About My Photos

Ever since Ivan Chew submitted this blog to Tomorrow.sg, I have received many visits from young Singaporeans. I am truly heartened and encouraged by their kind remarks. I particularly love this one by yl; “wahhhhhh!!!!!!! Uncle!! YOU ROCK!!!!”

I think I need to explain a bit about the photos you see in this blog. You will notice that many of the old black and white photos had people posing (cham - my daughter is going to call me a ‘poser’). Please don’t think that people of our generation are so vain. It’s just that camera films those days were quite expensive; and thus it would be considered a waste if we took pictures only of scenery or buildings. It was thus customary to pose with the scenery as background.

Let me tell you a bit about the cameras we used those days. The earlier pictures were taken with our first camera - a Kodak Brownie. It was an ‘auto-focus’ camera, meaning you don’t need to focus - because there was no ‘focus’ function! It had small circular window behind for you to read the number of the photo you are taking. After taking 1 picture, you have to wind the film slowly till the next number appears in the window. Now if you forgot to do this, then the next picture you take will go on top of the previous one, and you have wasted 1 valuable photo plus whatever you took earlier is lost.



Our second camera was a Minolta Hi-matic. We bought it around 1969 (not 1967 as I said earlier). It of course had more features like focus, aperture etc. This time, to advance the film, you need to push a lever. But if you forgot to do it, there is an ‘idiot-proof’ mechanism that prevents you from taking the next picture. Interesting eh?

The photo below is my first colour photo. It was taken around end-1970 just after my HSC (A-levels) exams. I went on a tour to Malaysia with my parents and my elder sister. We brought along 1 roll of colour film. During the ferry ride across to Penang, we came across this beautiful scene of the setting sun and we decided that it was time to use our precious roll of colour film.

An interesting thing happened in Penang. At the hotel we stayed in, there was a stir in the evening around dinner time. It turned out that an up-and-coming teenage a-go-go star was also staying (or performing) at the hotel. Some of the girls in our tour group got very excited and wanted her autograph. Can you guess the name of the singer? Answer - Nancy Seet.

Today we are in the digital age. I am proud to say that this ‘uncle’ is quite familiar with digital photography. I was probably one of the earliest 'ah laus' to invest in a digital camera. My first digital camera was an Epson which cost about $700+. It didn’t come with an LCD screen, so I paid extra for an attachment; which was a mistake because I never got to use it. The reason was, the 4 pieces of AA batteries get used up so quickly, it was not practical to use the LCD screen; plus it was a bit clumsy to have a separate attachment. I have also learnt how to take and edit my own digital videos. I did all these not because I am a camera buff, but because my job as a consultant and trainer requires it. Actually I quite enjoy learning all these cool gadgets – only problem is people our age learn such things very slowly.

往事只能回味

Hey! How come nobody could identify the singer of this song? Anyway, the singer was 尤雅. I believe she was popular in the early seventies.

My favorite Chinese singers from that era were 青山and 姚蘇蓉.

My favorite 青山song was 唯一爱的人. At one time, we had an EP (45 rpm record) with this song on 1 side. Not long ago, I came across a CD with this song in Rochore Centre. Cost only a few bucks.


My favorite姚蘇蓉song was 不得了. I once heard it being performed live by the famous ‘Laurel and Hardy of Singapore’, Wang Sa and Yeh Fong at a theatre located at the present Mustaffa Centre. I think it was called President Theatre. It was so hilarious we (as they say in Hokkien) ‘laughed until stomachache’.

At that show, a famous Taiwanese singer by the name of Chang Ti also performed. This guy could improvise the lyrics of any song given to him.

Actually, now that the brains start racking, there is another 姚蘇蓉 song that I liked very much. It's called 秋水伊人.The lyrics are very touching. So all you young people out there. I presume you have not heard this song before. I give you the opening lines and you try to guess what this song is all about.

望穿秋水，不见伊人的倩影， 更残漏尽，孤雁两三声； 往日的温情，只换得眼前的凄情.

More About Sago Street - Chu Chun Sing

(A)

These windows used to share the same room…was a large room indeed! Used to be occupied by [散 仔 ] - i.e. men who were odd jobbers and shared the monthly rental .. to cut cost. My grandmother was the rent collector /in-charge rather. They used to call her [包租婆]

(B)

This lane which links Smith street to Sago Street, holds many, many memories; and is witness to numerous incidents and events.

