Perhaps I will Begin

Perhaps I will begin a Story.

A story that will start with a short paragraph, as I have neither will nor motivation to complete anything beyond 2 pages.

The Chocolate Cake

Mama looked at me as her hands wove up and down. Up and down, up and down, kneading the white stuff in that blue bowl. "This is our dough, honey" she said. "This is the duck egg blue bowl that your Aunt Doris left us when she moved away.Isn't it pretty?"

I watched, mesmerised.

She poured in a mess of chocolate chips. I knew what they were as she fed them to me as treats for not making a noise when people came to visit.

"Honey, you've been good today", she said. "In a moment, the dough will be ready and I will add the chocolate chips. Promise not to make noise okay?" She lifted her finger, pressed against her pink mouth. Mama was pink in her mouth and pink on her skin. Her hair was brown and today it had white flour things in it.

"We're going to bake this, nice and good", she said.

She kneaded the mixture and started the oven. "Kneading," she once said to me, "is when you use your hands to make sure it's all mixed up well. If it's not mixed up well honey, it's not going to come out right."

"We're waiting for Sarah to come, sweetpea," she whispered.

There was a loud knock on our white, wooden door. "Fuck!" she cried, and wiped her hands onto the blue yarn of her sweater. "It's a knitted sweater," she once told me. "I found it in the Park last year."

She opened the door and a cold wind rushed in. I shivered. I was wearing my booties and my woolly gloves but it was not enough.

"Hello Sarah!" she chirped brightly. "It has been a week hasn't it?"

Mama always sounded different whenever she spoke to Sarah. Her words became more curt, her Ts more pronounced, and she started ending sentences with questions. Like 'hasn't it?' or 'wasn't it?'. Her voice would always sound like it was going more slowly.

Sarah entered. Golden blonde, pale blue eyes, and today, she was looking browner than usual. I thought Sarah was pretty, especially now when her brown skin brought out the colour of her eyes. She was wearing a white jumper today, and her leather boots left bootprints on our wooden floor.

"How are things Janet?" she asked. "Are things going well?"

"Oh, just lovely!" Mama replied happily. She had on a large smile and her brown eyes were lit up like they usually do whenever she got something new.

"I just wanted to check that everything was okay, with the weather getting colder. Winter's coming along harsh now, isn't it?" Sarah asked. She liked to end her sentences with questions too.

"We're doing fine," Mama said, her smile getting softer.

"Have you gotten the cheque for this week?" Sarah asked.

"Oh, yes, and it'll be enough", said Mama.  "Melody and I are making a chocolate cake to celebrate," she said.

"It's very cold in here. Do you not have your heating on?" asked Sarah.

"Our heating costs too much. I bundle Melody up in her knits. She's warm and good" said Mama.

I was cold. But I didn't say anything. Mama often sat on her hands or put them under our hot water bottle. Sometimes she put two extra blankets on me, and sometimes I was warm. But not most of the time.

"Okay. I just want to make sure everything was okay," Sarah said.

"We're fine," answered Mama.

They went on talking about other things. First about the weather, and then about Mama's attempts at finding a job. Mama said something about expensive childcare to which Sarah said 'Perhaps we could ask Grandma to help' and then Mama said "Grandma still doesn't know about Melody."

They went on talking about Grandma and I heard about her big house down South by the coast of Devon, her nice big garden, her lovely flowers. Grandma was living with her other children, Jacob and Lindsay and they were doing well. Jacob was going to start third year in a public school next autumn and Lindsay had just started her first year at comprehensive.

"I chose to go with Daddy," said Mama. "He took me up here and we made a life together until I met Dan. And that's how Melody came along."

I always hear about Dan and how he somehow caused me to arrive. I don't know Dan but I do know Mama's daddy. He's a big man, grey in his hair, which is thin, and his eyes are large and very blue. When he smiles, his cheeks dimple up and I can see his big yellowing teeth. Mama's daddy smells like snow and his large hands are always cold.

Sarah was talking about letting Dan meet me and Mama was protesting. "He's not ready!" she was saying.

I looked at the bowl and the chocolate cake. I want to meet Dan, whoever he is. I want to meet Grandma and stay in her big house and play with Jacob and Lindsay.

My room is Mama's room. We only have one room in the house. Sometimes the walls have green and black stuff on it which Mama calls "Mould" and it makes me wheeze at night. It is always cold, except for when it is summer.

