MENYUSUN ARAH, MEMBENTUK MANUSIA: MENELUSURI SISTEM PENDIDIKAN CHINA

https://ceritauntukesok.wordpress.com/2026/05/04/menyusun-arah-membentuk-manusia-menelusuri-sistem-pendidikan-china/

Campaign Against Camping!

Have I ever been camping?

Have I ever been camping?!!

You’re rootin’ tootin’, I’ve been camping. I’ll tell you – I’ve spent some of the most miserable days and nights of my life under canvas.

I’m cool with the notion of getting back to nature. I did, after all, spend eighteen years of my working life outdoors, in just about every kind of weather imaginable, when I was working with animals. That part doesn’t faze me at all. It wasn’t pleasant at times, for sure, but I knew come six o’ clock in the evening, I could head home for a hot bath, something nice to eat, and watch my favourite television programme.

That didn’t happen on any camping expedition I was on, that’s for sure.

You see, I was in the Boy Scouts. In the late 1960s and early ’70s. Camping was seen then as ‘character building.’ And I think that’s what turned me into the bitter and twisted wee character I am today.

The idea was we went on organised camps with the Troop Leaders to learn all sorts of useful skills.

Aye right! I’m not sure exactly how may tent pegs I’ve subsequently had to whittle from a damp log found in the woods, but I’m guessing if I were to count them, they’d come to less than a finger on one hand.

Map-reading? There’s another. Just jump in a taxi for goodness sake. Erecting a tent. Why? I’m never likely to go camping ever, ever again.

It was pointless. Why not just take us away for the weekend to a nice hotel in a distant city where we could all sneak out, meet up with the local Girl Guide unit , and blag a few illicit beers. That would have more of a practical life experience.

But no – not only were our parents so happy to pack us off for random weekends with the Scout Leaders, so they could … well … they were also happy to let us go without the adult supervision. And so off we’d go, maybe six of us from our own patrol; off to show the Leaders what great Scouts we were. Off to live under canvas for a weekend at the arse-end of the Earth.

One time, our ever-so-inexperienced band of idiots pitched our tent at the foot of a wooded slope. With a river about fifty yards away.

And it rained. Big, Scottish rain. Scottish rain is like rain the world over. Only more miserable!

At two o’clock in the morning, with our sleeping bags already soaked, we had go out in the dark, with some crappy wee torch thing (the wick in the lanterns we’d brought were too damp to ignite) and dig a bloody big, deep trench around the tent and divert the cascading water away.

Over the next two days, we replaced the rainwater in our clothes with smoke from the campfire which we eventually managed to restart.

And we couldn’t just break camp and head home, because we were in the middle of bleedin’ nowhere, and weren’t due to be picked up until the Monday afternoon.

And see all this palaver about digging latrines or using the bushes in the woods like a bear does??!! Whaaat?!

That was the last time I went camping.

(Oh no, wait. My wife and I did stay overnight in one of these plush Arabian tent things in Goa, India, a couple of years ago. And I got bitten on the chest by a huge spider that I witnessed escaping from under the bedsheet. The bite left a dirty great welt that I had to bombard with antiseptic creams for a week.)

And caravanning is no better! I’ll post my ‘Caravan Holiday Hell‘ tale, taken from my book ‘A Space Hopper Killed My Hamster‘ in a day or two. Once I’ve gotten over the trauma of re-living my Camping experiences.

SO THAT’S IT – CAMPING MUST BE BANNED! I’M STARTING A CAMPAIGN. HERE AND NOW! ARE YOU WITGH ME, BROTHERS & SISTERS? ADD YOUR NAME IN THE COMMENTS SECTION BELOW, AND TOGETHER WE WILL CANVASS AGAINST CANVAS!

That night I danced with Debbie Harry.

*(Sigh!)* The 21st May 1977 – a night I will never really forget.

I was nineteen years old. I’d left school just nine months earlier and my life revolved around athletics, playing football, music and The White Elephant Discotheque in Glasgow’s Sauchiehall Street.

My taste in music was ever expanding. It still is. Almost fifty years later and I’m still discovering new genres that excite me. But in ’77, my staple of Glam Rock, Blues Rock, Southern Rock and just plain ol’ Heavy Rock was about to be usurped by a brash, snot-filled, despised and anti-social noise.

‘Punk Rock’ had entered the British psyche in 1976, of course, with The Sex Pistols’ controversial arrival on the scene. However, the cult of Punk was still pretty much in its infancy, with The Pistols having only released one single, ‘Anarchy in the UK’ by May of the following year. It wasn’t until the end of that month (May 1977) that they really made their mark with ‘God Save The Queen’ being released to coincide with The Queen’s Silver Jubilee celebrations.

The Stranglers had released ‘(Get a) Grip (on Yourself)’ a few months earlier and The Clash, another emerging band of that ilk, released their debut album in April of that year. The whole punk ethos of DIY music was starting to make its mark and bands like The Buzzcocks and The Damned (first single released in October 1976) were gaining traction.

