I love the tales you spun for me

I am reading a book called My Beautiful Enemy now. On the bus tonight, I read the part where the hero was entertaining the heroine with the story or Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. The heroine loved it. She loved it that the man cared enough to spin his tale; she loved it that she could relate to the story because of the wit and cleverness of the slave, Morgiana.

I alighted from the bus, missing you and the nonsensical tales you spun for me. I remember the last was about magic and penguins, probably.  I quite think now those two components were put together at my request since they are what I love. You told me that story as we walked in the mall near your house. As I walked home, I relieved that memory and felt amazed again at the ease you can weave together a silly tale. I love your imagination and love it the tales you told were for me. I wondered in my footsteps home, when I’d ever meet someone who would tell me stories again, and grew scared because the only males who attract/interest me seem to originate from animes or the books – they are fictional.

Tonight after my bath, I sat on my bed to continue my read. It got too hot and stifling. Influenced by the dead character’s love for Darjeeling in the book, I felt warm and thirsty and propelled to get a cup of tea too. I made myself some green tea, and sat down on the wooden chair to write this. On the television was a news report about angry Hong Kong students. I stared at the umbrellas crashing together on television but in my head was your voice. You loved telling me ghost stories before we slept. I paid as much attention as I could initially, but after that I simply enjoyed the sound of your voice as I fell into sleep. My thoughts floated to another story you told me – but it was also one we created together.

I was a forest wood nymph and you were a giant who was threatening the existence of my forest. In order to save it, I had to consent to save you by giving you a rare remedy found in the unicorn which lives by the lake in the forest. I was reluctant to give you the cure as that implied I had to shed my unicorn’s blood. The story grew more ridiculous and I was clearly losing because you always had more imagination. We ended up in hearty guffaws in the mall. I was near tears. I remember being happy and carefree. It was a short respite from the weight we had in our hearts.

I’ll return to my book now and share the heartaches and joy of the heroes. If I can’t feel joy for myself, then let me feel joy in words and others who exist in another world.

It is definitely cooler in the living room. I will spend some time here tonight.


Somehow, it’s Bath

Four months ago, on my trip to London, I took a day-tour out to Stonehenge and Bath (including a stop at The Secret Place which shall-not-be-named) with The English Bus. Along the way, my small group that was just made up of three nationalities (Americans, Australians and Singaporeans) passed through villages and caught a few glimpses of the decreasing thatched houses from our small but trusty bus, accompanied by our wonderful guide, Chris and his excellent commentary. He knew just when to pause to let us catch up with our morning sleep, or when to let us gaze out undisturbed at the rolling greenery that passed us by. His commentary that was peppered with little jokes was extremely informative and educational. You’ll learn a lot if you get to follow his tour, be it about the attractions or even about the roads of England! I cannot recommend this tour company enough. You may not trust me, but please trust tripadvisor over here!

The City of Bath is a beautiful place linked to the Romans, cider, hot springs and Jane Austen, who was there for some years in her life. I heard the Jane Austen gift shop is rather touristy. I didn’t visit there but still fell prey to the charms of a Mr Darcy bookmark sold in a souvenir shop.

Mr Darcy Bookmark

The original hot spring bath has been closed a long time since 1978 after a girl who swam there contracted meningitis and died. Now, imagine the irony if Bath is without its bath! Therefore in its place came Thermae Bath Spa, which opened in 2006. (It beats me why it took 28 years!)

The original Roman Bath may be closed, but the water from the hot springs is still potable! Head into The Pump Room, where the hot spring water is still served from the taps of a fountain in the restaurant – without charge! The warm spring water has gathered rather mixed reviews, so don’t be embarrassed if you find that you can’t finish the whole glass ;).

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My time in Bath was regretfully short. I chose to take the recommendation of Chris and headed to the Pasty Presto to grab a quick but yummy bite!

Pasty Presto photo IMG_20140527_141325_zps4fcb6559.jpg(There was a cute guy in the shop.)

If you have limited time like I did, please grab a quick bite at Patsy Presto or anywhere! But be sure to take-out because you don’t want to miss soaking up the atmosphere outside. There are buskers to watch, milling people to look at, and pleasant music to enjoy!

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(Probably) Bacon & Leek Pasty and Me, plus Gordon Ramsay-look-alike and doggie lying down at the back.