Sarah is the only one who comes every week. Mama says she's our 'Social Worker'. I think a Social Worker is like Mama's mama who helps her get money and food and makes sure everything is okay. Because that's what Sarah seems to want to know all the time. Are we okay?

Sometimes I hear Mama cry at night. She talks to herself and wishes that Dan would come back and help take care of me.

"It's your birthday tomorrow, isn't it" asked Sarah.

Mama said yes. So that's what the chocolate cake is for.

"You're fourteen this year?" asked Sarah.

Mama said yes.

"And your father, is he still with Shelter?"

Mama nodded. "He's in a hostel now. The last time he had work was in autumn, when he helped out on the Baker farm." She sighed softly and said "I'm glad he's got a place for winter. Last year, he had to sleep in his little box on that dirty mattress, out in Leazes Park."

Sarah said she knew. It was a shock when they found him there with Mama, her belly round and swollen. Mama was only thirteen then, her hair brown as an oak tree's branch and she was wearing a red jumper. She nearly blended in with the red trees.

It had snowed that day too.

Mama said that on that day, she had begun feeling pains in her belly and she knew she was going to have me. But her Daddy didn't know about this. All Daddy knew was his bottle of whisky and the change he'd ask from others so that he could buy more.She was cold as ice and her back was aching.

They'd found her in time, and put her in a B&B. The next day, she said she felt her pain grow stronger and stronger. She yelled and screamed and when the B&B keepers got to her room to find out what the noise was about, they found her doubled over by the bed.

"That's the homeless girl! What's wrong with her?" they'd asked each other.

Apparently, Mama was pregnant but nobody knew. They'd thought her round belly was fat, and that Mama was just overweight. A lot of girls put on weight in winter, the nurse who delivered me told her.

Mama was thirteen and about to have a baby. And then she said she was scared as hell, because she didn't know she was pregnant.

My Berlin Series and More

I do mean to complete my 'Travels with Lumpy Series'. But it's going to take a lot more time as I have pictues to post and recollections to recollect. In the meantime, I will fill this space with random musings and recordings.

I could open a door onto this rich life that I live. It is rich in fulfilment and wealthy in happiness. Of course there are things which can be improved, but this is the richest I have ever felt.

Why not feel rich? I live in a place where so much has happened. Not 1 kilometre away, was the tracks where Robert Stephenson tested his train. Not 1 kilometre away, I have the Baltic Flour Mill, a UK class Art Gallery of promising innovativeness. The River Tyne meanders through my city and leads to the North Sea, which leads to Amsterdam in a few hours.

I feel that I have so much on my doorstep. A world just waiting to be explored.

And in the comfort of my home, Lumpy and I have formed a little nest of contentment. Warmth glows from our windows as we laugh the night away and kiss until the morning.

We would not need to have children to fill us. We are already filled.

Cheers,

Meredith.

Lumpy Silliness

Lumpy has a way of devising many little games for us to pass the time.

The latest is called 'The Execution Game'.

It involves me kneeling down a la executionee, while Lumpy, the executioner, raises his imaginary sword.

The fun in the game is for me to invent a variety of 'just before death' looks, and I have so far performed the 'mask of abject terror' look, and last night, the 'vow of revenge' look. The next point of fun is for me to die artfully. This usually involves me slumping to the ground with a loud 'Ack!'. But I slump in a variety of ways.

All to keep the game interesting.

I laugh a lot during these games. I laugh until I'm rolling on the floor and can barely breathe.

Why do I write these down? I just want to record it. Record these moments of fun. One day I will be dead and gone and maybe someone, some Alien, will open this forgotten blog, read it and maybe have a laugh too.

That is if Aliens have emotions.

Aliens, we humans had a bond called Love. Between me and Lumpy, this bond was also friendship, laughter, companionship, comfort, and security.

Lumpy was not perfect. But he was right for me.

Cheers,

Meredith.

A Glorious Coq Au Vin

This is how we begin winter.

With a bottle of red,
A Breton top,
Some garlic-herb bread,

And a glorious Coq Au Vin.

Simmering on the stove,
Smelling of earthy wine,
Carrots, onions, and mushrooms,
and lots and lots of Shiraz Cabernet.

Lumpy is funny in this way. He saw Julie cooking Coq Au Vin on 'Julie and Julia' a few years ago and declared, " I will marry you if you can cook my a good Coq Au Vin!".

