Tokyo Dreaming

You say Japanese Architecture to anyone and they will instantly think of at least one of the following:
1. Sliding paper walls,
2. Tatami mats,
3. Slippers
4. Bonsai Trees everywhere
5. Tadao Ando/Shigeru Ban etc etc
6. All the rest of the stuff you picked up from watching O-shin in the 80s or Memoirs of a Geisha

(AHhahah! I know! When I read that again I went Oshin!? Oshin!!)

Now, that may be quite an unfair couple points but, for many, stereotypes are what cultures/cities/empires are made of. I'm no exception. The first time I met a person from Tahiti I expected her to be dark skinned with dark hair and eyes, wearing a grass skirt offering me mangoes (okay a little stretch but I'm trying to illustrate a point here) when in fact I came face to face with an elegant lady, with perfect porcelin skin dressed not in natures finest but a well cut tailored jacket speaking to me in perfect English with a thick french accent.

Anyway, Japanese architecture. How can you hate it? Its simple, straight to the point, poetic, practical. However, we often tend to think of it in terms of the Japanese house with its rock garden, quiet contemplative spaces and earthy materials like wood and paper. This would be miles away from your saturday afternoon shopping escapade down Oxford Street/Orchard Road/(insert local shopping district here). The next couple of photos are two of my fave shops/boutiques designed in Japan (not necessarily by Japanese architects)that are a testament to that Japanese brilliance we love so much, applied to a building type that addresses the issues between fashion and architecture. Enjoy!


Toyo Ito's Tods. I couldn't find any decent interior shots online and my only copies of them are in an Architectural Review I believe is in Brunei. The exterior plays second fiddle to the interiors because from the photos it just looks like you're standing in some huge abstract tree-like building surrounded by Tod's lovely leather goods. Heavenly? I thought so too.

Herzong de Meuron's famous Prada store. Who cares about the handbags?! Look at what they're sitting in!! Okay, this one isn't by a Japanese architect, but Herzog de Meuron's take on the Japanese style of boutique is spot on. This one is older than Toyo Ito's, so you can see the influence. Still, it remains one of the ones to beat.
Images: www.arcspace.com

Want to look at more? Go on to Arcspace to check more out. As for me I've got to scoot - loads to do! xxw

A Ma Soeur

From the cover you get one or all of three things:
1. French Film
2. About Love
3. That won a couple of awards

I too had made the same conclusion and took out A Ma Soeur, which appeared to be some girly story about young experimental love. Kyle was going out so I figured I'd stay at home and watch a film he'd hate. As you do.

The film is by Catherine Brelliat (I know! Again!) who also did Anatomy of Hell and appears in The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes. I had found her inspiring and strangely beautiful - you have to look past the scene where she exposes a hairy armpit in Anatomy of Hell to see it, but its there, I swear! - so I figured, hey why not?

Having seen the other two films, I had high hopes for this one. Sadly, the movie lacked both the flair I saw in Piano Tuner and provocative storyline from Anatomy of Hell. The romance between the two young characters left little to the imagination and remained as predictable as a cold bath in the middle of winter. The younger sister character who looks up to her more attractive slightly older sister who is more experimental in her endeavours perhaps touched a nerve in me and reminded me of chubbier, awkward, teenage days.

The film grazes through the issues wanting to be addressed with little finesse and the dialogue is uncomfortable at best. You get to the end still hoping something will happen only to be shocked by an abrupt halt to the film.

Disappointed with my first choice, I didn't feel like watching another film that night so hopefully my second choice Bella Martha won't be as painful to watch. xxw

Ar-enn-bee

A couple weeks ago my cousin came down to London for the weekend. During our conversation one night at dinner it became apparent that I had no idea as to what music her and her friends were talking about. Its okay KaWee, she said. You can have some music off my external hard drive.

