S is for Sue Grafton

Tags

#books #kindle #reading

I recently finished all 25 of the Sue Grafton’s alphabet titled detective stories, starring the female detective Kinsey Milhone. After three years of reading almost nothing unrelated to my PhD – even the chick lit was read with an analytical mind and anything not related was read with latent guilt – reading something as innocuous as not one, not two, but two dozen detective stories was like a luxury that I had to keep pinching myself about. I had promised that I would not just read light stuff, but literary stuff – well that would happen anyway – but also academic stuff. Right now, though, I seem to be basking in the frivolous, if one can call crime that.

These are not the most ingeniously plotted narratives – I could guess what happened at the end of more than a few, especially as I went deeper into the series. There are long descriptions that one could just skip – what she saw and how she felt while running (I actually liked this because she seemed to describe my own sentiment while running so perfectly). More tedious are the detailed descriptions of Santa Teresa landmarks (initially I appreciate the sense of place, and then it wore on a bit too much) and worse the landscape and geography, but hey, she’s got to fill pages.

One part of the appeal are the characters – Kinsey, her neighbour Henry, the feisty restaurant owner Rosie and the other members of her surrogate family. There are slowly progressing plotlines such as Kinsey discovering more of her own family history and her relationships with men. As the series progresses, Grafton gets more experimental in her writing – nothing pomo, but I could see she was trying new things. From telling the story only from Kinsey’s perspective, she introduces multiple perspectives and also chronological leaps back and forth. I must say that I preferred the parts that focused on Kinsey, though in the very last book, I did like the multiple perspectives.

I believe Grafton had some biases. She described people’s body weight in detail, and often the fat ones didn’t turn out to be nice. Pearl in the last couple of books is an exception. I also recall that when there were gay people in the book, they ended up being baddies. Maybe I’m nitpicking, but hey I kind of almost have a doctorate in that.

Ultimately, the appeal of the detective genre – as opposed to crime thriller –  is that despite the crime and the potential for mayhem, the world rights itself. The detective by solving the mystery restores order to the world. That is subliminal satisfaction of the genre. That is why I found it so comforting to read at a tumultuous time in my life.

[MILD SPOILERS ALERT]

If I had to pick a favourite, I’d say the Y book – though maybe because it’s most fresh in my mind, but I also liked the high school setting and drama. I liked the ending of the X book best. I loved the romance in the book in which she and Dietz get together.

Grafton died before she could finish the last Z book in the series, which is a shame. I believe she would have tied up some loose ends in that final book. By the Y book, Kinsey was financially secure. She had come to terms with, if not completely embraced, the idea of having some blood-relations. The chick lit enthusiast and auntyji in me of course wants to see her settled down. Because of the way Y was set up, I’d put my money on her landing up with Cheney. I wouldn’t have minding Dietz, but somehow I don’t think that would have happened. Actually, any of the three men in Kinsey’s life would be fine by me. I would also liked to see Henry get together with Pete Wolinsky’s widow Ruthie.

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Sixes and Sevens celebrations

Tags

#disneyland #hongkong, parenting

Having agonised over birthday parties for five years (not that I actually went ahead and had them; I’ve hotsted two birthday parties in a seven-year period), I quickly dispensed with them this year. Asked the kids if they would like one, and they didn’t seem enthused except for the prospect of getting lots of gifts, which to me is not good reason to throw a party. Furthermore, if the choice is between Disneyland and a party, Mickey and friends win out all the way. Mimi’s birthday is placed so near our arrival back from India every year, that I’m loathe to plan anything for her anyway. But with Nene we have a shot at it.

Except, he didn’t seem keen. And I had my hands full with work, so I proposed an indoor karting track and he agreed. I asked if he wanted to invite a couple of friends and he said no, so I ended up booking an early slot. On the day however he wanted his bestie along but it was too late. Next year, I’ll plan something with a few friends. He did end up having a good time though, being a natural at the wheel, and after our turn, we went to Sham Shui Po and rambled around. It was a nice day.

