sunday before PSLE

Today I woke up, and, apart from the fact that my leg hurt like a war wound (because I have this infected cut thing which cannot even stand the pressure of my blanket), it was a normal day

I had bread talk chocolate buns for breakfast, and I unrolled each one before I ate it. So I was eating long strips of dough and chocolate paste. For some reason that enhances the flavour

It’s such comfort food and it was nice to have breakfast there for me.

On weekdays I usually stumble blearily from my bed and fix up some soggy cereal (last Wednesday I tried to cheer up the gloomy concoction of flaccid weetabix with some chocolate chips but it didn’t revive it in the slightest) and eat it in the oppressive silence of a 5.55am morning. It can get lonely sometimes, when all you have is a newspaper for company, and the comics take just 3 minutes to read, and sometimes they aren’t funny. The silence can be peaceful sometimes, especially if there is just a whisper of a susurrus floating round the house. Then I think deep silent thoughts in the hazy state of mind, and reflect on my often incredibly lucid dreams. But most of the time it’s just me, the newspaper, and my yellow polka dotted cup of water, the breakfast bowl and sometimes an inquisitive lizard or two.

Anyway, thank you mum, for making Sunday breakfasts a more cheerful event.

We went to church then, me wearing Shawna’s top that I had just procured last night from the quiet clothes swap we had. And my red flowery skirt which Mum made for a Chinese New Year way back when. I felt feminine and pretty, despite the fact I wore purple sneakers which didn’t exactly match.

In church, worship was very. Very. Words often escape me.

Ah, I know,

Robust

Worship was very robust.

And so was the sermon by doctor Ramesh Richards. Though for some reason at parts of his sermon I was confronted with pricks of grief and sorrow. I think it was because I felt so sad that life is so lonely, and I often wonder if I’m there for people enough. I feel sometimes useless. When others have a family crisis or a relational one all I can do sometimes is often words that seem hollow.

Anyway (this evening I’m in a particularly reflective mood.)

After church we had a clothes swap with the rest and I was pleased that some of my things were actually wanted. I took things as well, though 2 things couldn’t fit me. Fingering through all those clothes was really soothing. The nuances of the different materials somehow were a reminder of the days when I would sit in the dressing up box and wallow in the luxury of having so many different materials round me; scratchy netting, soft silk, and rough but comforting cotton and many others that I don’t know. If you are also a luxurious material connoisseur, even if only in the love for the beautiful names they have, ready Beatrix potter’s the tailor of Gloucester, which has such an array of lovely material names like: paduasoy and taffeta, satin and pompadour and lute string…go see it here ->(http://archive.org/stream/tailorofgloucest00pottuoft#page/n7/mode/2up)

Anyway, lunch was at alexander village, which is such an invigorating place but I shan’t say more because it’s more of a go-to place then a describe place.

Back home and after a brief recession into chemistry, I went down stairs to play.

Football with the boys and Victoria

Balloons and basketball with 2 little malay girls who were supposed to be having a photoshoot with their parents

Truth or dare on the trampoline

Dinner was cheesy pasta, replete with laughs.

That was a very very strange sentence but it means what it means

And what it means is that it was a hearty dinner filled with conversation, nice smells, nice sounds, strange sounds, strange sights (especially during grace time. You can see the funniest things if you take a peek at the other people who assume they are unwatched), and outbursts of songs.