It started during my first year here. There I was, armed with my trusty blobby blue cd case full of KedaiKomunis Specials. I had most of the things out at the time including a couple staple albums from the big boys. That was in September. By January the cd case tripled in size and I had to invest in one of those massive folders. However, by this time my poor scratched and fading KedaiKomunis Specials had made their way to the back of the folder to make way for the likes of everyone from Marvin Gaye to Morcheeba and Cafe Del Mar to Ryan Adams. As my musical tastes changed I realised there was a hell of a lot of truly good music I was missing and stopped bothering with the top chart releases in my local HMV.

Fast forward to the dinner with my cousin, they were talking about some R&B they were listening to. So quickly quickly I downloaded the files and plopped them onto mypod. I had a good listen through and found a couple tracks I found okay, but was ultimately rather disappointed. Maybe my R&B lovin days were over.

Until last night. Went with Sha to meet up with a couple of her friends at the Elbow room in Angel and it all came flooding right back. Maybe a good sound system and a couple of dance-y friends was all I needed. xxwoop! p.s How brilliant is this track?!!

London's Gone Chandelier Crazy

They're everywhere and I love it.

After some dimsum with my coursemates we wandered down into covent garden. And found chandelier-type christmas lights everywhere! The day was quite dull, so only this photo came out half decent.

Covent Garden

A little later after trekking around trying to find buttons (buttons!) I ended up at Liberty. Planned to meet up with Sha so I took a walk down Carnaby Street and thought these lights looked lovely.


Carnaby St.


Feel small?

Perhaps it getting dark early isn't such a bad thing after all. xxw

Covent Garden

I arrived at Covent Garden a little early for my meeting tonight with Architecture for Humanity at one of the girls' office there, Scott Brownrigg. It was our second meeting and I didn't want to seem too eager and turn up before everyone else, so I walked around Covent Garden a little as it was quite busy with people just finishing off their shopping, going home from work, generally going about their 730 business.

There was a man playing the sax, a little wendy house/log cabin type bar type thing selling Mulled Wine and Chai tea which added to the aroma and sound of an evening in London. I was pulled in by the bright lights of the carousel nearby that spun quietly to the sax man's tune.


Frozen carousel

Stepping inside the actual Market Hall, I found this fella:


Unicycle man

I had two pictures but this one you can see the looks on the audiences faces!


Pre/Post-Christmas crowd

A little quiet and lonely walkway that a few hours beforehand would have been rammed with people busy trying to get ahead of the Christmas crowd. I'm definately looking forward to this Christmas in London. Mince pies?! Hot Chocolate?! Turkey?! *goes into a flurry of Christmas*

ahem.

The meeting went well, and our group has shrunk again, from over 15 people to 9. Lets just hope we get to do the crisis shelter this year justice. More on that another day, for now - back to work! xxw p.s we might be looking for some graffitti artists to help us with the graphics on site so stay posted.

Piano Tuner and Delicatessen

Back in Nottingham, there was an amazing video store called Park Video near where I used to live. They had the best foreign film collection in town and beat bloody blockbuster by a mile in terms of choice, breath of genre and best of all that foreign film section I love so much.

So once moving here we quickly found our local blockbuster (as you do) only to find it was in a little hole on the high street and had very few films worth watching on its shelves. Even the choice of ice-cream was better! Anyway, after going cold turkey on the DVD rental front we found this other place a little closer, though out of the way from our regular routes. To my joy the place was stacked floor to ceiling with films galore and a foreign film collection to rival Park Video's. Nice.

On our first visit we took out two films: as usual - one unkown, and another- a film either one of us had been wanting to watch. So we took out:

1. The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes (the unknown)
and
2. Delicatessen (I'd been wanting to watch this one for a little while)

I have to say I wasn't let down by either film. The Piano Tuner of Earthquakes is the second film by the Quay brothers, and is shot breathtakingly. A cacophony of animation, film, painting, opera, music, love and pain left me wanting more as soon as the credits rolled. The storyline was perhaps a little sacrificed by the artistry of the shots as it gets a little confusing sometimes as the director/s shots blend into each other and you realise that space and time don't seem to be a part of structure to the film. Hence, if when the Piano Tuner who isn't any old Piano Tuner, but a Piano Tuner of Earthquakes says:

'I can hear anything from a sneeze to infinity'

and makes sense to you, the movie is speaking your language.

