glory box

I am moving!

2010-08-28T22:36:00.000+10:00

Things are improving. We have established our very own domain!

Follow me here Filo down under: My Glory Box

"So, what's for dinner?"

2010-07-25T12:44:00.014+10:00

I used to scream silently when I hear that question from the hubby.

Once upon a time, this FAQ made me want to run for the door. Unlike some lucky people, I do not have househelp to prepare dinner at the end of a busy day at work.

As a mother, I juggle a career and a family life. I have to think about kid stuff such as schooling, out-of-school activities, play dates, and lunch boxes. Then, there is running a household which is broad ranging from house upkeep to holiday planning, from weekend activities to laundry management, and so on. As an "event manager", I often think that our life will stop if I do not make things happen. That is all good if one is a stay-at-home wife. For a working mother, this can be distressful depending on the phases of the moon. I wished that I worked as a receptionist or a telephone operator so I did not have the additional strain of work stress.

One day, I decided that "something has got to give". Give, I did. Who made these rules anyway? I sat down with the hubby and showed him the long list of my to-do's. Well, I didn't really have a list nor did we really sit down. The hubby listened; he had no choice. He resolved to help me out of my rut. I realised that all I had to do was ask.

One of the hubby's strengths is cooking. So he became the primary chef in the kitchen. He is also good with lists, hence he also took over the grocery list. I still have to do the shopping though as he is hopeless in keeping the grocery bill low. My friends tease me that I never cook anymore. I just smile serenely. Of course I still cook. I do "invention" dishes when the hubby's prepared dishes run out. And yes, this new arrangement eased my strain tremendously.

These days I am still asked, "So, what's for dinner?"

But this time, I think, the hubby means "Which of the three dishes I cooked are we eating tonight? The pasta bake, the adobo, or the claypot chicken?" He still gives me the power to call the shots. Bless him. On good days, I relish making these "executive decisions". On bad days? A decision is still a decision. I still scream in my head!

The female bond

2010-07-11T16:55:00.021+10:00

(My other playful title was "Why do females flock to the bathroom at the same time?")

Last year, my girlfriends and I organised an amazing night for a girlfriend who was about to tie the knot. We stayed overnight at a hotel in the city and whiled the night away in a cruise ship with "Studs Afloat". We dined, danced, giggled and swapped tales. We were teenagers once again.

This year, the last single girlfriend is about to wed. What could possibly top last year's Hens' Night? We searched the internet high and low. We planned, we held secret meetings, we voted and we saved. It was five months in the making. For a moment there, I thought we were never going to find an event that will surpass shirtless waiters.

Then we stumbled upon "The Artful Hen".

We were not disappointed. Suffice it to say, it was tasteful and it was a night that will remain forever etched in our memories.

But what makes these small getaways special to me is about being with my female friends. Something magical happens when we are together. For me, it is a release from my daily grind of being a wife and a mother (yes, it can take its toll, to be honest). We dress up and we disappear into the night. We stay up late and we sleep in. These are things that I never get to do anymore. It's about sharing my intimate thoughts with no fear of being judged. It's a true getaway of the mind and body. It's like someone restarted my processors, giving me fresh energy to go back to my family with renewed vigour. The ideas that we bounce off each other are exhilarating. We all go home to our husbands revitalised.

I have multiple circles of beautiful people around me. I have mum-friends, friends with no kids, single friends, work friends, life friends from college and from previous jobs. Thanks to Facebook, I also found long lost friends and have renewed ties with them.

Each of my female friend is important in their own little way. Every relationship is unique and has its own level and space to feed a particular need. For example, I can only truly share my issues about my special needs son to another special needs mum!

My children define me; my husband completes me; and my female friends? Well ... they fuel me!

"So, how was your weekend?"

2010-07-03T09:51:00.001+10:00

This is my own take of "the Aussie way of life".

"So, how was your weekend?"

This question used to throw me off-kilter. I thought, "Do you really want to hear that I had a lousy weekend?"

My family relocated to Australia in 2000. At that time, when my workmates asked me this simple question on Mondays, I was truly puzzled. In my mind, I went "This question is very personal. Why do they want to know? If I say that I did nothing, they will think how boring my life is. But it is not boring at all, just un-exciting. Do they seriously want to know? Shall I tell them how I vacuumed and cleaned my carpet? Well, I better start doing things on weekends so I will appear exciting!"

I started dreading this question. I felt pressured to come up with exciting weekend stories.

Later, it dawned on me that this simple question is the equivalent of our "Kumusta na?" or "Hello". However, Aussies go beyond the simple "How are you?". They genuinely like to hear what transpired over your weekend. They like to listen, and they also want to share their own stories. It goes beyond the niceties of "talking about the weather". Which by the way, is a great conversation starter.

It is amazing how there is so much to talk about the weather. Back in the Philippines, there is only hot and rain and the occasional flooding. Not particularly interesting to talk about. But when you live in a country with four seasons, "weather-talk" establishes a safe and common ground and it builds rapport. Everybody knows what the weather is like so there is instant camaraderie.

I also noticed how Aussies tend to use big words to describe pedestrian things. Words such as "awesome", "beautiful" and "excellent" are commonly used to add color and dimension. The word "lovely" is not limited to describing a pretty girl. It can be used to describe "a lovely weekend". On the other hand, we Filipinos, tend to use precise words and downplay our happenings.

So the next time someone asked you "How was your weekend?" or "So, how was your holiday?"

Without missing a beat, respond quickly, "Oh I spent the weekend tidying up my kitchen. I can't believe I have so much expired stuff inside my pantry! I drove the kids to soccer Saturday morning. And by golly, was it freezing!"

Put a spin to it. Use big words. Paint a lovely picture! Notice that I said virtually nothing personal. Yet I came across as one who had a blast!