On The Street Where Chun Sing Lived

My friend Chun Sing's description of life in Sago Street and Sago Lane is so interesting, I could not resist going down there this afternoon to take a look. Good thing I am self-employed and so no worry of being scolded for taking a 2-hour lunch break. Besides taking some pictures of the area, I also helped myself to a nice bowl of beef noodle from the Chinatown hawker centre.

View of Sago Street from the hawker centre end





This is house no. 6


























Can you spot Sago Lane? Looks like the Street of the Dead has become a dead street. But it also appears that the govt is trying to resurrect it.

My Memories of Chinatown (Part 2) - Chu Chun Sing

Victor commented that Part 1 was an anti-climax. I did promise that I would share later why I was morbid of the Sago Lane (沙莪巷 ). Indeed as the colloquial name spelled, Street of the Dead [死人街] where funeral parlours (Cantonese clan) were housed speaks much for itself. Incidentally did you know that the colloquial name for Sago Street where I lived is also known as ‘ 庙仔街’ ? Sorry, not to digress your thoughts.

There was one incident I recall happened when I was on my way home (I was 7 or 8 then). I took the challenge to myself of walking past Sago Lane one evening. Funeral parlours were located on the ground floor of this colonial 2-storey terrace blocks along that street. The upstairs were converted as hospice where the dying was housed till they depart. Immediately the corpse would be removed to the floor below and the necessary procedure to be addressed by the undertaker.

The old Singapore under the British colonial rule then, offered no proper hospice-type of premises for the dying, and Chinese migrants were not favoured to die in their homes. Hospital treatment was not popular among the traditional Chinese migrants in those days so the only place they could utilise was the upstairs of these funeral parlours. If these people could afford they would prefer to return to China (where their home land was) to retire. But after the communist regime had taken control of the whole of China after the 1948, the Chinese in Singapore had no way but to stay behind instead of returning to their home land. This also explains why the Chinese cemeteries were left empty all those years till the 50s came along. This was observed by my late father. I remember him telling me that the Pik San Teng [ 碧山亭坟场] cemetery ( located off Thomson Road and Braddell Road) was generally scarce and scanty with graves but beginning from the early 50s it began to get crowded. That Pik San Teng had now become the land for the living…the Bishan housing estate, and the mass rapid transit (underground subway) runs through it, geographically dissecting through the whole area.

Ironically enough, the ex-occupants of this area were underground. Now the MRT runs through it above ground, in fact, this is the first train station where it begins to surface above ground after all the city stations that are underground. This route winds its way round the north and western part of the island of Singapore (all above ground) till it returns to the city area in an almost anti-clockwise format. Again this is just an observation.

Looking at the upstairs of one of the parlours that evening I saw this old woman with her frail sickish looking face starring at the people on the street and probably so, looking at me. I was not the only soul on the street, of course, but probably the only person who took attention at her dying state. One side of the street was arrayed with hawker stalls while the other side was lined with these parlours including a coffin sellers. In fact it was a busy evening as usual while the hawkers were busy setting up their stalls on one side while the other side (the parlours) was busy at their activities.

In my recollection there were at least 2 coffin shops. Some of you who may not have seen what a Chinese coffin would look like. Tell you, it is not the best looking sight of all.

I dared not take the second look after that…but walked hurriedly straight on for home, which was just the next street anyway. But that sight till today I have not forgotten one least bit. It was a morbid thought that this woman was passing away. I did not want this woman to leave this world because I was not sure where she would go and neither did I know any one would go then.

That woman seemed to be telling me to treasure this life because her life was ending and she would not know where she was going too. She may have thought to herself how wonderful it would be if she could rewind the clock to go back to the age where I was then, a child of 8 years old so that she could start life all over again.

I promised myself not to ever walk that street again…but I did in fact in my later life to attend my aunt’s funeral wake in 1979 and in between I missed several of my relatives’ funerals for that reason! I was grown up then…so that was all right.

This is a photo of Sago Lane in the 60's. On one side, you will see the parlour which they have a nick name .... “convalescence centre”. On the other side are hawker stalls. I will narrate an experience with one of the stalls in next episode.

