It’s your fault that I post selfies

Yes, I just thought it was time for me to post a recent selfie to show that I haven’t grown horns or anything.

Although I suppose I could have just photoshopped the horns away and you’d be none the wiser. But let’s just assume that I haven’t got the skills to do that. I can just about erase the odd blemish and eye bag and wrinkle and… wait, what? I didn’t say anything. I’m not saying anything until I see my lawyer.

What respectable human being grows horns for no reason, anyway?

So, selfie, sans horn!




Except I have cleverly cropped the top of my head off. Mwahaha.

And then very un-cleverly revealed all my tricks.

Speaking of horns, I just remembered I have a pair of cute reindeer antler hair clips I bought years ago. I was planning to wear them at Christmas but kept forgetting, and have forgotten three years in a row, or thereabouts.

Perhaps this year I will remember and then we can have a selfie with antlers.

Although when Piers found out my plans (to wear antlers at Christmas) he was, like, nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. So, I’m not sure he would let me out of the house with them on.

Only about eight months to find out.


Comic: Antlers
He was afraid to tell her something was growing out her head.


Now I want to talk a bit about selfies. They’re a funny bit of modern culture that makes me very uncomfortable. I mean, selfies are blatant attention-seeking devices, right? Who would post a selfie other than to say, “Look at me and give me some attention, dammit?”

But go ask anyone, “Do you like attention-seeking people?” I’m going to bet you the answer is no. In fact, you know the answer is no without having to ask.

So why is it that, when someone posts a selfie anywhere, they get likes and compliments GALORE?

Here, look at this.

A selfie appears on my Facebook feed. I get 112 likes. And it wasn’t even a proper selfie post. I was just changing my profile back to an old picture I had already used before.




On the contrary, a blog post link, accompanied by a nice little cartoon, gets three likes.


A blog post



Ok, I did manipulate the data a bit by picking out two extreme instances but the fact generally is that selfie posts get WAY MORE likes and comments than any other posts (except engagement and pregnancy announcements).

It’s almost enough to make me quit blogging altogether and just post selfies all day long.

But, like I said, it makes me very uncomfortable.

Why do people claim not to like attention-seekers yet give them so much attention?


Peoples! You are messed up
You should be very afraid of yourself.


A lot has been written on this subject. A lot of psychobabble about self-esteem, and a lot of rants about selfies destroying the universe. I don’t want to add to that. Well, I do want to add that people are crazy and the world is crazy, and that’s about the size of it.

The selfie culture makes me uncomfortable because I was raised in an era and country of modesty and humility, which selfies are the burning antithesis of. I don’t want to post a single selfie if I am to be honest. I want to be admired for the work I do. But a lot more people seem to admire my selfies than my work, so it encourages me to propagate the selfie culture.

Which means that it’s all your fault.

When you like my selfies, it makes me feel better about the times you fail to like my blog posts, which I would have put a few thousand times more effort on.

Time spent writing this post: 5 hours.

Time spent taking this selfie: 5 seconds.


The other selfie
Let’s play a game. It’s called smile at the camera for no reason.


So, people, I don’t know, like, just do the right thing. Leave a comment to tell me I’m right (that you are messed up because you like selfies more than anything else)?


The marriage post

So, the reason I haven’t blogged for weeks is that a lot has happened.

It sounds a bit ironic because lifestyle bloggers tend to have more to blog about when more things happen but, for me, I just get overwhelmed.


duck face

I haven’t done duck face in years, honest. So it’s totally time for one!


After barely recovering from severe jet lag, I got hit by a cold. At the same time, Piers and I were frantically scraping my UK visa application together. It’s a hair-yanking, eyeball-exploding task for the hundreds of documents we have to scrounge up from every hidden corner of earth and the amount of history I have to dredge up from the dimmest recesses of my cobwebbed memory bank.

And, to top that all off, Piers and I decided to add to our overflowing cauldron of stress by getting married.


Piers and Sheylara


Uh huh.

I won’t talk about it in detail because we got married without fuss in Singapore in order to strengthen my case for a UK visa. The visa costs $1,787 (£892) so there is a lot invested to justify the extreme lengths we had to go to to ensure a positive result.

