Fourth and second

Nobody likes dad jokes. Except the teller, of course.

We woke today stressed and exhausted, because La Serpiente had crawled into our bed at stupid o’clock and been thrashing and pushing us around ever since, and because we had to get ready for the birthday party today. We’d done things last night like stick pieces of fruit on skewers and make up party bags and try to amass enough juice boxes and cans of beer for the whole population of Singapore, but you never feel you’ve done enough. Especially when it’s now two birthdays, handling both the fourth and second journeys around the sun. I hope they don’t feel shortchanged that we didn’t over-order booze for two different occasions, rather than one.

Frustrated by my slow motion this morning (or to quote EMF, “you say I don’t talk enough but when I do I’m a fool”) my wife sent me out to get coffee. At 8:30 in the morning. On a Sunday. When it’s impossible to buy a cup of coffee. The only place with an open sign in the door was actually shut until 9, which meant I stood like Banquo’s ghost at the counter until they finally noticed me and almost jumped out of their skins. Well, that will teach them not to serve coffee early enough.
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Here and there and back again

My wife came in at 3 this morning and woke me up, so when my alarm went off at 6:30, I blinked and it was already 7. Panic stricken, I rushed around the house getting ready to go to the Parkrun. (Protip: it’s much better to go to the toilet then put on a pair of bib shorts, rather than the other way round.)

I pedalled as fast as I could, and only arrived 5 minutes behind schedule. But fortunately, the East Coast Parkrun pretty much always starts ten minutes behind schedule, so I was there in time to help with timing the runners. I rode back, ten minutes faster than last week’s bedraggled effort, and then tried my best to entertain the kids.
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Things happen

A lot happened today.

I woke up about three a.m. in agony as my left calf cramped up: I suppose I shouldn’t have drunk gin, wine, and a whiskey-filled hot toddy before bed. Or at least not alongside a raft of cheddar and a big spoonful of cough medicine. I thrashed in agony for a while, then went back to sleep.
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Anniversaries and terrible ideas

East Coast Park
We had a day of birthday and anniversary celebrations today. In the morning, a birthday party for a three year old over at East Coast Park. Everyone else there seemed to know each other from the same church, a place in a shopping mall near our old flat in Chinatown, surrounded by Korean barbecue joints and dodgy karaoke places. Well, redemption theology does suggest you put churches near where there are people needing to be redeemed. People kept asking us if we went to the church, which made me wonder if either the establishment is utterly enormous, or they just aren’t very observant and never remember anything about the rest of the congregation. We ate too much ice cream and cake, came home, then La Serpiente sacked out.

At two this afternoon, we got up and crossed the road to our friend’s birthday party, where I met a guy who was a painter. “Ah, like Hitler” I said, going for the most demented conversational gambit that crossed my mind. We talked about work, and Nazis, paint and adolescent scrawlings in all-boys schools, and then I told people about my latest business idea*: a meth lab in Singapore.

Nobody would be stupid enough to have a meth lab in Singapore, as they’d be bound to get caught and executed. Which makes for the perfect cover, as nobody is going to be looking for something that doesn’t have any chance of existing. And if you want to double bluff things, why not tell everyone you’re building a meth lab, thus further shielding yourself from suspicion?

I’m not sure what the target demographic would be. Probably hipsters obsessed with Breaking Bad: but are there many of them in this compact city state? Perhaps before forming a proposal and going to the bank to get funding, more research is required. Somebody at the party said they could introduce me to a police officer though. That would be handy.

This evening we left such idiocy behind for our anniversary dinner (the anniversary of our first date, rather than our marriage). This year I was a month and a half late, but compensated for that with lots of wine and apple and pinenut crumble. We were at a lovely restaurant, spoiled only by the blue glow of every other person’s smartphone. Why go to a fancy schmamcy restaurant just to check your email?

* Well, business idea as in “something that’s going to end up in my time travel novel as an example of something very stupid that somebody’s going to do, rather than my plan to get rich and retire”. Just in case you’re reading this with irony-proof goggles.