Don't get me started on responding to "How's life?"

Critics' verdict of Eclipse: With the exception of Stewart, "what there isn't, as usual, is much in the way of good acting."

2010-07-01T22:01:00.001+10:00

How Eclipse fared in the U.S. box office ...

A reprint ...

NEW YORK (Reuters) - Vampire romance has become hotter -- if you can believe the story.
That seems to be the consensus by U.S. critics for the third episode of teen vampire saga "The Twilight Saga: Eclipse," which debuted on Wednesday to a record-breaking $30 million (20 million pounds) box office in screenings just after midnight.
North American ticket sales beat predecessor "The Twilight Saga: New Moon" with $26.3 million and are the most for any movie's midnight screenings, according to tracker Hollywood.com Box Office.
Critics said the movie boosted its romantic storyline, but the overall film was not entirely satisfying due to poor acting and execution, according to a consensus of reviews posted Wednesday.
The middle instalment of the film franchise -- Stephenie Meyer's four books are being spread out over five films for maximum profit -- was released in U.S. cinemas this week and again features a love triangle between Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson), Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart) and Jacob Black (Taylor Lautner.)
The third film is "more of the same" from the first two movie, said USA Today, noting the physical attributes of the three co-stars are featured heavily in the film franchise that is wildly popular with the coveted teen market.
"This is definitely the most romantic of the films, although some of these scenes are set in flower-filled meadows that bring to mind feminine-hygiene commercials," the newspaper said.
The New York Times said "Eclipse" was "a more robustly entertaining film than either of its predecessors" with added humour, more violence, "and, true to the film's title, a deeper intimation of darkness."
But it said with the exception of Stewart, "what there isn't, as usual, is much in the way of good acting."
Overall, the film has scored a 50 percent rating among reviews aggregated by website rottentomatoes.com with 53 critics saying positive things and 53 negative.
BOX OFFICE UNFAZED
But reviews may not matter for the teen market who have embraced the first two films as much as they have Meyer's books, and the midnight screenings certainly brought out loyal followers known as "Twi-hards."
The initial "Twilight" sucked $392.5 million from box offices worldwide and its sequel, "The Twilight Saga: New Moon" raked-in $709 million worldwide.
And whether they can act or not, the franchise's stars have profited. Both Pattinson and Stewart were ranked in this week's Forbes' magazine 2010 celebrity power list, earning $17 million and $12 million respectively in 2010. Author Stephenie Meyer made $40 million.
Roger Ebert of the Chicago Sun-Times said while part of the movie didn't work, including the special effects, "the audience watched this film rapt with attention" and in summing up, said "The 'Twilight' movies are chaste eroticism to fuel adolescent dreams."
To sum up the movie, many reviews noted the line from the film that seemed to most epitomize the stand-off between Edward and Jacob over their competing affections for Bella. Jacob tells his rival: "Let's face it, I'm hotter than you."

(Reporting by Christine Kearney, editing by Bob Tourtellotte)

Kids' Camp 101: Mums in panic mode!

2010-06-28T20:36:00.010+10:00

My 10 year old is going away for the first time to a 2-night camp at Milson Island, Hawkesbury, this Wednesday. His school sent home a list of recommended things to pack. I kept one eye on that list and was confident that everything was in order.

The Sunday before the big day, we went through the list, and I gulped!

"Gab, we have no insect repellant! And your thermals (long johns) are still hanging in the laundry. But we have to practice packing tonight so I have time to run to the shops for anything we missed."

"Ayayay, mum, you are panicking!"

Indeed I am.

A week before, I told Gab that he must use his sleeping bag and practice folding it every morning. I knew that this will be tricky. It is essential that everything fits in his luggage so nothing is left behind. Packing his sleeping bag turned out to be quite challenging for this kid. I assumed that being our son (Mum and Dad hiked Philippine mountains in their youth), Gab will breeze through this. Wrong. Alas, he complained about his fingers hurting, and how it is not easy to fit the sleeping bag into its bag ... (This mum had to find a bigger bag.)

It suddenly dawned on me how sheltered 2nd Generation migrant kids are. They will never experience "isang kahig isang tuka" or "nabuhay lang kami sa utang buwan buwan". Their lives are so far removed from our own experiences. But I digress ...

As much as I worry, I actually relish the thought of Gab's time away. It will teach him decision-making, looking after his things, and responsibility.

"Just make sure you take a shower everyday whether it is in the morning or at night. And it is OK to re-use any of your clothes if you run out as long as it is not soiled. I did pack enough spare clothing so ... I think you should also use your journal to record your thoughts at night. And please remember to brush your teeth properly!"

"Ayayay, mum!"

I asked Gab what is he looking forward to the most? His answer was: "Time away from Kuya!"

It seemed to him, that his older brother's mission in life is to annoy him everyday!

About a Will ... revealed!

2010-06-26T01:11:00.014+10:00

Disclaimer: This article is not a financial advice. This is just me sharing to the wall! I am simply recalling what, why, and how we did it ... This daunting task is, hopefully, simplified :)

A will is one of those things that most people put in the "too hard" basket. You either procrastinate or you forget about it altogether. But this should not be the case when you have dependents. Especially not so when you have a dependent who will be needing lifetime care (read: a special needs child). Contrary to popular belief, a will is not only for the rich and the famous. You, yes you, will need one too. Not only does a will ensure that your surviving family is looked after according to your wishes; a will also protects the time, energy and resources you spend in building your wealth.

Having said that, in my opinion, a will is not essential if one has straightforward investments. Your superannuation plan and life insurance policy will have nominated beneficiaries, after all.

