A life less digital

Tag: family

  • Part 2: To Bev

    Part 2: To Bev

    (Written July 2024)

    Dear Bev

    The winter sun is shining brightly and the world outside looks the same, but there is a little less oomph and sparkle now that you’re gone. There were so many trips to be taken; books to read; dresses to buy; people to see. This was not the plan.

    You didn’t like to dwell on sadness or stew in anger, so neither shall we. We’ll let the bright memories and endlessly repeated funny stories become embellished until they are epic. Thank you for being the beating heart and spinning centre of the Jones family.

    Your legacy is the way that you made people feel, as much as what you physically did for them. I admired your limitless curiosity and compassion for others and enthusiasm for so many pursuits and interest.

    Your son may not have your exhausting energy, but he has your values, and your nose (as you often reminded him). Your grandchildren will grow up with the solid certainty that you never doubted in their abilities and potential to be good humans. You taught me that there is no such thing as too much butter, and that a cup of tea is appropriate in any situation.

    I can’t quite remember life ‘before Bev’. Decades ago, you folded me into your family like sugar into stiffly whipped egg whites. We will all miss your vigorous hugs and deafening kisses.

    Love from Lorraine

    Other things to read

    • Part 1: To Linz It took a while for me to get used to calling you Lindsay, as in my family we didn’t address older generations by their first names.
    • Welcome home away from home I’ve come home to Melbourne. A city that I grew up in then left behind. I’ve left my London home. A city that I settled in but wasn’t somewhere that I wanted to settle down in.
  • Part 1: To Linz

    Part 1: To Linz

    (Written January 2024)

    Dear Lindsay

    It took a while for me to get used to calling you Lindsay because in my family, we didn’t address older generations by their first names. So I met you as Mr Jones, and I was mildly shocked at how casually your son called you ‘Linz’. My compromise was to stick to ‘Lindsay’ and over the decades, you also became ‘Poppy’.

    I don’t seem to have a lot of long stories and amusing anecdotes about you to recall or retell. I think that’s because you were an essential background on which the rest of the family grew and survived and thrived. You were reassuringly there, enjoying your tea, flicking the pages of your books, and giving your thoughts and advice when necessary.

    Behind every great woman there must also be a calm, patient, determined man. If Bev is an impressive combination of party cruise chip, speedboat and powerful icebreaker, you were the vast sea that surrounded and supported her. We will all do our best to fill that role and drink her soup and possibly even sharpen her knives.

    Thank you for welcoming me into the family, and for being a wonderful father-in-law and grandfather. Thank you for raising a son who has your good character and excellent hair. Thank you for being quiet in the noise. Thank you for showing us that muesli can be eaten with orange juice instead of milk.

    Love from Lorraine

    Other things to read

    • Part 2: To Bev The winter sun is shining brightly and the world outside looks the same, but there is a less oomph and sparkle now that you’re gone.
    • Welcome home away from home I’ve come home to Melbourne. A city that I grew up in then left behind. I’ve left my London home. A city that I settled in but wasn’t somewhere that I wanted to settle down in.

  • Deep thoughts and fast food: my first (British) Chinese takeaway

    Deep thoughts and fast food: my first (British) Chinese takeaway

    Last night I had my first (British) Chinese takeaway and it was emotional.

    Maybe it’s the culmination of a lifetime of identity politics and cultural confusion, intensified by an explosive year of anti-racism protests and anti-Chinese sentiment. Maybe it’s just that I ate too much.

    Relevant context: I’m 100% physically Chinese and have lived 99.5% of my life in Australia and England. Husband is 100% white. Kids are whatever they feel like.   

    Also, I am using the general term ‘Chinese takeaway’ to refer to Chinese-style fast food (usually Cantonese-influenced) adapted for British tastes. If you’re interested, see the British Chinese food timeline.  

    Why did we try our first (British) Chinese takeaway?

    1. Curiosity. People speak of it. I read about it. I see it on TV. Thought it was time to give it a go.
    2. Duty to support local business. I don’t want all the local businesses to close because of COVID-19.
    3. Laziness. Was working all day and couldn’t be arsed cooking.
    4. Hunger.
    5. Britishness. Every street of shops seems to have a Chinese takeaway. Like curry or fish and chips, it’s a very local thing to eat.
    6. Chineseness*. This is the food of my people.

    *Note: my spellcheck is fine with ‘Britishness’ but is picking up ‘Chineseness’ as an error.  Is it trolling me?   

    What did we order?