My last few moments in Bath was particularly delightful. I entered a souvenir shop just to the left from the place in the picture above, and splurged on a embroidered rabbit cushion, the Mr Darcy bookmark and a small bear that was wearing a blue Bath shirt. I don’t know why I wanted a Bath bear – I just did! I passed by a make-your-own-bear shop in the bus when I first entered Bath but that obviously was somewhere I don’t know how to get to so my mind was pretty much obsessed with getting a manufactured bear since I couldn’t have a self-made one.

What was particularly wonderful was, all the while when I was being indecisive inside the shop, what floated into the shop was the beautiful, melodious voice of a guy and the strumming of his guitar. It brought time to a slow, and a new reality to the ticking seconds. Eventually I went out of the shop and stood for a few moments enjoying his soothing tones.


(The video showed up only at the first time. Subsequently it keeps showing as just a link. I don’t know why?!)

I bought his CD but strangely, he didn’t include his name. What art thy name, ye with thy beautiful voice?

My tasks tonight was to watch Line Walker Episode 19 and attempt 7 minutes of abs exercise but it is 11.06pm now. Actually, when I was in the shower just now, I recalled this Uncle who sings outside the train station at my town and all I wanted to talk about was how he reminds me of Singing Guy in Bath. The first time I heard him, I donated some money and could not help but stand one side to appreciate his voice. There’s something about his guitar and that slow, low voice that reminded me of Singing Guy In Bath.

Anyway, gotta go catch Line Walker now! Very exciting TVB drama everyone needs to watch!!

Stepping into September Two Zero One Four

It is September. This is the first week I last heard from you, the third week I last saw you. I have caught wisps of your perfume on the train and am guilty of glancing up to look even though I knew it wasn’t you. You’re constantly on my mind and a constant weight in my heart. But I don’t gasp for breath no more, don’t feel stabbing pains no more. I have stopped my nightly small intake of alcohol that removes you from being the last thought in my mind when sleep comes (how true is this?). The pain has settled into a silent, invisible weight that forms a compression downwards on my heart. But still I’m scared. So even though my thoughts swings towards you, I try to stop them. I try to haul myself up before I sink deep in thoughts. Just this morning as I looked out of the train window, I wondered when this weight will lift. It is September.

Have you laid down your letter? Will you leave this country and decide against seeing me one last time? It seems like it’s another hurdle I have to cross – dealing with your departure. I hope that doesn’t come. Even though I don’t see you, my heart is comforted to know we’re in the same country. A lie my heart can’t help but believe, I know – for what difference does it make since we see each other no more? But if you leave this place, your presence will leave me forever – physically. Another lie; it already has. It further makes no sense that I think it’s unfair you leave here before I do. But what does it matter? What does it matter?

It is September. I am getting better. I walk the office with better steps.  I am laughing more. I even started doing lame elevator dances. And then there’s of course, my books, animes and J-dramas. Those occupy most of my nights. Fortunately, the month of October and early September lined me up with books to read (I just finished a series that consists of eight books!!!). When I’m not reading, I am watching something (what will I do without my sight?!). At the recommendation of two friends, I started Akame ga Kiru on Sunday. It is a new, fast-paced anime but lacking in justification of  the whole “killing in the name of justice” thing really. The main character, Tatsumi, basically gets paired up with a senior assassin each episode so far. They witness an evil deed and Senior and Tatsumi go all that-is-unforgivable-YOU-WILL-DIE-FOR-YOUR-DESPICABLE-ACTS-!!  before wielding their weapons and most of the time the villains get slashed into two/decapitated/shot at but you can see through the holes in their bodies/killed basically in gory manners. You may wince at the sight of the deaths but trust me, the graphics aren’t great like Shingeki. In fact, I kinda think the graphics look like a phone game.

And then there’s the release of Rurouni Kenshin: Kyoto Inferno. I remember feeling my lips turn up in a fangirl-besotted smile at Takeru slashing his blade in front of my eyes again. This installment wasn’t as cleanly done as the first though. With my Takeru-love reignited (actually, it was never gone! A constant flame!), I occupied myself with watching the variety programmes he appeared on recently too. Oh, if I do think of something, I’ll write about the book series I recently completed.

Two Septembers back, I remember recalling Green Day’s Wake Me Up When September Ends. This September, I am a little more awake. Oh yes, I hope it ends. But I’ll be awake. And see it through with less despair. Perhaps it’s true we get better with coping with loss as we age.

I hope heartbreak in August does not prove a trend.