Instead of the usual cartoon themed cake, Nene was sensible enough to choose a good chocolate cake from a nicer bakery. We had the usual cake cutting at home. Mimi’s birthday was on a school day and I had just started work, so it was even more low key. She chose a panda shaped cake but it had coconut icing that she didn’t care for and they messed up the filling. Worse, I was sick that day and couldn’t partake of the birthday pizza boo! But she got to distribute goody bags (with bangles and bracelets I’d picked up in India) so that made it special for her.

Mimi elected to go to Disneyland, so that’s what we did. Although we didn’t make it on her actual birthday, we were able to get her the birthday badge (which is basically attendants wishing you at rides and giving you a sticker) and she felt special. To my surprise, Nene was jealous and threw a fit (which he does very rarely, possibly he wasn’t feeling too well as his cast had just come off), and I had a teary moment when Mimi took her sticker off her dress and gave it to him to stop his tears.

Having removed his cast only the day before, we had gained a promise from Nene that he would skip the rollercoasters. However, in Toy Storyland, he saw a super scary ride and his desire to try it won V over. That done they also went on the Grizzly rollercoaster and Hyper Space Mountain. So much for resolutions.

It was a fun day, but we’ve been to Disneyland so often, dare I say its magic is wearing off a bit. I have a strategy when we visit the park so that we get the most out of the rides with the least amount of queuing. Sadly they’ve removed the Buzz Lightyear ride, which was always a hit among the littles. It’s been replaced by an Ironman Experience that I must say is pretty fab. It integrates the superhero powers and Hong Kong extremely well though it can be a bit daunting for a kid. Well, some kids, Nene of course loved it, Mimi was a bit scared.

Read about our previous trips to Disneyland here, here and here.

Sixes and Sevens – part II

Mimi remains as fiery as ever. She has calmed down a bit … for her. However, she still flies into rages. I have become to come down on this now. I believe that she is old enough to get a grip, and for a firm word to quell her. Nevertheless, it’s a work in progress.

Like Nene last year, Mimi had a tough start to her first primary school year socially because she is new while many of the other kids have been around a year. There was drama for a bit when it appeared that she was caught in a triangle of three girls with some exclusions going on. But it appears that she has settled down now. It helps that she really likes her teacher.

If Nene is gender non-conforming in some ways, Mimi is all girl. She is into dressing up and craft. I have a box of craft supplies and we look up ideas on Pinterest and execute them. She also loves colouring, especially with a partner that she can discuss her ideas with and give instructions. She loves conversations with me which involve looking at a line-up of stuff – cars, items on a magazine page, clothes in a shop, and picking out which we like. She also loves doing personality quizzes. This, she clearly inherited from yours truly.

Although she is not scared of the dark, she threw a fit to get her vaccine. V had to drag her to the doctor kicking and screaming, and she even gave the doctor a good kick. She had to get two of her front teeth pulled because they showed no signs of falling out even when the permanent teeth were half up. We were really fortunate to find a very good dentist to do this, after the first one in my area I went to basically seemed as afraid of the task as Mimi. She is also afraid of lots of stuff in movies when she doesn’t know what’s coming – even if there’s a threat of a sad scene coming. She tends to watch the same movies over and over because getting through the sad parts of a new one takes so much out of her. Hmmm, do I sense a romance novel fan in the making?

I had pegged Mimi for the academic one as she loves homework. She was happy to help Nene write his homework when his arm was in a cast. But she’s actually selective about what she likes. Practising for dictation is a struggle and I haven’t clued into how to teach her to get her to memorise spellings, something that Nene seems to ace on his own. She also mixes up her b’s and d’s, p’s and q’s and even the direction of the hook of j. In the past, she might have been labelled dyslexic but that’s not how it’s categorised now. Her teacher says to just encourage her to write correctly. She has been improving except when she overthinks. Mainly she likes to do things she does well and gets frustrated and easily gives up anything that requires some struggle. Hmmm reminds of someone again…

Edited to add

Some more things I remembered and want to record:

Mimi’s love for animals, especially cats, continues. She thinks she’s a cat herself and when she’s overwhelmed with positive emotion will meow and lick you. When we Skyped with her tita when we were on holiday in India, she couldn’t get a word out and they spent five minutes meowing at each other.

