my tutor said this is even more the case for singapore, to which i agree. i'm reminded of a bus trip i took with my aunt (she's i think, 60.. or maybe more). the bus passed by Novena, and i was feeling bored at the sights of malls and cafes, that were all too familiar to me. however, i was rather stumped when she asked me where the place as because i only know its name in english, and she only speaks hokkien. what's novena to her? years ago when there were swamps and attap houses, how could anyone imagine its modernisation? much less being alienated from the very country you grew in, foreign to this 'motherland'. today, i shudder at the thought of this fate that will befall us. (and the PM did say that singapore will be very different in 50 years time)
this city that constantly reinvents itself. who is it for? maybe i flatter art too much, but perhaps it can be another space in the midst of the considerable influence of a governing body. a space to remember (if preservation is not possible) the past, an alternative way of considering identity for the individual. in this light, art (and i'm not referring to art as an object) seems much more connected with society and politics. art is not political, but an intelligent artist can question the reach of politics on the level of the social and visual.
the lecturer said something really awesome yesterday: 'philosophy makes concepts, art makes affects and science makes percepts'
sometimes, i can't wait to go back to singapore (armed with arsenal of visual culture knowledge and modes of critique, not to mention methods of art making....arrrrgh, but i don't think i'll acquire all those in a mere 4 years. already one year gone)
oooh....i'm now a pescetarian! :D means the only kind of meat i eat is seafood. the sunday roast i had at the pub was the last meal before pescetarianism. there's vegetarian option for sunday roast though! full-fledged vegetarianism worries me a little...i foresee too much flour in my diet.
my housemate's a vegetarian! i'm going to gradually become a vegetarian myself too, just to see what it's like. those mock meat in london actually taste better than chicken.
gq asked if i have any new writings. ahhh...makes me want to go back to writing again, just that i haven't had any compelling ideas for a plot in a long time. but i guess demand is the reason i write. that someone out there wants to read it. yes. i will.
France and Venice Biennale. i think i used up all my luck there.
Housing. Was i being naive when i thought that uncertainty is exciting? or am i not relishing the moment of 'excitement'. the excitement of viewing 2 ugly basement flats, another ugly (but not basement) flat, and the possiblity of settling for one that is furthest from the uni, with my housemate retorting, 'what is wrong with walking?' ok. i suppose more walking is good, as a mild form of exercise (i don't even know if walking even counts as exercise for a young person.) but that place is far from local amentities like supermarket and bus stop (is it mean to say that my housemate is naturally reclusive? yes). all they want is to save money (but i know that my third housemate can ill afford anything more expensive. and one with a good location, is, naturally, expensive. unless the house is revolting.) i never knew how important a pretty, presentable house is to me. i think i took eveything at home for granted (i'm convinced that renovation and deeds such as aligning the door frame is a craft.). anyway. point is, unless a decent house with a good location turns up by the end of this week. i'll be stuck with that house for a year.
we were supposed to get summer readings. but i supposed the mails to asia went awry. we only received it a few days ago. quite a bit of readings to catch up. i read the intro to visual culture. haven't really digested it yet, but i get a sense that my pursuit in art is fast becoming this pseudo-political project termed visual cultures. why is it that we try running to our goal, only to find that it has changed? or maybe i got my signposts wrong in the first place.
look forward to monday - first lecture. i hope the lecturer is at least clear
The catcher in the rye
this book is so hilarious. initially i thought the protagonist was some kind of unsung hero, but halfway through, i realized that he is really a loser who has no idea what he's doing and then his sense of loss overwhelms him, even as he's in denial. it all got quite serious towards the end when he met his teacher who tried to talk some sense into him ("i yawned. what a rude bastard, but i couldn't help it!"). the story more or less ended after his encounter with the teacher, which i think is good because it ends on a somewhat light note ( no awful projections into the future ), but with some implacable darkness lurking underneath.
fiction worth reading.
language affects thought ( not sure how.) let's say, to the extent that not having the vocabulary or good grammar impairs our ability to think of certain ( more complex) thoughts
singaporeans are expected to be bilingual - english and mother tongue. but with the exception of the few who are able to master both languages, most people have to divide their time between learning 2 languages, i would say often with the result that we are neither very good or too bad at either.
