I wonder how long it'd take for this dull ache to go away. When I'm doing things, I can lock away such feelings. But on occasions, when I'm left to my own thoughts, the dullness of ache creeps all over me.

I guess I'm asking for it, subjecting myself to self-flagellation. I have been regularly checking Fadz's Friendster and Facebook account, just to see what's up with him. And I contacted one of his friends. Don't ask me why. Once again, impulse took over and I went with it.

I guess I wanted to see things from his perspective and since we weren't talking, I might as well get the intel from one of his closest friends. She says he's confused. But don't worry, I didn't take it to heart. Because why should I be surprised that he's feeling sad? He's probably blaming himself, just like I have been. But I know that's not a reason to maintain hope. There's no turning back now. To some extent, I'm getting pissed off that he's acting like the injured party. Hello! Perspective here! You pushed me away, and now you're acting like I disappointed you??? Fucker.

But one thing Junni (Fadz's friend) said that struck a chord with me was that it seemed like I needed Fadz more than he needed me. My first reaction was indignation, like, this bitch doesn't even know me, how dare she comment on our relationship? So in that spirit, I fired off a less-than-courteous message to her. But that line has been swirling around in my head and I suppose there's some truth there. I definitely depended on him more than he depended on me. I needed him on so many levels. He was my Asset but I felt like his Liability. And that fed on my insecurities as everyone wants to feel needed, right? He was my top priority and I never did things that I thought would disrespect him, like try to get close to another guy. But he didn't pay me the same respect. Guess it boiled down to me not really mattering that much to him. Or I was so good at bolstering his ego that he took me for granted.

So I bet you're asking "then why the hell do I still want to be with this bastard who's making me miserable?" I dunno. Maybe I'm making him out to be worse than he is. Maybe it's because I've become so dependent on him I've lost my spine and will to stand on my own 2 feet. Maybe I'm really this horrible monster and no one would love me to the degree that would make me happy.

But that doesn't stop me from jumping everytime I hear my phone ring. Or looking out for signs that point towards Fadz needing me too. I think he's blocked me on msn. I know I said we couldn't be friends, but that's such a pity. I really do enjoy talking to him.

Time. Time moves on. I need to move on. I just dunno how.

The Hairy Transformation

Nothing like a breakup to make you evaluate your life. Or do a drastic change. I decided it was time to feel happy. 4 days of tears and self-doubt is enough. So I did something positive.

I cut my hair. Nothing like some pampering to make me feel better. And while it's different, and I'm trying to find my best angle, I think I look younger and chicer. I'm healing. I just need to keep myself busy. No more brooding. :)


19th September...

21st September...

And then the transformation takes place...

Look so auntie, right?

Darling Ah Huang who was there with me through my experience...


And the cutting starts! I look apprehensive cos I've had long hair for a really long time and she was making the first cut.


Snip snip snip...


Wow! That's a lot of hair! It's like a scene out of The Ring!


Taking shape...


Smile! The final product!


Ok, time to strike a few more poses...

It's amazing how much a person can change just by snipping away a few follicles. I feel light. That's a good sign. Now I just need to work on the eye bags bit.

旧的不去,新的不来, right?

It was so difficult being strong. And so I wrote a letter to him, pouring my heart out to him. I put my last ounce of hope and optimism for US in that letter. I wrote it yesterday early morning and was still writing when I had to leave for school to take a Corp. Reporting test. So I zipped down to his place in a cab to pass him the letter. Just looking at him, so peaceful in sleep, squeezed my heart tremendously. And I left before he was fully conscious of what was happening.

No bets on how I did on the test.

And for the rest of the day, I kept waiting for some contact from him. Just to give me an answer, provide me with some peace of mind if it was really hopeless. As the minutes of silence ticked by, a part of me kept dying and yet, I couldn't stop my stupid heart from hoping. Hoping that he'd be touched and affected by what I said, I kept pointlessly and senselessly hoping that something sparked in his heart. And so I kept waiting.

He finally called me around 10pm. My heart skipped a beat and I didn't know what to expect. I told myself to be reasonable and not have grand expectations, but my stupid, stupid heart wouldn't shut up.

It seems like my letter did make him think, but it wasn't enough in the end. I kept reaching out to his heart and head, but when he finally did examine what he was feeling as opposed to what he was thinking, he realized that he had turned cold towards me. He still cared about me as a friend, but he couldn't, didn't want to deal with me and my issues as a girlfriend anymore. He had turned cold. Heart as hard and cold as ice. There was nothing left. And he didn't want to open his heart up to disappointment again.