Having watched Un Chien Andalou (this film is for another day) again a few days beforehand since the boys managed to borrow it from the Bartlett video archive, the Surrealist influence in The Piano Tuner is plain to see. Also the film stars Amira Casar, who was in Catherine Breillat’s Anatomy of Hell (oh and another film for another day!), you can't help but admire. In fact, after watching this film I returned the DVD and took out Anatomy of Hell - another must see if you like French cinema.

The second film, I saw in HMV first and picked up because the title on the cover said 'by the director of Amelie' which, when I saw, loved to pieces! Maybe its just the cuteness of Audrey Tautou. So Delicatessen had quite a bit to live up to before even putting it in the DVD player.

This is what amazon said:

'In a post-apocolyptic society where food is so rare it's invaluable and used as currency and people eat each other a young clown applies for a job at a local delicatessen.'

And if that's not enough to make you want to go see the film then there is no hope. Again the characters are instantly endearing and you will laugh before you cry only to laugh again. I personally loved the scene when the deranged lady who lives in the building who thinks that she's hearing voices in her head attemps suicide after several failed attempts. So, to any fan of black comedy- this you will love, I promise. American Beauty? hah. Kiss that little french ass.

Happy viewing! xxw

More photos

This is the offie near my house. I approached the guy behind the till and explained that I needed photos of his shop front for research purposes (which I do! thank you) so he let me take a couple of photos. He even stood in the doorway to pose!



This is on a car barrier opposite what is known as 'The Camden Studios' which, when I first saw it, I thought were the MTV Studios in Camden, turns out the MTV Studios have a much fancier building. xxw p.s apologies about the weird layout, my picasa is acting weird.

For the love of all things beautiful

I came across this blog today. As usual, supposed to do work instead reading stuff off the internet and found this guy's blog! The links on the left side are to videos he's made usually starring his wife and beautiful baby girl who are both adorable. I know- I sound like crazy stalker fan lady, but I have to take my hat of to the man and his videos. Mainly because the videos I have to make for work are hashed together, full of errors unlike the smooth, artistic shots he does. So yes, check it out.

Makes you wonder doesn't it. How much hidden talent is lurking around in brunei, with less credit than they deserve, forced to do the 'sexy job+money job' business. This meaning you have to do the money job to pay the bills, food etc then there's the sexy job you have that's, well, sexy. But it won't pay the bills. For many artists, this is the case. Take for example your common Hollywood star, normally in great films which everyone wants to be in, then once in a while you see them in crap films you know they are just doing for the money. Hence, money job - the one you have to do even if you have to compromise the sexy job - vs. the sexy job the one you love doing and is ultimately rewarding, just not in the dollar dollar bill sense.

I might be slighly ignorant in this area when it comes to Brunei, but is there an Arts Council? Like one where you'd have members, not necessarily artists (of any form) as such, but just anyone who is interested in art, film (good film), music (again, good music), theatre, poetry, graphic design, computer animation etc etc. An active council that might be able to generate funding for getting artists, musicians and the like out there. Organize get togethers and exhibitions, not just your exhibitions at the museums, but in more accesible spaces like The Mall. A body that had no alterior motive, only to generate interest and appreciation for things beautiful.

Getting acts in who aren't just your regular, Malaysian/Indonesian pop group, but maybe even the more obscure, Singaporean, Jazz groups or tiny Thai orchestras? Who knows what else is out there just past our borders that we don't immediately see. Not only that but how about the local musicians, I'm not just talking about the metal bands and school bands you see, but the traditional musicians. We hear them at weddings, some functions, but how awesome would it be if when you were having your Nasi Briyani at The Sheraton with your family on a saturday there was a traditional group playing, livening up the place instead of Kenny Bloody G weeping through the speakers? At least this way we are educating ourselves about music that isn't necessarily mainstream or hip, and that we know that Michael Buble certainly isn't 'classical'.

