Where are you?

The truth is, I’ve always felt unwanted. Unloved. Like I never truly belonged. On bad days, which are most days, I attributed it to the fact that I was never good enough. On the rare good days, I attributed it to the fact that I was too good for this world. An uncut diamond, a misunderstood genius, an enigmatic femme fatale.

Mostly I just went through life not knowing what my purpose is. And then you came along. And then I had a purpose. If nothing else, you gave me a reason to live. You loved me for no reason. Just because. No matter what I did, what I looked like, what mood I was in, you never judged. You just loved. Yours was the kind of love that no human could ever give. I couldn’t help loving you right back. Unconditionally. That’s the only kind of love worth living for.

And then you left. You didn’t even wait to say goodbye. Maybe you wanted to spare me the heart wrenching ordeal of a last goodbye. Maybe you wanted it over and done with so that I could start grieving instead of still hoping. Maybe you were just too tired to fight anymore. Maybe anything. Maybe nothing.

All I know is you’re gone and I’m purposeless again. I know not what I do, nor why. I know I have to let you go but it’s so hard. I’m not ready. I wasn’t ready to lose you. I thought we still had a long way to go, so many more memories to make together, so many more years of being loved and wanted. You were always so full of life, till the very end. Such a happy, joyful, free spirit! So ALIVE!

And yet, no more.

Snatches of memories

Snatches of memories sometimes come wheeling through my mind unannounced.

Like the time when we were in Siem Reap and were once again surrounded by children that you named “the One Dollar kids” because everything they sold was for “One Dollaaar” and they were trying to sell us key chains of a miniature Angkor Wat and you said in Tamil, “my ancestors built the real thing for you and now you’re trying to sell me this!”

They couldn’t understand what you said. I burst out laughing and never forgot that moment. Such a happy time in my life! You loved me and I loved you. It was as simple as that. A happy, happy memory!

Sometimes such memories are enough for me to get through life.

And sometimes, they are just not enough.

A song for me

For you, I was just a toy that you could play with when you were bored.

For me, you were the one person that I wanted to spend every moment with.

You loved with the knowledge that we will never be together.

I loved with the hope that we will be together forever.

You wanted someone to fulfil your physical needs.

I wanted someone to fulfil my soul.

You were good to me.

But only when it was convenient for you.

You said you would take care of me when I’m old.

So who will take care of me now?

You told me to wait.

But there is nothing to wait for.

You said you love me.

I know now that you lied.

Love should matter.

But I don’t matter to you.

I am again broken, defeated, alone, in grief.

I am pitiful to you, unloved by you.

And yet it’s still so hard to walk away.

But I must do it.

It’s a battle between you and me.

And I choose me.

I will always choose me.

I say nothing

There are a million things that I want to say to you right now. About how you used me. About how you manipulated every situation to your advantage. About how I let you manipulate me in the name of love. About how you twisted everything around to make it my fault. About how you made me feel worthless. About how you continuously, consistently and persistently broke my heart over and over again. About how many times you made me cry until I had no tears left, until there was nothing left of me. About how you pretended to love me to get all you could out of me. About how you were always too busy to help me out but never too busy to reap the rewards at my expense. About how you treated me like a stray dog that you handed out scraps to for charity or for sport, and I was supposed to be grateful to you for it. About how you almost destroyed me.

Instead. I say nothing.

Revenge is sweet

You hurt me years ago. You said things to me that I will never forget. You deliberately said those things to break me. And it did. I was broken for a while. Down and out.

But strangely, those same words also awakened a restless, primitive spirit in me that was lying dormant somewhere in me, buried by years of societal pressure and rules of civilisation. If not for those words, your words, I may never have found this spirit again, this spirit which I now know as the real me. So I will never forget your words to me.

I forgave you. But I never forgot.

And now you need my help. It is laughable, really. Revenge is sweet. I could use your own words against you now, and I know it will hurt you just as much as it hurt me. I could just laugh at your plea. I could tell you to go to hell. I could explain to you why I will not help you.

Instead, I just ignore you. This is not because of some altruistic motive on my part. I ignore you because the truth is, you’re just not worth my time anymore.

