WHAT IS THIS POPULAR FEELING OF BEING CHANGED FOR GOOD AFTER DEFYING GRAVITY?

Warning: if you detest musicals, or do not want to have the events of the musical Wicked spoilt, do not read further.

It has been a very interesting week. Have had a number of epiphanies, been locked in my floor against my will, FINALLY watched Machine Girl, (possibly the best damn show ever), experimented with stuff that was a contravention of morality, partook in a Thai buffet that almost killed off a quarter of the Reading Malaysian population, and attempted a foot journey that ended up in incredible disaster.

But all this will not be covered in this entry.

And why? Because Tegence is extremely happy at this point.

Why, I hear you inquisitive souls ask?

Because a few days ago he achieved his dream of watching Wicked, a West End musical he has dreamt of watching ever since his days in Malaysia.


You see, in case you haven’t realized by now, I ADORE musicals. Seriously. I’m not entirely sure if it qualifies as a genre of music, but my laptop playlist is chock-full of songs from Disney movies, Andrew Lloyd Webber hits, and Sondheim tunes. I personally think a song is nothing if it doesn’t have a mind-stoppingly infectious tune, witty rhyming lyrics and context within a story.

I used to wish my life was a musical. Seriously. Who doesn’t want their life to be filled with elaborate show-stopping numbers and dance sequences? A world where everyone sing in perfect pitch and knows the steps to dozens of dance numbers? And where your problems, no matter how huge, can be solved by a rousing chorus of an appropriate song? (Final Examinations Aria/Not Enough Change for My Pizza/ Woe My Dog is Having Pancreatic Cancer, etc)

So I always wanted to see Wicked, which I’ve only heard glowing reviews about. All my friends told me how wonderful it was, and I had not read an online review which didn’t contain the phrase ‘orgasmically cool’ or some variation of it.

I also read Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, the book by Gregory Maguire that the musical was based on. For those not in the know, the book and musical is basically the story of the Wizard of Oz, but told from the point of view of Elphaba, the green-skinned, cackling Wicked Witch of the West, detailing all the events that turned her into what she is now.

The book was…extremely interesting. Turned the land of Oz from a happy colourful place into an extremely dark and ugly place. And don’t get me wrong, I like adaptations that show the darker aspects of children’s stories. In fact, I’ve done it myself (Enid Blyton and the writers of Archie comics are going to have a heart attack when they see what I’ve envisioned with their characters), but somehow..I feel Maguire overdid the darkening a wee bit? Seriously. What with the murders and rampant sex, and a scene where one of the characters gets publicly raped by a sapient Tiger in a bar, the book’s tone was a little too disturbing for me.

Keep in mind that coming from me, this is like an bat complaining the sky is too dark to fly in. But I’m glad the book got edited to be more family-friendly for the West End production. Because, honestly, it was one of the best damn shows I have ever seen. Incredible beyond compare.

And you, my lucky readers, will get to read about how I went to see the show. LUCKY YOU!!!!!! Yes, only here can you read about how I made it to the Apollo Victoria theatre in London to catch the musical. Aren’t you exhilarated already?

So, anyway:

Had been planning to see this for ages, as it was. But somehow, stuff always got in the way. Planned to go see it last semester, but working on the play Sepadu for Malaysian Night (which I regret not blogging about) somehow got in the way. And then came exams. Followed by the saga of the stupid Eye which you can read about in the previous entry. Does the Man Upstairs not want me to watch this, or something??

By the time the eye recovered, all the original people who were supposed to go with me went away on travels. So, called a few other people..only for them all to cancel at the last minute.

Bah. Go ahead and leave me, you people who know who you are! I shall have my vengeance by singing songs from the show at you at the top of my horrifyingly out-of-tune voice!! That will show you for abandoning me!

(goes to sulk and brood)

Anyways, point was, decided that I was tired of waiting for other people, and so decided to go watch it myself, poor sad pathetic little me. Ahh well.

So I left for the musical, early one Wednesday morning to catch the matinee show. They apparently gave first row tickets at cheap prices: apparently 24 seats in the FREAKING FRONT ROW were reserved for the people who came earliest.

And so, with a determination never seen in me before (if only I was half as motivated for my exams) decided: I will get those damn tickets!!!! By hook or by crook or by Peregrin Took, I was going to watch that show.