Oh yeah, and there's a girl. Wendy. Even her name sickens me. When we stopped communicating, he sought solace and comfort from her. And somehow, along the line, he developed something more for her. While it's nothing full blown yet, it made him re-evaluate what he wanted.

Yup, that's what he said. He said he doesn't know what he wants. He doesn't know the person he is becoming and he is still in the process of developing and understanding himself better. Hence, he doesn't know whether I'm the one for him. I once was, but now, now that we're both changing, he doesn't know anymore.

Well, it seems pretty clear that he doesn't want me. HE DOESN'T WANT ME FOR THE PERSON I AM. It just hurts so much. Knowing that I wasn't enough, knowing that he wants to be with someone else. It hurts so badly. I feel like I should be angry at him, and scream and yell at him for the betrayal, and yet, I can't. I just can't. Not yet anyway. I need to kill off my heart first. Pull the plug and let my feelings die off. How can I blame him completely when I wasn't putting in enough effort either? I do blame him to some extent, but not enough to put this whole issue on his shoulders.

Time. They always say I need time to heal. But in the mean while, life goes on. Life goes on with so much mundaneness and is so ordinary it's almost like a cruel joke. I thought time would stand still, that I couldn't even move. But life goes on right? Life moves ahead and I can't do anything but be swept along. Even as my heart shatters into millions of pieces, even as I feel that I can't breathe, I can't think, I can't bare to feel... life goes on. Papers must still be written, classes must still be attended, jobs to be comtemplated. Life goes on.

Right now, perhaps that's the best I can hope for.

Goodbye

We broke up.

I guess it was a long time coming. I suppose in some sense I was still trying to believe that it wasn't the end. You don't spend 5 years with a person and think it's over just like that, you know?

I hated being so clingy. Things pretty much disintegrated on Sunday, but I couldn't believe it. I just couldn't. And I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't at least try. So I held on. I asked him to reconsider. We talked and talked and talked and made ourselves believe that it could work out, just this one more time.

But we were merely bluffing ourselves. Or maybe, it was just me. He was so final. He was so calm and composed, so clinical in the manner he finished things. I wouldn't say I was dumped because at some level, I agreed with him. Things simply weren't working out. We are who we are, and we kept making excuses and compromises. In the end, things don't change. People don't change. And we weren't happy. I was merely flogging a dead horse.

And so we're done. It's surprisingly easy how fast you can wipe away traces of a relationship. Change a couple of details on Friendster and Facebook, delete away the messages and pictures, change passwords. Electronically, everything was so easy to wipe out. 5 years, and it came down to that. He too. He changed everything almost immediately. Like it was so simple to erase me away.

I was so pathetic. I kept pushing and squeezing, trying to find even just ONE spark of hope left. Just one bit. But there was none. He stopped loving me. He thought he could try to love me again, but he was just lying to himself. He said I expected too much of him. In my defence, he kept up a false bravado even in front of me. He said it was to please me. But that meant I never really understood him. Or maybe I was trying to mold my toad into my Prince Charming.

The fairy tale has ended. To think we used to plan our future together. I guess our teenage relationship couldn't survive adulthood, not without communication. We didn't communicate, simple as that. And when you start not seeing someone for a projected period of time, when you don't talk or interact for days on end, and when you do meet, it is kinda meaningless, I suppose it's inevitable that we ended up like that.

I should have seen it coming. So this is it. And yeah, we've broken up in the past before, but not because we had stopped loving each other, so we somehow always got back together. But this time, this time it's final. There's no more turning around. There's no more miracle, or light at the end of this incredibly dark tunnel. It's finished.

He's relieved, dammit. He's relieved that he can finally be who he really is. Ordinary. He said I kept pushing for him to be something he was not. Yeah, I expected him to be special, because I believed he could. My expectations were TOO MUCH.

Perhaps I was merely pretending that I could mold him to my liking. But I guess that's not how you treat a person right? And in the last few conversations, I realized that I was never truly satisfied with him. That we were both selfish. That I never compromised. So many regrets. But all a little too late. The revelations revealed themselves only at the end, when the smoke and mirrors had dissipated.

Nothing. Nothing left at all.

I lost my boyfriend and my best friend. But I don't think we can be friends, not soon anyway. Maybe it's time I enjoyed singlehood again, huh? 5 years. 5 years of my life. And a fresh beginning.

