Thursday, September 22, 2005
Cast your mind back to August, then...
Soundtrack: "Everything Must Go" by Manic Street Preachers
Good arvo this arvo.
This is going a to be a rather monumental task, but what the hell. I've got a whole day to kill.
Friday 12th August
The day of my third and final driving lesson in Malaysia, but hopefully ever. The standards are dreadfully low in Malaysia, as I discovered when I came home, my aunt in Essex let me drive, and my mother freaked out when I nearly drove into all the stuff on the side of the road. Anyway, Flying Leopard just told me to practise a lot, so Dad took me to the old airport and I drove up, down and around the disused runway in the Merc. Due to my laziness, I much prefer driving an automatic to a manual.
We had lunch at a Korean steamboat place with my father's younger sister. You have to eat with metal chopsticks so that they don't disintegrate or catch fire. The lamb and beef were gorgeous.
For those of you who want to relive (one more time) England's Ashes glory, this was my diary entry for day two of the Old Trafford Test:
"Freddie Flintoff and Geraint Jones were doing really well, but then a whole bunch of wickets fell rather rapidly, and England made 444, though everybody had through that the total would be in excess of 500. No worries, though, as Australia fell apart and closed on 210-4, the only major resistance coming from Shane Warne. Ashley Giles bowled Damien Martyn with the Ball Of The Century (albeit from a left-hander), and got two other excellent wickets to boot. We've all got to stop making fun of him now."
Saturday 13th August
Breakfast at the place opposite Rejang Medical Centre - char siew mee, which is just kampua mee with a type of barbecued pork as the meaty bit. Afterwards, Dad and I took his friend's manual car out for a drive down the disused runway, and driving the automatic the previous day really did me no good. I kept on forgetting to do things like shifting down when turing and depressing the clutch when stopping. I class driving with ironing: a necessary evil that puts me slightly on edge when I have to do it myself.
Here's day three:
"Manchester kicked in today. It started raining at 7am BST, there was half-an-hou'rs play, and then it started raining again just now. Shane Warne got his half-century (the only Australian to do so), anbd they reached 245-7, thus avoiding the follow-on. There's still time left for play, but if they keep on showing replayed highlights of 'glorious' Indian victories for much longer, then I shall have to turn in."
Sunday 14th August
We couldn't face another 9am Iban Mass, so Dad and I skipped church. According to Dad, the English Mass in the evenig isn't much better, except we can understand it all. If you're listening in the first place, that is. That night, the Old Man dragged me away from the cricket to attend Irene Chew's father's birthday dinner. It was one of those wonderfully typical Chinese affairs, with many many dishes: mee swah (a type of long, thin soup noodle), a seafood assortment, quail, big eff-off expensive fish, and abalone. I reckon there may have been a vegetable dish in-between the quail and the fish, but I can't really remember. During dinner, people actually get up on stage to sing karaoke - they're all really good because they practise for these such occasions. Mental. After the abalone was the cake, and then I made Dad quickly make excuses. As we made out exit, we narrowly avoided a pack of Chinese drunkards who'd been guzzling the free Tiger beer. Classy.
Day four:
"The previous night, I got fed up of watching Indian centuries from the 2002 series and went to bed. It was utterly bizarre looking at the England team from only three years ago, though. Andy Caddick, Dominic Cork, John Crawley, Ronnie Irani, Alex Tudor, Craig White... what a bunch of losers. But anyway, they actually managed to play some more after I went to bed, and Australia added 9 runs. Today, they reached 302, Shane Warne making 90. He's become quite the allrounder now, aged 35. It was then time for some rapid batting from England, and they scored 280-6 declared, with Andy Strauss making his maiden ton against Australia. The Aussies closed on 24-0, needing to bat 98 overs to save the Test."
Monday 15th August
We had brunch with Irene Chew, her son, her daughter, and her mother. The daughter is absolutely vast, like Shane Warne, like an elephant. She was a thoroughly disagreeable person to boot. That afternoon, I managed to get a fair bit of "The Two Towers" read. I actually managed to finish it this time round - fourth time lucky. Despite myself, I actually found it quite interesting, but in quite a detached, scientific way. I have zero emotion for any of the characters. It's more like reading "The Rise And Fall Of Modern Medicine" or "The Elegant Universe" instead of "American Gods" or "Jane Eyre."