***

Mispronunciations I’m too charmed with to correct:

Hostipal

By mistakely

Brang (for brought)

***

Read Part 1 here.

Sixes and sevens

Sometimes I do a double-take when I look at my children. I cannot believe how big they are. Nene is almost up to my shoulder. Sometimes photos of them come up on Facebook and I cannot believe how little, how chubby they once were.

More to the point, how their personalities have developed. Nene is still the sporty kid, the kid who can run and jump and acquire a skill that requires balance easily – he went from a bike with trainers to without in a few tries, he could stand up on a surfboard before any of us. He is still into the mechanics of how things move. But this year, he has developed a new fixation – all things shiny, especially if it can be translated into monetary value.

He became obsessed with Monopoly fairly quickly, and I’m sorry to say, that when our family plays, I’m unfailingly the loser. Nene has both luck and daring on his side – the latter he explained to me is needed to win. You need to be fearless and go all in, he told me in not so many words. Okay, fine, but how come I keep landing on the tax spot over and over again?

That taste for the big ones escalated into a fascination with gold. Well, I might have contributed. He became obsessed with ‘crystals’ – these semi-translucent rocks he picked up in the park – and then with diamonds. I explained to him that if you might as well buy gold, as unlike diamonds, it can appreciate in value. He grasped that quickly, although he’s not quite got over his crystal obsession. So rocks, gems and jewellery are his current obsession. I mentioned to him that he has some gold of his own gifted to him when he was born stored in our locker – he badgered me to show him. All this went down very well with his Malayalee grandmother who promptly got him a thick gold chain and earned a place forever in his heart. At last a kid who appreciates the kind of gifts she’d like to give.

He is obsessed with going into jewellery shops, particularly gold shops. Since we are not buying, the reception is mixed. I took him to the silver shop I used to patronise as a college student, and he picked out a ring for himself. The other ladies in the shop giggled, but once the shopkeeper clued in, he was quizzical but friendly.

He has his own jewellery collection – a jade necklace, a (fake) pearl necklace, (fake) diamond earings and some bangles – that he wears at home, and then he dips into my jewellery drawer. “I’m a bit sad, mummy,” he confessed one day. “Because I can’t get holes in my ears and wear earrings.”

I saw V’s ears perk up. V and my helpers have been every now and then lobbying for Mimi to get earrings. I have always been against it. Well, most people do the piercings when the girls are babies and I was not having it. There is so much to do for a baby without having to deal with the very real chance of infected piercings. Ditto for children. I feel earrings are an unnecessary accessory and whoever wants to get them can do so when they are old enough to manage the pain and deal with its aftermath. And I had anticipated a situation where my male child would ask for earrings too.

And so it came to pass. My girl shows no strong interest in getting her ears pierced. The pain is enough to deter her. My son on the other hand clearly would like to have earrings. The pain doesn’t faze him. But he is aware, as he told me, that “boys don’t wear earrings.”

I told him that while it’s not common for boys to wear earrings, if he really wanted to, I would support him. “Mr J wears earrings,” he said of a teacher at his school. “There you go,” I said. But, I added, I am not for piercings at his age, whether for boys or girls. When he is older, he can decide if he really wants to go ahead.

The fact is that I am aware that my boy will be taking on more than the pain and the chance of infection by piercing his ears. He will have to deal with the inevitable questions and teasing. None of his boy friends share his passion for jewellery. Once when he stood outside a jewellery shop, a salesman came outside. “He likes jewellery,” I explained. “You can buy some for your girlfriend,” the man said. “I have my own jewellery,” Nene replied, and there was a hint of defiance in his voice.

The narratives of transgender kids and the desire to stretch the boundaries of gender echoes in my head. I will not force my kids into conformity, even though we do follow gender norms. However, breaking certain taboos is a harsh battle and they need to want to break them enough for me to encourage it. It is also apparent to me how easy it would be to shame them into conformity. My helper, for example, is appalled by the idea of Nene wanting earrings and has told him so.