Yesterday, he came back and asked me what was for dinner.

"Coq Au Vin," I said.

"Huh? What's that?" He asked.

"Coq Au Vin, the French Chicken Stew with Red Wine," I said, expecting him to remember Julie and Julia.

"Why you cooking that?"

"'Cause you said you liked it!"

Later, as he ate, amidst comments on how "It's tasty!" and "Mm, this bread is good!", he told me

"To be honest, I don't like eating like this. It's tiring having to dip the bread constantly in the sauce. It wears me out. I was perfectly happy with rice and soup."

I vividly remember the declaration of "I will marry you if you cook me good coq au vin!" but I know, as with all of Lumpy's declarations, you have to take it with the lightest pinch of salt. Because Lumpy, despite whatever he says, is a man influenced by the moment. I had the feeling he would find it momentarily tasty but never take to it. He is a Chinese, no-wine-in-my-meals-I-want-my-rice kind of man.

Here's to the start of winter and a good coq au vin.

Cheers,

Meredith.

5 Reasons Why I Love Britain

So...

In honour of Her Majesty’s Diamond Jubilee (here I go again, sounding all patriotic, WHEN I’M NOT EVEN BRITISH) I’ve decided to make a list of

5 REASONS WHY I LOVE BRITAIN

Go Britannia, woohoo!

  

 

 Pic is from the web

Reason#1 History

Britain has a lot of history

It’s just so awesome to live in a place that is full of history. It’s not just, oh, you know, us Brits have history, in the books… It’s ‘Oh, where did you buy that table? It’s so charming’. And then, the reply usually goes ‘Oh, got this at the flea market the other day, 18^th century’.

You see!!!! People here don’t have to buy their furniture from just Ikea, or God forbid, COURTS Mammoth. They can freaking go to the Sunday flea market and get old, historical furniture at really cheap prices! (or jewellery/accessories/clothing)

Real life example: Me.

Just last week at Tynemouth Flea Market, I saw a golden flat case, that looked something like this:

This was going on etsy.com, for $285 (USD). The one I saw as less elaborate but was a golden colour, metal, and had a simple white repetitive flower pattern. I fell in love. Looking at it instantly brought this tune up to my mind. Ever watch The Shining? Yea, that exact tune, the one that plays at the end when they show you that creepy scene of *Spoiler* Jack in the picture.

I asked the lady seller: What is this?

Lady Seller: It’s a cigarette case. Circa 1940s.

Me: Oh, thank you *and casually puts it down*.

Inside I am screaming, what a find!!!!!!! It’s been around since the 1940s, which means, it’s probably seen a world war, and was maybe carried by some rich English or maybe French tai-tai, and she’s wearing that 1940s slinky dress.

And she’s smoking this long thin cigarette.

Wait, is that 1940s or 1920s? Doesn’t matter. It’s now in my hands!

And it was going for GBP 10! On etsy, it’s $285. In Tynemouth, GBP 10! And that’s before haggling. 

I didn’t buy it because I wouldn’t know what to do with it. It’s a cigarette case for 1940s cigarettes for heaven’s sake. I was thinking I could maybe use it as a ‘tissue paper holder’ but that would be so impractical. Tissue paper would

just fly out every time I open the case.

This is my historical Victorian warehouse WHICH IS NOW MY HOUSE by the way. And that is what one of the flats look like (I can’t put my real flat, privacy issues).

Reason#2 The High Street

Britain has the High Street retailers (and so does Europe) but I am in Britain, and I think it’s a major plus point when compared to Malaysia. All we have is.. only some.

They have H&M (we don’t have H&M). H&M is like the coolest high street retailer there is. They stock all these lovely clothes for relatively affordable prices. And they have Primark, where you can buy almost anything for very very low prices. Of course, these items will break down in a couple of months. But who cares? These stores capitalise on the modern day consumer capitalist individual’s need to consume! So we, these modern day consumer capitalists, go buy more stuff!

Now in Malaysia, the fashions come late. And things are more expensive. And it’s hard to find tops that you really like. So if you want to be unique and dress only a certain way, that’s going to be really hard. Because Malaysia is not a shopping mecca like Britain is.

Reason#3 Four Seasons

Britain has four seasons. So do a lot of countries, but again, I am in Britain. So this is a plus point for me.

