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This weekend, we took the Great Western train out to Cheltenham to visit Summie.

All Aboard!

This is my fourth time with her since school started in September.  It was really good seeing her.  She is doing well, just exhausted from school, and nursing a sore throat.

Hope you feel better soon, Summie!

Maybe it's because Thanksgiving is this Thursday.  Or maybe it's the horrible train ride back.

Here we go, again.

The last time I took the Sunday train from Cheltenham, a man had passed out across the aisle.  To get to my seat?  I climbed over him.

This afternoon the same train was so crowded, it was almost impossible to board.  The reality of being stranded in Swindon propelled me forward into the nearest cabin.  There were no seats left.  Bruno and I carved a corner right where everyone had dumped their bags without thought.  I stood the whole way back to London, grateful, grateful, that the train was moving, and that Bruno had morphed into the traveling Buddha.

Adults and children were sprawled in disarray on the floor.  I looked out the window and tried to think positive things, like hey, it's not raining!  The train is still moving, on time!  Oh look, a field of horses!

The Buddha took short naps.  I patted him unceasingly.  I think I was trying to placate myself.

Bruno- Are we there yet, Mommy....zzzzz...

Because all I could think of in truth was- I am so sick of public transportation.  And the louder thought- damn it, I want to go home.

But, I don't know where home is anymore.

Home?

Home?

Sigh.  

Home.

photo credit- Andrew L.

Christmas Production

My family loves Christmas.

photo credit- M Tan, Christmas 2010, Moulmein Rise, Singapore

In our home, preparation for Christmas usually begins right after Thanksgiving (next week!!!).  But this year, things are a little off key, given that we are each living separately in three different cities.  No one will be home for Thanksgiving- a first for me.  

Other things that will be different this year is that I don't have any of my Christmas decorations with me.  And if I were to order a tree here, I would have to deal with the local council for tree removal post Christmas (GROAN).  

I asked my husband if he could mail a few of the Christmas boxes from Singapore to me.  I was thinking of my owl, and some of the paler baubles.  I was thinking of my faithful tablecloth, the one that is actually a blanket and spun of green wool.

Owl & Blanket/Tablecloth, Christmas 2010, Moulmein Rise, Singapore

My husband suggested that I sourced for Christmas things locally instead.  He said- Surely there is a wider range in London?

So this weekend, while we were in Angel getting my roots covered, Bruno and I had a great time foraging.

Bruno at the hair salon- ready, set, go foraging!

  We walked the length of Upper Street and Camden Passage.  The more stores we popped into, the more I realised that one of the best things about starting Christmas from scratch is, I can attempt themes/decor ideas from a completely different perspective than all Christmases past.

I think Christmas is swayed by one's habitat.  So for instance, when I decorate in Singapore, even though I indulge in a real Christmas tree, I have to factor in the persistent heat and humidity.  The tree will wither and brown rapidly in Singapore- its demise is considered in the overall design scheme.  Another habit I have is to also use local fauna where possible.  I don't feature Santa, I don't hang stockings.  And I never ever do a white Christmas, because it just doesn't snow 4 degrees north of the equator.

Christmas 2012, Martin Road, Singapore, with local fauna on the table.

As we lingered in Angel, my original idea of using greens, fallen branches, and the color gold, veered off tangent.  I was just gathering sporadic pieces that moved me.  Suddenly, I found myself departing from the familiar, and putting together items that echoed the theme of wintery, white woods.

Woah- radical departure!

For the first time in my life, I also have the delicious challenge of decorating a fireplace.

YUMMY!

 At first, I was not sure where to begin.  Candles?  Right.  Some kind of garland?  I guess...

I stared at my fireplace for a long time.  Finally, I had a beginning, a hunch.  I thought, I need to look for letters.

Letters!

At Little Paris on 262 Upper Street, I found discarded vintage letters.  The shop owner was surprised by the word I managed to spell, and kept wondering aloud, why she had not thought of it, especially as she was French. 

I found some spray paint and came home to work excitedly on my letters!

 Uh oh.  I ran out of paint.  Uh oh.  The silver color does not work up against my walls, which are already painted a pale grey.  I put the letters aside and work on my table instead.

The ideas I have for my table are germinating in the right direction.  I am very pleased, but I am going to have to go back to Angel to get more stuff.  I need wooden stars, something sparkly and more ornaments.  At some point I would like to figure out something for the chairs as well.

Huge thanks to Home and Pantry (114 Islington High Street, Camden Passage), Jenny and Sarah, who own and manage the store respectively.  Everything on my table came from this store.  They patiently allowed me to pick at pieces that were not necessarily displayed together, and allowed me to reassemble the varied objects at whim.