Nene’s love for jewellery may well be a quirk. I asked him today why he loves jewellery and he said, “because it’s shiny and it’s valuable.” Jewellery is at the intersection of two of his strong interests – making money and shiny stuff. In fact, I know my father-in-law is into jewellery too, although he doesn’t go so far as to wear much of it. Let’s see.

The other thing that Nene has progressed in is reading. He reads so fluently now, it’s hard to believe that he was in an English support class when he started school (his school has quite a rigorous programme for Reception kids while Nene attended a kindergarten that was pretty la di da academically). In fact, I believe it is the ESL class that really helped him take off in reading, and I’m glad they didn’t push him into the regular ground where he would have struggled.

Because Nene is the sporty type, I had pinned him down as non-academic. However, he actually is doing well academically. I had also pegged him for the shy guy – which he still is among strangers – but he was picked to play an elf with a few lines of his own for the school play and he did well. He also is quite popular – he told me the other day “mum, you know everybody likes me … I have so many friends.” Happy as I was to hear that, I used the occasion to remind him to be nice to everyone and try to include kids who don’t have friends.

To be continued …

***

First week

Although I was thrilled to have found a job, I wasn’t looking forward to starting work. I anticipated a tough transition from three years of essentially being my own boss to being chained to a desk under someone else’s supervision. I was also faintly anxious about my ability to ace the job itself. I have years of journalistic experience, but that’s in print, and now the focus is on digital.

Unlike previous job starts, though, this time I’m older and more seasoned, if not wiser. I expected it to be lonely. I planned to hold back and not be my usual chipper self. I needed to get a reading on my boss, who was said to be and seemed to be nice, but you never know. My goal was to take it a day at a time.

The couple of days were tiring, and though my colleagues seemed nice, there was the usual awkwardness. There is one dour old guy, but it’s a measure of how much I’ve grown that I figured immediately that it’s him not me, and when I did say a few words to him (with expectations that I might get a monosyllable) I was pleasantly surprised that he replies. I wasn’t totally at sea because I’ve worked at this publication before and know some people though much has changed.

Unfortunately, I picked up some kind of bug and on day 2, an hour after I got home, I started throwing up and continued all night. The puking continued till 4 am and I was considering not going into work. Last year, this would have let to paroxysms of anxiety over what to do, but this time I just decided to reserve judgement till morning proper … and if I was really sick and couldn’t make it in, so be it. Thankfully, by 7 am, the vomiting had ceased and though I was weak, I decided to go in.

This is the worst of fulltime work. A night of puking should warrant rest, but it’s never so simple. There’s a girl in my team who is clearly sick and coughing but she still comes in. She did take one day off, but she needs more.

Somehow I managed to get through that day, carrying plain congee with me for lunch. Having some work to do actually helped. I found the first couple of days during which I had barely anything to do the most tiring. I had to remind myself how much I was being paid to sit there.

Once I recovered, and got used to the commute, dare I say I’ve been liking it. I enjoy editing, and the bonus is that I get to choose images and videos and create a package. It takes me back to my early days on the desk of newspapers in India where we would ‘make pages’ in addition to editing. Technology has made this so much easier. The stuff I’m editing is interesting, things I’d like to read which is why I jumped at this section in the first place.

My boss and colleagues seem nice. The guy at my desk is fairly new too and very helpful. Things I appreciate about my boss: he did what I’d expect a normal boss to do – introduce me around, plan out a bit of work, be friendly, offer some feedback, ask me about lunch and tell me where to get it, include me in a team lunch, ask me how I’m doing after a week and give some feedback. You’d be surprised how this is not always the case.

I really hope this lasts, though in my maturity I’m going to wait for a couple of months to call it for sure.

