Sartorial Elegance

A group of "us" old fogies are currently exchanging emails discussing how to get into the 2012 Olympics using pieces of burnt toast instead of tickets. Back in the 1970's, when the English Nationals were held at the best pool in the whole world, The Derby Baths in Blackpool (interesting; there's a facebook page but no Wiki entry), "they" started enforcing security entry and we had to show special passes to get into the building. The piece of toast won.

Terry Dennison, coach to Olympic champion, Adrian Moorhouse, found these photos in his hidden cupoards. Check out the elegant dude at the bottom right!

A Girl's Best Friend

I visited the most famous diamond mine in the world this morning; Cullinan, where the world's biggest diamond was found. 3,000+ carats!! The bigger of the diamonds cut from the rough gem are in the British Crown Jewels.

Anyway, here's a picture of a very laid-back guy making a ring for Martini and a picture of a diamond I didn't buy because it was priced at half a million US dollars!!!! You can wait to see Martini's ring because its only fair she sees it first.

I-So-Tired

All Singaporeans seem to suffer from permanent sleep-deprivation. Consequently, the most common phrase heard around the practice pool is, "Coach, cannot. I tired, I so tired."

The phrases, "I tired," and "I so tired," are banned from the pool environment but that, of course, doesn't stop the behavior. Swimmers arrive at the poolside sliding their feet and moving at a pace which would embarrass a comatose tortoise.

So, the I-So-Tired site is dedicated to the sleepy ones, the people who simply have to put their head down and travel dreamily to the 'land of nod.' Non-Singaporeans are allowed to be included; in fact we'll make any sleepy, non-Singaporeans honorary Singaporeans. Welcome one and all.

Historical coincidence

This picture heralded the resurrection of the blog; it was taken during a "historic" meal at a country club near Jakarta airport.

Many, may, many years ago - we're talking the 1980's here - when working in Britain, a terrific bunch of coaches used to band together every night after competitions for the purpose of culinary and nutritional research. When the bill was presented at the conclusion of the experiment, it always worked out at twenty-seven pounds fifty pence each. Always. Without fail. No matter what we'd eaten, no matter what we'd been drinking. It was uncanny.

The Jakarta meal bill was Rp394,735 which is S$57 which is twenty-seven pounds fifty pence. Uncanny. That was for three of us, eating like Kings, Emperors, Sultans and swimming coaches. I'll scan the bill and add it to the post when I'm near a scanner.

Jogjakarta

YoghurtCarton (see previous post) is nothing like Jakarta. This from Wikitravel:

Jakarta's nickname among expats is the Big Durian, and like its fruit namesake it's a shock at first sight (and smell): a sweltering, steaming, heaving mass of some 10 million people packed into a vast urban sprawl. The contrast between the obscene wealth of Indonesia's elite and the appalling poverty of the urban poor is incredible, with tinted-window BMWs turning left at the supermall with its Gucci shop, into muddy lanes full of begging street urchins and corrugated iron shacks. The city's traffic is in perpetual gridlock, and its polluted air is matched only by the smells of burning garbage and open sewers, and safety is a concern especially at night. There are few sights to speak of and most visitors transit through Jakarta as quickly as possible.

It's "twinned" with Manchester and Singapore!

Yogykarta or Jogdakarta,on the other hand, is delightful, quirky and the "ethnic" center of batik manufacture.