I used to recall what my own mother described her experiences while wake watching in our relatives’ funeral wake. Like what Victor mentioned, if it was your relative or loved ones for that matter, you would sit through the night till day break either in the parlour or along the street placed with tables and stools munching either ‘Wan-Li-Wang‘ groundnuts (with husks) [万里望花生 ] or quazhi [瓜子 ] (dried melon seeds) and sipping green spot (an orange flavoured drink served in glass bottle) [绿宝 ]

She said of morbid experiences of ‘sighting’ spooky figure hanging about in the toilet located at the back of the parlour and to get to answer your nature’s call one had to walk past the bodies some were not even placed inside the coffin. Accordingly there were usually more than one funeral wakes all held in the same parlour in order that the owner could make a few dollars.

In funeral wake of the Cantonese tradition, Taoist monks who were generally odd-jobbers during the day would gown themselves with the deep yellowish Taoist attire and chanted their due for a couple of hours accompanied with drum and cymbal and even Chinese flute with their usually litany and who knows what they were chanting. For all we know, they may not even understand what they were chanting about.

I had once witnessed a ritual procession in the middle of Sago Street which accordingly the Taoist monks (about 5 or 6 of them in all ) were ‘enjoying’ themselves in this so-called sacred act of ‘por-de-yu’ (break through the nether world to rescue the dead) [破地狱]。 　There were lines of little oil lamps lid up with a tiny flame on the floor each lamp was aligned with some ceramic-like roof tiles which we were supposed to take it as ‘gates of the nether world’ [ 鬼门关 ] My contemporary, Ah Fei [ 阿辉] (who was of the same age hence my regular playmate at that tender age told me that if I wanted to see the dead coming to life, all I needed to do was to get near to these make-shift monks and wipe my eyes with their gowns. To be honest I was very much tempted to do that but guessed that I did not have sufficient guts to do that then.

But what really caught my eyes was one of the ‘dancers’ (monks) was giggling embarrassingly. So were they serious or having fun instead? Mind you they would walk away with a hefty sum that evening, paid by the family of the dead whom they were supposedly to be chanting the know-not-what litany.

I heard from older folks that according to the traditional Chinese folklore, there are 18 levels of punishment in the nether world and each level is facilitated with its respective gadget of punishment to the dead who did unjust things while they were alive. These monks were supposed to rescue that dead from the darkest level of hades in order to reduce the amount of suffering.

No one wants to die or perish eternally yet we all have to die one day. That thought used to frighten me … just as the Bible says..’ as it is appointed for men to die once, but after this the judgement’.

I can honestly say that I have found the answer to this life-long question of life after death…..

See you in the next episode; if you bother to stick around for more stories…

Braddell Rise School

I studied in Braddell Rise School (BRS) from Primary 2 to Primary 5 from 1960 to 1963. So did my siblings and my cousins (the Ng family). I don’t think any of you reading this blog have even heard of BRS. It was situated next to Mt Alvernia Hospital at the junction of Thomson Road and Braddell Road. It was a small coed, primary school. It was closed down a number of years ago.

Today its premises are occupied by the Tampines Home (MINDS). It’s quite inconspicuous. If you passed the area, you might not even notice it. Even this appears to be a temporary arrangement. A great deal of construction is going on around the area. I believe they are constructing a viaduct to join Braddell Road to the Lornie Viaduct; and hence I really do not expect this landmark to be around for long. So I went down recently and took a couple of pictures.

(The tall buildings in the background are part of Braddell Rise Estate)

How come Pr 2 to Pr 5 so odd? Actually I was admitted to Anglo-Chinese Junior in Barker Road in 1959. But after 1 year, my parents transferred me to BRS because ACS was too far from our home in Lorong Chuan, and my elder brother David was in BRS and could look after me. In 1964, my brother was admitted to ACS Secondary in Barker Road and so my parents tried to transfer me back to ACS Junior. However, there were no more places and so I went to ACS Primary in Coleman Street instead. It was a scary experience for a kampong kid to take a long bus ride from Lorong Chuan to North Bridge Road, alighting opposite Capitol Theatre, cross several streets to get to school. My father brought me to school on Day 1 and after that I was on my own. Fortunately, I only had to spend 1 week there because an opening came up in ACS Junior and so back I went to Barker Road.