Life and death

Staying alive is a primitive instinct of all living beings.
Death is not an alternative. It is the antithesis of life.
And yet, death is inevitable.
In the end, do we not live to die?

Friends? Overrated.

I don’t know why I bother having friends. I am feeling particularly stressed out at the moment, having bitten more than I can chew. Yes, this is my fault – forever over-ambitious and over-confident about my abilities without taking into consideration my peace of mind or my age. Also, some miscalculations on how free I really am in life generally.

But still. Friends are supposed to be there for you, to support and help you. But when I tell them how stressed I am, all I get is: “Don’t worry, you can do it.” “You always drama but you will make it in the end.” “It will all turn out fine in the end.” And other phrases of like effect.

This is NOT what I want to hear. What I want to hear is: “Do you need anything?” “How can I help?” “If you ever need to vent, you can call me anytime.” “I can help you with a, b or c, if you like.” And other phrases of like effect. Knowing me, I will not ask for help anyway. So, even if they were lying (very likely), at the very least, it would help alleviate my stress levels.

But alas! It is not to be!

Dogs, books and music. That’s the way to go. Dogs for silent companionship and the occasional comic relief. Books for intellectual stimulation, knowledge, inspiration, motivation. Music for everything else.

I don’t need friends. Of the human kind, that is.

Manila - Day 3

Sunday, 12 February 2017

I slept less well than I did on the first night at the hotel. Maybe because my legs were physically aching. According to my Suunto watch, I walked more than 11 km yesterday and more than 12 km on Friday. I’m getting too old for this. I need to slow down and not see 12 places before noon.

Everyone told me that I should get to the airport early as there may be a jam as people would be going to / coming from church. So I left the hotel at around 9 a.m. I arrived at the airport at 9.30 a.m. But what can I do. I’m sure they were just being cautious. Luckily there was a lounge right beside my boarding gate to I sat down alone with my book, a sandwich and a beer from 10.30 a.m. to 12 noon. After all, I was still on holiday! The beer I tried here was called Red Horse, also San Miguel beer, 6.9% alcohol and easily the best beer in Manila. So it all turned out good in the end.

Alight the plane, and 4 hours later I was back in KL. I really do enjoy travelling alone.

Manila - Day 2 (Part 2)

Saturday, 11 February 2017

After lunch, a taxi to Binondo, where Chinatown is. It had to be a taxi as I couldn’t see any jeepneys or tricycles around (as I said, this is an ‘atas’ area). Taxis are by far the most expensive thing in Manila. Apart from that, things are relatively cheap, cheaper than in Malaysia.

The Chinatown in Binondo is apparently 400 years old, and is said to be the oldest Chinatown in the world. It is situated deliberately within firing range of Intramuros's cannons, because apparently the Spanish conquerors did not trust the Chinese. I walked around the streets of Chinatown for a bit, and it reminded me of our very own Petaling Street – not very clean, noisy, bustling with activity, and not a Chinese pedlar in sight! I saw the local delicacy ‘balud’ – duck foetus in an egg. I didn’t try. There are limits to my adventures.

Then, after asking for directions, I took a jeepney to Malacañang Palace. Although the gates were open, I was not allowed into the grounds, and not allowed even to take photographs. I had to be content with photographs from outside the palace gates. Nasty creeps. As if I’m a CIA spy measuring the dimensions of the palace in preparation of a siege! In my irritation I informed the guards that in Malaysia one could visit the King’s palace at any time! I bet that lie would have thrown the guards off guard.

Jeepney again to my last destination, Rizal Park. This park is named after Jose Rizal, one of the national heroes of the Philippines. There was the Rizal Monument, where Jose Rizal lies buried, and the 0 kilometer mark.

And then I was done! A jeepney back to my hotel, except again it dropped me off at the wrong Robinsons and I had to take a Grab back to my hotel. More beers and then off to bed.