in that case, do our thoughts get restricted ( or less complex.)? because the almost equal emphasis on both languages makes us worse off in either language than monolingual people. we get breadth instead of depth ( but then, breadth and depth can overlap too)
but i think this is very simplistic. our brain probably doesn't get comparmentalized in this way - half devoted to either language. so when you use one language, you're only using half instead of one brain to think. is there a limit to how well can we master a language? so once we have mastered it, we can move on to acquire other languages. ( but what i find interesting is the masses of people who probably never reach mastery of either language because they have to divide their time between 2)
i finally understand how stressful it is to undertake a trip alone or be the one to take charge of the logistics for a trip.
my itinerary
11 sept
arrival in london 1530
dash to seniors house to dump luggage and catch the 2000 train to portsmouth
2130 arrive at portsmouth, take shuttle bus ( or cab if i can't make it in time) to ferry port
catch ferry at 2300 ( check in one hour before ie 2200)
12 sept
arrive in le havre france and hopefully fall into the arms of liu lu who will receive me...
stay for one night with liu lu
visit monet's pretty house and garden in giverny
13 sept
take train to paris ( yet to book...it's so weird. the booking site doesn't say which station the train will arrive in. and i'm sure there are more than one train station in paris)
stay for 2 nights in paris (yet to book)
15 night
go to cdg airport and spend the night there coz i have to catch an early flight at 7 am to venice (yet to book)
16 sept
arrive in venice
it doesn't help that i cannot speak a word of french and i'm positive the english and french don't like each other much????
i think it's quite pathetic that i have to travel alone. ok, but it's good for independence, and i'm very much encouraged by girls i met who travelled alone. thing is, i suppose my friends' lives and mine are increasingly diverging and we probably cannot have much bonds between us except to meet occassionally ( if we want to) and reminisce about the past? i just feel that there's something between us that somehow, cannot move on, evergreen as the past will be.
and maybe i don't have a lot of new friends because i don't study in a local uni? for places like imperial college, i think it's like singapore all over again ( loads of singaporeans, sing soc???, doing things together...it's akin to local uni isn't it?). but for a uni like mine, it's more socializing than making friends. even if we do make friends, we'll leave each other, much unlike local uni where contacts can lead to future working relationships. or maybe i can work with my overseas in future..if the world is my stage. ( dream on)
and it's like, the people around me don't seem keen to hang around or talk to each other. i belive the truth is, all my friends have moved on ( found friends in cambridge, imperial, or local uni. of course, i would say it's because these schools are filled with singaporeans) and i have not....i should go find more arty pple and talk to them about art coz i really want to do that. (though the solution is to go back to gs)
i noticed something strange. i talk much more to my mum these days, but my dad hardly talks to me or looks at me. like..it's different. sometimes, i try to see my future through my parents' lives. say, if i have a kid in future, will i be less lonely? i don't think my parents are less lonely because of us, because there seems to be a gap between us and our parents ( don't we all do? ). if anything, the loneliness as a person seems to be magnified because of their kids' reticence.
the month of august's been a very empty, strange, bewildering one for me. michelle asked me what i do when i stay at home? i think i tried to sound like i'm not bored. but i don't think she's convinced by my answer. i'm not convinced either. then i realized that a lot of my friends are helping out in camps or doing cip. is the solution to serve???? but i thought MY GREATEST HAPPINESS WAS to stay at home and read and do art. but i can't. *(%_#*()@#_@)#@_+ i'm a social being. i need to go out and meet people and have fruitful conversations. where to find fruitful conversations. i have so many questions in my head.
"breathe in through your nose" which i failed to and tasted the drug. "coughs"
"i told you to breathe in through your nose, not your mouth. pls do not forget to do that later. there'll be a lot of blood and saliva. you don't want to taste that" fair warning.
after 5 mins
"has the effect of the anesthetic kicked in? your lower left lip will feel thicker than your right."
"no...it (lower left lip) feels normal"
"we'll wait a bit more"
"it still feels normal"
"ok let me check" he proceeded to poke my left side with some sharp tool, which i felt nothing of course. and then he did the same to my right
"ouch!!!"
"ok. that means the anesthetic has taken effect. you see, you can feel on your right side, but not your left. you are a scaredy-cat"
"arrrrgh!!! you are a mean dentist"
"you can only say that i'm an honest dentist. mean is not in my dictionary" ?????