To anyone reading this, I'm still kinda raw. So if I don't smile as quickly as I used to, or joke as I used to, I hope you understand. It hurts.

Goodbye Fadzli. Thanks for everything. I didn't think it would end like this.

Better That We Break - Maroon 5

I never knew perfection til

I heard you speak, and now it kills me

Just to hear you say the simple things

Now waking up is hard to do

And sleeping is impossible too

Everything is reminding me of you

What can I do?

It’s not right, not OK

Say the words that you say

Maybe we’re better off this way?

I’m not fine, I’m in pain

It’s harder everyday

Maybe we’re better off this way?

It’s better that we break…

A fool to let you slip away

I chase you just to hear you say

You’re scared and that you think that I’m insane

The city look so nice from here

Pity I can’t see it clearly

While you’re standing there, it disappears

It disappears

It’s not right, not OK

Say the word it should say

Maybe we’re better off this way?

I’m not fine, I’m in pain

It’s harder everyday

Maybe we’re better off this way?

It’s better that we break

So you sitting all alone

You’re fragile and you’re cold, but that’s all right

Life these days is getting rough

They’ve knocked you down and beat you up

But it’s just a rollercoaster anyway, yeah

It’s not right, not OK

Say the words that you say

Maybe we’re better off this way?

I’m not fine, I’m in pain

It’s harder everyday

Maybe we’re better off this way?

I’m not fine, not OK

Say the words that you say

Maybe we’re better off this way?

I’m not fine, I’m in pain

It’s harder everyday

Maybe we’re better off this way?

It’s better that we break, baby

We sometimes choose to find solutions for the outward manifestation of a problem, rather than deal with the root of the problem. We prefer to ignore the ugly truth and hammer away at the surface, attempting to heal wounds that run too deep.

But in the end, in the end, the root always bubbles forth. In the end, the problem never goes away.

Ah humans! How blind we can be. Choosing to ignore what is right in front of us, afraid to face up to facts. Afraid of what the alternatives are, clinging on to memories that should have long faded into the past.

Maybe it's time I woke up and stopped trying to fool myself. Maybe it's time I stopped trying to fool the world and in return, cacoon myself in a blissful haze of ignorance.

Don't worry, it has nothing to do with Greg. He was merely a side distraction, an attempt at diverting my attention away from my problems. If nothing else, at least he gave me a reason to deal with the issues at hand.

Volleyball Lust

And so the love affair continues, even after my attempt at severing all ties. Despite having quit competitive volleyball, I find myself inexplicably drawn back to the court. The familiar stirrings of excitement, adrenaline pumping through my body, the suppressed passion for the game... it all came bubbling out like a burst fount as I watched on enviously as my (ex) team battled other schools in the Singapore Uni Games.

I wanted so badly to hop onto the court, so badly that after the matches ended, I stayed back to fool around with the ball. In a skirt. And high heels. Yes, it was a ludicrous image I created. And today saw me again playing volleyball in a short, tight denim skirt. Sigh, you can take the girl outta volleyball, but you can't take volleyball outta the girl.

There's just no way to describe how much volleyball means to me. Not just the game, but everything else it connotes. It's my history and represents some of the people I'm fondest of. It's where I learnt many lessons, expended my energy, ran loose and free. It represented freedom. And yet, I consciously chose not to play in my final sem. I chose not to play despite knowing that I'd probably never play indoor volleyball ever again, not to mention competitive volleyball. Was it the right move? I'm still questioning myself.

The volleyball team has also always been my extended family. We are close, we understand each other and even if we have not seen one another for a long time, it is with great ease that we fall back into rhythm and act as if time was but a mere nuisance and had no effect on friendships and ties. That is the power of a team.

Volleyball has also for the longest time charted my love (or lust?) life. The people that I have hankered after tend to be connected to volleyball in one way or the other. If you are not interested in reading about my pathetic love (lust?) life, you can stop here. From now on, it shall be a nauseating reminiscence of my ex-targets.