Of course, it also felt right. We’ve already been dating (living together) for two and a half years and can’t imagine life without each other. Aww.

We’ll have a proper wedding in England next year so I’ll blog about that instead, if I haven’t died from stress then.

But it’s all good and relaxed now, apart from the fact that my newly-made husband had to go back to England five days after our marriage, while I stay in Singapore to wait for my visa.

Okay, I really hate the word husband. It’s such an unwieldy, ugly word. Someone ought to come up with a better word for it. Something easy on the lips, like, I dunno, man?

They always say “I now pronounce you man and wife” anyway, which is possibly a bit sexist (or illogical?) but I’m not a feminist so I don’t care.


Man and wife


Hubs and hubby are equally stupid words so I refuse to use them. Spouse is just as bad.

The Chinese versions are even worse: “Lao gong” and “lao po”, meaning literally “old grandfather” and “old grandmother”. Those are kind of colloquial, but the formal words (“zhang fu” and “qi zi”) actually sound more yucky.

Maybe there’s something wrong with me; a subconscious rebellion against the institution of marriage. But I tend to be very sensitive to the way words sound so it is more likely just coincidence that all the words in the marriage category offend me.

I mean, I don’t like many other random words too, for example, “poignant” and “tonsure”, so it’s not a selective discrimination.


Sticks and stones etc.


So, after I receive my visa, which could be months from now, I will fly back to England to get all stressed up again with house-hunting and wedding-planning.

Yay. Can’t wait.

In the meantime, I suppose I can relax a bit, play a lot of stupid iPad games, eat a lot of seaweed shaker fries, and think of names for our future children, who will, hopefully, not inherit my stupid sensitivity to word sounds.

My life will be as unexciting as a bricked iPad in the next couple of months but I will try and pretend that it’s exciting by digging up old stuff to blog about.

Or not. Depends on my mood.

Now, your comments can influence my mood, so comment away! :)

My jet lag beats your jet lag

I am suffering from the worst jet lag in the entire history of jet lags. Okay, maybe just my history; I can’t be bothered to research other people’s history.

It’s a bit different every day, but the gist of it is that I’m waking up at stupid times in the middle of the night (like 4 am) and not being able to sleep again for the next six to eight hours, during which time I’m still lying in bed trying to fall asleep or trying to read myself to sleep. Eventually, I fall asleep at a time I’m supposed to be out and about doing errands or going shopping or whatever.

It is ruining all my plans. In the last one week, I can roughly break down my 24 hours a day thusly:

12 hours a days – In bed trying to fall asleep or in bed stoning because too sleep deprived to do anything.

6 hours a day – Restless sleep (separated into two sessions).

6 hours a day – Functional and able to do stuff, eat, go shopping, play games, etc.

Tell me you’ve encountered worse!

Piers bought me melatonin tablets, which are supposed to reset your body clock, to put it simply. It didn’t work at all the first two nights but there was a mild improvement last night. I managed with cheap ambien to sleep through till 5:30 am.

So I hope that means it’s working. Because if it doesn’t, I think I might literally die pretty soon, from sleep deprivation, frustration, stress and unhealthy Singapore food, combined.

Sorry, but will blog again if I haven’t died by next week.

Share your jet lag stories to make me feel better!

Marmite TV advert — Love it or hate it?

I just watched the new Marmite TV advert that’s garnered a lot of attention in the last day or so.

It parodies animal rescue team members in action.

Watch it, see if you love or hate it.



Lots of people enjoy its humour.

But lots of haters have also filed hundreds of complaints to the Advertising Standards Authority, claiming that the advert is “offensive”, “in poor taste” and “trivialises the work of animal welfare charities”.

Personally, I love the advert. It gave me giggles and I thought it was really cute and clever.

I don’t think it trivialises anyone. If anything, I feel that it brings to attention the plight of neglected abused pets and, therefore, raises the profile of animal charities.

As I was watching the advert, I found myself wondering about poor, cute little animals who need to be rescued, and I feel sorry for them and I feel really happy that there are animal rescue workers out there who might rescue them.

That is a good thing, is it not?

What do you think? Do you love or hate the new Marmite advert?

The most difficult tourist attraction to get to

Once upon a time, two hapless tourists, a boy and a girl, went in search of a famous waterfall in Wales.