Some might argue that there is no need for an Arts Council in Brunei where we are so small and things get spread by word of mouth. But then again if you aren't within the circle of people who are in the group who have no reason to spread word wide - unless you are a blogger I suppose, then you don't hear much of it. Like yesterday was the first time I had heard of Hj Mohd Haranadi bin Hj Buntar - A well known Bruneian photographer. Shame on me, I know. Perhaps its not in my field, but because of good marketing and basically letting people know, I know of two photography exhibitions on at the moment and have become increasingly interested in one particular artist whom I would never had come across if not for my trusty newsletter.

What service would a body like this provide other than being a glorified classifieds ad website with a couple people running it in their spare time? Especially when we have such generous companies who are willing to sponsor events at the ICC? Perhaps a neutral group is needed, one that was solely interested in the art itself.

Then you could take it a step further, and if backed well, and had a steady flow of funds for exhibitions and events, you could set up a foundation. One that supported the study of art/music/theatre. At school we're told that if you're no good at science you're no good at anything- you might as well go and do art. Because apparently any idiot can draw. For instance, an exeptional student in art at school, who might not be able to go and further their skills at, oh, say St.Martin's, might force themselves into a mould more suited to what school they are able to attend. So what if we don't have a major industry in theatre and performance in Brunei? If you can't fish in the stream behind your house, then go down the road and fish in the sea.

I'm probably just rambling away and there is someone sat in front of their computer going 'oh you idiot, there is one, and that is what they do.' Then if there is one, where is it? xxw

Fruit Machine

My gym time on Sundays is the same routine as any other time on the week only I indulge myself and spend a little extra time in the sauna, when normally I'd just go home after the workout. In Brunei this was the same, although I never felt the need to rush since I would go around 5-6.30pm on a weekday, take my time with the machines, generally treat the place like it was my own.

My gym has a shared steam room, sauna, and aromatherapy room. Lunch time on Sundays is quite a quiet time for the gym so I'm usually on my own although you get the odd other person who comes in and quietly sits on the other side of the steam room. This, I like. You mind your own sweaty business, and I'll mind mine thank you. A previous nasty experience which I won't elaborate on has made me a little suspicious of men who come into the steam room and try to talk. Full stop.

Imagine my annoyance as this guy walks in, plonks himself directly opposite me (I could hear him, and see his silhouette), moves to the same bench as me then starts up a convo. I mumble a reply but generally keep to myself because I'm not the type to chat a lot in a room full of steam where I can't see your face. Its not so strange for me to feel this way, is it? A moment later I realise this guy is eating. Eating in the sauna? Okay, I can understand its cold outside and you might like your food to stay hot but this is taking it a little far, no? So I decide to say:

Me: I didn't have my breakfast either but I was going to wait until I got home.
Guy: (big laugh that fills the tiny room) I know, I know.. its a little weird.
Me: a little, yes.
Guy: See I have this thing, about eating fruit.
Me: you're eating fruit?
FruitGuy: Yeah, so I can have my five servings of fruit a day. I stop at the shop on the way to the gym, get them to chuck it in the freezer, then when I'm done take it in here.
Me: but in here...?
FruitGuy: I know what you're thinkin, but cos its so hot in here and I'm eating almost frozen fruit - is a real buzz. Now don't you go stealing my idea.

I like to experiment with my food, but something tells me I'm not going to be trying this one soon. Then again, a hot bag of chips while you're walking home at 4am is well nice. xxw

Furry alarm

Its Sunday today and I had planned to wake up at 9am, hit the gym, be home by 12, have lunch and start work. What really happened, was woke up at 1030, went to the gym, got lunch, home by 3 and start blogging.

Since the alarms went of at 9 to get my lazy ass out of bed, Molly instinctively came into the bedroom and said his good meownings. Around 1025, the house phone rang, rang and rang again. I wasn't going to get out of bed for someone who was calling the house before lunchtime on a Sunday.

Cursing the bloody phone ringing, I heard the drrr, drrr.. drrr, drrr that you hear when you are calling someone and leaned over to find my phone, and there it was. On the floor, with Molly sat on it, ringing the house phone.

