A Short Black in the morning does me no harm. A Short Black with three sugars gives me enough “ooomph” to start writing! If anything, it warms up the cockles of my heart and my soul and readies me for the day. Eight Degrees in Melbourne today with light showers. How, you may ask me, can I be warm when it is Eight degrees out there on the streets of Melbourne? Easy! I stay indoors. I have Bruce Goose Merino wool thermal wear socks to warm my feet. The heater blowing under my desk. Thermal singlets and a long sleeve shirt on top. The only chink in my armor against the cold? The Sarong that I simply must be wrapped in whenever I am in the house…for only the Sarong and the Sarong only, will make me feel at home when I am home. 

It is 8.14 a.m. Friday.

I have stopped halfway reading “Lauren Bacall” by Myself. Too boring. Just finished with “Unbelievable” by Katy Tur and am now in the midst of enjoying “The Most Dangerous Man in The World” By Andrew Fowler and  “Fire and Fury” by Michael Wolff. I read two or even three books at the same time. It keeps my mind on an even keel….but I only read when it moves me. Not to finish a book but more to keep my mind keen and agile.  

My extended hiatus from blogging has left me at sea with matters that concern many of you in K Hell. I have spent the last week or so “catching up” with issues and politics in Bolehland.

“KHAT”…not interested because the sheer stupidity of the Minister and Pakatan Harapan in making this issue on par with “Black Shoes” insults my intelligence. In time, it will die a natural death simply because we, and this dubious Pakatan Harapan government will have to move on to other things that really matter.   

Mr Sultan down South? A few interesting issues but nothing that tells me that Mr Sultan has progress North rather than South. He and that “almost a Brigadier General” son of his, still have a long way to go if they intend to move from where they are now (a valid argument why Johor Royalty should not be allowed to breed) to the next level (living proof that we need to give even Mr Kipidap a second chance).

Rosmah Mansor? A sad sad example of what happens to people like Idi Amin, Emperor Bokassa…and closer to home Azzez of Tabung Haji “fame” and Kepit Man. For Rosmah, the music has stopped. But she is up still dancing on stage decked out in all her diamonds and finery, with a Hermes Bag in tow. She is fat, obese and old…and some unkind soul would even say ugly. Her face bears witness to botched plastic surgeries and all that she has left are not even sweet memories of a life lived extravagantly and without grace and decency…nothing is left for her now but to ponder when Sugai Buloh will beckon.

Najib Razak…see Rosmah Mansor….ditto.! Music has stopped…he is still dancing. Next port of call will be Sungai Buloh and until he is inside, he will continue to make a fool of himself and be an object of contempt, disgust. But never pity.

And what of their children? We can only hope that they will learn that what their parents have done to them, to themselves, to our people, to our nation, and to our future is wrong. Though I doubt if they would ever begin to understand that their parents are thieves of the most despicable kind. Whatever good that their grandfather, Tun Razak has done is all now undone!  

I am at a place in my life when I have begun to ponder when my life will end. Not only because my love is no longer with me…but because too often I am tired. Not tired of life, not tired of what the future may bring me…but physically tired of living, It is an effort to walk, to sit up, to cook, to do anything for myself! I would rather, these days, buy food then cook. Sit down then stand. Be quite then talk. I stay at home and be with myself and my life – happy, content and comfortable in my own company. And all this I do without thoughts that maybe, there is something else out there that I would or should rather do. Nothing. And yet in this life that I now have…I am content. Too content at times but life is good. Now I understand why so many of you out there, at any age, take Sinatra’s My Way as their own anthem. It is mine!

 

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