Reuters-Thomson Merger 4:48 pm

- Canadian financial data provider Thomson buys out Reuters for $17b
- Creates worl'd biggest financial news & data firm, leapfrogging US-based Bloomberg
- Expected annual savings fr merger: $250m
- Thomson's interests: law, tax & scientific research
- Thomson, Reuters, BLoomberg: compete in "terminal" mkt: providing news & financial data to banks, traders & brokerages
- In Apr 2007: Bllomberg 33%, REuters 23%, Thomson 11%
- Thomson-Reuters to list in London & Toronoto
- EStimated revenue of $12b, having 49000 employees

- Reputation of Reuters at stack: known for its neutrality
- For 150years, Reuters has had reputation for independence, where no ind can own 15% or more of the company
- Thomson now owns 53%. Journalists unhappy.
- REuters general news may be sidelined for financial news
- REuters boss Tom Glover will head firm

Uncle T

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Uncle T

Final Night...finally 4:11 pm

It is finally the last night of our production "Endorian Dreams". I say 'finally' with a sigh of relief no doubt, but does not in any way connotate that I have long for it to end. In fact, it seems all too surreal that the family that I have been heading for the past 2 terms is slowly disappearing.

It has been a special experience producing this, with Prin, my wonderful family, with special mention going out to the secretary and treasurer, and not forgetting AL and Jasmin.

Yet, there is no time to get nostalgic. There is still much that lies ahead; examicitis, packing up, feeding Squirrel, King Lear, travelling, going home, readjusting to home... So much more. Eventuality just chugs on, regardless of your preparations.

But in the meanwhile, please let me bask in some smoke of reminiscence, some shades of nostalgia. Thank you Endora, thank you.

We had 5000 of these postcards across campus.

The Production Family that held the fort, with Jia Wei taking the photo. Silly boy.

Uncle T

Familiar feeling... 12:39 am

Its a familiar feeling. All too familiar. Yet different; foreign. Its the same tightening walls, but with new flowers beyond the window. Same routine of running towards the Cross when anxiety encircles, but something...something different.

The warm of teriyaki and egg sloshing in my mouth, the thought of Reims, Hunchback and his implications, tuna & croissant, ginger tea,Stratford and taste of treasured freedom all comfort me like water in hell's fires. All these candies cannot surpass the ultimate Peace that eminates from Him. These little sugar granules just lead me finally to the ultimate sweetness of His comfort.

Like jazz, in the bittersweet blues of life.

Uncle T

Veggie Love; Cabbage, Pumkin... 5:29 pm

from Marvell's "To His Coy Mistress"

Had we but world enough, and time,

This coyness, Lady, were no crime.

We would sit down and think which way

To walk and pass our long love's day.

Thou by the Indian Ganges' side

Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide

Of Humber would complain. I would

Love you ten years before the Flood,

And you should, if you please, refuse

Till the conversion of the Jews.

My vegetable love should grow

Vaster than empires, and more slow;

An hundred years should go to praise

Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;

Two hundred to adore each breast;

But thirty thousand to the rest;

An age at least to every part,

And the last age should show your heart;

For, Lady, you deserve this state,

Nor would I love at lower rate...

"My veggie love doth

Grow as onions and gingers

Nurture in thy cabinet

Having stayed there, overdue for

Cooking.

Just growing."

- uncle t

Uncle T

Hunchback... 5:22 am

HEAVEN'S LIGHT

Quasimodo
So many times out hereI've watched a happy pair
Of lovers walking in the night
They had a kind of glow around them
It almost looked like heaven's light
I knew I'd never know
That warm and loving glow
Though I might wish with all my might
No face as hideous as my face
Was ever meant for heaven's light

But suddenly an angel has smiled at me
And kissed my cheek without a trace of fright

I dare to dream that she
Might even care for me
And as I ring these bells tonight
My cold dark tower seems so bright
I swear it must be heaven's light

Uncle T

Some more of Spring...and more to come 9:29 pm

"Who is the monster and who is the man?...Sing the bells of Notre Dame"

Whilst uncle t is in the UK, the going ons in Singapore...

