It is, of course, the 75th anniversary today of Shostakovich’s 9th Symphony first being played (in Leningrad) and to celebrate, everyone in Singapore gets the day off.
Oh, hang on, no, let me check my notes. It’s because today is the 52nd anniversary of Singapore.
I’m struggling with a cold and a wounded foot and therefore I didn’t do much today. My legs are incredibly sore and for much of the day I felt either narcoleptic or just very blue; functions, I suppose, of being dog tired. It was only in the evening, when we went to my office to watch the fireworks, that I began to feel even halfway human.
That includes after drinking three shots of espresso, eating a sausage sandwich and watching TV, all things that would normally make me feel somewhere approximate to copacetic. Today, dreadful. Taking paracetamol may have helped a bit, or maybe it was the two cans of beer later on.
The fireworks this year were fun; having not watched them since 2012, it was nice to see them. It was also a bit odd; they let off a few at 7:45, then nothing till 8, then a couple of rockets, then a five minute light display with hundreds of drones making shapes in the sky, which was nice, and then five minutes of gold and red fireworks as nauseum. Destroyer, who has enthusiastically recated with the word "kaboom!" to any recent mention of fireworks seemed more excited by the corporate snacks in my office than the explosions, more’s the pity.
And then about five minutes after it was all done and everyone was packing up to go, a few more rockets, which seems much the same as the last time I watched. I guess there’s more to it if you’re down in the stands rather than viewing from afar.
We wheeled the kids home and they both went a bit crazy as they were up well beyond bedtime, but I had Destroyer down by 10:30. Hardly World’s Greatest Dad material, but a small victory nonetheless. And so to bed…