Mr Ab, why you no food tolerant?!

Ouch, It is happening again, that cramping, piercing pain on the upper section of my abdomen. The last time I had it, the pain lasted for 7 hours, and the best part is, I have absolute no inkling as to why and how it happened. As far as I know, I was "food tolerant" 6 months ago, and after my return from the UK, my abdominal pain went into a recurring basis 2 times a week. sometimes the pain can be unbearable and vague, ambiguous so I would make frequent errands to the toilet, tearing up while curling up in a foetus position as I try to withhold the pain. 


I consulted Dr. Google for a diagnosis of myself, also through second opinions from my friends, my abdominal pain were most likely attributable towards IBS, gastric pain or the dreaded peptic ulcer. All which would probably make sense, for my habit of skipping meals while I was pursuing my diploma in TARC, would explain the possibility of developing gastritis. Although, the odd nature of my pain, that would only arise after I consumed some food from a particular seafood restaurant. Could it be, that I've started to develop an intolerance to certain types of food? As much as I wanted to skip dining at that place forever, my family thought it would be best to make a me guinea pig and try each and every food, to sort out the exact ingredient that I am intolerant towards. perhaps, they don't seem to realize the extent of my pain, even with a cocktail of medications, will never relief my pain. all the medicines that I've bought, adjuvents, painkillers, antacids, may only cause placebo effects. 


Sometimes I would picture myself having board meetings with directors, CEO's, VIP's when suddenly my abdomen sprouts bits of stabbing pain and I would leave feeling embarassed, pretty sure my career is over. this thought, would manifest itself into the perfect catalyst for me to seek medical checkup, hoping the doctor would perhaps perform gastrointestinal endoscopy and I would happily live the rest of my
life with medications, so long the torment of not knowing what sickness I have would go away.


Okay, back to reality. In the meantime, I'll have to stay away from chinese tea and some 
salted fish black sauce braised pork (sounds yucky when you say them in english). And hopefully, 
pray hard that coffee is not the source of my pain because, I think I can't live without it. ;p


Cheers to a good day tomorrow. 

Au Revouir, my friend.

My room at The Forge, just moments before I left Sheffield

12 midnight, 20 minutes after.

I am laying in my bed, with sore eyes from reading . Then flashbacks came, every piece of recordings

of my life in Sheffield, replayed itself through my mind.

Do you know sometimes when you are doing something and suddently... Aha! you discovered something new?

I've been hit with a "Aha!" moment.

To that person who I've known for three month, whose heart that I had broken in a second...

I know I did wrong, indisputable. I know you won't forgive me, indisputable as well. I know I gave my all, trying to make things right. But now I know, it won't change a thing between us. You'll still hate me like always. You will always look at the wrongs of me, never looking beyond, what we've been through.

Maybe, you did look through, and you decided, I'm just too much a villain, a person who you wil always find sickening - like you said before. Oh, don't worry, its not a harsh word. Its just a word that I would remember it for the rest of my life.

Neverthenless, I've always adored you, right from the beginning. It was a risk that I took, I would never anticipate myself falling head over heels for you and nothing will ever change that.

What has changed? I've decided that its time - to move on. From mistakes, from the past, from you.

Months ago, I dedicated my life to preserving the bits of our memory. My real life, began to crumble right before my eyes.

Today onwards, time is and will be my antidode. 

I end every night with prayings for my family, for my friends, for you.  This is for certain, something I wont change.

To you, cheers for the good life we had. 

Sincerely, Me.

The Privilege of A Theft Victim

Crime Scene: The burglar gained entry through my room's window

YES, YOU HEARD IT RIGHT THERE. A privilege of being a theft victim, even much a privilege in a foregin country.

Back last week, when I was enjoying my first night in London, a call from my flatmate came in. I was about to eat supper when I answered that phone call. A voice seemingly frantic and concerned appeared. Much of my confusion turned into shock when he said my room was broken into through the windows and my laptop went missing. Shattered glass sprawled all over my room, some on my bed as well.

I took me quite some time to come into realization that I am now a victim of theft, especially in a relatively safe city like Sheffield. It didn't take a while for my feelings of anger and fustration to build and tears would overflow, not in the pressence of my friends, when all were asleep that night,  that 1st night in London.

Since that incident, I've been literally spending nights with different friends up until recently. Without my laptop, I could no longer surf or social network as much as I did before. I would spend most times in my common room with 3 things - My mobile, my books and my coffee. People would see me and know me as the theft victim - which is cool, come to think of it. Through some "mirroring on myself", I figured it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I would immerse myself with books more often, walk myself around Sheffield to spend my idle time and mingle with strangers, who would eventually turn into friends.