    Husband and kids were very surprised and excited that we were going to try a Chinese takeaway. I told them to pick some classics, so we had:

    • Sweet and sour pork
    • Kung Po chicken
    • Satay beef
    • Fried chicken with noodles
    • Egg fried rice
    • Steamed rice
    • Prawn crackers.

    My verdict

    Well, the food was pretty much as expected. Too oily; too sweet; too fried; too salty. But also hot, solid, filling and comforting.

    More importantly though, the meal was a meaty manifestation of all sorts of complicated feelings I have about my race and my identity.

    My ABC (Australian-British-Chinese) family enthusiastically shared this British-Chinese meal with me. We served ourselves from sweaty rectangular plastic boxes in to refined ceramic Chinese bowls.

    For them, it was an interesting new type of takeaway. For me, this food was equal parts familiar and alien. Chinese and not really Chinese. Local and foreign. Just like me.

    Are you what you eat?

    I’m surprised at how I perceive negative comments about Chinese food. I know that it’s just a comment about preferences and taste, yet I am also embarrassed and offended. I feel as if they are commenting on me, rather than a particular combination of  protein, carbohydrates and vegetables.

    Some people are direct: “I don’t like Chinese food.” “Everything just smells weird.”

    There are variations. “Let’s get a dirty Chinese meal!” “I just don’t trust what’s in it.” “I don’t know why, but Chinese food always makes me sick.”

    Food is personal. As a family, we have decided to embrace the Chinese takeaway, and figure out what the hell ‘chop suey’ is.

    Other things to read

    For the first time I made pan-fried pork buns (sheng jian bao). These delicious buns have a juicy pork and vegetable filling, wrapped in fluffy steamed bread, and a crispy pan-fried bottom… 

    Hong Kong French toast – it’s not French and it’s not toast At the top of this blog, there’s a picture of a mysterious fried square thing on a plate. It’s secret identity shall now be revealed as … Hong Kong French toast…

  • For the first time

    For the first time

    What’s the point of living through a global pandemic if you don’t learn or do some new stuff? We are finishing week 10 of self-isolation, and the COVID-19 circus is still in town. I’ve been thinking about some ‘firsts’ in our much smaller world.

    Buns

    I made pan-fried pork buns (sheng jian bao). These delicious buns have a juicy pork and vegetable filling, wrapped in fluffy steamed bread, and a crispy pan-fried bottom. I miss Chinatown so much, that I tried making these buns at home. Mine were ugly, looking as if they had been made by an indifferent, blind-folded donkey. Tasted delicious though.

    Salt and pepper

    The kids finally realised that the salt and pepper mills don’t automatically refill themselves, unlike a Hogwarts banqueting table.

    Bat-eating

    I’ve been a bit anxious that people may think that I am a bat-eating virus-spreading communist*. When someone casually says to me mid-conversation that, “you just can’t trust what the Chinese say about those labs though”, I can’t concentrate on anything else they are saying from that point on. The most I can do is smile and sip my English tea. As part of my local PR campaign, I fully and publicly participated in the VE day** street party.

    *I’m not.
    **This year was the 75th anniversary of Victory in Europe Day, marking the the end of World War II.

    Haircut

    I cut my husband’s hair. I had no preparation or training; not even a YouTube video. He did the art direction and the bits he could reach, and I tentatively used the clippers and scissors for the rest. The haircut passed the client-facing work video call test, so it was a success!

    Sniper

    Normally, I don’t pay much attention to the kids gaming and the rubbish that they are speaking. A few weeks ago I heard this phrase for the first time: “What an idiot. Did you see that sniper is called Rumple Foreskin***?” I was horrified, yet relieved that they didn’t think that was a cool name for a sniper.

    ***Am assuming this was Inspired by Rumpelstiltskin, a well-known German children’s fairytale.

    Spring onions

    I’ve been growing spring onions from cuttings – see pics below. I use a lot of them in Asian cooking, so this saves me from running out and having to face supermarket queues.

    Skinny jeans

    Yesterday, I put on a pair of skinny jeans for the first time since the beginning of March. I’ve been in massive wide-leg or comfy straight-leg for months now. I’m questioning the value of skinny jeans. Feels as if they are constantly shouting out various body parts as they constrict around them – Knees! Calves! Waist! Thighs! Bum! Can’t believe that I used to wear these all the time…

    Studio Arhoj 'ghost' looking after the spring onions.

  • Modern childhood milestones – mobile phones

    Modern childhood milestones – mobile phones

    This week we gave our daughter her first mobile phone. It’s as natural as first steps, or losing a first tooth, but I feel a bit sad about hitting this technological milestone.