And finally, day five:
"The cricket was an absolute bloody waste of time, as I knew it would be, and that's the beauty of it, I suppose. We just kept on taking wickets the whole day and getting my hope up, but we only managed to dismiss Ricky Ponting after he'd made an excellent century, which was far too late. They helf out with one wicket left, and the match was drawn. I was annoyed because we should've won and we blew it (chances went down, decisions didn't go our way, it rained for a day, Ashley Giles wasn't good enough on day five), but really, it's not so bad. I can't watch the fourth Test because of WSYO, so now I can watch the decider, which will be at the Oval."
Wednesday 17th August
My last day in Sibu. In the morning, we went for brunch at the seafood place across from the bus terminal, and Soo Lee Lee (one of Dad's girlie friends from the bank) came along for a drink as well. Afterwards, Dad and I went to hang out at the bank for a bit, and then we went to get a difital camera for me from the shop at the bottom of Premier House. We'd been looking around and getting price quotes for days, so it was satisfying to finally get the thing for myself. We immediately went back to the bank to show off the camera, and to take photos of Dad's girlie-friends on the Priority Banking sofas. The afternoon was spent packing. For ages, Dad kept on telling me that space wasn't an issue, and this only became apparent when he carted out this giant suitcase for me to shove all my collected crap into. It all came to 40kg in the end, which was okay because Dad bought me a business class ticket from Sibu to Kuching, and a first-class ticket(I couldn't tell the difference when it came to it) from Kuching to Singapore. This meant that I could check my luggage direct to London and avoid the overweight penalties. Dad and I had a quiet night in, as we had to get up early the next day.
Thursday 18th August
We didn't get off to the best of starts when we headed off for the airport far too late, and after belting it down the road, we managed to get there five minutes after final check-in. Fortunately, as I was travelling business class, Dad managed to get my bags checked to Kuching, but there wasn't time to check them to London. I said a rushed goodbye to Dad, and then ran to get on the plane. At Kuching, I sat chilling in the Golden Lounge for a couple of hours, which was terribly good fun. I also had to reclaim my bags and recheck them to London. It's just as well Dad bought me a first-class ticket to Singapore, or else I would've had to pay overweight fines in Kuching.
I enjoyed my flight to Singapore. The meal was sliver service, and even had a smoked salmon entree. It really is stupid, though. All these airlines go to all this trouble to prevent suicide hijackers taking control of their planes, but when you travel higher up than economy they give you metal cutlery anyway. Even worse, the French guy across the aisle from me asked if he could go and see the cockpit, and they just let him go, no questions asked. Bloody hell.
The saga continued at Singapore. I needed to get my boarding pass for London, so I went to the transfer desk to sort it out. However, I was in Terminal 2, and I needed to be in Terminal 1. I thought I'd take the skytrain, but it was all boarded up under refurbishment when I got there, so I had to walk instead. At T2, I went to the transfer desk, but as my flight was in twelve hours, it was too early to get a boarding pass. Sod it, I just thought I'd go and meet Aunty Hui Suan then. After leaving some of my stuff in left luggage, I went through immigration and went to look for the MRT terminal. It was in T2. Shit. Oddly, the skytrain was working from T1 to T2, though, so it wasn't so bad.
I stoot outside Orchard station ticket office for ages, when I was called by Aunty Hui Suan wondering the hell I was. She'd been standing outside passenger services, where you can also buy tickets. But I was right and she was wrong, so ha. We had some lunch and went to buy a couple of industrial steam irons (one for her and one for Aunty Betty), and then went home. I spent the afternoon playing the piano, and my attention span had greatly improved from two weeks before. Without the air con or even a fan on, I managed to get through a whole bunch of Chopin preludes and Haydn sonatas. Dinner and a cold shower, and then back to the airport to bum around for a couple of hours. That Singapore sling was good, if a bit sickly. Once on the plane, it was late already, and I was tired as-, so as soon as the seatbelt sign was off, I went to brush my teeth, and then I slept nearly all the way to London.
