In Singapore, Indoor smoking makes air 28 times more polluted.
The study has found that it takes just two lit cigarettes, in an enclosed room the size of a HDB bedroom, to generate 622 microgrammes of pollutants.
That is an air quality that is almost two and half times more polluted than when the PSI is at the hazardous level of 300.
It’s good to hear that the government plans to ban smoking in pubs and clubs next year — just being here (where there is already such a ban in place) for about a month and going to pubs a couple of times and then being able to go home and go to sleep and not reek of cigarette smoke is so fantastic.
(Unfortunately, there are smokers in the house, so we have this strange reverse thing happening.)
News from Scotland a few months after the ban was implemented showed that Scots bar staff health ‘improved’. I’m not even bar staff and my breathing is much better when I’m in the pub and there is nary a lit cigarette to be found.
One complaint I have heard from a smoker was that instead of smelling smoke, one smells sweat instead. And that when winter comes, they have to brave the elements to smoke. I reckon pubs could build glass-walled cubes like those smoking rooms in Changi Airport. Outdoors, of course.
From the BBC website
Oh. My. God. I hear it might snow up north.
(My mum was commenting that 15 degrees in Glasgow last weekend was pretty cold. Ha!)
Michel had quite the adventure on Saturday when I visited the craft fair. First, he hung out with me as I learned to knit and purl (a little), and then he fell out of my pocket as I was walking along. Luckily, I noticed he was missing quite soon after, and as I was wandering through the crowds looking at the ground, a woman asked me if I had dropped a duck, as she had picked it up and put it on a service counter.
I would have been gutted if I’d lost Michel.
Michel at the craft fair, originally uploaded by Andrea See.
Nor am I married, and yet I’ve been asked to write about rings related to getting hitched. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against diamond engagement rings and so on, but I think people take them way too seriously.
I’ve had one diamond ring, a 21st birthday present from dear Mum. The stone became VERY loose in its housing within a couple of years, although it looked much more secure than the normal claw thing, and so it needed to be fixed. And then it got stolen the first week I moved to China. Go figure, eh?
Anyway, I now have a cool industrial diamond ring from Gordon Max and I think it’s fabulous. And it’s not an engagement ring, I bought it myself. I must admit that a nice diamond ring next to a simple wedding band does look very pretty, but I like other stones more. Garnets and sapphires are my thing, really.
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As penned on 20 October 2006
My name is Hen. All the old aunties (and uncles!) are calling me Hen.
In spending most of my days in a house without Internet access (we’re being connected at the end of the month, Thank Fuck), I am being caught up on the four decade history of Coronation Street. Right now, the big scandal(s) are Jamie having smooched his stepmum Frankie (who is in love with his dad Danny) at the funeral of Fred, who was ten minutes away from marrying Bev but died while at his old flame Audrey’s house.
Then there’s City Hospital where there was a natural birth live on teevee and Holby City where just a couple of nights ago, Elliot’s wife took the euthanasia way out in Switzerland with help from bitchy doctor Connie and the administrator bloke was totally mean to the nurse he was banging. Let’s not forget reruns of The Simpsons that are on every night on 4. I saw Neighbours for the first time in several years, and I only recognised two of the characters. There are a buttload of cooking programmes on Saturday mornings and house-buying type shows in the morning (To Buy or Not To Buy is particularly rivetingly woeful).
Last week, we were up a bit later and saw something called Club Reps, with the DVD now available. Club Reps is about silly Poms on holiday in places like Greece, and I can’t think of a worse way to spend those expensive pounds I’ve not yet started earning. Death of a President was on last night, though, and I thought it was really quite good (but would make Bush feel far more important than he is).
And they say there’s nowt good on the telly.
We haven’t moved in yet, we’re just around the corner.
Running’s been a bit thin on the ground this month (since I got here). I’ve only gone out three times, yesterday’s four km (approximately) jaunt being the longest. I’m not used to running in cool weather!
Well, we’re connected. Unfortunately, we’ve not got our wireless router plugged in yet, so it’s my turn to download e-mails (several thousand in spam, last week it was over 2,000!) so I’m posting while I wait.
The craft fair(s) were cool, two for the price of one, and I got some supplies (card stock, a cutting surface, cheap yarn). I was also given a lesson in learning to knit and a little kit of my own (thank you, Karen). So I am knitting and purling up a storm on my test scarf while Neil’s mother, a knitting veteran, keeps an eye on my progress (and she’ll be the one teaching me how to cast off). I am determined to get us to a Stitch and Bitch in Glasgow (or somewhere closer to home) because it’ll be fun. And I see knit toys in my future.
(Lisiepeasie, there were more card / papercraft stalls than anything, a few wool / knitting stalls, and loads of interesting crafts I’d never thought of trying. The one that really got me was the sewing machine booth, where the sewing machines on display did pretty much everything but make you a cup of tea. It’s well worth going to these huge craft fairs, and there’s another one in March 2007!)
I will upload some pictures as soon as we sort out this wireless connection as I don’t want to spend more time than necessary while we have to share this wired connection.