    Finally, we can all sit together as a family in the same room and chat silently with people who are not in the room. Cool.

    A quick audit of main computing/electronic devices in our family of four people looks like this:

    • 1 x desktop
    • 2 x laptops
    • 2 x tablets
    • 4 x personal mobile phones
    • 2 x work mobile phones.

    This is probably fairly standard these days for privileged middle-class urban types like us. (I haven’t bothered to add Kindles, digital radios and other paraphernalia.)

    tomato
    A healthy conversation about fruit and vegetables. 

    Mobile phones at school

    I’ve lectured my kids for years about (what I consider to be) the proper use of technology and the internet. E.g. “It’s all designed to be hugely addictive and your soft fresh young brains are no match for the shiny shiny digital temptation.” Or else: “Our bodies are NOT designed to be hunched over phones. ‘Text neck’ is a real thing!”

     [ Aside: A typical adult human head weighs 10 to 12 pounds. As the head tilts forward, the strain on your neck increases. At 15 degrees of forward tilt, this may equate to a head weighing 27 pounds. At 30 degrees forward, the strain on the neck equals a 40 pound head. https://www.spineuniverse.com/wellness/ergonomics/your-cell-phone-killing-your-back ]

    It will be interesting to see how my kids will learn to deal with technology at school, as they aren’t allowed to use them during the school day.

    My initial feeling is relief. No worries about theft, losing phones, cyber-bullying, cheating in tests etc. And school can be one safe place where there is respite from the unfair fight against evil purveyors of tech addiction …

    However, my young digital natives need to learn to manage technology and devices appropriately. Especially when I’m not around with my passionate parental hassling.

    Phone-less in transit

    Right now, my dad is flying over to visit us from Australia. He forgot to bring his phone, so our immediate response was “How will we find him at the airport?!” Hmmmm; how did we used to do this before phones? Then my brother sent me a message: “Dad just called me from someone’s phone, he said to meet him at the hire car spot.” Just like the old days.

    text conversation
    This is what passes for conversation in our family.

    Here’s one I wrote earlier

    The invasion of the attention-snatchers. Using technology mindfully.  Does that sound like a phrase created by rich young white men in grey organic bamboo t-shirts? Turns out that I‘ve actually been doing it for years…  I wasn’t trying to be mindful, I just don’t like technology telling me what to do.

    The Dark Side of digital time wasting. Lost : one incomplete Death Star. I have lost my Tiny Death Star. I’ve been working hard on adding levels for Emperor Palpatine since December, and tonight my 75% complete moon-sized battle station disappeared off my phone.

  • New year guilt-free information cleanse

    New year guilt-free information cleanse

    It’s Chinese New Year and it’s time to celebrate the last year, relax with family, and look ahead to the next year.

    On reflection, it turns out that my husband is a very wise man who has solid advice for me, despite being part of the white male liberal urban middle-class capitalist patriarchy. (Just joking. Mostly. Luv u!!)

    On politics: “We’ll be OK.”

    The shuddering , sliding and shifting of world politics has been consistently  concerning for me. But husband has taken a practical view that we will survive it, and that despair is pointless.

    In the more eloquent words of author and activist Rebecca Solnit: “Hope locates itself in the premises that we don’t know what will happen and in that spaciousness of uncertainty there is room to act.” Hope in the dark

    What I’m doing about it

    I’m keeping the hope, but still reading the news.

    We are reaching information fatigue. Last week, we couldn’t face any more news, opinions or analysis. I want a little sip of information, just to keep my brain hydrated, but the newspapers, TV and websites are coming at me with a water cannon of THINGS I NEED TO KNOW.

    The ‘clean eating’ fad is ridiculous and dangerous, so I’m on an ‘information cleanse’ – applying some conscious filters to my news and information. I’m avoiding meat-based shouting opinions, fake news pumped full of refined sugar and dairy-laden conspiracy stories.

    On guilt: “Stop wasting your time feeling guilty.”

    Guilt. Gilt. Only one letter difference and only one is shiny.

    Husband is very quick to smack down guilt. He has a more practical sense of how we need to motivate ourselves.

    What I’m doing about it

    Less guilty and more gilt-y.

    After the inauguration (in-anger-ation?) and women’s march, I was on Twitter, scrolling and shaking my head, contributing to the aforementioned ‘information fatigue’.

    Kristina Halvorsen is one of my content strategy heroes, and I follow her on Twitter.