But what if you have shares, investment properties, businesses and other assets? It is useful to consider how you want your dependents to receive their inheritance. Will they have access to it at age 21 or will they get it later? Will they be needing guardians? Who do you appoint as trustee, etc. The possibilities are endless; the whole exercise can be mind-boggling!

The hubby and I always knew that we needed a will. But like everyone else we found various reasons to defer attending to it. Finally, when last year's U.S. holiday became imminent, we thought, "OK, we can't put this off any longer. Who knows what could happen to us in this trip?"

So let's get cracking and try to dissect this thing called The Will. It might be useful to think of a flowchart when preparing it.

Case 1: One surviving spouse. Each partner draws up his or her will. The surviving spouse receives full inheritance when the other party dies. End of story. The surviving spouse must then update his or her will to take his or her new status into account.

Case 2: Both spouses fail to survive. You will need to appoint a guardian for your children. Ideally, this would be an adult next of kin. If no next of kin is willing or able - this is especially true for migrants with no relatives in their adopted country - then nominate a trusted friend. It is assumed that the guardian will provide care for the minor children. Therefore, this person must share your values as they will be caring for your kids. If you cannot find a trustworthy relative or friend, then the State may become the guardian for your children. The State will make the decisions about foster care, for example.

Appoint an executor. The executor is the person who ensures that all provisions in your will are executed accordingly. This is usually a lawyer. However, if the trustee (see below) is sufficiently familiar with the law he can become the executor too.

Appoint a trustee. The trustee is the entity who will carry out the provisions of your will. These provisions may include the sale of assets, distribution of assets to beneficiaries, settlement of debts (including death expenses), payments to the guardian for the children's food and lodging expenses, providing for the education of the children, etc. Whereas the guardian looks after your children, the trustee, on the other hand, manages your assets. The trustee and the executor can be the same person. However, it is not advisable for the trustee to be the guardian at the same time. For if the left hand - the trustee - gives to the right hand - the guardian, who will ensure that all transactions are at arm's length; i.e. honest? A lawyer or the State (called Public Trustee) can act as trustee in the absence of a trustworthy relative or friend.

Provisions for the children. The hubby and I declared in our will that our children must reach the age of 25 before they can have complete control over inherited assets. We thought that age 25 is the right age when they hopefully will achieve financial maturity. Prior to age 25, the trustee shall issue payments for their maintenance.

Case 3: The whole family fails to survive. Then you will need to specify provisions for other beneficiaries. You may nominate beneficiaries living overseas. You can allocate shares of your total assets to your surviving parents or siblings. You may want to "gift" $100,000 to your mother or father or other siblings, for example. These gifts will be awarded to them after the sale of your assets and payment of your debts.

This is where the right level of life insurance cover becomes essential. If you do not have sufficient cover, the proceeds from the sale of your assets may only be enough to pay off your bank debts; leaving your spouse, your children and other beneficiaries with nothing. A will in such a situation isn't worth the paper it is printed on.

How to get started. In Australia, you can get a booklet for a do-it-yourself will from your post office for a small amount. This is usually sufficient for simple wills. However, when you own a few assets, or you have investments in shares or other instruments or if you have a business, I strongly suggest that you engage a lawyer instead. A lawyer can take you through all the legal issues, answer all your questions and give you peace of mind knowing that you are going about ensuring the future of your dependents in the best manner possible. A fee of $200 to $300 is well worth it, I believe.

Saying this, even the best lawyer in the world cannot possibly draft a will that will cover every eventuality in your life. It is best to keep your will simple and just take comfort in the fact that a will can be changed any time. Who knows, you might win the Lotto or, God forbid, end up in divorce court. You might have a change of heart about your guardian or trustee. It is, therefore, a worthwhile exercise to revisit your will every couple years or as your circumstances or the circumstances of the parties involved in your will change.

So there you are folks, rather boring. But hey, it does feel good to get it out of the way. You can now rest in peace!

For the story about Life Insurance, here is the link again.

Pinoy Rock icon of the 90s

2010-06-14T21:05:00.006+10:00

Remember Wolfgang? It's "Darkness Fell"

And so she woke up from a dream
That was beautiful and starry and oh so wild
It was all still clear in her eyes
And though her mind was foggy and blank
She wondered why
Her life couldn't be as lovely it was time
There was this king he had a castle or throne
But his horse was great and white
He rode alone and liked it that way
But when he met her he swore
He would never leave her side
They rode across the land two lovers hand in hand
And no danger would come near
And when something made her cry
She'd look at him teary eyed
And he would make her feel better
So much better so much better than before
And now this forest was his home
It was a night time and the right time for love in the dark
She placed her hand upon her chest
And all the rest just flowed
Makin' love down under an ancient far away night
It was so grand just holding someone's hand
And now safety came naturally
It was so clear that she would never have to fear
Oh tell me a story of magic and spiralling ships
And the stars in the night
Just whisper in my ears make it soft make it clear
I want to hear every breath you say
She placed her hand upon her breast
But she woke up from the land tears falling in her hands
As she looked up asking why
She laid back in her bed thoughts rising in her head
Why can't my life be beautiful she said
As she closed her eyes again
Just prayin' he'd return
But only darkness fell

I'm just saying ... (aka 'Of Life and Insurance')

2010-06-06T00:26:00.030+10:00

Disclaimer: This is by no means a financial advise. This is just me talking to the wall ...

And so I came out of my visit from my doctor feeling quite relieved. The scary word that was dangled about was most assuredly ruled out. I am generally OK. But this is not about my condition. This is about the people I most care about in my life. It is about protecting them.

A couple of years ago, soon after we purchased our new home, the hubby and I decided to get serious with our insurance. In Australia, anyone who is employed gets automatic insurance within their superannuation. But the sum insured is, let's be honest, quite paltry. A financial adviser gave us free advise - we should get cover that will pay off the mortgage and some.