Ian and his bedfellow. So much for taste.

Fiona visiting UK; In Camden! Nice place.

He stumble through the door, having slept only 4 hours. He tries to wear his splippers as he does so. His hand reaches forward to find stability from the wall. But as his forearm brushes against the wall, the protruding alien, in all its silverness in paint disguise, digs into his skin. Momentum only tugs at the skin, drawing a line that slowly turns scarlet. That is the start of the day for some.





Uncle T

Snippets of Spring 9:02 pm

Uncle T

The realm of the complex: Humans 7:05 pm

We have been there all this time. Did you not notice? You play beneath our shade; did you not look up at our foliage? Amidst our bosom you laughed; did you not realise that we cleansed your air?

Now, you suddenly notice us. You notice the cracks, the localised decay, the rare infestation at the roots. You walk up closer, and point that once-limp finger with accusations. You forgot about the green, you forgot about the shade. No. You never did notice it before. But you are good at pointing at the cracks and chinks, are you not?

But is that not the way of the human jungle? As much as we worked tirelessly, you would not notice. The good is dull, the bad is bright. As much as we feel dismayed at this sad reality, I realise that, possibly, that is the way it generally works around here. Yes, here in the human forest.

I guess I will continue to work at what I do. I know that I clean the air because I believe that clean air is better than unclean air; I provide shade because I believe that death by scorching is bad. Moral high ground you say. Well, at the very least, its a firm ground beneath me.

If you decide I am replaceable by an air-purifier, so let it be so. Ultimately, you are the one with the axe; I am the one made of wood.

"The Human Jungle" by ConfusedUncle
Uncle T

When the world sleeps... 11:34 am

Sun has not been very sympathetic as the new term began. The poor weather since school reopened seemed aligned with the ominous stars of a trying term ahead; the daffodils are crisping with Springs further progress, with dandelions usurping its former territories. Squirrels are reclaiming their lands, and so are the fresh leaves; no longer hidding in buds, flowers are bursting out everywhere; so are the bugs.

The birds are singing their regular songs, as First Light struggles past overnight overcast clouds, past creepers that are slowly regainig their green shade. I am about to head to bed.

The Wars begin. The greatest battle is set to be Within. Be prepared. To engage, to confront, to strategise, to be disciplined, to focus. Its survival.

"Makan boleh make aku life senang sedikit (broken Melayu)"- uncle t

Uncle T

Democracy... 9:34 am

Demoracy, hailed as the pinnacle to strive towards in the Western world. But is it a double-edged sword?



Uncle T

How Blessed We Are... 9:28 am

How blessed we are...

to go through shit times to know better times,
to have friends there even when you don't think you need them,
to take for granted the present that in the past you would have died for,
to have the prospects ahead that others may not,
to have friends to comfort and in so doing find solutions for yourself,
to have what you have and don't even think twice of having,
to have moments of solitude that you thought lonely but became breeding grounds for wisdom,
to be even here, alive today, with many bombed innocently elsewhere,
to have come so far today, with what you had,
to have had nothing more, nothing less,
to be simply you. to be simply, me.

Say that little thanks today. To Him, to you, to them.
Say it, before it gets too hard to say.

"Who you are today, is God's gift to you. Who you become, is your gift to God", as a wise friend once said

Thank you.

Uncle T

Chugging Along 6:33 am

Army did take some sting out of the bite; some wheel out of the car. There has that initial inertia to overcome, one that takes not only will, but simply, time. Yet, Time is less kind than it wants to. It cannot wait. So you are caught. But if you don't wriggle free, you are naught. One never takes in enough of the present. Beauty seems to come alive more vivid in memories. But by then, regret and guilt birth into nostalgia and longing. Longing for what we have now. Back to work. On the lonely country road. No one. Wait...there! The squirrel, full of life, escaping the jealous attacks of the magpie. Embodies vitality, life, that squirrel. But wait...it doesn't care about you. It has its own nuts to seek. You have yours too. So its still lonely, that road. But wherefore will it lead? Or do you decide?
Uncle T

Its here. Can't run! 9:57 pm

I got hit right in the face.

