How Random

I have the inclination but unfortunately no inspiration to write.

So I show you pictures, lor.

My Favourite Top Model contestant, Elyse Sewell, comes to town!

Nah, it's just the poster of her modelling Giordano's latest collection.

Actually, that's it. One picture. I have new ones (relatively speaking), but my memory card is currently being held hostage, with my colleague.

The Little Things

Being away from home as much as I am, I've come to find my days in Singapore to be very precious. Time to catch up with myself, with friends, with family. Sad to say, "family" seems to end up last on my list invariably. Yes, it's a shame - I take them for granted.

Yet they are undoubtably the unsung heroes in my life.

The other day my mum asked me what time I wanted to take my dinner before stepping out to work. My irritated reply?

"I've to leave at 530. There's no time for dinner," eyebrows furrowed. It all came out so fast, preoccupied as I with packing, but I regretted the throwaway callousness with which I uttered the lines the instant I said them. So hurridly, I added, all this time avoiding eye contact with her, "but if you want you can cook something light."

Five minutes later, I wished I had the courage to tell her I was sorry. Til now I have yet to do so.


And tonight, when I phoned home to ask my sis if she wanted to come watch a movie with me and my friend, she told me of my dad's anxiety, popping in and out of the room we share ever so often to check if I was home yet - thinking I had a flight to catch early tomorrow morning. Turns out he remembered wrong, but that's not the point. The fact that he makes the effort to remember these little details, to pick me up after work - I was so touched.

Here's to all the mums and dads in the world, worrying about their kids long after they've ceased to be kids.

It's funny how the magnitude of a person's presence in your life is illuminated by his absence. Take care, I love ya babe.

The View From My Room Was Great

(NB: I started writing this a damn long time ago, and never continued until now. Part of the entry involved some thinly-veiled remarks at the plight of people taking planes from Heathrow Airport, which have had to be taken down for reasons of relevance. Let's hope I can still remember what I wanted to say)

In London there is what is known, amongst my colleagues, as a hop-on-hop-off bus. For ₤20 (roughly S$60: it used to be ₤10, some say ₤5), you get a ticket which is valid for travel for 24 hours on one of the many open-top buses which peddle the streets, taking you on a pre-determined route to all the places of interests in the city centre. I wouldn't reccommend it highly to anyone though - it takes so bloody long to get from some spots to others - unless what you have in mind is just a quick, condensed tour of the city, a touch-and-go kinda affair. And I went to the Marble Arch (pictured below) no less than three times, because that stop is the start and end point for many of the buses.

The Marble Arch, by the way, is significant for once being a part of the Buckingham Palace. The latter of which, being open to the public only 6 weeks out of every year, I had the honour of visiting. More on that later - but unfort I haven't many pictures to show, because photography is prohibited within the state rooms.

Anyway, as I was saying, it isn't really worth it, spending 60 quid on a bus ride that'll only take you a few places in that 24-hour span (which, considering the service is only operational for 10 hours each day, isn't that fantastic to begin with) when you have the impressively-linked Tube for a fraction of the price. The downside to taking the train, of course, is that it is so well-connected that sometimes, to get to someplace relatively nearby, you have to change trains twice, thrice or even four times. That, plus the fact that it was once a target of bombing may be enough to deter you from choosing it. And it certainly is less scenic than taking a bus.

That doesn't mean, however, that it isn't an interesting experience in and of itself - I always delight in taking the public transport of whatever country that I go, because that just gives me the (illusionary) feeling of being more immersed in that particular place than I otherwise would.

For example, we hear so much about how the much-reputed Tube is so interlinked and so easy to travel by, but before taking it myself, I didn't know that it wasn't air-conditioned - for ventilation you have to pull down a window at the ends of every cabin - such that, when standing at the end of each cabin while the train is moving, your hair gets swept backwards like a vacuum was suddely released. (And this, I find out later, is also the case in Paris.) It is also fairly smaller than our own trains, roughly about three-quarters the size. You also have to walk about a fair bit when changing trains, so if you are one of those who complain about the walk from the North-South line to North-East line at Dhoby Ghaut station, thank your lucky stars.

But back to the Bus (this is how it looks like).

And the places I visited:

Trafalgar Square!

When I found this Earthy trio, Goth chick had just been hurling abuse (ie "Fuck off or they'll bite your heads off!!!!" Don't ask me.) at a bunch of immature teenagers getting a kick outta scaring the pigeons into taking off. But when I asked her for permission to take the photo, she was surprisingly obliging. Her male friend was a little less sure, though, whilst the lady in the middle simply couldn't be bothered with my Asian ass.

Self-portrait, taken with a tripod. I invited quite a few stares on this bum-laden staircase. Behind me, the National Gallery. Admission is free! except for certain exhibits, but I didn't have the privilege to explore it, save for visiting the toilet and souvenir shop (oh, how superficial of me), no thanks to the time limit on my Buckingham tour.

Ah, yes, the Buckingham tour. I was so preoccupied trying to make my way there in time for the tour that I forgot to pack food. So I ended up struggling through the hour-plus, two hour tour, vacillating between wanting to make the most out of my ₤14 and wanting for my dear life to get some digestible matter down the oesophagus lest I fainted of hunger.

View of the palace from the gardens at the end of the tour (and the only place we could take a picture of it).

A specially-constructed toilet for the summer weeks the palace was open to public.

A 600-yard walk yet awaits before the entrance-promised ice-cream stand materialises!

I don't know where I gathered the strength.

Finally, I devour my puny S$6 "fine dairy" ice-cream!

Back on the bus.

Another must-see: Topshop, which I tracked down the next day (this picture was taken as I passed by on the bus).

Things were too expensive, even at the discount bins - but boy, did I have a field day exploring the four-storey building! I must've spent at least one and a half hours there despite buying nothing!

One of them's wearing an Alexander McQueen. Do you know who? 'Cause I haven't a clue!

At this point I realise that the musical I was going to catch was about to start soon, and I was still nowhere near the venue. Panic rises.

So naturally, I take the Tube.

So friendly the folks are.

Also; at this lunch I had with my colleagues at this Chinese place, my fortune cookie opened up to reveal this:

Which prompted them to start trading ghost stories, which in turn freaked me out a 'lil (like you were expecting anything else?).

Okay. G'nite, y'all.