My eyes were covered with a mask.
proceeded with the surgery
"now i have cut open your gum. i'm going to saw your tooth into two parts" breaks out in cold sweat
(because all the suction tube was in my wide-open mouth) croaks "....."
"what?"
"I dun want to know. I dun care"
laughs "ah...i'm a more graphic person. i prefer my patients to have a knowledge of what they're going through"
i think simply because i was undergoing all that trauma. i thought i was KING and the dentist should have been more apologetic about the trauma he caused (but on hindsight, i don't think he knew i was breaking out in cold sweat). i sort of pointed my middle finger (not in his face) to express my utter irritation. and i immediately regretted that gesture because i was in his mercy. hope he was too busy my with tooth to notice
"ok. it's all done. i just need to finish up and stitch up your gum"
after it all, he showed me the X-ray and the bloody two segments of the tooth and explained what happened, which i really prefer not to know.
i suspect he stitched my cheek to my gum. JK
oh well, bye tooth!!!!!
i think this post is more for myself than anyone else. i like new cross. the stretch of lewisham way from my hall - surrey house - to obscure gourmet bar (it's always coming up with new but lame gimmicks from car boot sale to discounted lunches. i really wonder when it's going to fold ), goldsmiths college main building, the glass facade of the library, the tavern, loring hall, ben pimlott building (the spaghetti alike structure on top of the building which i hated initially, but am beginning to admire ) hobgoblin, and then across the road, the orange sign of sainsbury looms large, new cross gate station, the venue (where its huge neon sign never fails to jazz up the area on weekends), marquis of granby, yao kee, noodle and rice, southern fried chicken and back to surrey house. it's a colourful area - the whites, blacks, the asians, hispanic, the characters, the music, the art, the food, and not to mention, the alcohol. i can't quite describe it. it's really quite fantastic.
one of the reasons i wanted to do art was because i wanted to be a less ordinary person. someone whom i believed had a glimpse to a different, much more open world ( where boundaries are constantly questioned and blown away). i think it's got to do with my upbringing and my sister's influence. i wanted a world where deviants are ok. homosexuality is ok, eccentricity is ok, loud thumping music is ok, fashion faux pas is ok, vulgarities are ok. soft drugs are ok (until addiction becomes a problem). casual (but protected) sex is ok. not having to be nice all the time is ok. not that goldsmiths and new cross embody all that, but this area does have its fair share of strange people, things, shops and happenings and perhaps being away from the city, or any stake( i think when stakes are involved, things become political ) makes all that possible.
and i'm really glad we are away from the disgusting traffic and milling tourists of central london, but at the same time, not too far from it.
i'm really enjoying the freedom i have here. maybe that's why i feel a trifle bit uneasy about going back. i don't really know what's going to happen or what to expect so i can't really prepare myself mentally. i don't even know how far i have drifted apart from everything - family, friends, surroundings or waht's happened to everyone and everything. i feel like going back is a shift in space, but not time. maybe time has had its effect on me, and of course, it would have changed everyone else too. but i don't know how they have changed since i haven't really had sustained conversations with a lot of people i know. it's like a mystery, this nine-month gap; since i didn't live it, i can only go back with this gap in knowledge. and my family will have the same gap about me...gee
for spring term, we were tasked to write an essay of 'approximately 800 words', following a presentation we did on an exhibition in london. and we weren't really told what kind of essay to write. the written instructions were, review, extended writeup...
but then, when we had individual tutorials with our tutor, and most of us were undecided on what to write about, and the tutor rambled on anyway about whatever info we could feed him during the indiv tutorial. that means, most of us had no idea to write an academic essay, or a review.
so i went ahead and conformed to the 800 words, ending up with an essay that looks like a hybrid of academic essay and a review. and i actually revised it quite a few times to make it sound more decent.
and then, today, i found out that at least 2 classmates went over the word limit. and one of them is a singaporean, which means that the another 2 or 3 singaporeans would probably ignore the word limit too, since they keep in close correspondence. and the girl i spoke to actually expected me to go over the word limit. the other classmate, a japanese girl, wrote 2000 words.....
1. if i had known that i could ignore the word limit, i would have decided to write an academic essay, spanning 1200 words or smth. and the approach, and even topic would be quite different too. point being that the word limit has an adverse impact on the final product that is my essay.
