Lapses in Memory

In my earlier posting, I mentioned how we used the idea of buying chocolates for grandma to pacify Jun. Actually, SP mentioned that it was while we were going through the security checks, after the initial ‘one hand luggage’ check, when I had to take off my shoes (she wore clogs, not required to) like everybody else who wore shoes, that she commented to Jun, ‘hern choeu’ (or very smelly) that she laughed and forgot about her problem of separation from her parents. It seems Beng used to joke about his smelly feet to her. Anyway, after that, it was a matter of getting her attention to the chocolates and story-telling to keep her mind pre-occupied.

Similarly, it wasn't until Nee sent me some pictures which we took in Cambridge that I remembered our visit the day after our arrival.

Alex decided to drive us to Cambridge, my first visit. After parking the car, away from the busy city centre, we walked towards it, and noticed the Fitzwilliam Museum. We decided to pay a visit. It was mentioned as ‘free’ but donations are ‘voluntary’ with a suggested amount of GBP3, obviously welcome. Later, in the course of conversation with a staff member, we were told that a Dutchman, Fitzwilliam, started the museum with his own collection of historical items, with the stated intention of maintaining its entrance free from charges. But judging from the high standard of care in maintenance and security, donations are necessary. I noticed there are many statues and pictures of Virgin Mary and Child but I did not find out why.

Nee was tempted by a guy who offered to take us on a ‘punting’ or boat trip at a reduced price but we were more eager to walk around to see and feel the atmosphere of Cambridge, so well known for its university. I joked to Alex, ‘can I get a degree in 2 hours?’ which was the time we put in the parking meter initially.

Going around in a group, there is always the problem of deciding what to eat. Personally, I would be tempted to try the German sausage at the market but after walking past it, I had to settle for an ordinary hotdog, regardless of what they think or decide for lunch. I have my own ‘Gestapo in drag’, to quote Malcolm in our last trip to Leeds. For lunch, we actually ended up in a so-called Italian restaurant, run or owned by Indians! Later, Alex told us that he wanted to back out upon seeing the Indian waiters!