So, spirited me decided to go all out. Packed myself a breakfast the night before, prepared clothes in advance, prepared essentials: camera, rail tickets, wallet, phone packet of tissues (because I had a dark feeling the play was going to make me emotional.) Decided to get an early night for maximum enjoyment.

Unfortunately, the recent midnight-oil-burning for exams had fundamentally messed up my body clock (am going to have no problems re-adapting to Malaysian time, let me tell you that) and so, found myself unable to sleep! I think anticipation for watching the musical I had been looking forward to for years also played a part.

So, the next day, walked to the train station in semi-groggy state. Lack of sleep does nasty things to me. The way I walked made zombies look like aristocrats in comparison. Met a few people I knew along the way, who did not notice any difference. Not sure to be relieved or insulted.

Basically, reached the station, just in time to catch the second train to London. Unfortunately, spanner thrown in the works of my plan as there was a breakdown in the line I was planning to take and so had to go through alternate way. Damn it, why is it the Circle Line NEVER seems to work??? Honestly, every time I go to London, theres always a breakdown or a delay or a reroute or something. Ridiculous!!!! Is it the designated breakdown lane or something? Is it the work of gremlins, or Mole People?? Friend told me breakdowns apparently happen due to suicides throwing themselves on train tracks. Why choose the Circle Line then?

Anyway, this entry is not to contemplate the mysteries of the British Underground, which thanks to Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere I already know is a surreal, mysterious place. Well, a surreal mysterious place that keeps on breaking down and losing power at the most inopportune moments, with its many stations and interlinking lines making its tube directories look like webs woven by technicolour spiders high on crack.

Have newfound appreciation for the Malaysian LRT trains. They only go in two directions, and break down very rarely, and my only complaint with them is that they are too commercialised. A not sure I blogged about my previous experience with a McDonald’s sponsored LRT ride, with big pictures of foldovers plastered all over the walls and the announcer making lame references to burgers and fries every upcoming station. I swear, if the Burger King and the A&W Root Bear die and are destined to go to Hell, that train would be the one to take them there.

So, anyways, made it to the theatre, did not get the front row seats after all (sadness) but eventually got very good seats as well at nice little student discount. Its good to be a student sometimes. Yes, you slave away to fact memorisation and get your soul devoured from time to time by exams, but hey, souls are overrated anyway, right? (goes out to lie and cheat and steal and take candy from infants)

While waiting for show to start, journeyed to MAS headquarters to get ticket home validated (so fast, I go home in a month) and had lunch. Went to a little café for sandwiches and hot chocolate, was amused that every customer in the restaurant seemed to be flirting with the sole waitress of the place. French bus driver was offering to take her to visit his village (“just give me two days notice!”) and stated that he was not above blackmailing the local mayor to do so. Ah, the wonders of love.

And no, did not flirt with the waitress. She was too old for me. And lack of sleep dulls my sharp and ready wit, which no one seems to understand anyway.

Went to Victoria theatre after that, where had my mind blown in a way I had never experienced before.


Wicked was AWESOME. Seriously. Incredible, the best damn musical; nay, the best damn show I have seen in my whole life. The stage design was fantastic, the actors magnificent, I could spend twenty pages describing all that went right with the show, from the incredible singing to the shiny clean floors of the theatre washroom. Rarely have I enjoyed myself this much.

Wicked is surprisingly, a lot like the other musical I’ve seen here, Hairspray, in which they both are themed around people that are usually misunderstood and ignored getting their chance to finally shine. Both involve dashing (if slightly air-headed) love interests initially linked to overly perky, shallow blondes that give the lead character trouble at the start. And while Hairspray championed the rights of the black people, Wicked, well, featured a movement started by a green woman.

But I enjoyed Wicked a lot more than the also-awesome Hairspray, don’t know why. There was just such a wonderful atmosphere to the story, an air of wonder and delight that made it hard not to smile as the show went on. L. Frank Baum did after all create a memorable world of munchkins, winged monkeys and ruby slippers, and to see another side of it, backed up with glorious music was just awesome.

And the songs..geez. Am embarrassed to say this, but they made me all teary eyed. I blame bloody Defying Gravity. Why does it have to be so touching? Seriously, everytime I hear Elphaba go: “I’m not afraid..its the Wizard who should be afraid”, I feel a lump in my throat and the urge to bawl like a little sissy schoolgirl. That song is doing damage to my masculinity!!!! Affects me in ways I just cannot understand. Seriously. If you ever want to torture me in pursuit of information, just tie me up and play that song, prefably the Idina Menzel version. I’ll be an emotional wreck in seconds.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, For Good shot an emotional torpedo right into my already ravaged heart. Beautiful stuff. More tear-inducing. Damn, in a way I’m glad I came alone..if my friends saw me, they’d never let me live it down!