2. how on earth is the tutor going to mark these essays, assuming that the quality of the essays are going to be relative? how do you compare an academic essay to a review? how do you compare an 800 word essay to a 2000 word one? how? how? how? well, you can, but how do you do it such that it's fair?
3. this is kind of related to point 2. the number of words will definitely affect the strength of the essay. more words allow more substantiation, elaboration, etc, etc. and of course, it looks like more work has been done, more research done, more issues thought out. so is the tutor going to penalize the one who wrote more ( 1000 is still alright. but i think above that is just an over-deviation) for not following instructions/making him do more work/not being fair to other classmates/making his job tougher ( see pt 2) or is he going to laud them for their hard work and initiative? well, in the real world, say if you're writing for a magazine/paper. the of course the latter is favoured. but let's say it's just a communication of ideas. then the former would be more suitable. i think what has happened is that for me, i used the word limit to decide my approach, whereas for the other, they probably had the word limit in mind but did not use that to restrict the topic of the essay and probably decided to go ahead anyway, if the topic at hand means exceeding the word limit.
if i get to the root of this decision-making process, does it mean that i'm more bureacratic and they are more passionate? and then, in the academic world (since passion is very important), does that mean i'm supposed to be penealized?! but rules aren't about rigidity. it's also about fairness to everyone, setting everyone on common ground, as much as can be helped, so that meritocracy can take place!
but i think it's probably quite easy to argue the overriding of the word limit. 800's ridiculous for an undergraduate essay. even for foundation year. i should have figured it out long ago.
these days, i almost cook with a vengence, pouring as much rice/pasta as my little pot can take and hope that amount can last as long as possible.
and all that will not end when i go back to singapore, even as i tuck into my mum's dishes. that is mere respite.
what disturbs me the most is that i can't go back to the past anymore. the most basic thing that i've been taking for granted - food - will not fall from the sky. from procuring the money for grocery shopping to doing the dishes, i have to do it for myself. maybe, in the future, even do it for someone else. how did my mum do it for 20 years? 3 (meals) * 365 * 20 = (do the math)
there is also the matter of having to cook ingredients that are on the verge of going bad, wondering as you cook, if they have really gone bad, praying before you eat that you won't have a stomach upset. till now do i understand why my mum refused spontaneous suggestions to eat out. the thought is simply unbearable, placed alongside concerns for groceries in the fridge, subjected to the effects of time.
man, i wish i could climb back into my mum's womb. and stay there.
anyway, we spent the night at the airport so i barely slept.
when i got back and got settled, i head straight for the school library since it would be closed at 9pm on the 8 of apr and would not reopen till 15 apr. i had to get my essay done by that so i thought i would try and grab some books. but at the library, i felt very very sleepy. so based on some research i did before term ended, i borrowed some books and went back to hall, with the intention to nap for 2 hours till 8pm and go back to the library before it closes at 9 pm
so i set my alarm for 8 pm. when i woke up to the shrill of the alarm, the sky was stil bright. since the case was such that in germany, the sun set really late in spring, i thought the case might be the same for london. not bad, i thought, 8 pm and the sun is still around. when is it going to set? then i looked for my phone and the date says 9 apr 2009.....
anyway, i was very confused and a little hungry. so i didn't really know whether to have dinner or breakfast. but i finally decided that birds can't be chirping at 8 pm in the evening. so i should have breakfast.
over a bowl of cereal with milk, i pondered over the whole incident. did my alarm clock ring at 8pm and i slept through it? or did i get up and turned it off but have no recollection of performing that action? or perhaps, since my door was not locked, a flatmate came in and turned it off? or maybe my sense of time was quite warped up the previous day? i have no idea....
i thought it was because i couldn't really cook anything else apart from pasta
or that 2 months away from singapore food was really too long to be away from
but only when i visited an oriental supermarket in Chinatown (it's in Piccadilly Circus) did it occur to me that
perhaps
it was not out of a sense of longing for singapore food
but just longing for singapore; the familiarity
for i dreamt of fish cakes from the wet market, breakfast from the hawker stalls near my house
at the supermarket, i could have reached out for all those food laid out in front of me, but my mind said no to their banal taste
more than local food, i want to be home in one bus ride.