Hello? Is that Spring I hear? Come hither my lovely flowery clothing items, light scarves, light jackets, pinkish things, because it is now spring and I have an excuse to wear flowery stuff.

Hello? Spring is over, but Summer is here! Come here my denim shorts and flip flops because it’s summer and I have an excuse to wear shorts! (I don’t actually wear shorts but this would be what many Brit girls think in Summer) it’s an excuse to wear shorts. Even if the temperature’s at 10 degrees Celsius…. But I kid you not. You just wanna tell them to put some coats on. The Brit shorts, I don’t know what fashion this is, but you can see their bums when they wear it. Thankfully, only teenage girls do this. Oh yes, and there’s a lot of fake tan going on too.

Oh, Summer’s gone already? (Summer can never go too slowly. Unfortunately, in Britain, it always seems to go so fast). Oh Hellow my lovely Autumn! Time to put on my scarves again. And oh, my boots, and yes, my fingerless gloves! And won’t I look stunning in this cardigan?

And then, Winter! Time for heavier scarves called snoods! And my leather winter jacket, my ear muffs, thicker gloves, and my Ugg boots!

So, I don’t own any of those. But if I did, that is what I would be thinking.

You can’t do this in Malaysia. You just can’t. If you do, you officially brand yourself an outcast. Because a person, wearing a scarf? And boots? And strutting around in KL? In this hot humid Malaysian weather? Can you imagine what onlookers would think?

Makcik di tepi jalan: “Tengok kat sana tu... Itulah.. wannabe nama orang ni… Ingat masih kat Britain. Denial la tu.”

Trendy English educated teenage girl at Pavillion: “Eew, what a wannabe. Hello? It’s Malaysia. Put some shorts on.”

Lala Luis: (In Cantonese) “Omg! New fashion ah? I must try oso!”

Reason#4 English Culture

Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, Terry Pratchett, Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, Emily Bronte, Douglas Adams, Stephen Hawking, Richard Dawkins, Sylvia Plath, Phillip Larkin, JK Rowling, Roald Dahl, Enid Blyton to name a few...

Freddie Mercury, Paul McCartney, RIngo Starr, John Lennon, Florence Welch, Elton John, Sid Vicious, err... Thomas Tallis? You can tell, I read more than I listen to music.

Alexander McQueen and err... Sarah Burton? (I know even less about fashion)

Queen Elizabeth.
 

What do all these people have in common??????

Yes, they are British! Is it cool to be British or what? I can honestly say that Agatha Christie and Enid Blyton formed my childhood. Without them, I wouldn't have had the sweet memories I now have, of cuddling up next to my giant toy English Bulldog (which I didn’t know was English, I only knew it as ‘bulldog’) and reading all these lovely books. I am so sentimental about them. I could cry. If my house was on fire, after saving all the necessary items, I would save my books.

So thank you Dame Christie and Mrs Blyton (although you were portrayed as a mean person in a movie made about you). You have given me…. My childhood.

And to you Sir Pratchett, you gave me… my teenage years.

And to you Ms Austen and Ms Brontes…. You gave me… a way to fill up my time when I was bored.

And to you Mr Hawking and Mr Dawkins… You gave me… for Hawking, a very interesting piece of work, and for Dawkins… it was fun watching you debate with Archbishop Rowan Williams in Cambridge. I watched the recorded stream. I wasn’t actually there.

And to you, Phillip Larkin...You gave me...  A philosophy.

I love you guys. . All of you (writers only).

Reason#5 Britain is near Europe

Feeling peckish for some lapin stew? No worries, hop onto the next Ryanair flight and in one hour, you’re in Paris.

Want to see der opera which dee Wagner has written? No worries, Ryanair flight will take you to Berlin in two hours.

Want to eat some Godiva chocolates? No worries, order from Belgium and the van will drive all the way up to Britain to send it to you.

Want some patatas bravas and to see the Sagrada Familia? Ryanair to Barcelona… two hours.

And finally, my favouritest city in the whole world… want to listen to a Mozart salon concert played by some excellent violinists in a very old concert room? Ryanair takes you to Vienna…. Must be less than three hours. I travelled from Munich by train, so I don’t know how long exactly by air.

Get what I’m saying? Europe, at your doorstep!

Therefore, everybody... Visit Britain!

HM Government should be paying me something for the promotion I’m doing with this blog post.

Jubilee Weekend

It’s Jubilee Day!

