I've always liked Auld Lang Syne, even if I usually hear it belted out with too much gusto by drunk and tone-deaf people in the wee minutes into the New Year.
This is the beautiful old folk song given the right treatment:)
... for auld lang syne, my friends...
I love our quiet evenings at home, just the two of us. Sharing a simple dinner in our kitchen, just the two of us.Prawn udon with a generous side of vongole on a rainy night.
And just talk to each other, about our life together, the shared history and the days to come.
About the lousy people we know, the good friends we have, the annoying relatives we inherit.
Knowing that after all we have been through in our lives, we can see ourselves through whatever all the tomrrows might bring.
I made known to her that I took offense to her thoughtless remark about my picture; I still think I look particularly good in it which is no small feat these days.
True to form, she ignored my peeve. Also true to form, she sends me a Christmas greeting card on which she scribbled these inane words:
How are you? We will be in (home town) for Christmas and New Year. What are your travel plans for 2011? Please write. Love to (me) and (the man).
Say I hold a grudge. Say I am being petty. Say this is the season of goodwill to all mankind.
I don't care.
I tore up the card and dumped every piece and bit of it in the bin.
After doing all the Christmas food, there is something comforting about sitting down to a lunch of dim sum with friends.
Feeling their excitement as they flesh out plans of their new project in a new place. It is a hare-brained idea, and an oft-traveled road to frustration and heartbreaks. But it is futile to point out the flaws.
And so, keeping my own council, I let them happily paint their perfect picture for me.
I want to remember happy optimistic moments with friends in these last days of the year.
This has been a really beautiful holiday season for me.
So many things went right for so many special people. I was there when it happened - the initial look of disbelief, the gasp of delight dispelling the disbelief, the beginning of tearing in the eyes, then the happiness and wonderment carried in the laughter and crying, the little gift in hand.
I want many more people to have this experience - the joy in the giving and the receiving of a small something that means so much.
It is what this season is all about.
Have a good one, everyone of you.
So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young
Many people describe this integrated resort in many ways - glamorous, stunning, very h-u-g-e, very luxe, very class. A few mention the confusing long walks to get anywhere within the premises.
I have little to add to the noise. The crew and I were on a recce mission to find places to bring our visitors. This place got struck off the list. The place is too macam boh sistem for me.
I was immediately pissed off that there was no signage to say parking in Towers 1 & 2 are strictly valet park only. Self park is (snort) w-a-y across the other side of the street in Tower 3. I was in no mood to find Tower 3 and was told to leave key in car. Key in car was not moved till I-don't-know-when.
The view in Skypark is spectacular, to say the least.
The 150 metre 3 lane eternity pool is ridiculous. It just looks like a very long longkang.
Differently uniformed people jumping in front of me to stop me from entering sections blocked for private parties, grand openings, special events, whatever, is damned annoying, alright? There are many bars, clubs and restaurants at the Skypark, but not a single outdoor seated bar. We decided there is no need to bring the visitors here.
Getting out of the place is another mess. The taxi stand and valet counter are situated close to each other at the grand front entrance. There is a perpetual long queue at the taxi stand, and no designated spot to wait for private car return. I hated having to run after my car as the valet drove past me to the furthest end of the driveway.
I remembered I could not wait to get away from the place. I know I am not returning to the place of my own volition.
They are special friends. This is a special visit for them. The friends here want them to remember their first visit to Asia as truly special.
After a week of furious recce of highly reviewed restaurants helmed by Michelin-starred chefs with inflated egos, we settled for the only restaurant worthy of the label "fine dining experience".
A tastefully appointed private dining room at Peach Garden. On the 33rd floor of the bank building where we get a breathtaking view of city lights along the river.
An extremely capable banquet manager worked with us on a customised menu that highlighted the finest of Chinese cuisine. Each dish is given a light touch of exotic Asian garnish that tempted the palate to want to know more of our exotic flavours. Every course individually plated so beautifully that it is a feast for the eyes before it becomes food. Attentive servers who took care of our table efficiently with not so much as a whisper of intrusion on our total enjoyment of this magical place and occasion.
The carefully considered selection of fine wines is a perfect complement to the fine dining.
I dare say this will be an evening that we will remember fondly for a long, long time.
What should someone with spare money lying around do to ensure the money value isn't eroded by inflation over time?
Some suggest buying investment properties. But really, when the market plunges, real estate will not move.
Others suggest stocks and shares, foreign currencies and the like. These are more liquid and can be disposed of in small chunks, but share the same fate as real estate in a financial downturn - you dispose of these assets in small lots at a loss.