Just to set the story straight: I am not one of those overly sensitive male SNAGs that burst into tears everytime a butterfly flies by or a baby laughs. I am a manly man who eats steak and doesn’t use moisturiser (at the detriment of my face) and ogles Megan Fox like the rest of you people. Its just that, like Superman has kryptonite, everyone has his weakness, and mine is the bloody musical! And if I am emotionally affected, I weep MAN TEARS! Yes, man tears! 23% higher in testosterone than regular tears! Which can be used to strip paint off furniture if distilled! And cure syphilis if combined with ginseng!

Anyway, entries that damage manly credibility notwithstanding, enjoyed show very much. Developed crush on actress that plays Nessarose, she had such a sweet voice.



Nessarose is obviously the ONE ON THE RIGHT. In the chair. My fetishes have not yet developed to the point they involve bald men in robes. (Bald women in robes, though..)

From there, ended up waiting 40 minutes outside the theatre waiting for cast members to sign autographs. In the rain. If that doesn’t make me a fan, don’t know what does. Good-looking actor playing Fiyero got mobbed and screamed at by assorted teenage girls, and videoed by their middle-aged mothers. Lucky man. Talked to other Wicked fans, many of them were repeat viewers, two girls were watching this show for the FIFTH time. Could see why though, because honestly, the show was a thousand kinds of awesome. The only thing that makes me slightly creeped out was the realization after the show that a million fan-fiction writers are probably writing Glinda-Elphaba femmeslash as I type this. And that’s disturbing.

Went home after that. Sat on train next to two gruff looking biker guys in leather. Would have been intimidated if not for the fact that they were discussing loudly which country Paddington Bear came from. (Biker 1: “If he’s REALLY from Peru, why do they call him Paddington?”) See. I’m not the only one losing masculine credibility.

Musicals are the best thing about this place. Seriously, the arts here are really flourishing, and the plays they stage always awe me. It’s a shame Malaysia (though its working hard on it) doesn’t have the same capability to launch long runs of shows like this, and all the major productions all never go there. (Where do they go? Bloody SINGAPORE.)

Next mission: to watch Les Miserables, the musical that started my love of musicals in the first place.

THIS ENTRY BROUGHT TO YOU BY ODIN-ONE EYED.

Some of you may be aware, that due to my interest in Norse mythology, I often use this nickname, OdinOne_Eyed, as an online handle, particularly when I want to leave comments anonymously (if you think it sounds weird, be thankful I didn’t choose some of the more tongue-twisting Norse names out there: I could have called myself ‘Jormungand87’ or ‘ShipOfDeadManNails’, for all I can tell.)

Apparently, though, I should have known better than to choose this nickname, because thanks to karmic justice, I became one-eyed for a brief couple of days. Sadly, this did not come with the incredible wisdom that the Norse god I’m named after gained with the loss of an eye: all I got was excruciating pain, the loss of a chance to see a musical, and the fashionability of a failed pirate.

I originally wanted to blog about a great number of other things: more movie experiences; a rather interesting discovery in my room (which will get its own entry, you can be sure of that) and a REALLY REALLY interesting night I had, but due to pressing urgency, and to enlighten the world about how it felt to be in near-darkness for the few days, all of the other posts shall be put aside. So here I am, doing my bit for charity.

(Me, putting Nick Fury to shame. Thank you to my friend Alvin for making my ‘prosthetic’ SERIOUS eye, so people can take me seriously.)

So, how did this saga start? I have no idea.

Doctor told me it was probably due to a foreign body entering the eye, which I eventually rubbed too hard to the point that I ended up ‘tearing my cornea.’ If you think that sounds painful, that’s because dear God, yes it was. My left eye felt like there were a hundred needles, made of barbed wire, lodged deeply within my pupil: opening it made me feel that someone was jabbing a scimitar inside for good measure. I may be a masochist, but damn, even I have my limits!

