Bill and Wendy's ickcillint adventures

Having just completed the book, The Black Robe by Wilkie Collins, I will share a confrontation that was evidently written for me in the book. One of the characters in the novel, Bernard Winterfield, writes in his diary, "It strikes me that I am falling into a bad habit of writing too much about myself. The custom of keeping a journal certainly has this drawback... it encourages egotism. Well, the remedy is easy. From this date, I will lock up my book... only to open it again when some event has happened which has a claim to be recorded for its own sake. As for myself and my feelings, they have made their last appearance in these pages" (Kindle Loc.3735). While this little passage confronted my very large ego, and it has caused me to pledge to be a bit more selective about what might be interesting to those at home, I doubt I have the same will power of Mr. Winterfield... to lock up my computer until something of note takes place. However, in order to reduce the ego, I hav

  Ok, so Christmas is over, thank goodness. I lived. This morning, in one of my Christmas phone calls home to Canada, my sister, Teresa, was chiding me that I didn't hold the monopoly on crying at Christmas, just because I was far away from home in Sri Lanka. She smartly advised me that she only has to put on Christmas Carols and do some Christmas baking and she is "waaing" all about the house. "We Nordicks, we are all the same when it comes to Christmas," she said. It is true. I am the same. At home, I put play the carols and, as I decorate our banister, our tree and the manger, I am weeping all over the place, my voice raggedly accompanying the carols. My sister is right, but just the same I am glad Christmas is over. Although people attempt to hold Christmas here, Christmas, in my opinion, is sullied due to poor substitutions. Take Christmas trees, for example: styrofoam and shell creations; palapa draped over tall wooden cone shaped frame and stru

On Sunday, I suggested we (VSO in Jaffna) all go for a bike ride, get some exercise and explore our surroundings. Despite a resounding yes from everyone, the weather didn't cooperate. Monsoon rains poured all morning. Finally, about 2pm, in exasperation, I texted everyone and said, "We are going, rain or not." Besides, who else gets to ride in a monsoon and then meet for ice cream after?   So, we stopped by Mary's and hollered through her gate, "Mary, come out and play with us." However, Mary didn't yet have a bicycle; so instead, she brewed steaming mugs of Jaffna Spice Coffee as we dripped water onto her shiny tiled floor. Gerd borrowed a bike from his security guard, and upon discovering it had no brakes, he had to drag his feet in order to prevent wiping out pedestrians. But finally, our trio clad in rain gear, headed off out onto the causeway that links Jaffna proper to a series of islands. We cycled through deep puddles, splashed mud, tri

  I sent home Christmas Cards to my children and my siblings. It was a bit of an ordeal, really. The chore was exacerbated at the Chundikuli Post office. After handing me the stamps required for the Christmas cards, he handed me a glue pot with a paint brush stuck inside the pot. I actually had to brush on the paste for the 3 large stamps and the airmail sticker required by each card. It was a painstaking and sticky job. I also wasn't wearing my glasses so am not sure if the stamps were glued upside down or not. Anyway, I remember as a child, my mother sitting at the kitchen table, after she had worked all day cooking and cleaning for a husband and 8 children to write Christmas cards to her family. Now, my father was one of 15 children and my mom, herself, came from a family of 9 children. My dad and mom had left Saskatchewan in the early 60's to come to BC, and they left behind many friends, as well.   So, each Christmas time, beginning in November and after the

  When I was a child, about eleven or twelve years of age, Sister Alexina, the Our Lady of Perpetual Heart School's music teacher asked me to sing a solo in our school's annual Christmas concert. I was very proud as my brother Glenn, usually landed the leading roles in the Christmas pageant (the King, the Santa Claus, God, etc). On the night of the concert, I fought with my mom over the styling of my hair for the show. I flounced off to the concert angry, but also a bit worried that my parents might not come and witness my singing debut, given my bad behaviour.   During the performance, but prior to singing the solo, I searched the crowd from my view on stage, but could not spot my parents in the audience. I was distraught that they were angry with me and weren't going to come to the show, due to the dust up over my hair. However, just as I rose to sing my song, I saw my parents entering the auditorium and taking their seat. I was rushed with strong feelings of gratitu