During the 1 week in Coleman Street, I got to know a round-headed kid by the name of Simon Chu Chun Sing. One year later, we were reunited when both of us got admitted to ACS Secondary. To this day, we remain good friends, although separated by several thousand kilometers; he in windy Scotland and I in sunny Singapore. Besides the round-headed kid, I also got to know a long word, ‘courtesy’. I remember this banner with the words, “Courtesy begets courtesy” prominently displayed in the school. Everytime I drive past this building I think of these words.

Today this building houses the Nation Archives

Coming back to Braddell Rise School - what can one recall about school more than 40 years ago? Apparently quite a bit to my pleasant surprise.

First the staff.

Our principal was a Mr Marriappan. In Primary 3 our teacher was a Mr Tan – he turned out to be a brother of my 11th Aunt. He was quite bald; which was uncommon those days. He told us, he came from a poor family and couldn’t afford shampoo and used to wash his hair with laundry soap or sabun. (I suspect his theory is not correct. Nowadays everyone can afford shampoo, and how come so many baldies?). In Pr 4, we had a Mr Chew. We liked him. He used to bring us, a few of his favorite pupils, for ‘excursions’ to places like Botanical Gardens in his Ford Prefect. He also taught us how to sing Yellow Bird. He once told us a story of Dracula – the girls were so scared, they huddled together, 2 to a chair. Wait a minute – was that Mr Tan??? But Mr Chew was also quite fierce. Many of the boys got slapped. I got slapped once; not on the face though, but the back of the head. My protective brother David witnessed it and it seemed to hurt him more than it did me.

How about the other students?

Most were kampong kids from the neighbouring areas like Kampong San Teng (Bishan), Thomson Road and Potong Pasir. Unfortunately, I can’t remember any of my friends from that era except 3 kids with Christian names. Those days, it was rare for people to have Christian names. One was my good friend Daniel who lived at Bartley Road. The other 2 were girls by the names of Freda Neo and Catherine Yap. Hope they are reading this blog.

Then of course there is sports and games.

We had 4 ‘houses’ named after the roads around us – Braddell, Lornie, Thomson and Caldecott. The sports field was located behind the school at the top of the hill where the present Assisi Home and Hospice stands. Sports Day was quite memorable. We had sack race and ‘fishing ping-pong’. The sports field was also where the boys played our favorite ‘bola hantam’ where we try to hurl the ball at our opponents – certainly not a game for the faint-hearted. I remember there was this left-handed chap from Potong Pasir, His throw was really powerful, and left an ugly red mark on our backs. Sometimes, the ball would land in the neighbours’ bungalow compounds, and some brave soul would have to scale the fence to retrieve it. The bungalows usually belonged to Caucasian expatriates and were located where the present Mary Mount Road is.

Towards the end of my stay in BRS, which was around 1964, I once peered over the fence of our sports field and saw, in the distance, a huge piece of land being cleared by bulldozers for as far as the eye could see. Bear in mind that this was 1964, and it was indeed a rare sight for this kampong boy. I didn't realize it then. I was witnessing history being made. They were building one of Singapore’s earliest HDB estates – Toa Payoh.

Another game we loved to play was kuti-kuti. These were tiny plastic animals which we used to fight each other. Basically you take turns to try to flick your animal on top of your opponent’s. The winner of course gets to keep the opponent’s animal. I am afraid it’s a bit difficult to explain, but if you were from my generation, you know what I am talking about.


Finally the Food

What trip down memory lane is complete without describing the food. One person at BRS we all loved was the friendly drinks vendor called Fong Jie. She was often dressed in white. She allowed us to mix our drinks of different colours; e.g. cherry, orange, sarsi or ice-cream soda and so on to form 1 full glass. The other person we loved was the pineapple drinks man who operated his stall outside our school gate. One glass of pineapple drink cost 5 cents. On days when we were broke, he gave us free drinks: minus the pineapple cubes of course. There was also an Indian sarabak stall outside our school. We like to watch the cook prepare the pratas and toseis. What amazed me was the water. The Indian workers who ate here simply scooped the water from a big rusty 55-gallon oil drum. Amazing isn’t it.

Talking of tuck shop food, ACS takes the cake. There were 3 stalls that we loved; the macaroni, beef noodle and curry rice stalls. The curry rice was a bit too expensive for me, so I can only recall the smell. As for the macaroni, it is served with minced pork – simply the best. To this day I seldom take macaroni. Why? Because I just can’t find anything close to the one at ACS.