My cat has managed to knock my phone onto the floor, re-dial my house phone number. I think I'd better get out of bed. xxw

Culture Vulture

When I was about 11 or 12 I went to a performance by a Korean drum/performance troupe (at least I remember them to be Korean) with my eldest brother who, for the purposes of this story I shall refer to as 'Abang'.

It was held at the ICC and we were lucky to score some pretty good seats. The drama was intense and as a small child I gazed up to the performers in amazement, blinded silly by the bold colours and gestures of the drummers. As with folk dance and stories there was a bad guy, a good guy, and a girl, that is if my memory serves me correctly. At the time I found it difficult to read the intricacies of the music and levels of intensity conveyed by the gesticulation of the main protagonists and had to lean over to Abang and ask him what was happening. He'd then point out the bad guy and tell me how the bad guy was plotting to kill the good guy for instance. At the end of the show I asked Abang, 'Bang, how did you know what was going on?' (I found this intriguing as the play was performed in Korean - maybe Abang knew how to speak Korean?) His reply came as:

'Because I am a Culture Vulture.'

When I grow up, I want to be a Culture Vulture. xxw

Grit and Glamour 

My local offie. 

Walkway 

No go area 

From climbing rocks in Mulu, keeping the girls sane at during the big events, taking us out everytime we had a little time in Brunei, knowing how to throw a heluvva party, Hotel California, karoke that soothes the soul, talking handbags and other halves, always making me feel like someone was looking out for me from the sidelines, a fantastic mother figure to set the standard for others to follow and best of all real friend to everyone.

We love you and happy birthday for today. xxw+k

Whaddaday

Miles from where you are
I lay down on the cold ground
I pray that something picks me up
and
Sets me down in your warm arms

-Snow Patrol feat. Martha Wainwright

After spending a brilliant day with Sha, with a fantastic find and finally the boots that I've been secretly eyeing for ages I came home for some dinner with Molly who was patiently waiting for me by the door.

Note to self: the ravioli from M&S is manky and super eggy. eyuck.

Note to self: go buy more maggi from the shop down the road, you've run out.

So I've sat myself down to get in some serious reading for tomorrow's round-table discussion. The theme was 'sites of violence' with emphasis on not showing the act of violence itself. So naturally I opened up my folder marked Sri Lanka.

A few minutes later trying after trying to locate a suitable photo I find myself a little shakey with a massive lump in my throat. As I look at the photos of the men we were working with for a length of time so short in the grand scheme of things, I feel for them more than I can feel for some people I may have known for years. The photos for me are so real as they stare into the camera and I can remember their voices as they worked, though I cannot say I even knew their names. Nor did they know mine.

At the time, I was simply going through the motions, getting up, going to work, coming back for lunch, going back to work, coming home from work, having dinner, reading a couple pages of my book, sleeping, then doing it all over again. Now, 6 months later, I realise how I miss my friends dearly and pray that they are still okay as the day we left them. Maybe I shall take these boots back and buy me a ticket back. xxw

Secret Wall Tattoos

The next time you are in a hotel room, take down one of the photos on the wall because you might be lucky to catch one of these! xxw

Photos!

everyone 

Everyone including Molly before going out on Saturday night for Ben's birthday. For more photos click here. xxw

DDB

This weekend has been manic to say the least. Ben, one of Kyle's friends came down for the weekend to celebrate his birthday and brought a couple of his friends as well. Suddenly, our wee one bedroom flat had seven occupants, and thats not including Molly and Genghis.

Plenty of laughs, more dancing and even more attempts to swindle our geng of seven into places for free. The kind of weekend you put off because the thought of trekking around and staying up into the wee hours of the morning doesn't exactly make you want to tear away from X-Factor on a Saturday night- as you can see, party animal I am not. Although when it comes around and you go through it you remember why its so much fun and the stress of work melts away save for a few hours.