Manila - Day 2 (Part 1)

Saturday, 11 February 2017

First destination for the day was to the Marikina Shoe Museum in the district of Marikina, which is outside of Metro Manila and quite far away. I bought coffee from the hotel and went downstairs to watch the streets of Manila while sipping coffee when I saw a Philippino girl in the vicinity and I accosted her with my usual chirpiness early in the morning (this is generally true only when I’m on holiday).

I asked her about local dishes and she named some which I took note of to try later in the day. She introduced me to 2 of her friends, JJ and Kent and they joined in the conversation about food. JJ made a very interesting comment, which was to the effect of “in a sense we are all Malays, so our cuisine is very similar.” And I remember thinking, this may be true because the Malays in Malaysia and Philippinos are all considered Polynesians and can be considered to be of the same race. And yet, due to the difference in religion (Muslims and Catholics), what a vast difference in culture, character, outlook in life etc!

I asked my new found Philippino friend (her name is Sugar, how cute!) to call me a Grab and she did. I told you Philippinos were very helpful. Then I was on my way to Marikina. In the car, I asked the Grab driver (Tristan) whether he was a Catholic and he promptly replied, “No Mam, I am not Catholic. I am Roman Catholic.” I didn’t ask him what the difference was.

I was quite disappointed with the museum, it was smaller than expected but its location was very pretty, amongst greenery and quite quaint looking. Here I saw all the shoes once belonging to the former First Lady of the Philippines, Imelda Marcos. All shoes are in size-8 ½. Apparently she had more than 3,000 pairs of shoes, of which only about 800 pairs were on display at the museum. There were also shoes worn by former Presidents, Mayors, celebrities etc of the Philippines, and types of different shoes from around the world.

Then I took a taxi to Greenbelt Chapel, which was in Makati. Makati is like the Bukit Bintang of Manila. Tall buildings, clean streets, no jeepneys, no tricycles. Where the rich and famous no doubt live. Luckily I did not stay in this area though it was mentioned to me by various people. Greenbelt Chapel is a chapel situated in the middle of buildings which are luxury shopping complexes. It was something very different. Imagine going to church followed by shameless shopping sprees. Or shameless shopping sprees followed by confession in church. Sounds dodgy.

After walking around I went to one of the restaurants to try the local dishes recommended by Sugar. And to drink San Miguel beer, of course. I tried chicken and pork adobo – this is pieces of chicken and pork cooked with vinegar, soy sauce, and I’m sure some spices which I couldn’t quite identify. It was quite good, the pork and chicken were tender. I also ordered tofu sisig which is essentially sizzling tofu. Also quite nice but I think I now understand what Silvia meant by all their food tastes the same – the 2 savoury dishes that I tried both tasted sweetish. Although I have sweet teeth (all 31 of them), I like my savoury dishes to be savoury. Sweet is for milo, hot chocolate, cake etc. 

Manila - Day 1 (Part 4)

Friday, 10 February 2017

And then I was done with Intramuros. It was about 6.30 p.m. and already dark. By 6.00 p.m. it was already getting dark and generally when I travel alone I don’t like going out when it’s dark. However, my next destination was the Quiapo (pronounced Kiyapo) Church, which was quite nearby. Since it’s a church, I figured I’d be safe. God would (should) protect me. A jeepney for that and I was there. It was an area bustling with people. Generally in Manila, I find that there are people everywhere. But even more so in Quiapo.

I went in to the church and just took in the atmosphere for a while. They are devout Catholics here in Manila. There was a service going on but unfortunately in Tagalog so after a while I left, only to join a long queue going into a minor basilica just beside the main church. The minor basilica is home to the Black Nazarene, an extremely famous icon among Manila’s Catholics. We were allowed to touch one of his feet. I’m not sure what exactly that is for but I just followed what everyone else was doing.

And then it was time to head back to my hotel so I stopped and asked someone which jeepney I should take. Stupidly I did not carry the address of my hotel with me so I had some difficulty explaining where exactly my hotel was, and then I remembered it was in a building next to Robinsons. So then they told me which jeepney to take, tell the driver to stop at Robinsons, and from there I need to walk for a bit to get to my building.