I joined volleyball way back in Sec 1. Coming from an ang moh school (I'm an RGPS alum ok!), and having previously been in wussy CCAs (Chinese dance, anyone?), joining a sport came as a surprise to everyone who knew me (my mum despaired as my fair complexion soon gave way to something that resembled a banglah). But it was exhilarating. Volleyball in Singapore is conducted in Chinese and yelling things out lustily in Chinese was a fun experience for me. Especially in English-accented Chinese. Anyway, the point I'm trying to make is that I grew to appreciate guys who were slightly ah beng, who spoke Chinese and who thought they were oh so cool. So I cast my amorous eyes towards the guys volleyball team and my gaze landed firmly on Hanxiong, this Sec 3 Normal Academic ah beng. He thought he was a demi-god. Moreover, his beng-ness added to his charm and when he played volleyball, it was amazing. He achieved incredible height when he jumped, he looked all sinewy and his muscles were taut and.... never mind. The crush lasted all of one week and ended abruptly when I heard him speak for the first time (previous meetings were conducted from afar). Hanxiong had a squeaky voice and that killed any passion I had for him.

It's interesting (to me) as I reflect on my taste in men, because I was in volleyball and choir in Sec 1 and there was this Sec 4 guy in choir who had an interest in me. We parlayed a little but there was this other girl who was into him. In the end, I basically yelled "Take him!" because when I lined him up against Hanxiong, there was no competition, you know? Angelic choir boy over the volleyball bad boy? No competition. Yes, even if the admiration was from a distance.

In Sec 2, I went crazy over a Sec 5 senior who again, was a volleyballer and a beng. He was from NA stream again, spoke Chinese and played volleyball well. I was in awe of his serve (told you I was a volleyball-geek). His serve was quick and powerful and he was such a delight to watch on court. As a setter, he was quick, nimble and had a roguish charm about him. I died a little everytime i watched him serve. How pathetic right? I even tried imitating his pattern, to great disaster. I got to know Zee Kiong a little better through his classmate (who happened to be my godbrother). We became friends eventually and that was that.

Fast forward to Sec 3 and the lust for volleyballers continued. The senior team was the same age as me and we were all great friends. I am ashamed to recount that due to the lack of (good) meat in the senior team, I found myself powerfully attracted to a younger guy. He redefined beng for me. A year younger than me, he was more muscular than my previous prototypes, incredibly tanned, he didn't walk, he swaggered, and he was captain of the junior team. I flirted like crazy with him. Sigh. Such bad taste. But watching him play volleyball was like having an orgasm. He was that good. Sigh. Sad to say, that stupid flirtation came to a miserable ending when he started dating my volleyball junior. I was miserable for a long period of time. And when they broke up 2 months later, I secretly rejoiced but couldn't be bothered with him anymore as I had a new distraction (in the yucky, yucky form of Bill. Pui! Let's just say he is a bitter, bitter memory. Non-volleyballer, from the school band. Big mistake on my part. Why did I like him? Cos he spoke English and SEEMED intelligent. I like extremes).

When I entered AJC, I stopped playing volleyball cos I thought I should concentrate on my studies. But one day during a PE lesson, I was playing vball casually with a friend and the PE teacher, who also happened to be AJ girls vball team coach, approached me. He wanted me to join the girls team. At that point, I was missing vball acutely and I banished the thoughts of being a nerd and went for 1 training. I ended up quitting that same day. The girls were quite horrible to me, isolating me in one corner, nobody bothering to interact with me. They were acting as if they were barely tolerating my presence. Vball to me represented family and such horrid treatment killed any desire I had.

And I think that affected my outlook on men. Being away from volleyball meant that I reverted back to liking men who spoke English, men who were intelligent and articulate, men who were well-read rather than sports players. And that played a key role in my hooking up with Fadz. He personifies that kind of person. Who knows... if I had stuck with volleyball, I might not be with Fadz today. I would basically still be living with a double identity, enjoying my secret lust after ah bengs, chasing the eternal bad boys. Scary to think that one decision could have affected who I ended up with today.

So what brought on this lengthy post? This walk down memory lane of lust objects buried in my past and whom I thought were long forgotten? I believe I have a new lust object, and I'm starting to lose perspective on things. It started out harmless enough, but I'm beginning to act irrationally. This hasn't happened to me since year 1 when I was confused over A. Yes, no names here cos he's from SMU. But now that I'm missing volleyball so much, it seems like I'm trying to hold on to my ties in any possible way. So when this tall, dark, above-average looking volleyballer (he's not very good though, quite bad in fact.. god I'm pathetic) walked into my life, I find my old amorous eye turning his way.

I just can't explain it. I'm such a different animal on court; my inner ah-lian surfaces and I'm loud, speak Chinese, yelling and screaming my lungs out. On some level, I believe only a fellow volleyballer would understand how I feel, hence the attraction. Fadz can't understand why I'd get so excited over a volleyball game, he can't understand the thrill of a good receive, a good spike, scoring against an opponent, screaming to intimidate an opponent. But a fellow player gets that. And that part of me will cast my eye away from Fadz because he simply doesn't understand how I feel.

