care of things (such as the mother’s and the child’s welfare) in ways which would truly be best for the all concerned. To borrow the language of an anti-smoking ad campaign, it is hard to trust Him. It is even harder not to.
Malaysia turning 50
This Friday Malaysia celebrates its 50th anniversary as an independent nation. A few days ago, a regular of Malaysian news feeder emailed to say the mood around town does not reflect that of a golden jubilee year. Many have been distressed over recent happenings which illustrate the rapid deterioration of public institutions. Like me, many think this is a culmination of a trend which started so long ago. It guess the germinating events likely predate Mahathir but there would be compelling arguments for the view that Mahathir was a very effective catalyst which exacerbated the decline. He stifled dissenting voices, rigged rules to suit his agenda, castrated the judiciary, subjugated the cabinet, bossed the reserve bank, manipulated the police and generally ran the country with a free hand, more akin to acting as an all powerful president like a third world despot than as a prime minister. While he may have genuine interest of the country at heart, by destroying these institutions, he paved the way for incompetent administrators who are interested only in plundering, more than governing. So when you now have an ineffectual replacement for a prime minister, you have groups taking advantage to milk the country the best they can. Alright, I had promised to stop knocking Malaysia so I will not go on along this vein. My point is – the country has been primed for a subdued 50th anniversary celebration. Those who see its problems see little or no cause for celebrations. These are not my sentiments, but those who still live and work there. Sure there are a few who have not been affected and appear to still enjoy living and working there. They are however, mostly of the younger group, have no children and live their lives in either the city or big towns and usually have well to do parents. Those who own and run their business, have children, or have extensive interactions with business or government leaders tend to have a bleaker view of things. I’m told nonetheless, that traffic continues to be bad. It is in fact worse than normal days so a sense of celebrations still prevail. Perhaps traffic woes are all too easily engineered – just close off a few roads, position a few traffic cops to direct traffic is a certain pattern and voila you’d have massive traffic jams. I don’t know therefore if traffic jams are any indication of the scale of celebrations and therefore a reflection of the hunky dory state of affairs. I don’t know – I am just too remote to gauge if the doom and gloom quarters have any cause for their sentiments, or whether the merry makers do. Continue praying for Malaysia, I guess.
Three years on
We have now been living in Melbourne for almost 3 years. I recall this time 3 years ago, when I had submitted my resignation to my CEO. The company had been going through some turmoil in the form of numerous resignations from key personnel. The group CEO was every bit a raging bull with a temper so fiery and volatile it was liable to erupt at any moment and it often did. Many had resigned because they could no longer come into work each day wondering if they were to be the target for these bloodletting sessions. That place was being torn up by a single person. This was crazy because that person was the single largest individual shareholder and he was the CEO of the group. This group has now merged with a government owned investment banking group and this merger attracted a lot of heat. I’m just relieved I am no longer the general counsel there as I would have been hard pressed from all sides. Anyway, when I submitted my resignation, it was obviously for the reason that we had decided to move here. It wasn’t for the same reason the others resigned. It didn’t matter to me however, what the others thought was the reason. I have had enough of the situation in Malaysia. The main protagonist causing so much angst in Malaysia at the moment had just joined that company then as a director of corporate finance. Through a couple of exchanges I had with him, he made remarks which suggested nothing in Malaysia was going to change. Here was this supposedly highly educated (Oxbridge) and liberal young leader purportedly offering substance to the government. Yet he sounded every bit as disconnected with what plagued Malaysia, as his UMNO colleagues. His remarks set me off into acceleration mode to leave the country. We finally left in October 2004. Theresa and I arrived, she left after a week to take care of kiddo, and I stayed on to get things ready for when the family eventually got here. After 2-3 weeks, I found a school to register kiddo in, leased a house near that school and set about furnishing it. I got a car and when the house was equipped with the basic requirements, I returned to Malaysia to finish the packing there. We pushed ahead with efforts to sell our house in Klang, found home for our furniture and appliances and Roy our dog (he’s with my mother now) and mailed boxes of personal effects to our leased property in Melbourne (these arrived between 6-8 weeks later).
Our initial weeks were exciting but also very challenging. Kiddo went to school, Theresa found a job and I found one too, a couple of months later. The rest of my experiences, like the good book says, are in the annals. Don’t be smart. Annals. Except that in my case, that means this extremely dry journal.
Almost 3 years later, we have settled down so much more. I don’t know how we could have gotten where we have, except by God’s grace. He closed doors when He knew I wasn’t ready to step through them, and opened them only when He knew I was. He truly has been a loving heavenly Father.
What this means is that going forward from hereon in, the real work begins. The settling period is now behind us. The work to fulfil the purpose for which we were put here (both in the sense of being in this world and in Melbourne in particular) has to now begin. We have some ideas (not yet clear) as to what this work is. One thing we are determined to do is to assist anyone who wants to follow this path. Already, there are a couple of families we have been helping in a soft sense. We have extended our offer to provide tangible assistance. Having completed this first cycle of our new life, it is time to help others with theirs.