Not in Glasgow, though. Following the notoriety of their television interview with Bill Grundy, The Sex Pistols scheduled show at The Apollo in December 1976 was ‘pulled’ by the local council who perceived Punk rock not as a music scene, but an anti-social threat.

An effective ‘ban,’ lasting the best part of twelve months, became effective in preventing many such shows from within the city boundaries. (It wasn’t a formal ‘ban’ as such – it’s just the council blackmailed venues with the threat of losing their licence, should they host such raucous, violent purveyors of noise.)

Looking to break into the UK market, were a group of bands from USA, mainly New York, whose music, though ‘different’ from that of their UK counterparts, were still classed as ‘punk.’

But where could they play if they rocked up in Glasgow? Well, the Student Unions had a bit of autonomy from the City Council, and so when it was announced that The Ramones wanted to come and put on a show to promote their second album, ‘Leave Home,’ Strathclyde University offered its Union hall.

I didn’t go to University. But my mate Derek did. He went to Strathclyde University. Result!

I badgered him to get his hands on a couple of tickets, so he could sign me in as a guest on the night of the show.

And so it was, we met up that evening, had a good few beers at our favourite city centre pub, The MacIntosh Bar and walked /staggered round to the Student Union. Of course, once in, we headed straight for the bar, where a pint was a fraction of the price in the pubs.

Say no more.

The Ramones were an iconic underground band in May 1977. They were promoting their second album, but the song that arguably defines them, ‘Sheena is a Punk Rocker’ was still a week or two away from a UK release. Fans in their homeland would have to wait a further two months.

They were still considered very niche.

https://youtu.be/qqCcpZ_LzXM?si=NXQMNPFjjg_wrFxt

And they were not the only New York based band on the bill that night. Talking Heads were co-headliners. They took to the stage before The Ramones, and though it is most likely there were other bands on before them, I have no recollection – the beers were starting to hit home by this time!

I have to say, though I enjoy their sound nowadays, I was not impressed with David Byrne and the band on the night. I distinctly recall both Derek and I looking at each other … and deciding there was time for yet another lager in the bar before The Ramones took the stage.

When they did, we headed down to the front, right by the stage. It wasn’t a big venue, and estimates of the crowd I’ve seen on the internet range from one hundred to three hundred. I do remember there being big gaps on the audience floor, so I’m sure it wasn’t a complete sell-out.

Anyway, Derek and I were more used to shows at The Apollo, (Rory Gallagher, Sensational Alex Harvey Band, Jethro Tull, Man, Lynyrd Skynyrd etc) where any ‘over enthusiastic’ behaviour was instantly snuffed out by equally over-zealous, over-weight bouncers, whose reputations, like their bellies, went before them.

It was all pretty crazy! People pogoing frantically, crashing into each other, beer being spilt / thrown – all sort of shenanigans. Great fun.

It was then I danced with Debbie Harry.

Yes, she was there that night also, supporting her leather-jacket clad friends from Queens.

You see, the New York punk scene had transported itself to Glasgow that weekend. A band named Blondie were due to open for Television the following evening at The Apollo. Blondie were still nine months away from their first UK chart entry. Even in New York they were still very much regarded as cult heroes. So I guess they managed to avoid the ban due to their relative obscurity, and the headliners being considered more ‘art rock’ than ‘punk.

A famous picture taken by Graham Scott from the short-lived Glasgow punk band, The Exile shows Debbie on that very night.

Debbie Harry was there that night. Defo.
I was there that night. Defo.
There was a small crowd in a small, intimate gig venue. Defo.
Everyone was crashing into each other. Defo.
Everyone danced with each other. Defo.
Therefore, quite conceivably, very possibly, I perhaps danced with Debbie Harry.

Look – in the same way I can claim to have lived down the road from Dire Straits guitarist, Mark Knopfler (he moved away as a young lad just before the two-year old me moved in to the street with my parents) I can claim to have danced with Debbie Harry.

*(Sigh!)* The 21st May 1977 – sadly, a night I’ll never completely remember! 🤣

https://youtu.be/ahGxiSV_LH0?si=lWBEqU3Uhc3ZRZ0y

Totally Floored!

Today’s word was ‘floor.’

TOTALLY FLOORED!

She loved him, but couldn’t ignore
The sound of her husband’s loud snore.
But he dismissed all her pleas
And continued to wheeze,
So she forced him to sleep on the floor.

All Clogged Up!

(Today’s word was ‘box.’)

ALL CLOGGED UP.

There once was Dutchman called Klohs
Who ran the Amsterdam 10K in clogs.
He was dressed as a crow,
Which just goes to show,
He was mad as a box of frogs.

“Have you gone raving mad?”

Today’s word was: Scream.

“HAVE YOU GONE RAVING MAD?“

In Railway Cuttings, East Cheam,
Lived a man of whom it would seem
Was a terrible moaner
And reluctant blood donor:
“A pint? That’s an armful!” he’d scream.