1) Life Insurance and Total Permanent Disability, uncovered

The rule of thumb in determining one's insurance is the size of one's mortgage times two. The magic figure for us is $1M. Yes, make your spouse a millionaire! And why not? Let me explain why. The money must be enough to pay off your mortgage, and give your spouse the ability to choose to stop working for as long as required to grieve, support the children, and deal with your departure. Imagine how life changing that will be! I can't even begin to imagine the pain and loneliness ...

But the premium payments for a $1M insurance is hefty, I hear you groan. Well, I have good news for you. You don't even get to see your premium payments if you take insurance within your superannuation! Yes, all you have to do is increase your cover within your super. Not only will you get a cheaper premium (your employer will normally have pre-arranged volume discounts), you never even get to see your repayments (fees) as these are all deducted from the cash component of your super assets. Hah, you even pay with your before tax income (the 9% employer guarantee is taxed less). Oh, you ask, wouldn't that reduce my super asset base? Of course it will. But let's be honest. Or let me be honest. My super balance is quite pathetic. Not only did I start my working life in Australia very late (I lost 10 years of my working life, having migrated when I was already 30 years old), but the global financial crisis almost halved whatever small amount I have. Truthfully, I do not look at my super as my nest egg. After all, the government can change super laws any time. You will be better off using other investing vehicles such as shares and property. (Which is by the way, another blog.)

So, my life insurance is now $1M within my superannuation. My insurance provider only asked me to provide a more exhaustive medical report to assure them that I do not fall off the perch anytime soon. Next important is Total and Permanent Disability. TPD means that you get very sick, and your disability is permanent that it is unlikely that you will be able to go back to work. So insure for a similar amount - $1M. After all, your spouse could become your full-time carer for a certain period. You need to have income flowing in.

Life and TPD ... increasing your cover is easy but requires some documentation and follow-up. If you care, you will breeze through these ...

2) Income Protection Insurance

This type of protection is for temporary sickness. It does not cover the event of losing one's job unfortunately. The product disclosures are daunting. Nevertheless, read it. Place it on your bedside table ... there's no excuse for negligence! Once again, get income protection within super. Premiums are lower and you don't contribute a cent of your after-tax income.

There are waiting periods of 30, 60 and 90 days. If you have some savings, then you may opt for either 60 or 90 days. Insurance payment periods are generally 2 years, 5 years or to age 65. If you can afford it, aim for 5 years or to age 65. I don't believe there is such a thing as too much insurance.

So there you are, dear friends. I hope I have empowered you to act NOW. Or it will be too late ...

One important postscript. You need to update your superannuation beneficiaries every three years. A lot of people either miss this or are not aware that beneficiaries become nil until you advise your super provider otherwise every three years! Do yourself a favour, login to your super account and make sure that your list of beneficiaries is up to date and listed correctly!

Next blog ... Making a will is essential!

Thinking in Pictures

2010-04-17T21:08:00.003+10:00

My beautiful boy ...

Fortress Around Your Heart

2010-04-15T22:45:00.012+10:00

Click here to listen ...

Under the ruins of a walled city
Crumbling towers and beams of yellow light
No flags of truce, no cries of pity
The siege guns had been pounding all through the night
It took a day to build the city
We walked through its streets in the afternoon
As I returned across the lands I'd known
I recognized the fields where I'd once played
I had to stop in my tracks for fear
Of walking on the mines I'd laid

And if I built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
And let me set the battlements on fire

Then I went off to fight some battle
That I'd invented inside my head
Away so long for years and years
You probably thought or even wished that I was dead
While the armies are all sleeping
Beneath the tattered flag we'd made
I had to stop in my track for fear
Of walking on the mines I'd laid

- Sting

Roadtrip 2010: Melbourne and Canberra in 5 days

2010-04-05T00:20:00.072+10:00

We did it again! Another holiday that was packed and exhausting. I got sick when we came home.

This road trip was all about experiencing the annual Melbourne leg of the Formula One Grand Prix. The hubby is a huge fan. His brother who is visiting from the Philippines turned out to be a follower too. And so we loaded our bags and ourselves into the Kluger - myself, the hubby, the sister-in-law, the brother-in-law and my two boys. (Sidebar: You cannot have six passengers in a Toyota Kluger and expect enough room for an Esky. You will have to leave some non-essentials such as camp chairs behind.)

Anatomy of a Fast-paced Holiday

Day 1: Friday on the move
Spent 10 hours on the road with a 5:30 am start. Lots of toilet and food stops along the way. We missed the lunch stop at Albury, the border town between New South Wales and Victoria. Fortunately, I packed peanut butter sandwiches. We found a picnic spot at a sleepy town called Chiltern (see photo above).

We arrived in Melbourne at 5:30 pm. I immediately loved the city with its art-filled laneways and quaint little shops and cafes. Our hotel, Accor's Mercure, was in the CBD. Restaurants dotted the streets and all amenities were a stone's throw away. Adobo, our packed comfort food, always tastes good when one is too beat to think where or what to eat!

Day 2: Saturday at Albert Park
Excitement mounted when we arrived at the Grand Prix gate. The hubby uncharacteristically blurted out, "I am so excited!" The sound of Formula One cars gunning around the circuit during practice proved too much for Migo's sensitive ears. We decided to watch qualifying from the big screen instead.

Below are sight and sounds of an F1 experience: girls, RAAF Roulettes and lots of fast cars!

Day 3: Sunday at Albert Park
The cars went by in a blur and the engines were definitely deafening. Ear plugs are a must! The entire place was in a frenzy, the atmosphere electric. You don't really see or hear anything during the race, except for the "wheeee" of the cars. Watching the race on TV with the replays is more comfortable and entertaining. However, live action is so much more gratifying or so I rationalise.