However, the weekend did not end on as happy a note I would have hoped. So this was the plan on Saturday night (after having gone out Friday night as well):

9/10pm: Go into Camden and see whats going on, go to a few places then end up dancing the night away.
230am: Kyle to go home to get ready to catch Stansted Express.
330am: Kyle to catch bus to Liverpool Street
430am: Kyle to meet coursemates to catch train to get to airport which leaves at 455am
600am: Arrives at Stanstead to check into Ryanair flight to Florence.

The last bit is pretty straightforward as getting transport to the airport is usually fairly easy. The fact that he had only just gotten the email from University confirming the trip and the uncertainty of accomodation is another story altogether. Besides, it was the partying all night to make sure you get home by 230 business thats a little tricky.

It was just gone 2am and we had finally managed to round our group to leave and start the trek home through the streets of Camden on a Saturday night. If you are unfamiliar with the area, its usually filled with hooded lads trying to sell you oregano and lettuce and drunken goths spilling out of the devonshire arms or electric ballroom to the bright beacons that we know as kebab shops. Unsavory to most, full of character to the rest. As an optimist, I prefer to see it in the latter light.

Having obtained a packet of soggy, salty, vinegar saturated chips to keep him going until he reaches Italy, Kyle and I walked slightly ahead of the group who were dancing their way home. Laughing to ourselves as we walked on home, talking about the night just had and the fight that almost broke out in the kebab shop over chicken or lamb, we passed the bus stop in front of Sainsbury's.

The bus stop is unanimous with petty crime and Drunken Disorderly Behaviour. Only last week we were stood in front waiting for the bus while some girl tried to walk past, only to slip and crack her skull on the lamp post. Last night, as we walked past, some kid saw us coming and ran up to Kyle going 'Chips! Chips!' 'Man gimme some chips!' then proceeded to dance around him. I thought nothing of it at the time as the over-friendly drunken stranger is not an uncommon sight on a saturday night. Two seconds later, he realised that his phone was gone.

Running late already I tried to get Kyle not to go back to the bus stop and get his phone back, and with other males in the group suitably intoxicated, it wasn't a good idea to go up to anyone accusing them of having stolen his phone. So we rushed on home as the girls and I tried to cancel his phoneline. Unsuccessful, I waited until we had reached home and filed a report with the police and called the phone company.

Stressed and on the verge of tears, knowing that I wouldn't be able to contact him for days while he's in another country, I was left shaken. A 'see you in a few days, love' I wasn't expecting. Luckily, our guests were sympathetic to my stessy-ness and tried to help. Patricia, Liz, Nando, Simon and Ben - thank you!.

Looks like its going to be a long week ahead. xxw

p.s Since Kyle's taken the camera with him, photos posts are suspended momentarily.

Rainy days

My old camera has been a little neglected lately and I took out some film to develop a little while ago which still had some photos of home on. As the weather here is getting colder by the minute it was nice to browse through a couple photos from a quick holiday in KL where we took the bus over from Singapore.


Outside Lot 10

It rained so hard that day so you can just about see the Menara in the background. I think I will be dreaming of sandy beaches and warm weather tonight to keep the cold away.. xxw

Norfolk Square part II

When I was in London flat hunting and going for interviews etc my parents suggested that I go and stay in Brunei Hall. Kyle had gone home to Spalding and left me on my lonesome, so without my usual partner in crime I was left a little alone in a big city that I was not to familiar with..

But thanks to this alai landan I had company, and a welcoming place to stay.

Prior to this though, I told my cousin 'youknowwhoyouare' ;) that I was going to stay in Brunei Hall in a transit room. My proclamation that I was going to venture into the corridors of BH on my very own were met with a little surprise and if perhaps a little snigger on the end. Why? I asked. ANd she regaled me this horror story:

A friend had gone to stay in a Brunei Hall transit room overnight as she was catching the flight home the following day. Upon reaching Brunei she discovered that she had these little red marks on her body. Brushing the subject off assuming that she had gotten a rash, she didn't think about it again. Some time went by and the red blemishes on her skin did not dissapear so she decided to go the doctors to see if maybe it was some kind of infection perhaps? After examining the condition of her skin the doctor told her that it wasn't a rash that she had, but a foreign object - oh say some form of bug - had embedded underneath her upper epidermis little sacs of larvae.

