Are you not entertained?

This morning we went out for brunch at Super Loco again. At least I thought we were, but my wife had other plans, taking me further down the river to the Kith Cafe. Whereas Super Loco has interior seating and toast, Kith Cafe has no seats inside, just a tiny counter, a sign of cunning business practices on the part of the owner. Why pay for air conditioning when there’s a scrum of Imogens, Ruperts, Georgies and every other horrendous Boden-dressed rugby shirt wearing mug in Singapore beating their path to your door? Did I mention how much I love the food at Super Loco?

Anyway, with no space to sit and a rabble of upper class urchins drawing in chalk all over the pavement, calmer hearts prevailed and we went back down the river fifty yards, to the Boomerang. This is its own kind of awful, an Australian themed sports bar that shows a constant loop of American sport on a constellation of widescreen televisions, and where I also showed up to pub quizzes once in a blue moon. However, they also had indoor seating, out of the direct blast of the sun, and they had avocado on toast. The toast was apparently prepared in an enormous industrial machine, but is at least cut into triangles, which we all know taste better, and I got to have a good chat with our friends while helping Destroyer stick stickers into her sticker book. Plus, either the coffee or the paracetamol or the antihistamines were kicking in, and I no longer felt like warmed-over shit. Which was nice.

We went home, put the kids down for their nap, they woke far too soon (only 2 hours) later, we took them out and ran them ragged on their scooter and bicycle, then, after a detour to a local ice cream joint, took them home again and plonked them in front of the electronic babysitter.

There’s currently an offer in Singapore to get two free months of Netflix if you sign up for a free delivery scheme with Lazada (the South East Asian equivalent of Amazon, for anyone not in South East Asia). I thought this was a brilliant idea, until I discovered the one thing we wanted to watch, Mary Poppins, isn’t available on Netflix. Oh well. It turns out the children were just as hypnotised by Dinosaur Train. They’re also amused by watching their father struggle with technology (why would it be that the Netflix app makes my Xbox crash every time I try to use it?) although La Serpiente did have the good grace to tell me what a clever boy I am. Which was nice.

Of course, Netflix has a litany of great content to watch. For example, all of Adam Sandler’s movies. They’re missing a trick – I would have paid $20 a month not to watch any of that. And, I assume, after a few weeks of Dinosaur Train’s theme song (“Dinosaur Train! Dinosaur Train! Dinosaur Train!) I’ll feel the same about that too…

Anyway, I didn’t watch much after we put the kids to bed, I just kept reading Abaddon’s Gate, which feels both wholly unoriginal (wormholes! space! universe spanning hive minds!) and also quite gripping. Book 3 is better than book 1 was better than book 2, and al that.

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