There is no such thing as investment diamonds and wines for the simple reason that there isn't an open market to trade in them.
I think the people who buy gold have it right. In times of plenty, the gold they own is jewelry. In times of lean, the gold jewelry is sold for its gold content, which unlike diamonds, have a fixed market price at any given time.
I don't wear much fine jewelry. And there is no point buying jewelry to hoard.
I think it is cool to buy gold bars and use them around the home. The smaller pieces make great paperweights; the chunkier ones are excellent door stops. Heh.
Call me old fashioned, but I like food that looks and tastes like it should. I don't appreciate marriage of respectable cuisines that produce an unrecognisable and indescribable hybrid.
The much talked-about signature dish of foie gras xiao long bao with truffle consomme hiding under a puff of celeraic foam is an insult to sensibilities. Foam belongs on coffee and beer.
The platter filled with unrelated nibble sized sweet somethings described as a "Symphony of Dessert" has several strings missing in the orchestra.
Fancy labels like "Asian cuisine with French influence" does not make the food more palatable.
Enough already with the overpriced lousy dinners and cheap drinks brought to your table by a nervous serving crew whose delivery made me think they flunked out of hospitality training.
It was time I took the eating crew back to basics.
Everyone had a delightful time tucking into a 10-course meal of real Chinese food prepared by real cooks who give a damn to what they are doing. 
Let the culinary snobs eat foam recommended by the media whores.
There was only a Cheena man in the "priority" line and five bank customers in the general line.
I got behind Cheena. After 15 minutes in the queue, it looked like he was nowhere near finished with his multi transactions and many questions. The teller tending to his long task list was starting to look and sound frazzled.
Then Cheena got on his mobile to speak to (I presume) Mrs Cheena. Then the teller had to explain everything again to voice on the phone.
Cheena turned to me to tell me, in Cheena-ese, that he would be a long while yet, and I should cut into the other line, which now had 10 people in it.
Oh, the nerve of the Cheena!
I said we don't do that in this country; he said he was well-intentioned to let me know he would take a long time; I said if he had any consideration he'd let me get in front of him for my easy 2 minute transaction; he turned away from me to carry on with his 100 Q&A with the teller.
I got behind the 10 people, waited my turn, and when I was done, he still wasn't near finished.
As I walked away from the line, I couldn't stop myself from telling him that I really resented his Cheena types who think nothing of bringing their uncivil practices along with them everywhere.
And we keep importing them by the planeload. Sigh.
(I am aware the bank should have stepped in to mollify the situation, but I was not in the mood to tackle the SOP of the bank.)
She is a very dear friend.
She and I have a long shared history through the years - first jobs, string of lousy boyfriends, early married life, living abroad, raising husband and children, coming back to Singapore.
Back then, she was a vivacious, fun, funny woman who was delightful to be around and to have around.
These days, she is a slave to husband, two teenage boys, siblings, their spouses and children.
She asked what I'd be doing New Year's Eve. I said I might be invited out, and asked about her plans. She said she's fishing for an invite from me. The sons have parties to go to; she and husband will be on chauffeur duty.
Sigh. She is looking for a place to park herself in between driving the sons all over town all night.
I told her I will be invited out.
She is a very dear friend, and many things I will gladly do for her. But I cannot let her trash my dinner party with my family and friends on New Year's Eve.
I love hearing about love affairs.
So I listened with rapt attentiveness and watched the warm glow cast across her face as she re-lived the high, the rush, the exquisite anticipation of their trysts.
Then, as can be expected of affairs, the lovers were caught out and the illicit relationship came to an abrupt and devastating end.
Her husband demanded a divorce. She was left with no financial support even for their two young children. Her lover returned to his wife hoping to repair their marriage
She managed to get her professional life back on track, and essentially raised the two children by herself. Along the way, she found love again.
And right when the new love proposed marriage, the old lover ended his marriage and came back looking to resume their once-ardent and desperate relationship.
She now has to choose between two very desirable men - the old flame who once filled the void of empty days and loveless nights and the new love who was there in the years when she struggled to put her life back together again.
I didn't know either men; I wouldn't know who I'd marry if I were her.
But choose she did, and I met the husband for the first time last week. I adore him, and I have never seen her happier.
Isn't this a cool love affair story????
Who did she marry? Make your guess before looking up the answer here.
was the month
- I reached my limit of tolerance with inconsiderate and abusive people I've known for a very long time.
- I was still hoping there could be some saving grace. I waited for an apology of sorts from them. None came.
- And so, with some reluctance but no regrets, I closed my heart and mind to them.
- I have moved away. I moved on.
