Dinner(ish) with S and cp and J and jy at Westlake and then back to S's sans cp for scrabble and Folly Molly and Arrogant Worms (the cows song) and Swingle Sisters (all courtesy of J's ipod mini) and the most obscene poem ever written about a cunnin' vending machine (please someone write about it) and of course ice-cream and brownies and cookies, because are we ever at S's without chocolate in some form or other?
If there's one thing to be grateful to the Singapore education system for, it's for throwing me in with this bunch of people. Somehow, miraculously, we appear to all still be in touch and able to talk to each other and to hold a conversation - I don't have conversations with people in the office; we either gossip about our colleagues or discuss our work but we don't converse, exactly - and to not be told that it's silly or childish or spoilt to want to be happy, where happiness is a function not just of friends and family but of doing something one enjoys. And it's not a stupid question to ask, what do I want to do? (Though J's quotation from the Sandman echoes uncomfortably in my mind - that when we get what we want, we find that it is what we wanted.) Which is all to say, thank you S for having us over; I'm glad we did manage to get ourselves to your place after all (and not succumb to inertia, which was what I was going to do); next time I'll bring gin.