Good arvo this arvo.
This is going a to be a rather monumental task, but what the hell. I've got a whole day to kill.
Friday 12th August
The day of my third and final driving lesson in Malaysia, but hopefully ever. The standards are dreadfully low in Malaysia, as I discovered when I came home, my aunt in Essex let me drive, and my mother freaked out when I nearly drove into all the stuff on the side of the road. Anyway, Flying Leopard just told me to practise a lot, so Dad took me to the old airport and I drove up, down and around the disused runway in the Merc. Due to my laziness, I much prefer driving an automatic to a manual.
We had lunch at a Korean steamboat place with my father's younger sister. You have to eat with metal chopsticks so that they don't disintegrate or catch fire. The lamb and beef were gorgeous.
For those of you who want to relive (one more time) England's Ashes glory, this was my diary entry for day two of the Old Trafford Test:
"Freddie Flintoff and Geraint Jones were doing really well, but then a whole bunch of wickets fell rather rapidly, and England made 444, though everybody had through that the total would be in excess of 500. No worries, though, as Australia fell apart and closed on 210-4, the only major resistance coming from Shane Warne. Ashley Giles bowled Damien Martyn with the Ball Of The Century (albeit from a left-hander), and got two other excellent wickets to boot. We've all got to stop making fun of him now."
Saturday 13th August
Breakfast at the place opposite Rejang Medical Centre - char siew mee, which is just kampua mee with a type of barbecued pork as the meaty bit. Afterwards, Dad and I took his friend's manual car out for a drive down the disused runway, and driving the automatic the previous day really did me no good. I kept on forgetting to do things like shifting down when turing and depressing the clutch when stopping. I class driving with ironing: a necessary evil that puts me slightly on edge when I have to do it myself.
Here's day three:
"Manchester kicked in today. It started raining at 7am BST, there was half-an-hou'rs play, and then it started raining again just now. Shane Warne got his half-century (the only Australian to do so), anbd they reached 245-7, thus avoiding the follow-on. There's still time left for play, but if they keep on showing replayed highlights of 'glorious' Indian victories for much longer, then I shall have to turn in."
Sunday 14th August
We couldn't face another 9am Iban Mass, so Dad and I skipped church. According to Dad, the English Mass in the evenig isn't much better, except we can understand it all. If you're listening in the first place, that is. That night, the Old Man dragged me away from the cricket to attend Irene Chew's father's birthday dinner. It was one of those wonderfully typical Chinese affairs, with many many dishes: mee swah (a type of long, thin soup noodle), a seafood assortment, quail, big eff-off expensive fish, and abalone. I reckon there may have been a vegetable dish in-between the quail and the fish, but I can't really remember. During dinner, people actually get up on stage to sing karaoke - they're all really good because they practise for these such occasions. Mental. After the abalone was the cake, and then I made Dad quickly make excuses. As we made out exit, we narrowly avoided a pack of Chinese drunkards who'd been guzzling the free Tiger beer. Classy.
Day four:
"The previous night, I got fed up of watching Indian centuries from the 2002 series and went to bed. It was utterly bizarre looking at the England team from only three years ago, though. Andy Caddick, Dominic Cork, John Crawley, Ronnie Irani, Alex Tudor, Craig White... what a bunch of losers. But anyway, they actually managed to play some more after I went to bed, and Australia added 9 runs. Today, they reached 302, Shane Warne making 90. He's become quite the allrounder now, aged 35. It was then time for some rapid batting from England, and they scored 280-6 declared, with Andy Strauss making his maiden ton against Australia. The Aussies closed on 24-0, needing to bat 98 overs to save the Test."
Monday 15th August
We had brunch with Irene Chew, her son, her daughter, and her mother. The daughter is absolutely vast, like Shane Warne, like an elephant. She was a thoroughly disagreeable person to boot. That afternoon, I managed to get a fair bit of "The Two Towers" read. I actually managed to finish it this time round - fourth time lucky. Despite myself, I actually found it quite interesting, but in quite a detached, scientific way. I have zero emotion for any of the characters. It's more like reading "The Rise And Fall Of Modern Medicine" or "The Elegant Universe" instead of "American Gods" or "Jane Eyre."