And bright lights..oh my sweet monkey ankles. You could have kicked me in the crotch while wearing blade-embroidered stilettos and I would have felt less pain. Seriously. Agony. Ended up tearing like mad: the last time I cried this much was at the last episode of Skins. Poor Tony. I think he secretly likes Sid, but Michelle would kill him if he tried anything funny.

(On an unrelated note, Skins is a pretty awesome British TV series. Yes, the storylines and characters make as much sense as a five-legged purple rhinoceros in a tutu and top hat. Yes, its as realistic as V.K. Lingam’s phone-call defence. Yes, the amount of profanity and sex would give my priest a heart attack. But its addictive, somehow, the people are nice to watch (I love Cassie, and Effy is just smoking!), and any show that features a theft of a coffin leading to a high-adrenaline car chase through the streets of Bristol, all set to Britney music, is good in my book.)

Anyways, I digress.

Point was, my eye was hurting to the point of scream-inducing excruciation, and my friend Joel was so nice to accompany me to the clinic. Was very nice of him, and am very grateful, because I would probably have been run over within minutes without help, due to my condition.

See, my right eye was fine, but opening it all the time put a lot of strain on it, and with the pain from the left eye being so intense, it was easier to close both. Which meant I was effectively blind. Me, if I were a Night Elf, and a million times more awesome.

Was relieved after getting to the clinic, eager for treatment. First time I had become sick in this country, and so was looking forward to receiving first-class, efficient medical treatment.

..only to find that the doctor could not see me now because I did not have an appointment. Was like WTF???

Medical service here, while free, seems extremely bureaucratic: no appointment, no treatment, try not to bleed too much while you wait, it ruins the carpet. Wanted to cry, but eye was tearing so much it wouldn’t make any difference. Lucky, a patient cancelled, and so I could see the doctor at 1.10 pm..

About half an hour to go.

Which proceeded to be the longest, most ridiculous thirty minutes of my life: what could I do, but stay in the hospital waiting room, hand clutching tortured eye, resisting urges to curse. Not like I could even read a freaking magazine.

At that point, was just left to my imagination, which is horrible due to how hyperactive it is. Seriously, I have the most morbid imagination ever: it comes in useful when thinking up stories involving intestine-ripping murderers and soul-sucking gypsies, but when it comes into conflict with my other side of my personality, my hypochondriac side, it becomes a tragicomedy of epic proportions.

Became extremely paranoid about my condition. How serious was this? Did it need surgery? Was something growing in there? How badly was it infected? Did they need to remove it? Was I in danger of becoming blind? Would I never be able to see porn beautiful sunsets again?

I blame House. Every episode, its somebody with some freakish disease or another: no one ever has the flu or a cold or too much gas; its always flesh eating bacteria or psittacosis or Jamaican monkey syphilis or some horrific ailment. Does horrors to my imagination.

Lucky, doctor was not as sarcastic as Gregory House, although I was not the most cooperative patient..she couldn’t really examine my eye very well because I found it very difficult to open it, due to mind-shattering agony.

Not much she could do about the eye, so she referred me to a specialist at the Royal Berkshire Hospital nearby. “Get thee to Eye Casualty, stack,” she did say, and I left.

While we’re at it, who the HELL put the ‘casual’ into ‘casualty’? As if life-threatening illnesses are things to be laughed off. Whose sick joke was this????

Anyway, after a LONG walk to the hospital, and finding the ward through the labyrinthine passages of the medical institution, FINALLY found the damn place, where the nice doctor treated my ailment, giving me some nice anaesthesia which numbed the pain. Ahh, that’s the stuff.

She also wrapped my eye up in a patch, which I couldn’t remove for a day. Patch was made of white cotton, sadly not black leather: no chance of being manly through my illness.

So for the past few days, have been mostly resting poor tired Mr Eye..quite dull. The worst part of your body to injure is your eye: anywhere else, you can still pass the time by reading or watching TV or something. But your eye goes, all you can do is sleep..which you can only do so much of. Spent most of recovery time in room with the lights all turned off, feeling very much like those tortured emo geniuses you see on TV. All throughout the UK, girls are going about in little skirts and tops, and here you are unable to see them. Curses. CURSE THEM ALL!

Was equally pissed because was supposed to go down to London on that day, to watch the musical Wicked, now have to postpone, sigh. Watching Elphaba and singing munchkins wouldn’t have the same effect with a single eye. It could have been worse: I’m just glad I wasn’t planning to see the London Eye. That way, if the pain in my cornea didn’t kill me, the tragic irony definitely would have.