Day 4: The drive to Canberra
A non-event. We stayed at Best Western Parklands in a three bedroom unit.

Day 5: A side trip to Paris
And for an experience diametrically opposite the Grand Prix, we stopped by the National Art Gallery in Canberra to see Masterpieces from Paris. A once in a lifetime event that brought paintings from the Musee D'Orsay to our neck of the woods.

The snaking queue in heavy downpour. These folks are utterly adamant!

Oh did i mention that we waited for 1.5 hours to get inside the exhibition rooms? Getting wet in the rain was a small price to pay. That makes us as stubborn as the rest of 'em!

I must admit my heart skipped a beat when I saw Vincent van Gogh's 'Starry Night' masterpiece. I heard Don McLean's song "Vincent" in my head ... "Starry starry night. Paint your palette blue and gray ..."

You must click here for a complete audio description of this joyous painting!

Tripping: The best violin riff in a pop rock song ... Enjoy!

2010-03-21T10:12:00.002+11:00

Bitter Sweet Symphony, by The Verve

The Joys of Solitude ... it's not for everyone.

2010-03-07T21:23:00.005+11:00

I share a magazine article lifted from SMH's Spectrum. It is about solitude. I love this article because it describes my husband's nature so aptly! I can see clearly our future, our retirement. He reading a book, and I reading my book at both ends of a comfortable couch. Our silences will not be pregnant; they will not be heavy. Our silences will be comfortable and harmonious ... Oh wait, there will be beautiful music of Vivaldi's violin strings playing in the background.

I can't wait!

One's company, two's a crowd

One's company, two's a crowd

Author: Phil Daoust
Date: 20/02/2010
Words: 2418
Source: SMH

Publication: Sydney Morning Herald
Section: Spectrum
Page: 12

There's no idle chatter, no white noise and no need to get out of your pyjamas. Phil Daoust extols the virtues of seclusion.

YOU don't get many casual visitors where I live. Home is down a dirt track, three kilometres from the nearest village. The neighbours are five minutes' walk away, and when the woods are in leaf you can't see another building. By day you may hear a chainsaw in the distance; by night only the deer barking. I'm on my own here, if you don't count the cat, and right now it's a week since I saw another human.

But it's a beautiful spot, in a lovely bit of France, and every now and again a rambler will find his way to it. If I'm outside, and don't have time to hide, his first remark will usually be: "This is a little bit of heaven."

I'll feel a little bashful, as if I somehow shaped this world with my own talented hands, and then he'll say: "Mind you, I could never live here."

After seven years of this, I no longer ask why. Most people, it is clear, are happy to spend a few hours far from the crowds but the thought of days or weeks like this fills them with dread. They'd be afraid, they say. They wouldn't be able to sleep. Most of all, they'd be lonely.

Now, I'm not an anchorite. I do have a car, a landline, an internet connection. Neighbours come for dinner, my daughter visits for long weekends, and in school holidays friends arrive with their children. But when I explain this, it doesn't cut any ice. Poor sod, I see people thinking. He lives on his own. In this emptiness!

You know what, though? It can be marvellous. For some of us, as Anneli Rufus puts it, solitude is "just what we need, the way tuna need the sea. Here we are, not sad, not lonely, having the time of our lives."

You haven't heard of Rufus? She's the American author of Party of One: The Loners' Manifesto, a fierce defence of all us misunderstood and misrepresented independent spirits. Being alone, she says, "feels calming to me, and invigorating, and most of all normal".

What's so great about the life less shared? Let's start with a trivial example. I'm writing this article in my pyjamas, though it's late afternoon. I've brushed my teeth and shuffled into some slippers but I haven't washed or broken out the deodorant. If I shared my home with someone, I'd be dressed by now - not because I wanted to but because it would be expected. If a stranger were to knock at the door, I'd probably feel obliged to make up some lie about being ill. That may seem like a petty hardship - it is a petty hardship - but so long as no one else suffers there's a lot to be said for doing precisely what you want, when you want, how you want.

Richard Byrd would back me up on that. In 1934, the great explorer spent five months alone in a hut in Antarctica, manning the southernmost outpost of an American expedition. His wife and four children were in the US; the nearest human was 200 kilometres away. After a few months of splendid isolation, Byrd felt able to draw some conclusions. "Solitude is an excellent laboratory in which to observe the extent to which manners and habits are conditioned by others," he wrote in his bestselling book Alone. "My table manners are atrocious - in this respect I've slipped back hundreds of years; in fact, I have no manners whatsoever. If I feel like it, I eat with my fingers, or out of a can, or standing up - in other words, whichever is easiest. What's left over, I just heave into the slop pail, close to my feet."

Is there anyone who lives on their own, with a sink full of dirty crockery, who can't relate to that?

Then there's the quiet. I moved from Britain to France to be nearer my daughter, who was growing up here with my ex. But if I ended up in such seclusion, it wasn't because I was a stupid foreigner leaping on the first shack the estate agent suggested. We loners are driven to escape the empty chatter that fills most lives. We may occasionally catch ourselves talking to our pets, or muttering when we can't do the crossword, but we don't want endless conversations about the price of Friskies or how we thought it was going to be nice but actually it turned out a bit cloudy. We may not get around to thinking deep thoughts, plumbing the depths of our souls, getting in touch with our muses, but that will be down to indolence or insensitivity, not to the white noise that fills more sociable heads.

And every now and again, one of us does get around to producing that great work, like Sara Maitland with A Book of Silence. Divorced, her two children long since grown up and gone, she lives on a Scottish moor with a little dog called Zoe. Her neighbours are barn owls. She has no TV, radio, hi-fi or mobile phone and tries to limit all social activities to six days a month. I attempted to have a chat with her, but - unsurprisingly - she never replied to my emails.