    Kristina: My 12yo son is racked with white man’s guilt. Wants to help the world but doesn’t want to be seen as a “white savior”. Parenting is hard.

    Me: I don’t want my kids to be driven by guilt alone. Maybe grateful to be in a position to make a difference?  Responsible & aware & kind?

    Kristina: ME TOO

    Me: I’ve got a calming facemask on & starting to read Hope in the dark. Rebecca Solnit. Want to pass hope on to kids. And skincare.

    Special thanks to Sam for the recommended reading.

     

    Here’s one I wrote earlier

    To all the ladies in the house   Mother’s Day had serious expectations heaped upon it, such as handmade cards and someone else replacing the toilet paper for once. International Women’s Day? Just the same old fluff – gender parity, equal opportunities, more women in leadership, less violence blah blah.

    Kids – sorry the grown-ups broke your EU   Dear kids, Yesterday some grown-ups broke your European Union. Sorry about that. They didn’t really mean to. I hope that you can fix it when you’re older. Remember to vote. Love, mum

     

     

  • Hype cycle of life

    Hype cycle of life

    I’ve had a few days recently when I’ve been without my phone. This made me realise how I use social media to fill all the little gaps in the day when I’d rather scroll than think or look or talk. (Introverts unite!)

    Over the years, I have been subjected to many people explaining the Gartner Hype Cycle  to me. It’s *a thing* if you work in digital/technology. They use it to show how we are all sucked in to new tech, get disappointed, then shrug our shoulders and use it more sensibly. It is represented by a bendy chart like this:

    gartner-hype-cycle
    The Gartner Hype Cycle

    I tried to review my own use of social media using the Hype Cycle’s five phases of a technology’s life cycle…

    Technology Trigger: “A potential technology breakthrough kicks things off. Early proof-of-concept stories and media interest trigger significant publicity.”

    Me: Started it/went back on it because I’m feeling strong. Technology will not control me. I can stop when I want to. It’s fun. Wheeee!!

    Peak of Inflated Expectations: “Early publicity produces a number of success stories — often accompanied by scores of failures.”

    Me: Oh it’s so shiny. A lovely portal in to pictures of excellent hair, architectural fruit platters, artistic shoelaces on amusing tablecloths, outlandishly refined pencil storage vessels.

    Trough of Disillusionment: “Interest wanes as experiments and implementations fail to deliver.”

    Me: What have I learned from the last 74 posts I scrolled through? Clean eating is both a joke and a serious food phobia. Everyone I know, or do not know, or should know, has more than me. More culturally diverse holidays, more whimsical children, more successful and publicly affectionate partners, more innovative recipes using avocado, birch water and food-grade iron filings.

    Slope of Enlightenment: “More instances of how the technology can benefit the enterprise start to crystallize and become more widely understood.”

    Me: Have accepted that my abdominal muscles will only be *that* defined if I use a bold permanent pen and glitter glue. Realise that taking a little peek in to the lives of friends and family is better than closing the door. A family reunion is three generations + Mark Zuckerberg in a blue room.

    Plateau of Productivity: “Mainstream adoption starts to take off. The technology’s broad market applicability and relevance are clearly paying off.”

    When I can’t be bothered making small talk amongst unknown school parents, I can pretend that Twitter is my work email.

    Here’s one I wrote earlier

    The invasion of the attention-snatchers Using technology mindfully.  Does that sound like a phrase created by rich young white men in grey organic bamboo t-shirts? Turns out that I‘ve actually been doing it for years…  I wasn’t trying to be mindful, I just don’t like technology telling me what to do.

    Using tech for good, not evil  I was running a little quiz and a guy made a joke about looking up answers on his phone. Him: But you’re a digital person aren’t you? It’s technology! Me: I believe in technology for good, and not evil.

  • To all the ladies in the house

    To all the ladies in the house

    Mother’s Day had serious expectations heaped upon it, such as handmade cards and someone else replacing the toilet paper for once. International Women’s Day? Just the same old fluff – gender parity, equal opportunities, more women in leadership, less violence blah blah.

    Here are some words for the important girls and women that I know.

    My daughter. I will never be disappointed in you, even if you don’t become the first female astronaut on Mars. (It would be VERY cool if you did though.)

    My nieces. Can you hear that? It’s the sound of your big lives starting. Enjoy. I watch with hope and interest.

    My female colleagues. You are smart and funny and interesting and ambitious. Please be kind to yourselves.

    My lady friends. Thanks for not judging. We’ve got enough to deal with, without kicking each other behind the knees. We do not fight dirty.

