a little peek into the past: 42 Craven St 9:52 am

one of those rainy days at craven st



the most inspiring furniture in my room: books

the final destination of the daily walks home

what i would give to see these shoes again as i walk down the stairs in the mornings

truly, home away from home.

Uncle T

washed clean by the rain 9:31 am

It was a long day today, like many other days these days. To be fair, not all these long days are bad; back to back rehearsals and classes; I even have to schedule lunch in my calendar. After the library, I wanted to just head home to take a hot shower and rest.

Instead, I had to walk to the far end of campus at midnight to return a friend's misplaced housekeys. I contemplated the walk there, possibly dreading it a little, the dark, long, cold walk to Lakeside. But instead, I had company. Very good company.

She decided to accompany me all the way. As the gentle midnight rain moist our faces, we started to chat. She said how refreshing the air was, here in the countryside, and I couldn't agree more. Like last year, the warm feeling of having a chat with an old friend just never fails to make me forget the ache in my shoulders and legs, the cold walk. It may have been chats over tea in a warm house last year, and this year a chat through a cold night, but the comfort I get is still the same. I miss 42 Craven Street, the house and housemates I will remember for a long, long time.

©2006-2009 =parejka

Her words of Christian grace and support gives strength to my resolve to walk down the right path. We often can handle problems on our own, but need that little push to finally resolve them. She is part of that final push towards peace.

I don't always write exclusively about sad things do I? Often, but not always. This is one instance that I don't.



Uncle T

first time into sheffield 7:22 am

I finally pull into the Sheffield train station, a trip I was meant to make some 2 odd years ago. It is the eve of Chinese New Year Eve. With Mic grumbling beside me how famished we are just past noon, I smile a fatigued smile at the change in scenery; surrounded by the rolling hills of Yorkshire and the Peak District, England.

We move across town, being too hungry and tired to fully take in my surroundings. We finally found our way to Mic's favourite kebab shop, one that he recalls first visiting at 15 after a night's out. Its good to visit pieces of a friend's childhood; possibly pieces I will never visit ever again in this lifetime. But pushing the nostalgic nonsense aside, I pushed kebab and oily fries into my starving mouth. Food was cheap and good. Cheap! Something I'll rarely even mouth living on Warwick campus.

After lunch, we headed toward's Mic's place. We waited at the bus stop that Mic used to wait when he was little to catch the bus to school, along Erkusall Road. As we passed along the rows of shops along that main road of Sheffield, Mic pointed out all the different places of his school days. It was nice accompanying Mic on this journey down memorylane, catching a smile each time he jumps up when he gets a flashback. I enjoyed that trip, not just for the shared memories, but the lovely cafes, bakeries, neighbourhood shops.

Mic's neughbourhood was beautiful. The houses were decently sized, the lack of fencing representing the community in the neighbourhood. Beyond the houses were those very hills of the Yorkshire greens. I smiled. It was not exactly drop-dead gorgeous, but it was pleasant. Mic's house was home. We opened the door to aromas of dinner being prepared and Mic's kid brother, James, on the piano. This was home; not mine, but home.

The rest of the way was spent in this home, with the most parts warming up, and subsequently playing with James, the 7-year-old cheeky kid brother. Funny how being "bullied" by this 7-year-old brought much joy despite the fatigue. After a very lovely family dinner, where I switched between Mandarin and English, I entertained James as he came up with puzzles for me to solve.

After a long, long week, this was a welcome change. A little bit of family warmth never fails to wash clean the dirty linen of the harsh world. Amen. I miss home. I miss being in the company of simple joys and simple loves.

Sweetdreams, as the rain falls on the greens of Sheffield.


Uncle T