My friends have played a tremendous role in supporting me all the way, some who have shown real, remarkable display of affection and friendship. Not to forget the effectiveness of the South Yorkshire Police and the Victim Support Group. With a call, you now have a police report with a crime reference number for insurance, in a matter of an hour. What else can you be proud of Sheffield for?

When night falls in Sheffield

Tramlines Festival at Barkers Pool, Sheffield City Center

It so happened it was a Saturday night. It so happened a mutual friend of mine came to visit Sheffield all the way from London. It so happened it was the annual Tramlines Festival, here at the heart of the city center. Our initial plan of getting some beer at a local pub, turned out to be a visit to the Tramlines Festival when we sorta "chickened" out at the last minute, because of our "beer alcohol content" illiteracy. On our way to Barker's Pool, we could see the faces of pure excitement, red with pleasure - happy, gay and merry. Oh yes we wouldn't mind of course, especially when its a Saturday night, and fun is the highlight of the day. But when things take a turn, observe and you'll see people lying on the streets throwing up, pub brawls about to take place and police officers on guard at every corner. Perhaps this is the reason why the British government has banned drinking in public. Nevertheless, this is an exception. Taking a sneak peak at the band concerts was difficult for us because of our puny height, and navigating ouselves around crowds was to me, a navigation of tall and gargantuan trees.

Of course, we managed to save ourselves and grabbed a pizza or two before heading back to our hall of residences. Back in Malaysia, nightlife was pretty much centered in one area and mamak's (a name for an eatery) would be of abundance. simply seat ourselves, whistle for some hot teh tarik (a name for tea with milk) and where football is a craze there, enjoy the show till the break of dawn.

If only teh tarik were here.

Britons and their obsession with the weather.

A study suggests more than half of Britons bring the weather up in conversation every six hours Photo: PA

Weather - its a thing of  an obsession for the Brits. Back then in Malaysia, there was not a day in my life 

where I see myself going through the weather forecast, and I could remember stepping foot on Sheffield's soil, only to be unpleasantly surprised by the gushing, chill-to-the bone wind, and since then, I've checked BBC weather, every single day. 

You know, you could ask any locals here on what the weather in the summer is about, and their response would be,"darling, its pretty much unpredictable". Yes, why not? You can have the hottest day in the summer (oh yes, take out the tan) and the coldest day next to each other. Trust me, but BBC Weather is probably the most efficient weather forecast you can ever find, with more than half of Britons checking the weather at least once a day, you have to be pretty good at it, don't you? Well, talking about the weather is one thing that makes Sheffield and perhaps the entire United Kingdom special, other than tea and being "overly polite". 

One thing, "heavy showers" are more of a drizzle here, so its the wind that you'll have to worry about. 

Volunteering in a Woodland - Ecclesall Woods

Learning Center in the Sawmill - Ecclesall Woods - courtesy of Miguel Tan

Its one thing noble to volunteer in Malaysia, but a queer feeling, a sense of gratification when you volunteer overseas. Apart from what I came here for, which obviously is to complete my studies, I had tirelessly reminded myself to make every single day count. Volunteering was never part of my "Eat, Pray, Love" plan, and when i look back at this, I would have never given myself a second thought. 

Ecclesall Woods is an area of woodland in south-west Sheffield, South Yorkshire and is currently managed by the city council for the benefit of wildlife and visitor access. there are 15km of public footpaths running through the woods, and in these woods there is a sawmill, and the sawmill is where our project begins. We were briefed by Tom the woods ranger on digging the pathways of a pond for a sustainable urban drainage system. After our lunch, we headed towards the digging site, and we saw about 10 shovels and wheelbarrows waiting for us. Another briefing by Tom and we were busy with our boots and pushing our sleeves backwards, excited to get the job started.

courtesy of Miguel Tan - photographer

It had never occurred to us that digging under England's chilly weather would send us sweating profusely, or so it happened to the gents. We dug, and dug, and dug. But we could get the shape of the pond right. Miguel, another volunteer has his skills as a major in quantity surveying put to the test, and before we knew it, he is essentially the project leader. 

Come rain and shine, and literally, where was rain and shine. For the next 4 hours, we dug under rain and shine until we could dig no more, and as time elapsed, it was time for us to pack our things and get cleaned. Truthfully, we may have dug a little too off, but the management gave praise to our diligent efforts. 

Whitby - Scarborough borough of North Yorkshire

WHITBY, where is Whiby? Where the sound of gulls, the smell of fish, the sight of red roofs up the steep banks from the quay leading to the ruins of the abbey on the cliff. Or so the chair of the Whitby district tourism association said.