The jeepney driver stopped me at Robinsons, I asked for directions to Robinsons and after a short walk I arrived. But it was the wrong Robinsons. There are a few in Manila and my Robinsons was not the Robinsons that I was presently in. I was already tired from walking so when I saw a Grab stand (Grab is officially welcomed in the Philippines unlike in Malaysia where it’s an open secret – roll eyes) and asked for a Grab back to my hotel.

Finally I arrived. Before going up, I went to the supermarket right beside my hotel to buy water, some food (the same supermarket stuff that you can get in Malaysia, no local stuff) and local beer which is called San Miguel (I think Malaysia and Brunei are the only 2 countries in South East Asia which do not have their own beer. It sucks.) and comes in various flavours – Pale Pilsner, Light, Super Dry, Apple flavour and Red Horse (the highest alcohol content at 6.9%).

I bought the Pale Pilsner and Light, but ended up only having the Pale Pilsner. I was too tired and sleepy for anything more, and tomorrow is going to be another long day. So, sleep.

Manila - Day 1 (Part 3)

Friday, 10 February 2017

And finally! I arrived at Intramuros. This is a stone citadel founded by the Spanish in 1571. It has withstood wars, natural disasters and successive waves of colonial invaders, although most of the buildings have been converted to other uses (mostly colleges and schools).

Intramuros is Spanish for "within the walls". It is the oldest district and the historic core of Manila, Philippines. It is also called the Walled City, it was the original city of Manila and was the seat of government when the Philippines was a component realm of the Spanish Empire. Districts beyond the walls were referred as the extramuros of Manila, Spanish for "outside the walls".

Construction of the defensive walls was started by the Spanish colonial government in the late 16^th  century to protect the city from foreign invasions. The walled city was originally located along the shores of the Manila Bay, south of the entrance to Pasig River. Guarding the old city is Fort Santiago, its citadel located at the mouth of the river. This was where Jose Rizal was kept prisoner pending his trial and execution (how sad). Other forts include Baluarte De San Gabriel (built in 1593) with cannons pointed at Binondo (Chinatown) and Baluarte De Dilao (built in 1592) as part of the original fortifications.

Before the American Era, entrance to the city was through eight gates or Puertas namely (clockwise, from Fort Santiago) Puerta Almacenes, Puerta de la Aduana, Puerta de Santo Domingo, Puerta Isabel II, Puerta del Parian,  Puerta Real,  Puerta Sta. Lucia, and Puerta del Postigo. Formerly, drawbridges were raised and the city was closed and under sentinels from 11:00 pm till 4:00 am. It continued so until 1852, when, in consequence of the earthquake of that year, it was decreed that the gates should thenceforth remain open night and day.

After the end of the Spanish–American War, Spain surrendered the Philippines and several other territories to the United States as part of the terms of the Treaty of Paris for $20 million. The American flag was raised at Fort Santiago on August 13, 1898 indicating the start of American rule over the city. The Ayuntamiento became the seat of the Philippine Commission of the United States in 1901 while Fort Santiago became the headquarters of the Philippine Division of the United States Army.

In December 1941, the Imperial Japanese Army invaded the Philippines. The first casualties in Intramuros brought by the war were the destruction of Santo Domingo Church and the original University of Santo Tomas campus during an assault.

At the end of World War II, virtually all of the structures in Intramuros were destroyed, with only the damaged Church of San Agustin still standing.

Altogether I spent almost 3 hours walking around Intramuros, and some of the other places I saw were:

·    the Palace of the Archbishop (I was not allowed in because this is the residence of the Archbishop of Manila);

·         the Monument to commemorate those who died in the Battle For Manila, 1945 (the battle for  independence against Japan);

·       Manila Cathedral (also known as the Basilica of the Immaculate Conception). The first ever was built out of nipa and bamboo in 1571 and had been destroyed by fire and earthquakes. This is the 8^th structure;

·         Palacio del Gobernador (the official residence of the Spanish viceroyalties to the Philippines. It was destroyed by an earthquake in 1863. The residence of the Governor-General was moved to Malacañang Palace (now the residence of the President).