Resolutions

Tags

#newyear #resolutions

I was so meh about the ‘festive’ season this year, that I thought I’d ignore New Year. But there are some things I’d still like to get done this year:

1. For the god-knows-how-many-years-running, be calmer. I read this anechdote on Quora about the difference between responding and reacting which was attributed to Sundar Pichai, the CEO of Google. Reacting is knee-jerk, instinctive, flustered action; responding is pausing, thinking, making a choice. In my interactions with my family members, I find myself reacting. In V’s case, it’s because he knows exactly which buttons to push. I need to respond more. Or just not react more. Freeze basically. But well, I’ve said this more, so let’s see.
2. Not get hassled when I have do something slightly unpleasant (e.g. exchange discount coupons, handle taxes, cook, follow up on research paper that has not been published yet). Just do it.
3. Pick up after myself more. We have slightly more domestic help than we need at the moment and it’s easy to just let someone else pick up after me. But on principle, I’m going to this as a matter of discipline. Depends on how tiring the new job is, though.
4. Brush my teeth at night more.
5. Check my own bank accounts and savings status more.
6. Find a way to exercise even with my new full-time job and eat.less.chips (after the stash I brought back from India is over).
7. Write something creative OR submit one more research paper from the thesis.

The year of disconnection

This is the year that I found the lights switching off on a lot of things.

Not so much my relationships with family and friends, but my expectations of them. Everything has been shifted to a low setting, with an accompanying level of engagement from my end. Part of this was due to crazy pace and uncertainty in my professional life for the last six months of the year. I had very little time to reach out, but I also found that to be equally true of the people I care about. They too were preoccupied either with work, children, health issues or just the general drama of their own lives.

I’ve been disappointed by people I hoped for support from, but this disappointment has been greeted with a shrug rather than a rage against the machine. More and more I’m coming around to the idea that people have their own shit, they go through phases and if their crazy phase and yours happens to occur at the same time, something’s got to give (this is probably the story of my marriage’s downturn). It doesn’t many anyone the bad guy.

But I know I’m not been there for anyone as I probably should have. And that’s because I’m so depleted myself. I am beginning to understand the husband or maybe you just become like your significant other, because finally, I’m resorting to exactly his defense mechanism – withdrawing into myself, seeking solitude, blocking out what I don’t like or want to deal with. No more digging deep, I’m just gliding these days. Any painful emotion, I just open my Kindle and start reading.

I’ve done enough deep digging over the years to recognize crap for what it is. The thing is recognition is not healing. Once you know the harmful pattern you’re in, how do you break out of it? Noone really has the answer to that, and if you live with someone who has their own destructive patterns to deal with, well. Let’s just watch an episode of Mad Men instead. V’s strategy has been coasting, without much analysis so far, and although that’s not my choice of survival mode and I resent playing the game on his terms yet again, having tried everything else I can thing of, here I am. It takes two to tango after all.

The laughable thing that always happen is that when you – even inadvertently – start mirroring someone’s else’s behaviour, they can’t handle it. I always come to this point with men.

The problem is that for me, this is not a temporary measure. Something in me has indeed broken off and floated away. I’m not sure I actually want that part back anymore. I’m liking this shut down. I don’t want the lights on anymore. I’m getting comfortable in the dark.

 

 

 

Kindling

Tags

#books #kindle #reading

So I got a Kindle.

I am not one of those who objected to the device on the basis for some nostalgia for the printed page, though there is that. There is a tactile pleasure to holding a book, and I think it’s important especially for kids.

However, I do have access to good libraries in Hong Kong where I can get books for free. Much as I like the idea of bookshops, I cannot afford them at the pace at which I read. V was not on board with the idea of a Kindle because he felt that I could use an ipad and then the device could be used by other people too. So I shrugged and moved on.

Then on Nene’s birthday we landed up in Sham Shui Po which is this secondhand mecca for anything and everything including electronics. I had a cold and at some point came home, while Nene and V stayed on to browse random stuff. While dozing off, I got a message from V: “Did something I hope I’m not going to regret.” “What? Did you buy more fish?” was my reply. Everything time V goes out to get something small for our fish tank, he comes back with a bag of fish, most of which do not survive.

Turns out it was a Kindle. And of course he regretted it.

Because from that day on, I started reading non-stop. Which is perfectly normal for anyone who knows me, but without the Kindle I was hampered by a number of little things that the Kindle has sorted out:

1. Access to books: Yes, I have two library systems in relatively easy reach, but the Kindle books are even closer. I’ll admit I have not bought a single book yet. I have dipped into a friend’s not-so-secret stash. I will buy certain books, but frankly if I was not on the Kindle, I’d be reading through the library so I’m not a physical book customer lost.