So this weekend was Jubilee Weekend. And I didn’t know a thing about it until my aunt told me she wouldn’t be free on ‘jubilee weekend’ to meet me. Then I looked up ‘jubilee weekend’ and went oh. It’s a public holiday. Four days to be exact. So the Brits had a holiday from the 2^nd to the the 5^th. And that meant that I could not call Mr Horridge to confirm that I could take the property in Derby. It also meant that my newly ordered Kobo Touch E-Reader would not be dispatched until maybe, the 6^th. And it also meant that my Debenhams John Rocha bag would be late in arriving.

Ah, the hardships of life.

Anyway, I am very happy for the Queen. It’s her 60^th year in reigning over us. I even got a little patriotic and looked up ‘God Save the Queen’ just to hear how it sounded. It sounds like ‘My Country ‘tis of thee’ (the US version) but with different lyrics.

Made me so proud to be part of the Commonwealth. I know Malaysia is not an Overseas Territory and all but I am comforted by the fact that until the 1980s, people from Penang and Malacca could opt for British citizenship. That’s the old anglophile in me speaking.

Anyway, it’s Jubilee mania for all the retailers out there. Next did a Jubilee line and the Union Jack was everywhere! Shoes, coats, shirts, Union Jack overkill it was. 

I love the Union Jack design. I think it’s cool that the UK has a flag that is so, attractive. Take it, and put it on a wallet, like this one from Accessorize’s Rule Britannia collection:

And you have a spunky, edgy, piece of accessory that tells the world that not only do you have good colour sense, you are also patriotic!

Unless, of course, you are Malaysian. Then you are a wannabe Brit. Where’s your Jalur Gemilang wallet huh? Wannabe!

Anyway, I really wanted to buy that purse. But then I decided it’s too sequin-ey and glittery for me. I might get tired of it after a while. In the mean time, I open that picture in my file whenever I need some colour, and I feel happier, just looking at it.

What does this say about me?

Not that I am superficial! I just, really like colour. Note, this does not mean I like BRIGHT colours. I like colour and the combination of it. I just love looking at how colours work together. And texture too. I rent my own flat now, and one of my past times that give me so much enjoyment is rearranging the lovely furniture provided by my notorious* landlord just so I can admire the composition of texture and colour. It really makes me happy, just looking at it in between assignments. And I love the way light streams from my giant Victorian windows, onto the white window sills, and into the apartment. It hits the wooden floor and then semi-reflects off my Victorian red brick wall. My property has so much character! I just love it!

The building I live in used to be a Victorian warehouse. I have pictures of it, I just haven’t uploaded them onto my laptop.

*My landlord really is notorious. He used to be a brothel keeper, went to jail for it, and lived to tell the tale. Even wrote a book about it in Kindle edition. It’s full of grammatical errors though so I wouldn’t advise buying it. If you’re pedantic like me, you would be fuming by the time you finish the first page. This is an honest review that contains truth (just in case I get sued for defamation or something. It’s good to have studied law). My landlord is pretty rich anyway, so losing sales on his kindle book won’t hurt him. He should’ve gotten someone else to write for him. That’s the honest truth.

Sorry aliens, this post was not meant for you. I just wanted to record this momentous occasion.

On another note, I saw the complete collection of ‘Yes Minister’ and ‘Yes, Prime Minister’ going for GBP 11 the other day. Should I have gotten it? I got myself some Jeeves CDs last year (starring the ever captivating but much younger Hugh Laurie) and I have not watched it until now. I just keep forgetting.

Travels With Lumpy

Travels With Lumpy

Recounting Berlin Night#2 

The biggest zoo in Europe. Curry Wurst. The Brandenburger  Tor. The Holocaust Denkmal. The Berlin Wall. The Best Burgers in Berlin.

Woke up at 7 am and down to the Breakfast Hall for Breakfast. It cost us 11 Euros per person. But it was darn delicious. Smoked salmon, kartoffels, home made jam and peanut butter, grapefruit, honeydew, grapes, fresh juice, home made lemonade, pretzels, home made cereal, rindfleishch, schweinefleisch, smoked goods, yum.

On to the Berlin Zoo, Zoologischergarten Station on the U-Bahn. It was drizzling.

And as with the day before, we were the only ones there. The ticket cost 10 euros per person at student price. Very reasonable, for such a large zoo.