Maitland's book, however, explains how she, a deeply committed Christian, spends three hours a day praying. She has fallen in love with silence. It "can be calm or frightening, lonely or joyful, deep or thin. There is religious silence; a self-emptying silence, and romantic silence - what Wordsworth called the 'bliss of solitude'."

The bliss of solitude!

If it wasn't for the fact that neither of them enjoys heart-to-hearts, she'd have plenty to chew over with Rufus. Rufus says she finds socialising as exhausting as giving blood: "After three hours I'm drained, even if I love the person I'm with. People assume we loners are misanthropes, just sitting thinking, 'Oh, people are such a bunch of assholes,' but it's really not like that. We just have a smaller tolerance for what it takes to be with others. It means having to perform. I get so tired of communicating."

Remarkably, Rufus is married and lives with her husband. People call her a hypocrite, she says, but her husband's a loner, too, and their lives are as separate as cohabiters' can be. "We don't have people over, or do things in groups, and when we're at home together we'll often be at different ends of the house. We're not here sitting talking all day and playing games."

Once you've finished with that vision of domestic bliss, meet another great introspector - the Canadian Bob Kull, who chronicled his own retreat from society in Solitude: Seeking Wisdom in Extremes. In 2001, Kull's desire to understand himself and the world took him to an uninhabited island off the coast of Chile, 150 kilometres from the nearest settlement. He spent just one year there, building a home, fishing, collecting firewood, pulling his own rotten teeth, getting in touch with nature. He had just one visit, from a group of officials checking that the "lunatic gringo" would survive the winter.

It was hard and dangerous, especially for a middle-aged man with a prosthetic leg. As well as the elements and assorted injuries, he had to contend with mood swings. "We all carry some pretty dark shadow material in us, and it starts to bubble up," he says. But he got through it, though one call on the satellite phone would have brought a boat to whisk him away.

Rufus, Byrd, Maitland, Kull, all those around-the-world sailors, all those buckskinned mavericks who trapped and traded their way across the New World: they show that solitude can be not just survived but embraced. It helps, of course, that this was something they chose. It must be immeasurably harder if you find yourself alone because of bereavement, old age or the end of a love affair.

That's not a life anyone would envy. Nor would you want to cut yourself off from the world when your health begins to fail. Yet most people find it hard to contemplate even the kind of watered-down, voluntary solitude that my life consists of. "People who are not this way really don't get it," Rufus suggests. "And when you don't understand something you fear it."

According to the anthropologist Robert Sussman, humans evolved not as hunters - as we like to imagine - but as prey, easy meat for wild dogs, crocodiles and hyenas. We became "social animals", as biologists describe us, not to catch dinner but to avoid becoming it - out of fear, in other words. Perhaps that fear still marks us and perhaps that's why we still feel uneasy when there's no one around to watch our backs.

I asked a few friends when they had last spent 24 hours without human company. A few people suggested that, they guessed, it might possibly, perhaps have occurred a decade or two ago, when they were living on their own, or sharing with friends who had pushed off for the weekend. They were definitely ill, or they'd have invited someone over, or gone a-visiting.

Are people uncomfortable with solitude because they so rarely experience it, or do they so rarely experience it because they are uncomfortable with it? What is clear is that most of us persist in equating aloneness with loneliness and company with companionship, despite a lifetime of evidence to the contrary. "We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers," is how Henry David Thoreau put it after two years as the sole inhabitant of a house he had built in the Massachusetts woods. You're never more alone than when you're in a crowd. A cliche, perhaps, but most of us recognise the truth in it.

Before moving to the back of beyond, I spent almost 40 years surrounded by people, first as one of five children, then in shared houses and, finally, in a succession of flats. I sometimes feel unloved now but I sometimes felt unloved then. Doesn't everyone?

Do explorers and hermits miss those they leave behind? Of course they do. "I can't take my loneliness casually," Byrd wrote. "It is too big. But I must not dwell on it. Otherwise I am undone." Maitland admits: "There are times when you need somebody's hand to hold."

But the reality of solitude is often less daunting than the perception. During his year on the desert island, Kull, a likeable man, was buffeted by loneliness. But he came to regard his longings as a storm that would sweep in, turn everything upside down, then sweep out again. The best thing was simply to enjoy the spectacle: "Instead of running from that feeling of loneliness, whenever I allow myself to settle into it, and really, fully experience it, it opens out into a sense of wonder and peace." After three or four months, he recalls, "I became more engaged with the world around me - the trees, the ocean, the sky. My whole orientation changed. We are social beings - there's no doubt of that. But even when we're alone, we're engaging with the world."

In the 1980s and '90s, a British man called Les Powles sailed three times around the world - always single-handedly, once non-stop. He couldn't afford a radio transmitter, and on his greatest adventure he didn't speak to anyone for 329 days. At 84, his circumnavigating days are now behind him but he still lives on his boat, the Solitaire. What's the appeal of sailing, I asked him. "It's the solitude. When you're out at sea on your own, there's no government or bankers to worry about. You're not responsible to anyone but yourself."

Powles has been married twice and has friends in many countries. Doesn't he miss people? "I get lonely at airports, or saying goodbye to somebody, but not when I'm at sea. There's no comparisons, you see. I'm not seeing people with their families. I'm so isolated out there."

There was one moment on that non-stop trip when Powles ended up in tears - on Christmas Day, just off Australia. Friends in Britain had given him a special meal to open on the day, complete with greetings card. "I was lonely then, I must admit. I just wanted to say 'Merry Christmas' to someone." But he'd recovered by the time he reached dry land. "When I got back," he says, "I would have happily set off again."

