I like well mixed weekends. Saturday morning was spent reading the latest Economist, pulling white hairs out of my father’s head, and downloading MP3s, Saturday afternoon was spent helping my mother, and dinner was with the family.
Satisfied that I’d fulfilled the requisite “time at home/with family” requirement for nag-free living in the household, I then left for drinks at the Liquid Room with old classmates May, incredibly toned Willy (dirty mind, quell thyself) and Stan, and then Zouk, where we spent most of our time in Velvet Underground (soulful house/acid jazz) with periodic excursions to Phuture (breakbeats, my favourite room in Zouk) at my pleading.
Sunday was quietly but pleasantly spent, with chai dao kuey (literal translation: carrot cake, but it’s not carrot cake. It’s complicated. But yummy.) for lunch, ironing and The Sportswriter in the afternoon, mass in the evening, and dinner at Ah Hoi’s Kitchen, which I proclaimed the best dinner I’d had since coming home – there was crispy fried baby squid, honey glazed ginger chicken, chilli kangkung (it’s a vegetable) and lots of durians for dessert. I may have my gripes about Singapore, but damn, it’s a food paradise.