A walk down memory lane

The friends were supposed to meet at ours and head off together with us to an exhibition. After dolling myself up, I found myself standing at the window, awaiting for their arrival. A habit which I have adopted quite recently.

While mesmerised by the white snowy view out there, it suddenly dawned on me that I inherited my newly acquired habit from my father.

As a pimpled pubertal teenager with a rebellious streak, I was not contended with cooping up in out little flat after school hours. I craved to go out to the so-called big colourful world and see what it had to offer. Which actually means loitering with my then bestest buddies into the wee hours. Our favourite hunt was Changi Airport and Parkway Parade. Okay, not exactly the Big Big World I was dreaming about...

My rebellious phase was rather trying on my parents, especially on my father. My curfew was to be home before midnight and staying over at friends' was an absolute no no. I did not comprehend his fears and worries for my safety then as my head was too giddy with fun and frolic.

While my mother would be sleeping soundly in her bed, my father would stand at the window, waiting patiently for his beloved daughter to come home, regardless how late it was and how early he had to get up the next morning for work.

It's not that my mother is indifferent. When she was a young girl herself, my maternal grandparents were very strict with my mother. Hence, as a parent, she tries her best to make sure history does not repeat itself and allows her children the free rein to enjoy the freedom which she did not have.

Anyhow, each time I came home and turned that key to our flat's door, my heart would be thumping so, bracing myself for an earful from my father. Sometimes, he would go to bed without uttering a word. At times, when I went too far and came back unfashionably late, he would blow his top and heated words would be exchanged. Once, out of his fury, he spat these words at me, 'You will only understand when you have your own children!' To which I responded by storming off to my bedroom.

Eagerly, I looked forward to my 21st birthday because he promised I could have the freedom to do whatever I desired once I attained full age.

That day finally came and went. Like magic, curfews and fights vanished altogether into thin air. I was delighted: I am free!

I relished my liberation. However, I must confess, occasionally when I staggered home after some sessions at some watering holes, a tiny weeny bit of emptiness creeped up on me at the absence of my father's back at the window.

A classic case of taking our loved ones for granted, isn't it?

My train of thought was interrupted with the friends' arrival. With nostalgia welling up in my heart, I made a quick mental note that I haven't called my folks for weeks now. I better do it soon.

Making calls back home isn't particularly one of my favourite pastime. Ours is a traditional chinese family which means we are not used to expressing our emotions freely. Hence, telephone calls are often punctured with awkward silences. We express our love in a very typical chinese way through questions such as how have you been, have you eaten, etc. Usually these conversations do not last more than 10 mins.

Even so I make it a point to call my folks as often as I can. Guiltiness is the culprit because I feel by not being at their sides, I fail in my duty as their daughter. The least I can do for them is to dial that number.

The most ancient one who has walked the earth

I was spacing out in front of the PC one day, couldn't wait to get my ass off work. My 23 year-old colleague next to me was humming to a tune from the radio. A tune which I like too. I mumbled something about the song was cool.

She turned and stared at me, 'You are the coolest oldest woman I have ever known!'

I looked at her and replied, 'Should I laugh or cry at your comment?'

We both burst out laughing.

Inwardly, I was, 'Oh goodness, I didn't know I am so ancient in their eyes!'

Which reminds me the big Four O will be approaching soon in a matter of few years. Somehow the idea of getting that old freaks me out a little.

No, on second thought, the idea really scares the shit out of me.

Indeed the wheel of time halts for no one. Sigh...

But on a consoling note, my colleague did mention 'coolest' in the same breath as 'oldest'.

Heh.

It's about time

After 8 long years, McLaren has finally made it to win the F1 World Championship this season.

The hero is of course none other than Lewis Hamilton. All owing to his winning formula of staying calm till the very last second and his brilliant racing technique.

He is certainly not one to be reckoned with.

The big fan at home is exhilarated. What a smashing race for him!!

The quest to beat arch rival Ferrari is at long last quenched.

Kiss my ass

Someone kissed my ass. Literally.

The ass of my car, I mean.

It was stop and go for the vehicles to turn right (it's left-hand drive here). My turn finally came but my engine stalled as I forgot to shift into the first gear. Before I was able to start my engine back on, a huge jerk hurled my colleague and I forward. The jolt stunned me. I wondered out loud to my colleague, 'What happened to my car??!!!'

In my confused state, I didn't realise the van behind me has just kissed my car. Until my colleague enlighted me.

My immediate reaction was to proceed to a carpark nearby to access the damage. The whole time, my mind was in a turmoil, 'Fuck! My car got smashed up after just 4 months! Why am I so stupid and forgetful and didn't change to first gear when I drove off!!! Damn! Damn! DAMN!!!'

I heaved a heavy sigh and could not bear to imagine how bruised my bumper would be.

The injury was however very slight. To my inexperienced naked eyes, at least. A slight dent on the number plate. The young driver apologised and we exchanged contact numbers for insurance claim purposes.

Later the workshop had a look at the damaged ass. Apparently, the mechanism on the bumper has absorded the force of the bump. Despite the unseen injury, this mechanism might not be functioning properly as it should now. Hence a repair like this would cost approximately 800€. Bloody daylight robbery!

The details have been communicated to the van driver. And for 2 days now we've been waiting for him to give us his insurance details. He hasn't been in touch.

We will call him tomorrow or else a visit to his bike shop will be inevitable.

Meanwhile, my fear has made a full comeback. Sigh.