Yummy.

Now if that isn't enough to put you off those transit rooms I don't know what will! However, I was informed a little later on that the mattresses had been changed in the rooms and the place (hopefully) de-bugged.

BH is full (pardon the pun) of bug stories. Usually having someting to do with mattresses and floors and such. Its not so surprising seeing as the place is full of students a. bringing food in their rooms, b. cooking in their rooms and finally c. being students! (i.e where is the time to tidy up everyday?) Oh and the fact that it is quite an old building has to be taken into consideration.

Still, again I say the place has a certain charm to it, each living space is made individual to its inhabitant(s) and the eternal mission to get over to the boys side and vise versa carries on. Long live BH, I say. xxw

A world windowless

(..) in malls across the country, the floor-to-ceiling glass storefront — a tradition of transparency in retailing that dates back at least 100 years — is beginning to give way to elaborate walls that make it impossible to see inside.

Okay, am I the only one who sees the fault in this?

If you don't want to read the article it basically tells us about the 'phenomenon' of shops losing their floor to ceiling window fronts. 'WHat is the fun in that?' I hear you oxford street/orchard road/mall crawlers cry. None.

The closing of shopfronts is synonymous with dodgy sex shops, illigitimate 'saunas' and 'beauty' parlours. With no idea as to what is on the other side of the facade potential customers are left playing the guessing game while others can't be bothered.

Picture yourself. Taking a stroll on a lovely day down *insert prefered shopping road/area/mall* only to be blocked out onto the street by walls of overdesigned, masses of wall leaving you wondering whether you had decided to have a walk in an empty swimming pool. Bond Street becomes what appears to be the Berlin wall, shop signages blasted in huge bold letters tempting the passerby. Attractive, I know.

So lets hope it doesn't spread. Elitist bastards. xxw

Widarchitect does Norfolk Square

Headed over to Brunei Hall today as I had urusan there to take care of. I was ready for the worst as every time I appear in the reception I either get ignored by staff or asked whether I'm Bruneian. The former reaction not being anything to gripe about, after all, London has 7,465,100 non Bruneians.

To my surprise my smile this morning was met with another one and I was politely directed to the person whom I had to speak with. Meanwhile I sat waiting to speak to the cikgu and found there weren't any stares, or questions whispered as to who I was or what I was doing there.

My cousins used to live in Brunei Hall, so it isn't wholly foreign ground for me. Having them there though, heightened my credibility and allowed me to come and go as I needed without question. However today, as I was stuck on the ground floor I was left scanning the walls for directions to the loo and with only 5 minutes free I was going a little spare. I asked one of the girls I half recognized and she pointed out the directions for the loo. Save.

Later on as I was leaving, I heard a 'Widari?? Is that you?' Shikin, a girl from school recognized me - as an obvious tourist in the place now - and asked what was up. My cousin did the same thing too as well as he was heading out. Wah... famous eh.

I used to hate the idea of Brunei Hall, with its cliques and rules of social conduct. I hated the fact that I couldn't disappear into the crowd and that everyone knew everyone and their dog (or perhaps cat in this case). After today though, I finally get it. Sometimes its nice to come back to a little piece of home in a big city. xxw

Carb overdose

With an exam looming I'm at home today. Partly because I figured I'd best sit in front of my computer and check this every ten minutes and partly because its about 5 degrees outside. The latter being a more powerful force in preventing me from putting my contacts in and braving the outside world.

So since getting up this morning I have had:

2 pieces of toast with butter (clover of course!)
1 giant mug of tea with skimmed milk
1 bagel with cream cheese and smoked salmon
1 more giant mug of tea
1 piece of toast with nutella
1 piece of potato cake (like gnocchi but flat)
All washed down with probably another litre of tea!

The heating came on this morning but its been switched off so as I'm sat here bloated on glucose in a tshirt, jumper, scarf combo, am contemplating getting a hat from the depths of my wardrobe. So there it is and here I am storing up some carbs for winter and now know what it feels like to be a squirrel. Or tupai. ;) xxw