The table cloth?  A scarf, hung along a row of delicate scarfs and jewellery.  The "vase"?  Hidden beneath the lowest possible shelf.  The tiny "baubles" in the vase?  Little artificial eggs left over from I suspect a different collection that were placed inside a tea cup, forgotten amongst  kitchen things.

(When I was done shopping, Jenny even helped me tie my bags together, generously gave me a few more items, brown string, and helped me carry everything out onto the main road, so I could hail a cab.  Thank you, Jenny!)

On Sunday, we returned to Angel and found a wonderful art store!

Cass Art, 66-67 Colebrooke Row

I received a quick explanation about spray paint and found a color that will work for my letters!

I found more ornaments for the table and allowed my enthusiasm to spill over to my bed.

I even found an angel to top K's whimsical, witty pop-up tree!

Then I think, that's what's so magical about Christmas- the whole preparation like Choreography, the fun in foraging, and then the sharing and giving with loved ones and the truest of friends.

SATs & Split Second Self-Doubt

We went to Cambridge this weekend.  Summie was signed up to take the SATs.  We arrived on Friday afternoon.  I hadn't really prepared for the trip, beyond finding a dog-friendly, centrally located hotel.

We strolled around to locate ourselves.  

I learnt that the University is not dog-friendly, when I was asked to leave its grounds with Bruno.

Figure in the background advancing to inform us to leave...  OOPS.

(Note:  While I can understand that not everywhere is dog-friendly, this policy caught me by some surprise, for my dog Mickey Mouse, attended almost all my classes with me, at UCLA.  Then again, that's LA.  Where service smiles and smiles at you, even as you order raw, vegan, off the menu, and where the sun is always shining.  Go Bruins!)

We walked on.

Back at Hotel du Vin, we were allowed to eat at the Bar with Bruno.

Yummy!

Decor-wise, Hotel du Vin is dressed in too much brown.  But the bed was comfortable, shower powerful, service attentive, and we were given as requested, a quiet room.

7:30am, I am waiting with Summie at Sixth Form College for the doors to open.  

12:30pm, I am waiting at the same spot for her to exit the building.

The wind picks up.  I keep waiting with my very patient, excellent travel companion.  The unfamiliar feeling of self-doubt begins to creep up on me.  

Usually, I don't really question my parenting skills because for the most part, I am too busy living life too fully.  Plus, years of dance, teaching and working with 100s (not kidding) of young dancers have taught me the importance of listening.  The older she gets, the more complicated it can sometimes get, to parent.  The one thing I have clung to is, listening.  

Listening to her.  

Sometimes, this drives me nuts.  

But my daughter means everything to me.  

The Husband and I, we are strict parents.  My mother was as strict.  But she was also very absent.  So I am sitting in the cold and thinking, no one waited for me after ballet, after school, after an exam.  No one assisted me with college applications.  Am I over-indulging my teen?  When is that umbilical cord ever cut?

At 1:30pm, she bounces out of the building, visible relief on her face, throws her arms around me.  She insists on carrying our bags, and all through the train ride back to London she profusely thanks me for coming with her, and doing all that I (still) do.

And here's the magical part.  Even as I am listening to her gush, she is listening to me share about the reality of college choices, and re-doing the SATs again.

Back home in London, I decide to fortify her with LOVE.

LOVE!

Her last meal at home was brunch today.  I fixed her something a little special.

TA DA!

My husband calls me and banishes all self-doubt.

I say goodbye to Summie at noon.  I tell her to have a wonderful new term back at school.  Bruno and I walk back from Paddington, with the wind whipping.

Here's what I think-  This mother's love is ferocious.  

I tell Summie, never be afraid.  Mommy is in your heart.

Tranquility

Especially since marrying Dr Chan almost, almost 18 years ago, I get my nails done by someone who can do a much better job than me.  In Singapore, there are incredible technicians- J at Kim Robinson is to me, the undisputed Queen Bee.  P at Tanglin Mall is the sweet princess awaiting her moment.  For practical solutions with added pampering (think milk, honey, green tea treatments), Snails (Mandarin Gallery/Wheelock Place) is King.

In London, I've encountered some really shoddy work, and dismal attitude.  Then I literally walked into Tranquility, half prepared to walk straight out.

I was pleasantly surprised.  Service was excellent, offered with just the right balance of warmth and discretion.  Bruno was not turned away, neither was there unnecessary fuss made over him.

The only thing I was perturbed by was the sponge used to scrub my feet. 

Bruno had a bird's eye view of the action.  He settled down, fell asleep.

There were those blowers to dry your nails, and they offered some kind of spray and oil to protect the nail lacquer at the very end.

Tranquility 139 Kensington Church Street, London W8 7LP.