And that's after almost a year of proper hardcore solitude, the sort so few of us will ever experience. The worst we have to fear is a kind of solitude lite, where even if we don't see anyone for a few days we still have the phone, email, Facebook, instant messaging, Twitter.

It's a great life if you don't weaken. Every now and again, the need to scratch out a living forces me out of my lair. "A week in London," I tell myself. "I can do that standing on my head." And, to tell the truth, I can. I enjoy the chance to catch up with people. Like many loners, I don't have that many friends but the ones I do have I value. Still, whenever I return home, it's with relief that I shut the door on the world. It's a fantastic place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to put on my warmest coat, grab a beer and go outside to watch the sun go down. We loners love our rituals, and this is something I try to do come rain, shine or biting cold. I'll be on my own, of course, but channelling Byrd.

On April 14, 1934, with the temperature far below zero, Byrd enjoyed a magical sunset, the ice like platinum, Venus an "unblinking diamond" in the sky. "I paused to listen to the silence," Byrd wrote. "My breath, crystallised as it passed my cheeks, drifted on a breeze gentler than a whisper ... The day was dying, the night being born - but with great peace ... In that instant I could feel no doubt of man's oneness with the universe."

There was, you will note, no one standing beside him complaining about the weather.

The Guardian

Rockwiz Duet: Hot "Slave to Love" cover ...

2010-03-03T20:15:00.005+11:00

Watch Canadian siren Martha Wainwright sashay from side to side, how-low-can-you-go and up again. Smooth and sultry in her cute yellow number and white stockings! Aussie Dan Kelly almost forgot his lyrics!

'Can you help me, can you help me' .... 'Over me' ...

Kidchat #9: ... disgraceful!

2010-02-23T22:26:00.015+11:00

One Sunday morning, I was reading a magazine article in Sunday Life about mums of various ages getting a tatoo. Why do women do it?

"So why do grown women do it? Often, as a way to reclaim something of yourself or, possibly, an early life crisis. The last grasp at cool."

Mum: "Hey Gab, what do you think about mum getting a tattoo?"

Gab (10 year old son): "Mum, that is disgraceful!"

Mum: "What?? Why is that? And where is this word coming from? Have you heard it from someone?"

Gab: "Tattoos are disgraceful to the body that God gave you."

Mum: "But, sweetheart, Angelina Jolie has one". Mmm, I don't think my son cares about Angelina. "It can be a work of art if Mama picks a really nice design. Besides, I decided that I will do things this year. This will be a 'Me Year' or even a 'Me Decade'. It was all about you and kuya (older brother) in the past decade!"

Gab: "Mommy is lovely the way she is. She just needs to lose some weight!"

Ugh! My kids do keep me grounded, can you believe it? I have a feeling that the table is slowly turning ... :) It's the end of my tatts aspirations!

School blues #01: When things go wrong as they sometimes will ...

2010-01-29T23:32:00.008+11:00

Today, 28th of January, is Gab's (10 y.o. son) first day at a new school. He is in Year 5. He was accepted into an Opportunity Class program for 'gifted' kids.

It is also his first time to ride a bus to and from school. In previous years, Gab was ferried to and from school.

Mum: "I will take you to the bus stop and board you into the right bus. Then I will drive to your school and meet you there. In the afternoon, the same thing will happen. I will be at school to take you to your bus, and I will meet you again at the bus stop near our home. Easy. Remember, that you've done your dry-run with Dad in the previous weeks. So everything will be alright." (This was me trying to calm myself aloud ...) "Besides there will be other kids in the bus with you, so just follow them ..."

Gab: "But mum, what if you aren't there when I reach school?"

Mum: "I will be there, Gab. If not, wait for me inside the gate ..."

We waited 10 minutes for the bus to arrive. And in those 10 minutes, our anxiety built up. Gab even commented - "I should have failed that OC test, Mum, had I known that I had to take a bus to school". Shock, horror! "Don't ever say that again, Gabriel. You'll be fine!"

As soon as Gab safely boarded his bus, I scampered away to try to out-drive the bus to school. What I didn't know was, the bus took a shorter route than I did. But, of course! My sense of direction is horrendous, after all.

First myth - "I will be there before you". I wasn't! When I arrived at school, all parking spots were taken. I had to park way way away from the school. Every other parent was, I think, present on their kid's first day at school!

Second myth - 'There will be other school children in the bus.' Wrong ... there were only two of them!

I only saw Gab from a distance inside the school hall with the entire school of 200+ children. I waved my hand vigorously to make sure he saw me. I had to make him see me, that I was there for him ... albeit very late! He waved back, I sighed with relief. I was already imagining the recriminations I was sure to get after school.

I went home, totally drained.

In the afternoon, I went back to the school a good 30 minutes before the bell rang. I made sure that I parked right across the gate so that I will beat the bus in going home.

Gab had a small smile on his face when he saw me. I was choked with happiness.

"Mum, I have a new friend. His name is Lance. He is also Pinoy. There are lots of Filipino kids in my class ..."

I was forgiven. Or perhaps this drama was just something I imagined in my head. My son was oblivious to my turmoil this morning.

Needless to say, I beat the bus to the stop near our home by just a few seconds. This time there were two girls from Gab's school who crossed the road with him. I told him to stick with the two girls all the time! (Did I just say that???)

All's well that ends well.

Did I mention that Gab wore the wrong socks today? He wore grey. The school's socks are green. He didn't mind. I, on the other hand, was aghast. I went straight to Lowes only to find that the green socks had sold out!

Did I also mention that I met a wonderful Dad that afternoon? And other Mums with their girls who are on the same bus as Gab's ...we were all doing the same thing - 'bus practice'!

OC Journey #2 - Turning point

2010-01-29T23:30:00.006+11:00

One fine Sunday morning in 2008, i read a newspaper article about the rising cost of education in Sydney. Gab was in Year 3 at that time attending a local Catholic School.