The beef noodle came at 2 prices; 20 cents and 30 cents per bowl. For 20 cents you get 3 thin slices of beef, whilst for 30 cents you get more of course. However, even at 20 cents, we were allowed 1 additional helping of the delicious soup. But my friend Chun Sing was quite brave; he went for repeated helpings.

In 1969 I went to National Junior College. We were the pioneering batch. Well, the food there wasn’t exactly memorable (or maybe there were distractions? I don’t know.) Anyway, I only remember the long walks across the football field, up a steep slope to reach the canteen in Dunearn Technical School during the first few months when our own canteen was not ready. I often lunched with my good friend Leong Soon Wah. He often teased me for my love of pineapples. Unfortunately, we never kept in touch after JC. Must try to track him down one of these days.

So there you have it. My memories of the little known Braddell Rise School. Our school’s motto was: BE READY TO SERVE.

Now I have a confession. How do you think I am able to recall details like this from more than 40 years ago?

I still have my report book!

The Dangers of NS

Once in a while, we read of cases of nasty accidents in the SAF, or of young NSmen dying of heart failure during training. Although this is extremely rare, nevertheless we parents still worry like crazy when we send our children to NS. Those of us who are religious pray for their safety from such accidents.

While such cases tend to be dramatic and attract lots of media attention, I feel that the danger from picking up harmful habits is much greater. Today, there was a front page report in the papers about 2 young men who were infected with the deadly HIV when they were doing NS. This reminds me of a case I encountered back in the 1970’s when I was a platoon commander in 30SCE in Mandai. One day, one of my men came to me for permission to go to Middle Road Hospital for treatment, twice a week (or something like that). At that time, Middle Road Hospital (hope I got the name correct) specialized in sexually transmitted diseases.

“You have VD is it?” I asked. “Yes”, he replied somewhat shyly. But to my horror, I detected a hint of pride in his voice. Apparently, my men have been organising tours to Hatyai for their R&R after they completed their BMT. Some of these young, immature kids were proud that they finally achieved manhood, and even have the evidence to prove it.

Another sad statistic to share with my readers. At the beginning of their 6-month course under me, there were only 2 smokers in the whole platoon of nearly 30 men. By the end of the course, there were only 2 non-smokers left, myself being one of them.

We know that the SAF is well-aware of this problem and is taking proactive measures to address it. I hope they succeed. But for today’s NSmen, I believe, the dangers may have increased considerably since my time.

My Memories of Chinatown (Part 1) - Chu Chun Sing

My pal, Chun See asked me to an contribute articles of my childhood days in the Chinatown of Singapore (牛车水). I have actually compiled a series of episodes from recollection of my early formative days as a child in the Chinatown, which many called it - ‘a land where snakes and dragons mixed’ (龙蛇混杂之地). Sadly I had accidentally deleted all these articles in my pc system…really heart-breaking!!!

Yes, I grew up in that sort of place where many exciting yet undesirable habits and incidents came my way and had to this day set my personality and more so caused me to see what’s beyond what this life could bring.

I stayed at No. 6 Sago Street, right next to the famous Sago Lane (沙莪巷 ) where the funeral parlours were housed (also known colloquially as Say Yan Gai [死人街] or ‘Street of the Dead’). That street has always been a taboo to me….never dared to tread in the night not even during the day. Tell you why later….. However when people asked you in those days where you lived I was taught to say, ‘The floor above Zhou Hoong’(周鸿), and not No.6 Sago Street as one would normally do.







Sago Street In the 60's




Zhou Hoong (周鸿) was a Chinese chiropractor (跌打医师) who owned the shop below my place, and supposedly everybody would know him because of his practice in the chiropractic. I used to loiter around his shop and of course nobody took attention of my presence then. I was small-built but with big eyes and you know what? I had double eye-lids. No a bad looking kid but even so…..

Zhou Hoong had a vehicle, a dark green one I remember. He had to wind the torque at the front to start up the car engine every evening when he had to display his mobile store all over the Chinatown or other parts of Singapore then. He had his son to help him; a polio-infected lad walking about with steel structure on one of his legs. We are talking of the 2nd half of the 1950s.