In search of a waterfall


A large sign plonked in the middle of the great wild wilderness told them that they were only two miles away from the most famous waterfall in the area, the Sgwd yr Eira.


Brecon Beacons National Park


The sign included a map that was impossible to follow unless you’re the bloke who drew it because it was drawn to a scale of 1:1 billion.


Useless map


Right from the start, the trail was rough and dirty, decorated with mud tracks that sometimes turned into swimming pools.


Brecon Beacons swimming pool


If you didn’t feel like having a swim, you would have to skirt around on the banks.

The boy and girl found themselves skirting a lot.

Sometimes it was fine and there was walkable land on either side.

Sometimes it wasn’t fine.

Some banks were shut away by fences.

Some banks were grassy death traps with hidden bogs and pits underneath them that wanted to swallow your foot hole.


Grassy death trap


Some banks were entire hills that you had to climb.

After which you had to find a good spot to climb down again.

The boy and girl got into an adventure worthy of famous nursery rhymes.


The only way is down


Jack and Jill went up the hill to get away from mud-pools.
Jack leapt down and said, “Woohoo!”
And Jill followed very slowly and carefully and looking very uncool.


The only way is down


Second by challenging second, Jack and Jill picked their way through the rough terrain, which got rougher and crazier the further they went. A few times, there were diverging paths without road signs.

Once, they had to backtrack because one of the paths led to a dead end.

Another time, they had to climb over a locked gate, which signalled to Jill (with angry red beacons flashing in her head) that they were definitely on the wrong track.

But before she could protest, Jack said, “Listen! I can hear a waterfall. We’re near!”

Jill listened very hard, but all she could hear was her tummy rumbling.

They plodded on.

And came across a massive construction of logs that stretched about half the length of an Olympic stadium.




The path through was a muddy quicksand. Jack threw a large rock at it and it got eaten up whole. On the other side was death-trap boggy grass.

The safest way past this obstacle was to hug the logs and hope that there weren’t any termites in them.


Mud pool


When they came to the end of the log trail, they had to stop. Ahead of them spread a giant death-trap field, which they couldn’t see before because the log trail was that long and a bit curvy.

The mud path veered sharply to the right and continued to be equally muddy all the way as far as the eye could see.

According to Jack’s interpretation of the map, the waterfall lay straight ahead, so they didn’t want to follow the mud path to the right. But straight ahead looked like certain death.

It had been a whole hour since Jack and Jill started their trek, so Jill felt it was about time to put her muddy foot down.


Yeah, eew.


“We should have reached the waterfall half an hour ago!” she said, “I’m turning back!”

Defeated by Jill’s defeat as well as stupid terrain, Jack reluctantly agreed.

They went back the direction they came, picking different sides of paths to walk on to see if it was easier.

It wasn’t. No matter where they went, they found themselves challenged by deadly hidden bogs and toxic swimming pools.


Toxic swimming pool


Still, they persevered, not particularly because they were the persevering kind, but mostly because it was nearly dinner time and they didn’t want to spend the night out in the wilderness munching on twigs and grass.

And, finally, when they were perhaps ten minutes away from the starting point, they saw this.

A tiny little path branching off from the main path, which they must have missed the first time because they were busy climbing up and down a hill to avoid muddy tracks.


Hidden little path


Was the right branch the path they were supposed to take??

Disappointed Jack and exhausted Jill went a little closer to study the new trail.


Hidden little path




Stupid little sticker


Public footpath, it said, in Lilliputian lettering that was turned 90 degrees the wrong way.



This must have been where they were supposed to go.

But who was going to see a tiny yellow arrow hidden on the side of a fence post even if they hadn’t at that point been walking atop a hill to avoid a mud bath?!

In any case, the public trail looked just as bad as the other one.

Jack and Jill couldn’t be bothered anymore. They walked back to their car and put an end to their two-hour misadventure.

And no one lived happily ever after, except maybe a couple of sheep encountered along the trail, who had looked at the intruders warily because Jack had tried to trick them into feeling friendly by making sheep noises at them but he wasn’t any good at it, and the sheep thought so, too.


Silly sheep, Y U live here!