Just glad this didn’t happen DURING my exams, thank God for His grace. How horrible that would have been.

Friends and housemates very nice and helpful all through my injury, helping me cook and such. All the same, hard to carry out conversations when you can’t look at people: the worst part is if they unexpectedly leave or change position: this usually ends up in me delivering long soliloquies to the air and discussing Neil Gaiman with the walls. Am glad no one took advantage of me this way, hahaha.

Only good part about this was that it apparently improved my sadly-lacking fashion sense: housemate found it "very sexy'. Yay fashion accessory!

The eyepatch is off now,though, as the pain is gone, and I am glad for it. No side effects: no X-ray vision or optic blasts of doom, unfortunately. Oh well, maybe next time?

Seriously though, the saying is true: you never appreciate what you have till its gone. Thank God for my sight. The world is a beautiful place, and I should be thankful that everyday I can able to take in so many wonders all around me.

Heh, I’m off to ogle sunbathers. Ciao!

STUFF I ENJOY, STUFF THAT MAKES ME SUFFER AND ETCETRA.

Stuff I enjoy: MOVIES!

Lesson of the day: Iron Man is an awesome film, but trust me, the wrong film to watch before a Company law exam.

Why?

Scene God-knows-what of the film:

Sexy Reporter: (pissed) Why did you sell these weapons to terrorists??

Tony Stark: I didn’t sell weapons to terrorists!

Sexy reporter: Well, your company did!

Tony Stark: I’m not the company!

Me (from audience): He’s right!!! Salomon v Salomon, decided by the House of Lords!! Seperation of corporate personality!

I think its safe to assume I have lost all semblance I have to a life. Especially since I can relate two other instances in the film where a company law case sprung to me upon watching. DAMN YOU exams.

Seeing quite a lot of movies lately to destress.

If you didn’t know, by the way, I am a HUGE movie buff. I used to hit the cinemas almost every week back in Malaysia (where tickets do not cost an arm and a leg), traverse the pasar malams looking for the best DVDs, and currently write film reviews for my university newspaper (best bit is free movie entry!) Will watch anything, although enduring chick flicks often drives me to near cuckoo whoop-de-hooness.

21: not a bad film, Kevin Spacey is always entertaining. Though I think a lot less people are going to want to enrol at MIT if Kate Bosworth is supposedly ‘the hottest girl there.’ No offence, great actress and all, but her face somehow puts me in mind of a duck crossed with a horse. The fact that all the characters in the film seem to be falling head-over-heels in love with her makes me worry that being incredibly good at math seriously affects your taste in the opposite sex.

Harold and Kumar 2:I swear, these are less movies than they are hour-long marijuana commercials. Neil Patrick Harris really rocked this show, as he did in the first one. Was pretty funny, especially the George W. Bush parts, but somehow lacked the more unexpected and over-the-top humour the first one did. Many jokes predictable, repeated, or weakly developed.

Sweeney Todd: Good God, what took me so long to watch this?????? Pure awesomeness, from start to finish. Great story, killer songs, incredible performances. Oddly enough, there is a pie shop on a street near Reading town called Sweeney Todd, although the owners are nowhere as charismatic, and have never burst into song to see me.

Come to think about it, the Lebanese man at the grocery nearby is fond of singing every time I visit him..I think I’m going to think second thoughts the next time I buy my mincemeat. (for those not in the know, btw, have become quite fond of making beef pasta. Time-consuming to make, but rewards are worth it).

Upcoming trailers review:

Chronicles of Narnia: Earlier readers of the previous Sanctuary will know I adore films about ‘little children discovering themselves in fantasy realms’ (sounds a bit wrong), and I am a huge fan of the Narnia books, and I have to say, I get goosebumps everytime I see this trailer. Bloody hell, griffins! And that river god appearance at the end..incredible.

Yes, I know the Narnia books are more about the Christian way than big old fantasy battles. But they just look so awesome..

Batman: The Dark Knight: I just keep getting reminded of what a waste Heath Ledger’s death was every time I see this. Poor man. He was so gifted.

Wanted: Concept is interesting.But James ‘Atonement’ McAvoy as an action hero?? What next, Hugh Grant as a horror movie villain??

Hancock: Why, of all the titles to give to your film, do you choose this one??? Honestly!!! Firstly, no superhero is going to get respect with that name. Secondly, my corrupted mind makes me think of all kinds of unwholesome behaviour every time I hear that name, a fact not helped by the fact that Charlize Theron appears in the film.

