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O Mah Frickin Gad. I CAN’T STOP. Why would anyone do this to someone!?
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Great to work with @twhiddleston , here is an unpublished shot from my recent shoot , #hollowcrown #tomhiddleston
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The Baker Street Babes Birthday Giveaway: Holmes Version
The Baker Street Babes put our out first podcast one year ago today. Least to say we’ve come a very long way and it wouldn’t have been possible without all of you. So, the past few months we’ve been gathering prizes and goodies for a MASSIVE giveaway… and here it is!
In this version of the give away you win EVERYTHING below. Yes. EVERYTHING!
Sherlock Series 1 DVD, signed by Benedict Cumberbatch & Martin Freeman (donated by Hartswood Films)
Sherlock Art Nouveau print (donated by Daunt)
Sherlock & John bookmarks (donated by Daunt)
Sherlock t-shirt of your choice (donated by Qwertee)
Baker Street Journal Spring Issue featuring an interview with Baker Street Babe Curly/Kristina. (donated by The Baker Street Journal)
The full Sherlock Holmes Society of London dramatised canon CD set, signed by the actors. (donated by The Sherlock Holmes Society of London)
Brainy is the New Sexy pendant in polished brass. (donated by Belaurient Arts)
I Believe In Sherlock Holmes pendant in sterling silver. (donated by Belaurient Arts)
I Believe In Sherlock Holmes keychain in nickel silver. Please be aware this is made of nickel and if you’re allergic to it you now have a free gift to a non-allergen Sherlockian of your choice! (donated by Belaurient Arts)
The Detective & The Woman, signed by author Amy Thomas (donated by Amy Thomas)
The Illustrated Speckled Band. (donated by Gasogene Books, Wessex Press)
My Love Affair With Sherlock magazine by Caitlin Moran.
The Sherlock Holmes Handbook by Ransom Riggs
Large print of Sherlock & John in a train carriage by reapersun. Pen there for scale. (donated by reapersun)
Baker Street mini-sign
CD of BigFinish’s Sherlock Holmes: The Adventure of the Perfidious Mariner starring Nick Briggs. (Donated by BigFinish)
So? How do you win?
You may reblog each version ONCE per DAY. The giveaway will run until June 10th.
Likes DO NOT COUNT.
The winners will be chosen by a random number generator. They will have 24 hours to confirm with their address. The first number wins the Holmes Version, the second number wins the Watson Version.
You cannot win both versions of the giveaway.
You do not have to be following us, however, this is a present to our followers and listeners, so it’s appreciated. Plus we do really cool things like interview Sherlock cast and authors and chat about Sherlock Holmes all the time!
If you are following us and win, you’ll get an extra special gift on top of all of this!
Any questions, naturally just ask. We’d prefer if you’d send an ask not anonymously so we can reply privately and not clog up people’s dashes.
You can listen to our podcasts [HERE]!
Follow us on twitter at @BakerStBabes
Like us on facebook [HERE]!
And visit our website [HERE]!
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I feel like I didn't do Chong Pang justice, even with the longest blog post I have written in years.
There are so many more stories to share. I've spent so much time there; Chong Pang's been a consistent topic in family discussions; decisions made regarding the business directly affected our lifestyle. Everything, Chong Pang made an impact on EVERYTHING in my life.
And now it's gone, it just crept up, said, "I'm going" and went.
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Barbecue seafood, claypot rice.
Feeling pretty nostalgic and some kind of bittersweet without much of the sweet typing this now. Hard to imagine something just snuffing out of physical existence after 19 years of worming into every aspect of our lives.
Dinner was such a simple affair, you would never have imagined it as a suitable farewell for something whose presence has been so huge for so many of my 25 years.
When we arrived at the stall/restaurant(?) it was quiet. A piece of yellow A4 paper was taped onto the signboard with a nondescript print of "LAST DAY". We walked in, greeted my grandma and my aunt, and briefly discussed a small accident on the road in front of the food court involving a motorcyclist and a middle-aged lady.
My uncle wasn't in - he was out for a job interview.
We started the stove, poured in the chicken stock as we had so many times before. There was a time when I had to fill kettles upon kettles of stock for topping up the customers' steamboats. Tom yam soup would go into the kettles with the white markers on the handles, chicken soup into the rest.
The family sat around two small tables and chatted away. We had chicken wings, barbecued satay chicken, mushrooms from the soup, prawns. The list is non-exhaustive. I shared a plate of cockles with my grandma.
The cockles. A long time ago, I used to see which cockles would stick their "tongues" out and squeeze their shells on them, just to see them retract their red insides. We sat around towards the end of the night with plates of freshly cooked (mind, freshly, not necessarily fully) cockles, some toothpicks and plenty of garlic chilli. The family loved them.
Now these were from days before we made a name in the steamboat industry. We had a single stall in the Marina Fiesta food court selling Ipoh horfun. Then we expanded into two stalls, selling seafood the way seafood was sold: with fresh fishes on ice laid out for all to see and pick, selling by weight of fishes, crabs, prawns. Hot plate sambal stingray, mmmmm, because how else was one supposed to eat stingray?