    My sisters in law. The paid work, the unpaid work, the family, the friends, the home decor – you are totally smashing it. All of it.

    My mum. If you don’t want to live with me later on in life, I’ll pick a really good retirement home.

    My mother in law. You are the head of a very impressive family of women. You can never have enough X chromosomes.

    Here’s one I wrote earlier

    Judgemental as anything. It’s not cool to judge, unless you are a legal official or preside over hotdog-eating competitions.  Women and mothers – judge me not.

    Let there always be kittens. One day I found myself hopping with a clickety click of the mouse from pictures of vintage French cheese labels, to a pro-anorexia, self-harm Tumblr site.  I have never seen one of these before because I am neither interested in anorexia nor self-harm.

     

     

     

     

  • A funeral from afar

    A funeral from afar

    A couple of weeks ago we went to a funeral service in our pyjamas. Thanks to the power of the internet, at 2:30 in the morning (UK) we sat in our dark bedroom, and tuned in to a webcast of an early afternoon funeral service (Australia).

    I normally associate webinars and webcasts with work-related learning. “27 reasons why you should horizontally integrate your on-boarding data with your digital marketing ROI leverage opportunities”.

    In contrast, this webcast was a fond remembrance of a loved uncle. We listened to the gently amusing, achingly sad and warm-hearted tributes to the unfamiliar other facets of this man – father, brother, friend. All from the comfort of our suburban bedroom, cradling mugs of tea, with a light scattering of pretzels over the duvet.

    Technical issues

    There were some technical issues. At first, although we could hear the service, the video was mostly an old-fashioned test pattern of bold coloured stripes. The experience of listening to the voices pausing and wobbling with emotion, in the silent dark made the eulogies even more moving.

    Later on, as the service began drawing to a close, we lost the audio, but gained video. We saw the people rising and falling and shifting and singing.

    I don’t work for you

    As interesting as this was, we thought that we would enquire about the simultaneous transmission of audio AND video. We called the funeral home and then it got a bit weird.

    INT. BEDROOM. NIGHT.

    The funeral home reception person has put us through to the ‘technical people’. A very efficient man listens as we describe the issues – what we previously could or couldn’t see or hear.  He performs some technical jiggling at his end, asks us some brisk questions, and we duly report back on what we can or cannot see or hear.

    IT MAN: (businesslike) Right. OK. Seems to be some kind of issue with the cabling at (‘name of funeral home location’). I need you to get on to that straight away before the afternoon service.

    US: (Baffled silence)

    HUSBAND: (quietly) We don’t work for you…

    (Pretzel packet rustles slightly. Mugs of tea are silent. )

    ME: (confused) We’re calling from London, trying to watch a webcast of a service …

    (Uncomfortable micro-pause.)

    IT MAN: (mortified) I am SO SORRY. I thought you were calling from the venue. I didn’t realise … etc etc

    US:  (Speechless with laughter.)

    FADE TO BLACK.

    I’m not sure if the tears in my eyes were from the strangeness of this last conversation, or the moving stories of a great man.

    Here’s one I wrote earlier

    Love is not dead, it’s just resting. How often do you tell your loved ones that they are loved? On a sliding scale, I think the most romantic medium are (with 1 being most lovely) …

  • Gluten-induced homesickness

    Gluten-induced homesickness

    Fresh sourdough toast with jam and ricotta has made me ponder moving back to Sydney. A fig Danish pastry has triggered layers of crispy homesickness. A pork and fennel sausage roll has almost brought me to tears.

    I have been overloading on gluten and memories at Bourke Street Bakery. I am remembering the loss of these sights and smells and sounds, at the very same time that I am soaking them up. Equal parts happiness (I’m back!) and sadness (I have to leave.)

    Daily London life is so solidly full and interesting that I rarely pine for Australia. So after nearly 3 years away, this visit has been surprisingly  interrupted by ‘in situ’ homesickness.

    I am missing the thing as I experience it. That doesn’t make sense. But a dark chocolate and sour cherry cookie as big as my hand does. In gluten we trust.

    Here’s one I wrote earlier

    • Where do you go when you press Home? Does your life have a ‘Home’ button? I’m back home (Sydney) after a brief visit to London (new home). My old house is empty and my new house is waiting for me.
    • Welcome home away from home “So how does it feel to be home?” I’ve come home to Melbourne. A city that I grew up in and left behind. I’ve left my London home. A city that I settled in but, in the end, wasn’t somewhere that I wanted to settle down.