We entered and first saw the alpacas, and then the resident rhinos. An old man with a pink umbrella. He was the only visitor besides us. The alpacas and the rhinos, they too were huddling in their huts from the rain. We and the old man, were the only crazy ones standing in the rain. And you know what? Those alpacas were downright gossiping about us!

I swear. 

Alpaca #1: *snuffle**chew* hey*chew* see those crazies there?

Alpaca #2:*snuffle**chew**chew* Yea. Crazy huh?

Alpaca#3: Hey guys!*snuffles perkily* What are y’all talking bout?

Alpaca#1:*snuffle* Nothing.

(Beneath his breath, Alpaca#1 mutters: *snuffle* Loser)

Alpaca#3 walks off, blissfully unaware of its outcast status.

Aliens, for your viewing pleasure, I present the Alpaca.

What? Your intergalactic Google tells you that alpacas don’t have horns??? Well, tell it to fiddle off!

I did not take any alpaca pictures because they were clique-ish, mean to Alpaca#3 and gossiping about us.

Saw hippos. Heard them growl. Saw birds, polar bears, grizzlies, elephants, giraffes. The usual.

Zoo connoisseurs we are. We’d already been to Chester Zoo, the largest in the UK, in 2010. So the Berlin Zoo, was a natural progression.

These, aliens, are baby hippos.

This is A baby hippo.

This is a grizzly sunning itself.

This is a bird with an egg.

This is a seal,a usual star attraction for any zoo.

Here is a leopard. It's fur was sometimes used to make our coats. Weren't we resourceful?

This is the pre-us. What we were before we became humans. In fact, it's called an orangutan. Which means 'man of the jungle' in Malay.

And this? This is my great great great great great great great great grandfather's descendant. Notice how he stares at me with hostility in his eyes. Yep, family politics.

After that, on to the Zoologischergarten for some food. Curry wurst, bockwurst, kartoffelsalat and tom yum soup we had. Lumpy felt a bit ashamed that we were travelling all the way to Germany only to order Thai food. But I told him, ‘Be not ashamed my dear Lumpy. Tom yum is good everywhere'.

I should point out that the tom yam pic is not mine. It's from the web.

Then went to the Brandenburger Tor (gate) and the Holocaust Denkmal. Arthur Schilling’s memorial to the fallen Jews of WWII.

Aliens, in the early 1940s, something deeply disturbing and horribly bad happened. Over 6 million people died. And for what reason? Not because of famine, no. Not because of sickness. They were killed. Not because they’d committed crimes.

They were not caught in crossfires. They were not bombed. Oh no.

They were systematically isolated and transported by the millions to camps to be exterminated. Like rats. Exterminated by the masses. Men, women and children. And you know why?

All because they were Jewish. I know Aliens, this is hard to understand. I hope your intergalactic Google can help you more than I can. I can’t say anymore. There is just too much to say.

Maybe you won’t understand. Emotions may be beyond your highly evolved selves. But if you are anything like the Eldar of Warhammer  40 000 then you will.

This is part of the memorial. It's a sculpture of concrete slabs rising and falling on undulating land.

We crashed at 7 pm-slept like babies. Woke up at 9 pm and ran to the Berlin Wall. Turns out it was really near the hotel. Took pictures in the dark.

Had some trouble finding the restaurant we were recommended. But we found Burgermeister instead. And Burgermeister, boy was it good.

A burger costs 4 euros or less and you get a lot for it. Humans, if you are ever in Berlin go check it out. A cheap but filling meal, only 4 euros or less!

You take a number, they call it out when the burger’s ready. Done.

This pic is also from the web. I didn't take pictures of everything because my camera battery kept dying.

Aliens, burgers are meat patties between two buns. Sometimes people put lettuce and tomatoes in with the meat. And then sauce is put on it. Ketchup/ mustard/ mayo. It varies. Burgers were the most delicious street food of the modern western world. And the Asian cultures loved it too.

They had their own version of it. In Japan, it was rice burger. In Malaysia, we had Ramli burgers.

We bonded over food. It didn’t matter what colour we were or that we spoke different languages. The food made us all the same. In the late 2000s, the world was a largely united place. It was the smallest it had ever been.

Despite the European and American economic crises, the Arab Spring, African war crimes,tensions with China's human rights record and North Korean intransigency, we were getting along relatively well.

You could say that the majority of us were having fun.