Thinking aloud, I said. "Private schools are so expensive. We will need to spend anywhere from AU$10,000 to $30,000 per year! Even the government high school kids need to spend up to $5,000 for extra curricular activities."

Gab was sitting beside me and read the article with me.

Suddenly, he closed the newspaper that we were reading and muttered. "Don't stress, Mum. I will get into a Selective High School so Mama will not have to worry about money."

Truly, these were Gab's words!

"Alright, son. Here's the plan, in order to get a Selective placement, you need to move to a public school for Years 5 and 6, preferably get into an OC Class".

"Yes, Mum."

Bingo! The planets just aligned. How it happened, I had no idea.

In a nutshell, Selective High Schools are run by the government to provide an educationally enriched environment for highly achieving, academically gifted students.

Since then, Gab willingly attended tutoring lessons at Swot Shop for 6 months prior to taking the OC Test. Swot Shop primarily teaches children methods to employ in answering questions in a limited time.

When he was in Year 4, he told his classmates about his eventual transfer to another school and the reasons why. We were both convinced that he will pass the test. And he did, indeed!

What can I say? Constant affirmation and action truly works!

OC Journey #1 - How it all began

2010-01-29T23:29:00.002+11:00

When the kids were little back in 2002, I decided the education path they were to take. I've always known that I preferred public education over private schooling (aside: I attended a public high school). First, I did not want to pay exorbitant school fees. I wanted our already high taxes to work for us. Second, public high schools lead in school performance anyway. For me, it was a no-brainer.

However, one does not just walk in to these high performance schools. One has to take very competitive examinations to get in. In New South Wales, the top government schools are called Selective High Schools. The name, I am guessing, probably means 'selected students' (aside: Aussies can be very literal in their choice of words).

First question to self: 'How do I prepare my children for Selective High School? I am not deluded as to assume that they are very smart children when they grow up.'

Second question to self: 'How do I make my children take the exam willingly with minimum fuss?'

The answer to the first question is easy. There are many avenues available: enrol the kids in a good public primary school, send them to coaching classes, get them a place in an Opportunity Class, or (heaven forbid!) all of the above!

Simply put, an Opportunity Class is a precursor to Selective High School. Government schools have OC Classes in Years 5 and 6. Again, children take tests to get in.

I resolved to take the OC path. Now, how in the world can I make this happen? How can I make the kids want to prepare for the test, let alone sit for it?

Portishead-fan posting #10: 'Roads' affects me so

2010-01-14T22:40:00.020+11:00

It must be the way Beth Gibbons sings oh-so poignantly ... so painfully ... goosebumps run up and down me ...

Portishead sings "Roads" live at Roseland, NY

Kidchat #8: Life is a beach ... not!

2010-01-13T22:32:00.010+11:00

I was walking with my 10 & 11 year old boys under a 32 degree Celsius heat. We were on our way to Sunday church in very oppressive weather.

I muttered, "We should have gone to the beach".

My 10-year-old son quipped, "Mum, how could you! We are going to church. Church is more important than the beach!"

Sigh. I taught my son only too well ...

Musings #81: What does "life begins at 40" really mean?

2009-09-17T23:08:00.001+10:00

Warning: Some words may offend the prude eyes and ears
Ideally, for women only. But men can read on to ‘understand’ their women!

2009 marks my “pushing forty”. Nope I am not quite there yet as I am one year younger than my batch mates. Yet my frame of mind has turned a corner.

My moment of clarity: Forty years old is the average age when one’s kids are around 10-12 years old. Children are pretty much low maintenance from then on.

Therefore, we mums can finally start listening to our own needs. Ten years is long enough for putting our lives on hold after all.

Here is what happened to me “before forty”:
- family life came first above all else;
- sleep deprivation for at least a decade (depending on how many kids you have). Oh, those endless parade of lunch boxes you had to prepare the night before or early next morning;
- my body clock waking me up in the dead of the night so that I can check if the kids are warm enough or haven’t kicked their blankets to the floor (while the partner merrily sleeps on);
- no such thing as sleeping in, as either the kids come sneaking into your bed; or your body clock is so used to 6am awakenings - weekends, public holidays, every single day! there, there, i am not trying to scare off mum-to-be's;
- finding yourself having a discussion about Bionicle with a little one when you are in the shower (privacy ... gone!) (Trivia: Australian houses do not have locks in bedrooms and bathrooms for safety reasons, ie. fire, etc.);
- a quickie under the doona (aka blanket) is the order of the day lest a kid comes creeping in (do i see some nodding there?);
- shopping ... what shopping? I have not shopped for myself for years. I always find myself making a beeline to boys' wear and toys in the past decade. My meaning of shopping is quick and limited to essentials ... no time for browsing with 'i am tired, mum' cries trailing behind you. I envy my girlfriends whose wardrobe is ... well, full!

At forty, things can and will change (there’s hope).

The kids will be hitting ten and above. They now understand that mum and dad are not at their beck and call. All of a sudden, they actually comprehend that one should wait for a “come in” after knocking on a door instead of just barging in. Homework is completed independently. Woohoo!

So suddenly I am finding time in my hands ... what have i done so far?

I had highlights done to my hair (a first!).
I had my nails coloured (the last time was at my wedding).
I bought myself a pair of two-inch high heels. Oh, and it came with a matching handbag.
I bought a new dress (even if I had nowhere to go).

So ladies, let yourself go in your forties. Do things you haven’t done before or have stopped doing. Buy that sexy lingerie ... perhaps now you will be brave enough for that brazilian wax you've always wondered about (gasp!).

Midlife crisis in another ten years, you say? Isn't that when the kids finally move out of the house? Mmmm that brings on new possibilities ...