Related Articles
- Drive-By Thoughts: Abortion Kills (goldencoathanger.com)
- Big abortion fight may not happen (politico.com)
- 1 Malaysia email account? No thanks 😛 (lifeasacynic.blogspot.com)
- Politicians should look at preventing unwanted pregnancies, not delaying abortions (mirror.co.uk)
Home, Work and Footy
Home Hunting
Last weekend was another one of fruitless house hunting. After a hurried house
cleaning on Saturday morning, we left home just a little after 10am and headed
for an auction in Blackburn North. It was a well renovated home on a street
with a nearby park so apart from the slightly further location it was a very
nice house – near perfect. I was hoping to bid in the auction but no sooner
had the auctioneer started to invite bids when it just took off and within minutes,
it had shot off the charts.
I was prepared to go a little higher than the advertised price but the bidding
frenzy had us shot. The closing price was in excess of 30% over
the advertised price. The auctioneer seemed very happy and I suspect
the vendor was pretty rapt but I saw many heads shaking that morning.
It was a bit of a downhill ride after that.
We saw many more properties that day, ranging from old dark, grimy
and grotty houses which looked like the Addams Family lived there,
to houses with bright tacky decors. I called one of these the
Brady Bunch house and Kiddo and I coined one a groovy house.
Nice maybe, but no thanks.
All together, we must have seen something like 15 houses
in 1.5 days. Some were too small, some were too old and a
couple had pigs as tenants. These were so filthy I wondered
why tenants lived like pigs just because the house did not
belong to them. Maybe it is a function of youth but surely that is
being unfair on some young people. I’m sure there are young
people who think it is important to be neat clean and tidy. One of
these houses had what looked like doctors as tenants
(medical books, stethoscopes) but that didn’t seem to make
any difference. The carpets in that house looked like they were
caking up with dust and grime. How could doctors live like that?
They had nice, chic and imaginative decors but they were all
hidden by the fact that the place was dirty. Maybe it was
deliberate to deter potential buyers thus prolonging the lease.
So the 10 or so that we saw on Saturday were all dead alleys.
Like I said it was a fruitless weekend. But then again maybe
that wasn’t so. Serendipity tends to work in these exercises,
maybe. After all the wrong turns and dead ends, maybe we will
be directed along the way of the right property for us. Yeah I know,
I’m a Christian and I’m not supposed to depend on luck.
But who knows? Maybe God uses serendipity to steer us in
the right way? Maybe a series of wrong turns and dead ends is
precisely what He thinks we need to experience before landing the
“right” one. Another view of course, is that it doesn’t matter to Him
where we lived and what sort of house we lived in. That’s because
those decisions don’t affect His plans for His kingdom. Then again,
maybe they can. I guess if they do, then God will make a way.
In any case, we have now decided that we would no longer attend any
auctions as the frenzy has made the pricing irrational. I think the law
should be amended so that auction purchase should also be covered by
cooling-off period protection. Under current circumstances, auction
transaction probably requires more protection than private sale ones!
Work Wait
My current role has 6 weeks to go. I was planning to seek an indication
on my future position, by the end of this month. That would have given me
a one-month lead for me to think about searching for a new role.
However, last week there was an interesting development in my boss’
situation so I am now uncertain if I can press for an answer. On the one
hand I don’t think it is an unreasonable request on my part if I did ask for
a response. On the other hand, my boss has been terrific and I have enjoyed
this role a lot so I want to accommodate everyone as much as I can.
For me to press for a response at a time when my boss needs room to
manoeuvre, would seem out of place and not very nice. I cannot
presently write about this in any more detailed fashion except to
say I am in a little bit of a dilemma.
Right now, I am inclined to be nice instead of safeguarding my
own situation. It goes against my instinct but I guess it would be
the Christian thing to do. For now.
Footy Foothold
Man Utd were champions last season. Three games into
the new season and we are 2 spots above relegation.
What a contrast huh? Misery abounds, and I’m thankful
there is so little talk of soccer. The rage is still with footy and
who’s going to make the finals. We still haven’t found a team to
barrack for, though I have taken to watching games, and have
enjoyed doing so. I watched parts of the Geelong v Kangaroos game
yesterday and really liked the way Geelong played. The quick
passing game and the industry was exciting to watch. The
problem was both sides were equally hard working and fought
just as hard. The Brisbane Lions too won a thrilling game,
with competition leading goal kicker Jonathan Brown coming
up with a last second screamer to win the game. But Geelong
and Brisbane are foreigners. I want a local team. The closest would
be St Kilda or Hawthorn and while the Hawks have done really
well this season, I still haven’t watched a game involving either of them
so I’m none the wiser. I’ve been told that for sheer tradition and richness
of club history I must go for the “pies” (Magpies) – Collingwood. Like
Man Utd in the English Premier League, Collingwood divide footy fans
into ABC (Any one But Collingwood) and Pies fans. They have however,
striped colours – black and white at that – just like the Geordies. Bar-codes
– how does one barrack for that? Go by colours? That would be superficial.
