Going out in (Singapore) style

The livin' is easy when it's Friday night, the breeze is a-blowin', and friends are gathered round humble hawker tables at East Coast Park to partake in a modest end-of-scholarship-bond celebration. There was satay (chicken and mutton and a little babat (tripe) just for G-man), barbecued chicken wings, rojak, carrot cake and beer to wash it all down; however, there was no actual cake. There were new friends and old; funnily enough, only two don't blog. There was a boys' table and a girls' table (except for the two boys who strayed over to our side). There was a friendly cat who turned out to be a camera whore. Some time after midnight, three paramedics and two police officers ambled westwards past the hawker centre, an empty patient transport wheeled alongside. When they returned, they had an old woman in a wheelchair, rolling along at a pace only a heartbeat faster than the typical romantic evening stroll. There were two cabs waiting when we were ready to go home --- one for ampulets and one for us.

Just a slow night at East Coast Park.