i am a complete sucker. when i'm in london, i miss singapore. but when i go back, i'm probably going to miss london. i went for Project: SlingShort at charlotte street hotel. it was a screening of (amateurish) singapore films but i kind of enjoyed it nonetheless coz it was just so silly and familiar, and it was meant to be funny. someone said that singaporeans are quite self-conscious and we really care a lot about the image we project to others. coincidentally, i was just thinking about what old friends (those i have not met in a long time) think of the present me. depending on who i meet, but i usually think about the past, our shared memories, the choices we've made, our aspirations and whether we are still pursuing them or not.
somehow, i always feel a need to show that i'm progressing, especially since we're entering a supposedly most productive/exciting phase of our lives. but then, i really suspect that i do that not because i care what others think of me, but because i see people as a mirror (some mirrors are more critical than others) that reflects my image to myself. all that justification and defense in front of others is just to reiterate to myself that i have made the right choices, am on the right track and so on. i can't really decide which is worse - to be self-conscious or self-centered.
recently, i have taken to hugging people i know. i think most people reading this entry are not really comfortable with the idea of embracing people as a form of greeting. nevertheless, i think (at least for now) hugging as a form of greeting is wonderful because:
1. it means that you're comfortable enough with them to embrace them. i've never enjoyed doing that back in singapore, but i am really liking it as a form of expression. coz embracing is selective since i only embrace people i am comfortable with. and i think it really looks like a gracious gesture.
2. and of course, it keeps you warm
It never occurred to me that certain members of the West see maids as the modern manifestation of slavery.
To frame thing in context, it was an exhibition against ‘global slavery’. 8 ‘renowned’ photographers were dispatched to different parts of the world to investigate and document slavery – which includes WW2 sex slaves, India, various parts of Africa and maids in Singapore.
“Between 1999 and 2005, at least 147 migrant workers in Singapore died from jumping or falling from tall residential buildings, most due to workplace accidents or suicides…”
“In the training centre, it was very bad..i was there for 3 months..the gate was always locked. If my friends ran away, the rest of the girls were punished. They wouldn’t give us food for a day or we would have to do three or four hundred pushups.” Indonesian domestic worker. Singapore Feb 2005
To be fair, domestic abuse and all those shoddy stuff that happen inside training centres are kind of inevitable because the ‘workplace’ being private homes are cannot be regulated without infringing on privacy. And there’s always the power play between employer and maid. While physical scars can be easily spotted, emotional hurts can be concealed in fear of ‘I’ll send you back to Indonesia/Philippines’.
At the same time, I’m reminded of a report in The Sunday Times quite some time ago where some maids actually get married and live a happy life after amassing enough money in Singapore. Others forge strong bonds with employers, even to the extent of driving family car to do grocery shopping. I don’t deny that those happily-ever-after cases are exceptions, and that driving the car to shopping is a even rarer case, used by the government to quell negative thoughts regarding domestic help. To employers the report says, ‘not all maids are evil you know, they can be trusted and treated well’ and to maids, the message could be, ‘not all employers are crap. They do treat you well’. Sometimes.
All in all, to put maids along the ranks of slaves is a bit too much. Being a slave means to be exploited, paid way below minimum wage; to sell yourself to someone so that the person can do whatever s/he wants with you. But being a maid, to put it idealistically, is to sell your services to the employer. Hence, I do not agree that Singaporean maids should be featured in an exhibition inquiring ‘global slavery’. Nevertheless, I do agree that the trading and management of domestic help leaves much to be desired.
1. The power play mentioned earlier. For until maids recognize and desire to exercise their rights, they will always be at the mercy of nefarious employers because it’s difficult to regulate the trade of domestic help. And yet, to exercise their rights will ultimately clash with their initial objective of economic gain.
2. Wages. The decision-making is left to the market. However, I do wonder how the market decides that. Not economics. But are they paid the pittance because of their unskilled labour or because of presumed ethnic inferiority? If a Singaporean were to be employed as a maid, would she/he be paid more?