Things got worse for the food court, got better for us. We, Chong Pang, took over stall after stall, to the point where some simply became storage. And pretty soon, Marina Fiesta food court became Chong Pang Seafood. I'm not even kidding. We had a stall selling claypot rice, a stall selling dessert, and for a while, we even sold fried carrot cake. We were the in-thing.
That was just the context. I really was way too young then, what, 6 years old? My parents spent the weekends helping out at the stall(s), and I spent most weekends with my brother and cousin, leading them into all sorts of mischief at my aunt's place, under the care of the domestic helper.
On nights when we would go down to Marina South with our parents, we had night time picnics on the lawn outside of the building and ran around squashing cockroaches under our slippers. Simple stuff like playing follow-the-leader and planting bluebell seeds could occupy us for the entire evening.
We picked up budgeting skills in the arcade, clutching a meagre two dollars in our hands and debating which games to play. We found ways to stretch those 4 tokens into a whole hour of gameplay by discussing tactics and observing other players, sometimes even just pretending to be controlling the game demo, figuring out how the controls worked.
We grew a little older. At 8 years old, I hurried the contracted workers washing the dishes and frantically dried plates and chopsticks so we could serve up food. We did not have enough plates, goodness, to keep up with the business.
Then times changed and people no longer wanted seafood the traditional way. Steamboats were the new hot stuff. We watched as our business declined and others fluorished where previously they were arid. We had to keep up with the times, and so we converted the whole place into a steamboat "restaurant" stall. Business picked up.
By then I was old enough to start being productive. Over the years I progressed from stacking plates and handing out ice-cream, to topping up soup and changing blackened aluminium foil. When I was 15 and studying in what was easily the best school in the country, a mother told her child (while I was changing the aluminium foil for them) to study hard for good grades so that she wouldn't turn out like me, doing menial tasks for a living at 15. I wanted to tell her I hope her child wouldn't turn out to be as filial and smart as me either, because a person like that did not deserve such an awesome child. But I didn't.
The highlight of my career at Chong Pang was when I officially got promoted to waitress. It was the most prestigious position in the whole stall/restaurant. The waitresses brought in the customers, sat them, started the stove and collected the money. In short, I was one of the big guns running the show.
I mentioned part of the job was bringing in the customers, right? That meant touting. It was scary, to think of it, how we would approach potential customers 2 moments after they step out of their car. I loved scoring victories against our old-time rival, Dragon Village, by changing the minds of their customers-to-be and bringing them towards our stall instead. I wonder if I was such a hit because of my sweet-talking, or because I was such a sweet young and hardworking thing at 15 years old.
Of course, I was never quite as dedicated as I make me out to be. As I grew up, I stopped wanting to spend every weekend at Chong Pang. I yearned for my freedom and whined when I had to work weekends. Christmas and New Year and their eves (as with most public holidays) would always be spent with family because those were the days when help was most appreciated. We broke revenue records every year. You wouldn't believe how good business was. I wouldn't be able to tell you without... I wouldn't be able to express it. Period. It was that good. But I wanted less and less to be a part of it.
In spite of a short part-time stint I held while we were at Boon Keng, I spent significantly less weekends at Chong Pang in the past six years, after the lease at Marina South ended and it was sealed off for redevelopment. On the other hand, Chong Pang needed me less and less. Business was not necessarily poor, but things were never quite the same.
The crowds thinned, and I grew up.
Dinner was over, and the gas was turned off. I walked over to take a picture of the charred aluminium foil. How I loved showing off to my friends, when they came around to eat, my incredible prowess at lifting hot metal soup bowls bare-handed and swiftly changing the foil. I wondered if I should have spent more time at the stall, helping out.
Because spending time at the stall was spending time at family. It was hard work, at times, but the business was family. So many stories, so many experiences came about because of Chong Pang's existence. When my grandpa first came to stay with us, we had to have tingkat delivered to our flat, because my mum was working full-time at Chong Pang. Other days, she cooked in the day time, and we would reheat the food in the evening. Because she was working, with family.
No more Chong Pang means the family can spend Christmases, New Years and public holidays together, somewhere that is not smoky and oily. It means my mum can stay home on weekend evenings and we can plan outings with my grandma and aunt to places we couldn't visit as a whole family because someone had to be at the stall, didn't they?
No more Chong Pang means the loss of a place where I can just go to, and expect to see the whole extended family gathered there: my grandma, my aunt, my uncle. It means making extra efforts to have family gatherings, because we can't simply expect everyone to be at the same place, at the same time, anymore.
We said our goodbyes and left the stall, because we all had to get home early and rest up for work tomorrow. Life goes on. Such a simple affair. And tomorrow, Chong Pang would have been. So quiet. No friends were informed, no regular customers texted, no huge farewell party.
Just 19 years of awesome grinding to a tired, fatigued halt and deciding at last to sit down.
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Benedict C*mberbatch should star in a movie adaptation of a Charles D*ckens novel.
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