2. Weight: The Kindle is so easy to slip into even my smaller handbags. I can carry a tome like The Goldfinch around without any issues (one of the reasons I haven’t gotten around to reading that book is because of the size).

3. Reading at bedtime: The built-in light technology is a lifesaver. The reason reading on the ipad did not work out is because a) the ipad is heavy, but more crucially b) it gave me a headache. With physical books, I had tried those little lights you can attach to your book, but they were never entirely comfortable. The Kindle means I can indulge in my favourite bedtime pursuit without hassles.

4. Bingereading: I just queue up book after book, thereby leaving less time for dealing with my own emotions for example. Of course, this is exactly what V feared. On a positive note, I look at my phone and scroll aimlessly on Facebook less. Not that that’s of much consolation to those who need my attention.

The first book I read was Jilly Cooper’s Jump, which was quite bad. Jilly Cooper’s horse series are not high literature by any stretch, but the first few had engaging characters and of course lots of horsey action. This one, though, was just all over the place. Nevertheless, it was a good fit was the very busy period in which I read it, because I wasn’t that into it and could go back to work when needed.

Now I’m immersed in Sue Grafton’s alphabet series, which is perfect for my mood. They are not 100% gripping but gripping enough as detective series go. I like the matter-of-fact tone and I love the central character Kinsey Milhone. There are so many of her character traits I identify with – the need to protect oneself from attachments to other people, the running without joy but out of a sense of necessity, the unrepentant love of junk food, the love of small, cozy spaces to name a few. I also had the hots of Dietz, especially in the first book that he appeared. The mysteries themselves sometimes had holes in them – P for Peril was the worst – but I can live with that. I was sad to hear that Sue Grafton passed away before she could complete the series.

I know that the Kindle pro and con debate is an old one, but what do you think? Yay or nay?

 

 

A very disappointing Christmas

This was supposed to be my best India trip ever since the kids are older and my helper E was accompanying us. I was spending a perfect, according to me, split of time – three days in Bangalore (due to my arriving late) and a week in Bombay, including Christmas in Bombay.

What happened was very difficult.

V and I started scrapping at each other pretty much from the moment I arrived. This was not unexpected, considering that we go through these phases where we are constantly bickering and biting, but this time it seemed worse. Or maybe just worse because we were on holiday and didn’t even have stress or fatigue to blame it on.

We did have illness though. V fell ill with diarrhea a day before I arrived, and just as he recovered, I fell ill (Is diarrheoa contagious?). I can’t think what I did wrong because, spooked by V’s illness, I was being quite careful. I was running through the toilet every 15 minutes through the (pre-)Christmas lunch at my in-law’s place, where I managed to keep down a few spoonfuls of curd and rice. By the end of the afternoon, I was exhausted and succumbed to taking a tablet to stop the runs in addition to antibiotics, only it turned out that later that I had taken something to stop the vomiting. V helpfully turned over and went to sleep while I went downstairs to ask my mother-in-law for a tablet to stop the runs, after which I got some relief.

By the time, we flew to Bombay the next day, I was demoralized by both the arguing with V and the tummy upset. I was going through alternating periods of sadness (basically silently cried the whole flight to Bombay with Nene obliviously watching his iPad next to me) and apathy.

Given my condition and the fact that my parents had arrived back from the US only a week ago, Christmas was a subdued affair. I had suggested we order in Chinese for lunch, which was non-traditional in itself, and then I couldn’t eat anything. Christmas growing up was usually a big lunch with extended family but nowadays for various reasons my parents aren’t doing this, and I find it unsatisfyingly unChristmassy. I had fought to have Christmas with my parents in Bombay, but I couldn’t help thinking that the big Christmas party at my in-laws would have been a better choice. Possibly me being ill and not being able to participate in the small-scale festivities or make it special had me feeling this way.

My bestie had ironically decided to push off to Hong Kong for the week, so we had one lunch with friends to catch up. Frankly, it’s not like we hang out that much when I’m in Bombay with the kids, but this year with E there I could have.