Stuff I don’t enjoy: EXAMS!

It has been a gloomy, depressing month of mostly confining myself in my room or the library with my wonderful textbook friends. Exams are no fun, particularly final year, where the combined effort of three long and arduous years comes down to how well you can write a freaking essay.

First paper was Jurisprudence. To say it was bleak and depressing would be the understatement of the millennium. This was so even though it was a seen paper with the questions prepared for us in advance. Our lecturer, huge and massive like a fire troll, but cunning as the Midgard Serpent (yay Norse mythology metaphors) absolutely REFUSED to tell us how many of the seen questions would come out (resulting in more frenzied guesses and estimates than an entire season of Deal or No Deal) and nicely set the paper so all the straightforward, popular and predicted questions were all nowhere to be found. She’s apparently known for doing this, my seniors tell me. Gah. Wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been eating her young and burning virgins at the stake as well. (Seriously, wouldn’t put it past her.)

Intellectual Property was alright, although there is nary a scrap of anything remotely intellectual in the sad property that is my mind. Looked fervently for the question of Breach of Confidence, my favourite chapter, only to find that the evil examiners had combined it with a question on Patents, aka the Big and Bulky Confusing Topic that Only the Criminally Insane Would Try and Tackle. Oh Reading examiners, why do you hate me?

Company Law. Not a bad paper, the examiners had apparently used up their sadism quota on the last few papers, so no nasty surprises, thank God.

Had Criminology today. Attempted question on feminist theories of crime. Got stuck with a mental blank halfway. Panicked momentarily. Prayed for inspiration. None came. Got desperate.
In the end, resorted to a last-minute approach: filled up my essay with information I had learnt from reading the seminal Y: The Last Man. Because its hard to be more feminist than a comic about how women deal with the deaths of every male but one on the planet.

And they said nothing good would come out of reading comics. Sheesh.

Etcetera

Spring has also hit the United Kingdom. Our days are FINALLY longer than our nights! The sun is shining, flowers blooming everywhere, and little showers from the sky that hit you every time you go out without your umbrella.

It is also FREAKING HOT!!!!!

But Teg! I hear you protest. Weren’t you whining and moaning in the previous Sanctuary about how gloomy and cold the UK is, and how you missed the sunny smoke-filled skies of Selangor???

Well..yes. But you know what they say..a man is never satisfied. Plus, after getting used to walking around in bulky jackets with the equivalent weight and fashionability of a cow, you can’t blame me if I get pissed that I now have to unlearn all my valuable adaptation skills.

To add insult to injury, to add salt to the wound, to add necrophiliacs unto the remains of a mass genocide, it seems the UK is undergoing a heatwave that will go on for awhile, yesterday was apparently the hottest day of the year.

Oh joy.

The British however, love the hot weather. Seriously. They love tanning, sunbathing; the grassy meadow near the campus library is packed with pale sporty Brits on mats and plastic sheets, reading or playing Frisbee or chatting or generally being British. Guys also walk around with their shirts off, making it feel as though I’ve wandered into a Ralph Lauren commercial from time to time.

And the girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Holy mother of macaroni, the girls!!!

Wandering around in the barest of dresses, wearing tiny little shorts and even tinier tops, good Frodo, the eye candy level is so high I’m spoilt for choice. SERIOUSLY. How on EARTH am I supposed to be studying for exams when there are these exquisite specimens of incredible hotness wandering around in clothes that would be tight on a Barbie doll?

(You know, I wouldn’t be surprised if this is yet another sinister plan by my Juris lecturer to destroy me..)

I’m sorry if I sound lecherous, but seriously..MAN. And I’m enjoying this IMMENSELY, unlike a friend of mine whose name I will not mention..haha, you know who you are.

Looking at this eye-candy (and trust me, I do), it makes me wonder how we survive in my conservative homeland where despite the blistering heat, we go about with our usual clothes, when here it seems that people would die if you banned them from shorts and T-shirts. To say nothing of the Malay fellas who go about in long baju kurungs and headscarves and so on. How did we survive?

I wonder if my parents will let me come back here again next spring, to take in once again the wonderful ‘sights’ of the country.

My heart is filled with newfound love for this wonderful United Kingdom. Spring REALLY brings out the best in it, hahahhaa.