Well, this madness has to end. I'm never going to act on my impulses but I can't always be in control of my reactions. Besides, he's a good friend and I don't want this to end badly. So how? Any advice? I'm just hoping that this flame would run its course and die out soon enough. Lust, not love, is a horrendous animal that needs to be caged up. Don't get me wrong, I do lust after Fadz as well. But one is for the mind, the other is for the sport. Split personality, that I am.

London, Glorious London

Thought I should attempt to post up some photos of London. Sigh, sifting through them brings back such an acute longing that it's almost painful. I miss London tremendously. The sights, sounds, people, vibrancy... it's a city you fall in love with. There seems to be a vibe that runs through the city and everyone is intricately connected. Be in on the train, walking through the meadows or browsing through things at Harrods, you feel like the city has embraced you, rather than simply being a tourist. Ah well, good memories, good memories.

Family holidays are great cos it's basically a free vacation, you are with people whom you love and love you, and you understand what each other wants. But at the same time, it can totally drive you crazy cos when you're with your parents, you can't do certain things or they'd do things to drive you out of your mind. Like when I was discussing with Cheryl whether we should go clubbing, my mum chimed in and said she wanted to go to. When Cheryl and I gave her horrified looks and asked her why, considering she hates places that are dark and noisy, she said she wanted to take a look and go back to the hotel. Needless to say, we never went clubbing.

Anyway, it was supposedly summer in London, but the average temperature was 16 degrees. Cheryl and I, being very trusting fools, believed my mother when she said it'd be hot. So we brought summer things. The spaghetti strap tops, the short skirts, flimsy articles of clothing. Hence, we look the same in all the photos cos we never could bring ourselves to remove our jackets. A tragedy to be in fashionable London and look like a smuck the whole time.

Our beautiful hotel, the K+K Hotel George! Lovely, love place. No complains at all. London hotels are all exorbitantly priced and usually very tiny, but the 3 Chan sisters fit into the room quite comfortably, so that's saying a lot. Breakfast is good too! Champagne at 9am, absolutely devine!

We arrived early in the morning and as the rooms weren't prepared yet, we ventured out to Hyde Park, which is this huge park in the middle of London and it's gorgeous.

My dad's nice. He feeds animals.

Geri teaching a squirrel to beg for food. Cheryl was in the background chanting "eat her! eat her!" Don't you love sisters?

Despite the shining sun, it was bitterly cold, and more so at the River Serpentine. Yes, we are both cowering in the wind. Yes, I'm taller than Cheryl, who's 5 years older than me. Yes, I'm the youngest. And no, she wasn't adopted. Next question!

We went for breakfast at this darling sidewalk cafe and my crazy mum wanted to enjoy the brisk cold wind, hence al fresco dining. When C and I visibly turned pale, the kind waiter offered to switch on the outdoor heater. Bless his heart. As a side note, the waiters in London are absolutely, fabulously gorgeous! They are all foreigners, some students, some I suspect hoping to make it on broadway. But nonetheless, I was drooling at almost every restaurant, and not just from the food.

We had a traditional English breakfast (eggs benefict, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, toast, baked beans) and this was also the place where I promptly left my camera behind when we left for a musuem. -_-''' Only discovered it when we were at the musuem and I practically ran back to the restaurant, which by the way, was at a different tube stop. My parents were not pleased in the I-could-disown-you-for-being-careless kinda way. Luckily the waiter was honest and I almost kissed him in my gratitude. Almost.

We covered a lot of sights in our 6 days there. Posting all of them up here would be nuts, not to mention damn tiring. And it's getting kinda tiring describing all of them. So just enjoy the pics and the minimal words. :)

Harrods! Super expensive and only crazy tourists with tons of money shop here. 15,000 pounds for a chair????

A bust in the image of the owner who happens to be Princess Diana's last boyfriend's dad. He reckons himself to be a pharoah.

We celebrated the parents' wedding anniversary at Jamie Oliver's restaurant, 15. The food is so good I wanted to wept. Incidentally, the restaurant is in this real grotty place. Jamie set up this place as he wanted to give delinquents and people down on their luck a second chance. Hence, he trains these people to become chefs. So noble right?

Happy anniversary folks!

The gleeful freeloaders. Hiak Hiak.