My two cousins seemed strangely disconnected, and I felt this time that I was almost putting them out by visiting them. Maybe I should have intimated them of my arrival earlier, not that I think it would have made much difference. We did spend a nice hour or so chatting, but they didn’t seem particularly moved when we left.

Stupidly, the one cousin who was enthu about meeting me, I only met once when she visited with her parents and then only tried to get together for coffee on the last day when she didn’t have time. Luckily, I did meet the other friend I’m close to twice.

Had a weird off moment with a childhood friend. She walked into the lift lobby when I was there with my mom and basically seemed intent on ignoring me, answering in monosyllables when I addressed her. I can’t imagine what I have done to upset her so. It rattled me and reminded me that I am not as numb as I think.

The kids clearly had a better time in Bangalore than Bombay, which irritated me slightly though it’s petty. V insisted on taking them on extended trips every day, which was needed to some extent but meant they spent less time with my parents. By the end, I didn’t have the strength to argue or discuss this.

Mainly, it was the cracks in my relationship that V that spoiled it for me. One evening, an aunt invited us to dinner – admittedly an inconvenient time and at an inconvenient place – and V flatly refused to come. I had to explain this to my aunt, because I am so fed up of making excuses for him. My parents, who are generally apt to praise V, were horrified by his tendency to contradict me when I’m correcting the kids (admittedly I’m not a saint in this area either) and our arguing in front of the kids.

One day towards the end of the holiday, I found myself contemplating my shit in the toilet bowl for worms and figured that that’s an apt metaphor for the current state of my marriage in it’s bad phases*

On that uplifting note, let me end with some of the nice things that happened on the holiday:

1. I connected again with my oldest niece. She is heading for the teenage years and the last couple of trips, I struggled to connect with her, although she was always very fond of me. This time, I guess I had more time on my hands to actual sit with her and figure out the conversations that interest her.

2. I had many nice conversations with my parents. These days, I have been feeling increasingly disconnected from my parents as they age and get more set in their ways, but it was nice to discover we can still have  a conversation.

3. There were nice catch-ups with cousins (albeit truncated which left me feeling strange) and at the (controversial) dinner at my aunt’s.

4. Watched and loved the movie Coco, though that could have been done anywhere.

5. I realised that my parents-in-law are really peaceful. I don’t know if this is because they have changed (I think my mother-in-law has) or I have (I am definitely less insecure and on edge around them), but I do as I please, which involves ‘helping’ when I am up to it, ditto with making conversation, and they don’t comment on it. Touch wood this stays.

6. Met my newest niece, a Rottweiler pup who could not sit still for a photo without licking my ears.

 

*Because like the moon, my marriage waxes and wanes.

 

 

The Crown

Tags

#thecrown #television #royals

I went into Season 2 of The Crown with low expectations based on reports by friends that it was only so-so. I was pleasantly surprised.

I loved the focus on Margaret and her evolving relationship with Anthony Armstrong-Jones who is so hot and not what the palace ordered.

As ever, I am fascinated by the strains in Elizabeth and Philip’s marriage. It’s interesting that a royal marriage would have some of the same ‘issues’ that us average joes do. Some things never change.

The episode on Philip’s childhood and it’s impact on Charles was an emotional wringer. I came out of it feeling terrible for both. It was cleverly done – by showing where Philip was coming from, it prevented him from being seen as an absolute bad guy.

My absolute favourite episode of the season, however, was the Jackie O one. I loved the first candid private conversation between Jackie and Elizabeth. When the plot took a turn in the direction of a catfight, I winced. [Spoiler Alert} But I liked how it rose above that with Jackie reaching out and Elizabeth showing both compassion and statesmanship at the very end. So much has been written about the Kennedy family, but seeing them through the queen’s eyes was interesting.

And that’s what makes the series interesting as a whole. The Queen is in a sense both a bystander – but one with a privileged view from above – and involved in so many major historical events of the 2Oth and 21st centuries. When the series began, I had wondered whether there would be much of interest in the life of this rather dumpy looking woman with her flock of corgis, apart from her being a beastly mother-in-law to Diana. Turns out, there’s a lot – both personal and public.