·         Plaza de Roma (sort of like a small park)

·         Plaza Mexico (the same)

·     Ayuntamiento de Manila – once the seat of the City Council of Manila. Destroyed several times by earthquakes. Site of sessions of the First Philippine Assembly in 1907 and Philippine Legislation in 1935. Housed the offices of the Bureau of Justice and Supreme Court during the American and Commonwealth period. Destroyed in the Battle of Manila in 1945. Going to be converted into the Bureau of Treasury Office.

·    Restaurant called “The House That Fried Chicken Built”. Not that funny and yet I took a picture.

·         Aduana, formerly the Customs House.

·         Remnants of Beaterio-Colegio De Santa Catalina and Colegio De San Juan Letran

·         Hospital De San Juan De Dios – built in 1578 by a Franciscan. In the 1930s became known as the largest private hospital in the Philippines. Used as treatment centre for Japanese soldiers in World War II. Destroyed in 1945 during the Battle for Manila.

·   Churches - San Agustin Church (Augustinians) (built in 1607), San Nicolas de Tolentino Church (Recollects), San Francisco Church and Convent (Franciscans), Third Venerable Order Church (Third Order of St. Francis), Santo Domingo Church and Convent (Dominican), Lourdes Church (Capuchins), and the San Ignacio Church (Jesuits).

·    University of Santo Tomas (oldest university in Asia. Founded in 1611, the Pontifical and Royal University of Santo Tomas is also today the world's largest Catholic university on a single campus. It has been visited by two popes, and is the alma mater of many illustrious individuals, including national hero José Rizal and a number of presidents of the Philippines)

·         Plaza Santo Tomas (another small park)

Manila - Day 1 (Part 2)

Friday, 10 February 2017

Upon arrival at the hotel, I asked the hotel about directions on the places I wanted to visit and as usual, although I had my own plans, they advised me otherwise. As a result, my first destination was to be Intramuros (which I had planned to do tomorrow). Then came the directions. I must say that I find Philippinos to be generally extremely helpful, and most of them are able to speak (or at least understand) English. Which makes travelling easy.

However, (1) they assume I know all their street names and the locations thereof, and (2) their pronunciation is atrocious. Tagalog is a totally foreign language to me but I did hear some splatter of Malay and Spanish. I’m not sure whether this is the reason for their funny pronunciation. Anyway, my first set of directions went as follows. “Go downstairs, take the tricycle to UNW (U. N. Avenue). Then walk to Jolly Bee (Jollibee, a fast food restaurant) and take the jeepney to Intramuros.” Fool proof directions. How can I ever get lost?

Ok so first the tricycle which I assumed were the motorbikes with a side seat for passengers. There were some parked outside the hotel, I asked them to take me to U. N. Avenue (of course, they didn’t understand what it was; I had to say UNW) and they quoted some exorbitant amount. I told them the hotel said only 10 pisos (RM1) and they said that was the yellow tricycle. But of course! And the yellow tricycle only stopped on the opposite side of the road so I had to commit the suicidal act of crossing the perpetually jammed Manila street. The best thing to do was to tag behind some locals which I eventually did and I accosted the first yellow tricycle I saw and said UNW.

And then, directions to Jolly Bee (at that time I didn’t know what it was or how it was spelt). I arrived. Then the jeepney to Intramuros. Asked around and was informed correctly and got into one. The jeepney is basically an open air van, you get in at the back and passengers sit on both sides on long benches. Each ride, no matter where you stop at, costs 8 pisos (RM0.80) but you must know the route of the jeepney and where to get off. People at the back pass long money to the driver in the front, and any change is also passed along to the back. Quite cute. 

Manila - Day 1 (Part 1)

Friday, 10 February 2017

No Grab car in the morning! Had to make do with a taxi. Luckily the driver drove with some urgency and I reached the airport well within time. Flight at 8.20 a.m., landed in Ninoy Aquino International Airport (NAIA) at about 12.30 p.m. and took a Grab car to the hotel. They drive on the right side of the road. Remnants of Spanish and American colonialization, of course. Horrible traffic jam everywhere and the drive took more than an hour.