I barely had a typical nights sleep yesterday, looking forward to this adventure. With  a journey that would last for 2 and a half hours, I immersed myself with Sarah Water's book while simply jotting down my imprints of my mind for the thought of premature Alzheimer terrifies me. Meanwhile, the tour leader, a new one I suppose attempted to break off the awkward silence by giving us a descriptive impression of Whitby and how to tour around the vicinity of this civil parish town. I cannot help but feel humored by her rather "inappropriate" but truthful explanation that there is really little to see. I certainly felt that to be absolutely subjective to one's own definition of "attractions" and whichever place they choose to spend their time on. Nevertheless, she did splendidly. We reached The Docks End (pic) at 10 in the morning, and with 10 other coaches on the way, the loo became an attraction herself. Never have you seen a queue, longer that all of the queues in the loos along the North-South Highway of Malaysia.

Our arrival to Whitby were greeted by the warmth of the sunshine and the harbor itself. Ships, boats and everything sea-like were docked side by side and seagulls greeted us their the chatters and occasionally their droppings too. we made our way to one of Whitby's famous fish and chips eatery - The Magpie and award winning Quayside. Queues could stretch till the road whenever their door opens so we made sure we landed our hands on this specialty dish early. Of the both, Quayside was the better with a fresher cod, and a more flavorful tartar sauce. But when indulging, be aware of the jealousy in the eyes of the seagulls, for they look at you with piercing eyes, longing for a taste of that heavenly food. 


We next made our way to the the West Pier where the lighthouse was situated, and next to the pier were a beach called the Whitby Sands (pic) which the view was absolutely breathtaking. people were thronging the beach with men, women, couples and their children, all longing for a taste of the warm summer with surfing, building sand castles, or simply laying down, basking under the sun. it was a totally different story for us as we frantically draw our sun lotions from our bags or risk charring ourselves in that ray of light. with a stroll along the beach, we took photos of the astonishingly smashing looking lifeguard, a little marine seminar and did some people watching ourselves.

Another thing famous in Whitby apart from its fish and chips is the feature of Count Dracula in Bram Stoker's novel, Dracula, which brings us to a "The Dracula Experience", where you get scared all around the place with actors on costumes and sound effects, 2pounds we thought was not worth the money. From one shop to another, we wanted some souvenirs to bring back, when a rather unfortunate thing happened to my friend. He was savoring the taste of fried onions on his cheeseburger, without realizing a dozen pairs of evil eyes spying on him,  when an innocent yet viscous looking seagull swooped past him and took hold of his harvest, gobbled it down and looked away without a bit of remorse in its face, which left my friend astounded. 

Later in the evening, we continued our tour with a visit to St Mary's church (pic) and the Whitby Abbey, a ruined monastery. The church is reached by 199 stone steps up from town and it has a churchyard filled with tombstones and monuments to sailors, fishermen and Royal Navy seamen. 






Our day in Whitby couldn't have ended better with a scoop of truly dairy ice cream with mouth watering flavours, Whiby is, a place where pets run free, Britain's best fish and chips are here, and a town with a big heart. Fond memories are made, friendships were strengthened and a sun burn skin becomes testimony and witness to our extraordinary experience, here in Whitby. 

March Together, Strike Together

The 30th day of June. A historic day for Sheffield, and the whole of South Yorkshire.

It is the 30th day of June, where 800,000 public sector workers will be on strike against attacks on their pensions. In the whole of UK, the public sector will be on strike against proposed changes in pensions.

It was already a quarter to two, and not very far away, my presentation was just over, and I was bidding goodbye to my group members, when suddenly, it hit me.

I ran from my school, sprinted across the streets of Fargate, and the noise grew louder and louder. I took a glance and at my watch, and I feared I may have lost it.



The rally was just about to end when I arrived. All I could hear was the blasted shouts of "solidarity forever!" by a lady in that rally. At the compounds of the City Hall, people had banners, cardboard and all things meant to hold, with words like "Save our Pensions!", " Oppressor not Negotiator!". What happens is when you substitute "Glory glory glory Man United" into "Solidarity Forever!", you hear a spirited crowd of campaigners, working their best to have their voices heard. It immediately registered in my head - these people mean business.

Though horrific that it may sound, this campaign was nothing like a Libyan crisis. I was truly amazed by the sheer involvement of all ages, men, women and children. No one was left out in this nationwide event, only to realize the most valuable freedom in this country, is the freedom of speech. Ironically, that is the one of many things, as a Malaysian, we would never be able to lay our hands on. By 2 in the afternoon, the rally was over.