Essendon (red, black) St Kilda (red, black and white) would suit. Or if
nickname is a yardstick, maybe Melbourne Demons would do. All three
are now playing lousy footy however so … In any case maybe the
hunt for a club should take on more serious proportions now. I guess
that would be a club which fights hard, plays exciting footy, goes through
agony (like now, for United) before experiencing ecstasy. It would be a
club which rises up against what may seem like insurmountable
odds, to reach the pinnacles of success. I don’t know enough
about footy clubs to find out which club has the best fit. I’ll have
to look some more. Then maybe I would have found a home in Melbourne.
Kiddo’s In
We got a letter from Mac.Robertson High yesterday, telling us Kiddo has got a place.
Praise God! We went out for a celebratory dinner last night at TGIF, Doncaster – her choice.
Home Battles
We pressed on. We plotted and charted and planned and executed, with military precision. We retreated, took copious notes and conducted follow up research. We worked the phones, updated our strategies and plans and relaunched wave after wave of assault. We pressed on. The battle has not abated.
The search for a home is tiring and tedious and is about as exciting as listening to Red Simmons on ABC FM. It is boring but feels like war. At every turn from all those prospective homes open for the public to soil their floors, the damned crowds snake out of their front doors. Near every tacky real estate sign with “Open for Inspection” emblazoned across it, there are cars galore, reducing wide leafy streets to an ugly football-crowd like hooligans. I exaggerate, of course. The crowds, while much bigger than they used to be, were actually pleasant, and given the importance of the decisions about to be made, were commendably light hearted. I imagined them however, as ugly ogres out to drive prices up and spoil my day.
Take for example, this beautiful home we saw in Forrest Hill. It had everything we were looking for, save location. We thought we could work around the location bit (or overlook it, which was stupid) so stayed back to see how the auction went. The listed price was between $470K – $540K. Within 20-25 minutes the auction just shot through the roof and closed at $612K. You’d think that was the sort of price wild Hans from south of the Great Wall would throw about for places where their kinsmen have taken roots, places such as Glen Waverley or Box Hill. Maybe even Mount Waverely as it is only a short rickshaw ride away. This here was Forest Hill. It’s the suburb more associated with men and women dressed in long white robes to spend their days either on the bowling greens or the push a walker in a nursing home.
The experts may go on and on about what has fuelled the housing price boom and how circumstances have changed, about how the US sub-prime mortgage market is being ripped apart and taking the world down the gurgler with it, about how interest rates and the US effect would have bring the run-away housing prices to come to a screeching halt. For now at least, they cannot be more wrong. The demand has obviously remained robust and unshakable. That auction in Forest Hill attracted at least 150 persons. It has 4 active bidders and closed in excess of 21% of the asking price. Maybe the real estate agents were playing games and deliberately priced properties lower to attract attention and when the levels of interest are sufficiently heated up, they whip it up and push it to obscenely high closings. But they cant do this if there isn’t sufficient demand. The demand is fuelling the price escalation and whatever tricks these agents use were simply further elements if anything.
So we plough on and hope to fight another day. Come this weekend, we’d have to venture out to the battlefields to play out the familiar scenes. We have to press on. We will press on.
Keep Knocking
I’m feeling tired just thinking about it – the prospect of viewing more houses tomorrow. I don’t particularly enjoy this and when we first came to Melbourne, I dreaded tagging along with relatives who appeared to enjoy this. They’d rock into show-houses and move from one house to another, and from one builder to another. After a while, I ceased being polite and flatly turned down all invitations to go house viewing. I now have to do this as a necessity. Theresa’s had an extensive list drawn up and while it is still early days, the pressure to find something is already starting to build up. We’ll be looking at the usual suburbs tomorrow, which are mainly in or around our present place. Mount Waverley is our preferred suburb, with Burwood East, Blackburn (preferably south), Forest Hill and even Doncaster East as other favoured ones. We are avoiding Glen Waverley like a plague now. As always, we have committed this matter to God and while it is us scouring the brochures and maps and trudging up and down driveways and garden paths, it would be Him casting a loving eye and guiding. Someone in our floor resigned some time ago and today was her last day at work. She’s pregnant and is due to deliver in a few weeks. She resigned because she wants to take some time off to look after her child but had not served the minimum period to earn extended maternity leave. So she leaves after today, to raise her child. She said she and her partner had not planned this. She’s a happy, bubbly person and laughs a lot so she is going to be missed around here. Actually as I’m writing this down, it has just occurred to me that she is both English and an accountant so the independent myths of a boring English or boring accountant are simultaneously blown to smithereens. Goodbye, JS and may God bless you, your partner and your child.
Ante 