I am, the one and only …

Most times, I find the WordPress daily prompt quite interesting. (See, there I go again with that Glasgow tendency to play things down. 😉 ) ‘Quite interesting.’ Hmmnnn.

Today though, it’s rather dumb. Well, I think so. (And I’m not convinced it’s grammatically correct either. Just sayin’.)

‘Which aspects do you think makes a person unique?’

Easy! Simply put – their ‘existence.‘ There – that was a short blog post. Sorted.

OK – a little bit more. I’m certain I’m not the only short person in the world; there’s probably another short man somewhere who rocks a daft mohawk hairstyle at 67 years of age; more, there’s probably some dude who’s short, old, with an age-inappropriate haircut and plays pickleball; probably has a large record collection too; and enjoys writing. And is a bit of an idiot.

All those mentioned above can take a seat.

Now, the field of similarity has decreased dramatically, I should think. So how many of those still standing, worked in Banking for 28 years; then worked with dogs and other household pets for 18?

Aye – not many left now. Ok, who can also say they’ve had a gun pointed at their face during a bank raid? Or survived an Out of Hospital Sudden Cardiac Arrest?

Yaaay! I win! 🙂

I’m willing to bet all of this week’s pocket-money, there’s nobody else in the world fulfills all the criteria that’s required to be me. ‘Coz I’m special. I’m unique.

And so are you. And the next person; and the next.

We are not ‘unique’ because of our looks or our actions or our attitudes. There will always be someone, somewhere can match them. We are unique because of a combination of things. We are unique because of circumstances, good or bad.

We are unique because of a combination of circumstances in our very existence.

We are each, ‘the one and only …’

_____
***Apologies – that was rubbish post. Totally kack. As I said earlier in the week, I can’t do ‘serious,’ very well. ***

‘

To have and to hold, for better or for worse …

I spent eighteen years as a professional dog walker, before retiring in the autumn of 2024. During that time, ‘technology’ continued to leap forward in great bounds like a playful golden retriever. However, it made no odds to my daily working life, other than my being able to order a delivered lunchtime pizza from my phone. *

*(This is mentioned for illustrative purposes only – there was no way I could afford pizza for lunch. And anyway, have you ever eaten pizza in front of several slavering dogs with pleading eyes? That’s one big guilt-trip right there.)

However, if you count my wee writing hobby as a ‘job’ – a very poorly paid, but fun ‘job’ – then I’d have to say technology in recent years has made a big difference.

For a start, technology has made me lazy. And for all its time-saving advantages, it has in many ways actually presented more time-related pressures.

Artificial Intelligence is wonderful, up to a point. I refuse point blank to use it for actually writing the content of this blog (it’s kinda obvious, isn’t it? 😉 ) or my attempts at books. However, what it does give me, is the ability to create wee, amusing cartoons and a programme that highlights over-use of certain words, punctuation errors and the like.

AI also helps big-time in research. For example, last week I disappeared down a rabbit hole of discovering what would be involved in inheriting a haveli in Rajasthan: what would be the tax implications; what grant funding would be available; the size of inner courtyards – all that sort of malarky. (Stay tuned, folks for my first attempt at a published novel. 😉 )

However, to a degree, I do miss spending my day in the Reference section of a large city library, poring through books to enhance my knowledge. And perversely, I feel compelled to use all that time saved by cramming more ‘stuff,’ more deadlines into my waking hours. I’m not really one for daytime television.

And … duh! ‘Technology’ has afforded me the privilege of entertaining you for these past couple of minutes.

But for every ying, there’s a yang. And that means you’ve just wasted another two minutes of your valuable time in reading this nonsense.

Never mind, time-saving ‘technology’ will help you balance it all out in the end.

🙂

Ssssh! It’s a secret.

My secret skill is pretty amazing! Only a very few, select people in the world have this ability, or similar.

No. No, I’m not one of the Fantastic Four. Pah! ‘The Fantastic Four’ indeed.

And before you say it, I’m not a member of The Justice League. Or The Avengers either. Ha! Bunch of losers!

My secret skill puts all those dudes in the shade. My secret skill is …. a secret.

Come on Mr WordPress, your interrogation technique needs a bit of work, doesn’t it! . Do you really expect me to crumble to a polite request? You could at least threaten to tell my mum and dad and get me out on the naughty-step if I didn’t conform.

Sorry, but I’m gonna have to ‘take the fifth’ on this one. But don’t worry – when you need me, just form a hand into the shape of a rabbit head and big ears, shine a torch on it and project the shadow high into the night sky.

I’ll be by your side before you know it.

Why is Bomber still giving this scammer a platform in 2026?

https://thedailyblog.co.nz/guest-blog-talk-liberation-panquake-founder-suzie-dawson-speaks/

Suzie Dawson has been collecting money from people and promising a groundbreaking social network for years now, and all Panquake has presented publicly is a social media dashboard, and a link shortener (in 2026 this is obsolete, as well as being a common tool of scammers). Both of these could have been built in an afternoon using unmodified code found on GritHub.

(1/?)

#SuzieDawson #Panquake #DailyBlog