It flew right into my pimply crevices. And others of its kind did the same. The bugs are here. So are the woodpeckers; I have a love-hate relation with one just outside my window which has a go at my tree. The sun, despite a hide-and-seek with the clouds (can't expect perfection here in the UK), is still a warm welcome. The squirrels are out once more. So are the magpies, in groups.

I found campus to be really quiet, picturesque even. Doing my jogs on the same country road, seeing flowers clammer out of the ground, tranquil. Then I realised why it has been so quiet this Easter break; I trooped to the library today, and there was the Warwick students, studying!! Doesn't help when I'm trying to cover my syllabus for the finals.

PPE is cool. But that means literally taking 4 subjects: Philosophy, Politics, Economics, Maths. Make that 5. Since I'm atrocious at Logic, that's a subject on its own.

Man. So much for beautiful Spring.

Uncle T

First Barcelona... 4:27 am

At our wonderfully-located accomodation. Splendid.

Park Guell

The goddess who kept following us in posters across Barcelona. I mean Ian's goddess.

Gaudi's intimacy with nature's outlines.

Sagrada Familia. Let's hope its completed soon; a masterpiece.

Yes, the start of my holiday-cellulite programme.

A site not common in the English Midlands.

The man who encouraged my cellulite programme throughout the trip.

The man again, with me, at the biggest stadium in Europe, Nou Camp.

Indeed, this is way overdue. I have already been back from my trip to, first Barcelona, then Rome, with Ian, for about 5 days now. I needed some time to ask myself what did the trip mean to me. It is so easy to let the box-ticking sightseeing and photo-whoring be definitive of the trip. Now, too, that Easter is here, the angst of the pregnant wait for Easter to arrive is now gone, along with my unfulfilled Lenten promises (what's new).

But despite failed promises (very much reminiscent of every New Year resolution I make), the prelude to Easter was very much fulfiling, and in large part due to this trip that which I was graced by Ian's splendid company.

Barcelona.
Barcelona was Gaudi. For me, Gaudi very much typified my trip to the Catalan capital. (Do check it out. If you didn't already know, Barcelona, despite not being Spain's capital, is the capital of the autonomous state of Catalonia, a state within the Spanish state). Cities speak differently to different people. If we listen, cities do speak. For me, it was Gaudi, for others it may be SanGria, or Nou Camp.

Gaudi's adherence and inspiration from nature was inspiring and captivation His intimacy with nature would make any partner jealous. His daring art breaking conventions of his time, is not that foreign in the spirit of the Barcelona people. The city's peoples came across as flamboyant, fun-loving and being daring to try. The Spanish knew how to enjoy. I thought I could hear that in their music as well. Ian and I attended two music events there in the Catalan city, one of jazz in a historic jazz club, and the other of Spanish guitar, in a basilica.

Gaudi's Sagrada Familia captivated both our attention. It was nice to understand the biblical references made in the sculptures and facade. Not just in the unfinished masterpiece, but also in the other churches that Ian and I visited, popular or not. Ian and I are sincerely hoping to see the Sagrada Familia completed in our lifetime. We will be back for Barcelona, then. Especially also disappointingly not getting to visit the Sagrad Cor.

Barcelona was also where the pilgrimage started. For me, after being privileged to have seen a number of beautiful churches in both the cities of London and Paris, I sometimes wonder what to think, or feel, or do when I enter these ancient structures. To some of my friends, it is yet another ancient building, feeling the brunt of time on its facades, and have its insides shaken by the din of tourists and their accompanying photo-flashes. I, too, am guilty of such undertakings. But these are my Father's house. What am I to do then? I didn't know. I still don't. The best thing I can do is to kneel and pray in each church that I walk into. On my knees.

Rome in the next entry.

Uncle T