Manila is the capital city of the Philippines, founded on 24 June 1571 by Spanish conquistador Miguel López de Legazpi. Manila is the second most populous city in the Philippines after the former Capital Quezon City with a population of about 12.8 million people as at 2015.

The Kingdom of Tondo once ruled in the vicinity of Manila before it briefly became a province of the Hindu Majapahit Empire. During the Brunei invasion of the Philippines, Sultan Bolkiah of Brunei captured Seludong (a village in modern-day Manila) and renamed it Maynilà, a Tagalog term referring to the presence of the Nila shrub. Maynila was a vassal state of Brunei, established to overpower Tondo. Maynilà had been Indianized since the 6^th century. It became partly Islamic and Hindu-animist by the 15^th century.

In 1571 Spanish Conquistadors arrived from Mexico, from across the Pacific, and founded present-day Manila in what is today Intramuros. Spanish missionaries soon Christianized the city and incorporated Tondo under Manila.

Spanish rule in Manila and the entire Philippine archipelago lasted for over three centuries, until 1898. At different times during the long Spanish period there were local revolts, Chinese insurrections, massive pirate attacks, great earthquakes, Dutch raids and invasion attempts, and a British occupation of the city during their unsuccessful attempt to conquer the Philippines. Order was usually quickly restored and the city returned to the business of trade. In the 19^th century Manila was one of the most modern cities in Asia.

Before the Spanish–American War, Manila saw the rise of the Philippine Revolution. One of the national hero of the Philippines was Jose Rizal, an ophthalmologist and writer (among others) who contributed to writing propaganda in favour of the revolution against Spanish rule. Eventually he was arrested, tried, found guilty and executed by firing squad on 20 December 1896. This would be around the time of Jose Marti, who fought against the Spanish in the Cuban Revolution (a hero of Fidel Castro).

 Under the American rule following the Spanish–American War, the United States changed the official language from Spanish to English and made some changes in education, local laws and urban planning. Towards the end of World War II, during the Battle of Manila most of the city was flattened by intensive aerial bombardment by the United States Air Force. As a result, relatively little remains of Manila's pre-war and colonial architecture, although parts of the old walled city, Intramuros, still remain.  

Nothing worth fighting for

Now more than ever I keep telling myself that when I have been wronged, or falsely accused, or framed, or betrayed, or whatever else of an unfair nature, I should just walk away because it’s not worth it. There’s no point getting upset or angry or even disappointed because the only person who will be suffering is me. I should just let it go. Forgive and if I’m lucky, forget.

What’s the saying by Confucius? “Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig 2 graves.” Something like that. Or maybe said by someone else.

My question is, if I should just walk away from everything because letting go is in fact beneficial to me, does that mean there is nothing worth fighting for? Does that mean I should just accept whatever comes my way without question, without standing up for myself, without standing my ground?

If nothing is worth fighting for, is there any real reason to live at all? Surely life is also not worth fighting for?

Quantum physics and me

In quantum physics, every particle is said to have an anti-particle. When a particle meets an anti-particle, they cancel each other out. What is left is matter – everything that we see and touch and feel.

I have my own personalized theory. The anti-thesis of love is not only hate, but also conditional love. So when someone says I love you BUT, that is not really love.

My parents love me but they love my brothers more. Philip loves me but not enough to want to marry me. My dogs love me but not if I don’t feed them. My friends love me but only at their convenience. But. Always but. Unconditionally but.

In conclusion, hate + conditional love = anti-love. When love meets anti-love, they cancel each other out.

So what is left? Do I exist when no one loves me? Do I bother living when no one cares? Do I matter (pun intended)?