Cheryl terms this as "disgusting close".

A more friendly reception from Geri.

Covent Garden Square. Frankly, I dunno what the hype is about. You can definitely give this place a miss.

We went to see the changing of the guards ceremony down at ol' Buckingham Palace. You have to go early to get the best "seats". But the hordes of people were nuts. It's a nightmare and not for the fainthearted. My mum's one comment, "Why is the palace so dirty?" Sigh, hundreds of years of history and it's summed up by this one statement.

More random shots. This is a zoomed in view of the palace gates. Couldn't get up close.

We then decided to leave the city life behind for a while and venture into the countryside to see this traditional mansion that was donated to the government by an earl. Think he was being generous? Not really. He received a tax break. Nonetheless, the place is gorgeous.

How quaint can this village get?

Every opportunity to cam whore.

Geri in the wilderness.

The mansion, Kenwood House, thoughtfully provides a cafe, or orangery, for tired tourist to consume deliciously prepared country food (think quiche and hearty soups) amidst bright flowers and swaying trees.

Aw, I think me Mum and Pa are so sweet.

Hey, my dad told me to pose, so I did. And I took off my jacket, in case you didn't notice. Yes, it was bloody cold. But I wanted some pics that didn't involve my Juicy jacket. Humpf.

We spent a long, long time taking photos. See how beautiful the place is!

My dad and I were running up and down the hill like idiots cos we were using auto-timer. The ang moh people must have laughed themselves sick at the sight of China people running like suakus up and down.

Some kind folks finally approached us gingerly and offered to help us take a pic. Unfortunately, they failed to capture the house. -_-'''

I love the lake. Note to self: future house must include lake and swans.

One more for the road!

Tower of London where the Crown Jewels are kept. I nearly hyperventilated when I saw all those jewels. I think Cheryl and I were in keeping with the tone seeing how this palace has witnessed murders and intrigued...

Yeah, yeah, I'm a poser.

This guy is called a beefeater. Nothing to do with beef. They're the caretakers of the palace and act as tour guides.

Posing next to a tame raven. Legend has it that if the ravens ever left the Tower of London, London would collapse. Creepy.

Onward to the Tower Bridge. No, this is not the London Bridge of nursery rhymes. But it's magnificent, complete with castle towers and flags. Makes a person feel so small.

Look, it's Orlando Bloom! Haha, or just a really realistic, life-like display of him at Hamley's, a huge toy shop in London. I wanted to rip his clothes off.

At the Royal Kew Gardens, which is like the botanical gardens in Singapore, just a thousand times nicer.

Smile!

My mum forbade me to post this online, but I can't resist. I think it's beyond adorable! And incontrovertible proof that my mum is a chee ko pek. See, I get my butt-appreciation genes from her. I just think it's damn sweet lah.

Portobello market! A definitely must-go! The knick-knacks, fabulous treasures that you suddenly unearth.

Yup, a real mummy at the British Museum. The British were known for their pillaging ways back in the colonial days. They removed thousands of priceless artifacts from the lands they visited or conquered and brought it back to England. Now, despite petitions from governments around the world to return these artifacts, the British are saying no.

The British Museum was our last stop in London. And then it was home to Singapore. Sob. I want to go back there. Stat.

I suppose what made London so great was the existential life we led. We would walk around museums, visit all the fabulous sights, eat magnificant food, and watched a play. Oh, and the wine. We had wine/beer for every meal. Kinda adds a buzz to your day, don't you think? To have nary a care in the world except the next museum to visit, the next cafe to discover. To quench thirst with perfectly chilled wine or a hearty pint of local beer. It didn't feel like life. It felt like paradise.

Wow! Long post. LOL. Hope you might have found the pics nice to look at. :P

Ratatouille

Ratatouille - a traditional French Provencal stewed vegetable dish.

Also the title of an absolute delight of a movie playing in theatres right now. The humour is sly and witty; it's like animation for grown-ups who simply enjoy the wonders of cartoons (hey, how else could you have realistically filmed an army of rats cooking up a storm?).

Watched it with the Fadz man. The unfortunate thing about watching cartoons is the annoying presence of children. Good Lord, shut them up already. We honested don't need a kid who is constantly going "Why he do that? Why she slap him? Why this? Why that?"

And when there was a kissing scene, the monologue paused for a brief, blissful second, before the kid went "Eeeeeeeeeee". I giggled hysterically.

I know I know... London photos.... Soon soon... :P