Summer holiday.
I dropped by Jose’s blog and this nice song suddenly played on his blog. Good thing it was a nice song, because I usually hate websites which automatically play songs when you open the web page. It just scares the shit out of you especially if they are those kinds of songs which you will normally find on Sid’s ipod. haha
I did a bit of research
-out of boredom-
and found out that this song served its purpose when the famous musical “Summer Holiday” hit the UK silver screen in 1963.
A fabulous 60s Musical – 4 London Bus mechanics strike up a deal with London Transport. They do up a double decker London Bus, drive it around Europe as a hotel and if they make it they will own and be in charge of a whole fleet. While on the road in France they pick up 3 ladies whose car breaks down and offer to take them to their next singing job in Athens. They also pick up a stowaway. A young, American boy. Meanwhile, a young American female singer has gone missing. Her mother (who is a VERY ambitious woman) and her aid take the story to the press and it makes the front page. They do all they can to make the story run for as long as possible, including misdirecting the bus up an extremely steep Yugoslavian hill. We find out the young American boy is actually the young American girl who is missing. Mayhem ensues as the lead character, Don (Cliff Richard) falls for Barbara. Eventually, when the 8 bus riders reach Athens, they’re arrested for kidnapping. In front of her mother and a Ballroom filled with world-press, Barbara and Don declare their love for each other and the mother accepts (after realising how ‘big’ Don will become). When the film ends, all eight people are at a Grecian beach and very much enjoying their well deserved holiday!
Ok there’s the synopsis from www.imdb.com. As I was reading this another movie actually came to my mind: Mr. Bean’s Holiday. The plot seems similar – there was that accidental kidnapping part as well. Well I guess Hollywood’s just running out of ideas today. But let’s admit it – they’re earning bigger bucks these days.
Oh, I almost forgot. Here’s the song.
Things you can’t just leave behind.

ah. i like the neatness and monochromatic feel of WordPress.
I find it interesting. Every time I would go back to the Philippines for a vacation, people who know me would immediately do the “OH! Why are you here again?!” look, and then they would incessantly add two lines which I have heard from every single one of them: “When did you arrive?”, and “When are you going back?”. I can’t really gauge if people are merely interested in my unannounced, unprecedented transfiguration; or in my flight schedule as if they’re going to say sorry that they didn’t welcome me on the day of my arrival, and would want to accompany me on my day of departure; or it’s just that they have nothing else to say to me because they’re stunned to see me again. Either way, I’m glad I’m home, because number one, I’m with my family, number two, there’s a mountain pile of food at home, and number three, I can have all the sleep I want.
I brought my whole school stuff though. I brought a luggage the size that would fit my youngest brother inside. Half of the luggage was school stuff – textbooks, files, papers, trash, stationeries – not to mention that stupid GCE O Level certificate which I reluctantly inserted on my bag. That stupid unmemorable laminated piece of shit. Well if you think I went back home with the slackish notion of dozing off into boringness and nothingness, well you’re wrong. The hard work starts tomorrow. (:
I promise I won’t be getting an unmemorable diploma next year.
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I ask everyone reading my blog to pray for my sick great-grandmother. She is sick and is currently admitted to the hospital. Hope that she recovers and stays strong for many more years. (:
School bags.
I miss De Casalle and SJI International, and my Singaporean and non-Singaporean friends, although it has only been less than a week.
Nevertheless, it’s so good to be back home, so good to be able to be with my family and my Filipino friends. (:
Recently turned 19, I am an International Baccalaureate slave, a Roman Catholic, now of legal age to vote, to drink alcohol, to drive, to marry, to smoke, and to f*** around. I am manufactured in the Philippines but currently utilized in Singapore. I am the thick-skinned, ingrate bastard who dumped the Government in exchange for a $100,000 two-year private scholarship. Most people in the Philippines call me Row, as a result of a passed down genetic trait that triggers laziness. Actually, my nickname is Anju, which I am really really not so fond of. But I am fortunate enough not to suffer from the ubiquitous Filipino frenzy of naming nicknames with letter 'h's sandwiched between other letters, e.g. Jhong, Jhing, Bhong, or Bhing, and from the usual repetition of the same syllables - usually created by the whole extended family giggling in delight as one utters his or her baby cry while shitting unconsciously and secretively on the lampin, inside the duyan - resulting in stuttering names like Ton-ton, Ping-Ping, Bam-bam, Ging-ging and Don-don.
I am currently having the time of my life.
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