Sago Street Today

The place where I was brought up was not as exciting as many of the present generation would imagine…where the average-income family would put up in a HDB built apartment of 3-4 rooms with ensuite bathroom and a common bathroom. I think, in today’s terms, it can be regarded as ‘ghetto’?

It was just a single room where I had to share with my parents and my 2 younger sisters, and later my 2 brothers came along. There were 10 rooms on that wooden floor, and that meant 10 families all shared the same toilet facilities infested with cockroaches and centipedes. The kitchen was filled with charcoal-burning stoves and some used the kerosene fuel stoves. Hence, every evening during meal time, smoke and soot would fill the air. If during the rainy season (monsoon), tough! Black soot would drop onto your food, condensed from the black ceiling, falling like stalagmites.

It was then that my father decided it was time to move out of Chinatown. The other reason was that he did not want me to engage with the bad influence where the triads and gangsters roamed the streets, either asking for protection money or other devices.

We had no fan in the room and one day my father bought his first electric fan home and got my next room neighbour Ah Kuan (阿坤) to install it. I experienced what it was like to feel hot! Just as the saying goes, ‘When you do not have it, you don’t miss it’. The brand I still remember was KDK, a Japanese make.

Come to think of it, my father who later in life explained to us the reason he had to fetch us (me and 2 sisters) to the Clifford Pier and the Esplanade on some evenings was to get cooled…i.e. chill out! That had always been my highlight because I liked being out to watch the harbour front and the night sky. And when walking past the Fullerton Building it was always filled with twittering sound of sparrows or swallows nesting at the roof crevices. This sound still rings clear in my memory till this day. That area was not as glamorous as we see of it today. It was dimly lit with fluorescent and sodium street lights….Still it was my highlight of the week when being taken out for a walk to the harbour front. I would always pester my father to get us to the kachang puteh man (Indian origin with a tray of assorted nuts above his head). We would pick our choice served in a rolled up conical used paper pack at a cost of just 5 cents and if you wanted cashew nuts that would cost….probably 10 cents, I guess. Not sure because we hardly bought that. May be that is the reason why I like cashew nuts because I missed it as a child.

I had always wondered since I was about 5 -7, where old people came from when I loitered along the side lane below the window of my room. I asked where would these people go to one day ? In my recollection these people never spoke the Cantonese that I knew… they spoke a foreign dialect and they were dressed in black traditional Chinese attire. Looking back they must have spoken their country side dialect known ‘Say Yup Hua’ (四邑话) which is part of the Cantonese county in GuangDong (广东省) province of southern China.

My father could understand them because he spoke to his parents in that dialect while in China. I have never met my grand parents as they passed away while in China when my father had to return to Singapore at his late teens just before the war!

Today my father has moved on in life too and joined those forgotten ones down the memory lane. So what is life I used to ask myself! I remember asking my father that question while he and I were both waiting at the Tan Tock Seng hospital 4 years ago just before he passed away suddenly.

I shall like to continue in the next episode if Chun See would allow me on his blog.

Blogging Is For Kids Only?

Recently, I attended a training workshop on e-Commerce. During the break, I took the opportunity to ask the trainer to teach me how to insert a counter to my weblog. Yes, I know it's child's play for the youngsters, but for a 53-year old newbie to blogging, it is quite a challenge.

Anyway, one of my fellow course participants, a 30-something looking lady, overheard us and remarked, "Hey, I thought blogging is for kids only?"

"I don't think so." I replied; "Anyway, I enjoy it".

Actually, as I far as I know, very few Singaporeans of my age blog. I came a across only a handful, including Frannxis, Victor Koo and Mr Tan Kin Lian of NTUC Income (please see links on right side of this page ). I think more older Singaporeans should blog.

Firstly it is good for our aging brains. Putting your thoughts into words is great exercise for our brains. You also get to learn new things - like how to create a blog, how to insert pictures and links etc. Last year I attended a seminar by Tony Bunzan - he recommended continuous learning and lots of exercise for the brain as an effective way to keep away dementia.

Secondly, you get to meet people with similar interests. I have found a few new friends like Frannxis, Victor and Chris - By the way, thank you Victor for teaching me how to insert link.

Lastly, people like me like to write; plus digging up those old memories is great fun.

PS - I like that snippet they play on the radio which ends with the line, "See - you do learn something new everyday". The other day I learnt the meaning of LOL. I often see it in other people's blogs. I always thought it meant Lots of Love.