Books read in 2016

I must've been really free in 2016 - this is really a record for me and I don't think I can top this:

1.         The Thirteen Problems - Agatha Christie

2.         Last Mysteries of the World - Reader's Digest

3.         The Monogram Murders - Sophie Hannah

4.         The Growing Pains of Adrian Mole - Sue Townsend

5.         Ghostwritten - Isabel Wolff

6.         Stranded - Val McDermid

7.         4.50 from Paddington - Agatha Christie

8.         The Purity of Vengeance - Jussi Adler-Olsen

9.         Big Little Lies - Liane Moriarty

10.       An Event in Autumn - Henning Mankell

11.       An Acceptable Sacrifice - Jeffrey Deaver (short story)

12.       Pronghorns of the Third Reich - C. J. Box (short story)

13.       The Book of Virtue -  Ken Bruen (short story)

14.       The Book of Ghosts - Reed Farrel Coleman (short story)

15.       The Secret in their Eyes - Eduardo Sacheri

16.       The Final Testament - Peter Blauner (short story)

17.       What's in a Name? - Thomas H. Cook (short story)

18.       Book Club - Loren D. Estleman (short story)

19.       The Girl on the Train - Paula Hawkins

20.       Death Leaves a Bookmark - William Link (short story)

21.       Sandman - Lars Kepler

22.       The Book Thing - Laura Lippman (short story)

23.       The Scroll - Anne Perry (short story)

24.       It's in the Book - Mickey Spillane & Max Allan Collins (short story)

25.       The Prince - Nicolo Machiavelli

26.       The Long Sonata of the Dead - Andrew Taylor (short story)

27.       We need to talk about Kevin - Lionel Shriver

28.       The Man from Beijing - Henning Mankell

29.       Rides a Stranger - David Bell (short story)

30.       The Caxton Lending Library & Book Depository - John Connolly (short story)

31.       The Book Case - Nelson DeMille (short story)

32.       Heirs to Forgotten Kingdoms - Gerard Russell

33.       Liar Liar - M. J. Arlidge

34.       Bujang Valley - V. Nadarajan

35.       We are all completely beside ourselves - Karen Joy Fowler

36.       Mein Kampf - Adolf Hitler

37.       Splinter the Silence - Val McDermid

38.       Guilt Trip - Val McDermid (short story)

39.       The Mirror Cracked From Side to Side - Agatha Christie

40.       Alice's Adventures in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll

41.       Through the Looking-Glass and what Alice found there - Lewis Carroll

42.       The Girl You Left Behind - Jojo Moyes

43.       Italian Shoes - Henning Mankell

44.       Stalker - Lars Kepler

45.       Malarky - Anakana Schofield

46.       The Seven Dials Mystery - Agatha Christie

47.       Keep You Close - Lucie Whitehouse

48.       Cover Her Face - P. D. James

49.       The Vegetarian - Han Kang

50.       The Year of the Rat – Clare Furniss

51.       The Bitter Season - Tami Hoag

52.       The Widow – Fiona Barton

53.       Cat Among the Pigeons – Agatha Christie (re-read)

54.       A Game For All The Family – Sophie Hannah

55.       The Sittaford Mystery – Agatha Christie (re-read)

56.       Saladin – John Man

57.       Benefitting ourselves and others – Venerable Yin-Shun

58.       Family Life – Akhil Sharma

59.       Message of the Buddha – Venerable Dhammavuddho Thero

60.       The Old Man and the Sea – Ernest Hemingway (re-read)

61.       The Bunker Diary – Kevin Brooks

62.       The Man in the Brown Suit – Agatha Christie

63.       A Mind to Murder – P. D. James

64.       A Girl is a Half-Formed Thing – Eimear McBride

65.       True Confessions of Adrian Albert Mole – Sue Townsend

66.       The Illiad – Homer

67.       Landline – Rainbow Rowell

68.       At Bertram’s Hotel – Agatha Christie

69.       The History Book – Penguin Random House (publishers)

70.       The Odyssey – Homer

71.       Candide or, All for the Best (1759) – Voltaire

72.       The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus – Christopher Marlowe

73.       They do it with Mirrors – Agatha Christie (re-read)

74.       Reminiscences of the Cuban Revolutionary War – Ernesto Che Guevara

75.       Crooked House – Agatha Christie (re-read)

76.       A Brief History of Time – Stephen Hawking (the most complicated book I’ve ever read in my life!)

77.       A Pocketful of Rye – Agatha Christie (re-read)