And finally, day five:
"The cricket was an absolute bloody waste of time, as I knew it would be, and that's the beauty of it, I suppose. We just kept on taking wickets the whole day and getting my hope up, but we only managed to dismiss Ricky Ponting after he'd made an excellent century, which was far too late. They helf out with one wicket left, and the match was drawn. I was annoyed because we should've won and we blew it (chances went down, decisions didn't go our way, it rained for a day, Ashley Giles wasn't good enough on day five), but really, it's not so bad. I can't watch the fourth Test because of WSYO, so now I can watch the decider, which will be at the Oval."
Wednesday 17th August
My last day in Sibu. In the morning, we went for brunch at the seafood place across from the bus terminal, and Soo Lee Lee (one of Dad's girlie friends from the bank) came along for a drink as well. Afterwards, Dad and I went to hang out at the bank for a bit, and then we went to get a difital camera for me from the shop at the bottom of Premier House. We'd been looking around and getting price quotes for days, so it was satisfying to finally get the thing for myself. We immediately went back to the bank to show off the camera, and to take photos of Dad's girlie-friends on the Priority Banking sofas. The afternoon was spent packing. For ages, Dad kept on telling me that space wasn't an issue, and this only became apparent when he carted out this giant suitcase for me to shove all my collected crap into. It all came to 40kg in the end, which was okay because Dad bought me a business class ticket from Sibu to Kuching, and a first-class ticket(I couldn't tell the difference when it came to it) from Kuching to Singapore. This meant that I could check my luggage direct to London and avoid the overweight penalties. Dad and I had a quiet night in, as we had to get up early the next day.
Thursday 18th August
We didn't get off to the best of starts when we headed off for the airport far too late, and after belting it down the road, we managed to get there five minutes after final check-in. Fortunately, as I was travelling business class, Dad managed to get my bags checked to Kuching, but there wasn't time to check them to London. I said a rushed goodbye to Dad, and then ran to get on the plane. At Kuching, I sat chilling in the Golden Lounge for a couple of hours, which was terribly good fun. I also had to reclaim my bags and recheck them to London. It's just as well Dad bought me a first-class ticket to Singapore, or else I would've had to pay overweight fines in Kuching.
I enjoyed my flight to Singapore. The meal was sliver service, and even had a smoked salmon entree. It really is stupid, though. All these airlines go to all this trouble to prevent suicide hijackers taking control of their planes, but when you travel higher up than economy they give you metal cutlery anyway. Even worse, the French guy across the aisle from me asked if he could go and see the cockpit, and they just let him go, no questions asked. Bloody hell.
The saga continued at Singapore. I needed to get my boarding pass for London, so I went to the transfer desk to sort it out. However, I was in Terminal 2, and I needed to be in Terminal 1. I thought I'd take the skytrain, but it was all boarded up under refurbishment when I got there, so I had to walk instead. At T2, I went to the transfer desk, but as my flight was in twelve hours, it was too early to get a boarding pass. Sod it, I just thought I'd go and meet Aunty Hui Suan then. After leaving some of my stuff in left luggage, I went through immigration and went to look for the MRT terminal. It was in T2. Shit. Oddly, the skytrain was working from T1 to T2, though, so it wasn't so bad.
I stoot outside Orchard station ticket office for ages, when I was called by Aunty Hui Suan wondering the hell I was. She'd been standing outside passenger services, where you can also buy tickets. But I was right and she was wrong, so ha. We had some lunch and went to buy a couple of industrial steam irons (one for her and one for Aunty Betty), and then went home. I spent the afternoon playing the piano, and my attention span had greatly improved from two weeks before. Without the air con or even a fan on, I managed to get through a whole bunch of Chopin preludes and Haydn sonatas. Dinner and a cold shower, and then back to the airport to bum around for a couple of hours. That Singapore sling was good, if a bit sickly. Once on the plane, it was late already, and I was tired as-, so as soon as the seatbelt sign was off, I went to brush my teeth, and then I slept nearly all the way to London.
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