At any rate, I certainly hope those organizations stop sponsoring photographers who end up presenting one-sided views. I think a problem with visual presentation sometimes is it’s always either exaggerated or too skewed in order to emphasize a point. A picture tells a thousand words. But no one ever said if those words are accurate, relevant or meaningful.
well, to be fair, efficiency is really low here. did i blog about the guy at hsbc branch who processed my application with one finger? that's what exactly what he did...but he was awfully nice and there was something personable about his (slow) service.
i caught 7 ladybirds in my room yesterday night. i don't mind ladybirds, but 7 is too numerous, especially when they stick to each other in twos - male and female - which means their population will increase exponentially.
this guy tried to my tell fortune with a deck of cards. he said he couldn't really tell me much coz my life isn't quite organised (it's not fixed and a lot depends on what i do?) anyway, here it goes: before i die, i will do something that people will remember me for. i will date quite a number of guys, but i will only find true love towards the end of my life. (it's scary that my life will end soon after i have found true love?). but i don't think i will die soon coz i have yet to date 'quite a number of guys'. =D btw, the guy is a US citizen, of greek-irish descent. a lot of people here are of mixed parentage.... and i wonder if they have problems with their identity. the guy does, some of the time, but like he says, no one from US is truly native; everyone is from somewhere else. and he said that he won't be going back to US anytime soon if _____ doesn't win the elections.
went for black and white film developing course today...turns out that my roll of film was completely empty!!! coz i didn't wound the film properly into the camera when i started. that was 3 pounds and 2 days worth of work. thanks siew ching. (am getting a bit of a schizo...oooh and i watched alfred hitchcock's psycho 2 weeks ago. my, he's good. a master of psychological terror indeed. it's also about schizophrenia. the film was shot long ago, so the subject matter's a bit cliche for our times. nevertheless, the way it was filmed and how the story unfolded was sheer brilliance.)
oh yes, there was this particular breakfast i had. it was: expired bread with expired seafood cocktail spread. it's cheaper to buy expiring food. but we couldn't finish it in time.
there were quite a few people busking in covent garden this afternoon. and the way they do it is really different from sg. a crowd will form, and the busker will joke with the crowd and then strut his stuff, be it magic, or music, etc. after which, for a really entertaining and skilful performance, coins will really pour in. by pour, i mean pour.
otherwise, everything's expensive here, except alcohol (like beer is cheaper than mineral water..)...but clubbing is quite expensive too. we have to pay entrance fee and that does not include drinks. so for one night, including transport, will set you back by 10 pounds at least.
below is an account of how i passed. it's manual btw, not auto =D
1. ran (according to the tester) to the car. before i moved off, he told me not to be nervous. moved off to circuit.
2. moved off the do 14. directional change. but there were too many cars, so he told me to go to no. 3. i didn't know know that no.3 was vertical parking, so i kind of let the car wander around for a while before he pointed no. 3 out to me. did vertical parking beautifully = D went into S course. no trouble either. then we went up to the slope and i pulled up the handbrake too much that i had to release with both hands. he was like, need to release with both hands meh? surely it's not so heavy right?
3. did 41. parallel parking. nearly struck the pole coz i forgot to change from reverse to first gear as i was moving out. but i managed to brake in time. finally, did crank course. luckily, he didn't get me to do 26 (which is ultra narrow) coz i wasn't very confident about getting through it this time round, unlike the last time. finally, as we were getting out of the circuit, he did e brake. i braked hard...and my bag fell off the passenger seat.
4. exited circuit. no major problems for some time and i managed to change up to 4th gear for several times. we did a u turn and got to the area with bus lane. managed to avoid the lane marked out by the solid yellow line until he told me to turn left. i was looking desperately for the dotted yellow lines, until he said, here can keep left already.
5. got to this junction where he told me to turn right and there was NO yellow box. i didn't know whether to move forward when the light turned red or not. so i just stayed before the line. and miraculously, the cars behind didn't honk. i think when you're on test, you are KING, most cars with conscious will give way and be nice. when i was executing my turn, he toldme that i should have moved up. i freaked out. but still held on to the hope of passing
6. had to turn right again. this time, i rather wait till all teh cars have pass, instead of turning hastily. so i made sure the road was ultra safe before i turned. he said i was too slow to react. but at least, i didn't get an immed failure for causing any cars to take evasive action.
7. on our way back to the driving center, we neared the coffee shop, where a lot of cars were parked. he pointed out that i was sharing lane and hence, should have signalled. i didn't notice....
8. he let me passed.....:D :D:D i saw one of the girls i was talkin gto before the test and let out a scream of glee which caused all the testers around to stare at me.
on the other hand, my dad is totally appalled by the way i drive because i seem blind to a lot of road hazards. he was like, how on earth did you manage to pass....
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