Saturdays are for ...

... brunch at Killiney Kopitiam ("Which Killiney Kopitiam are we going to?" "Er ... the one at Killiney Road ... ") with the gang of old friends. The boys egged me on to order mee siam mai hum ("We'll back you up with a loud chorus," Packrat promised) while the girls belatedly realised that we were all wearing pink (unintentional, we swear). wahj enlightened us that the Pollution Standards Index reading at 11 am today was 128 (anything above 100 is Bad For One's Health), which explains why the air smells execrable and the sunlight's all washed out. Kay was impressed that everyone knew about their new refrigerator. Ondine showed off her new bag to grand admiration all round. And G-man gave us a ride home in his new(ish) car, which made me wish I had a small car of my own to zip around in so that I wouldn't have to be at the mercy of our world-class transport system.

I am declaring a moratorium on kaya toast for at least a month.

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