I
don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. It’s not even the end of June as I
write this, but it feels like it’s been such a long year already. If it wasn’t
Joanne Peh breaking up with her boyfriend, it was her getting on with a new one.
Or people being slaughtered at weddings in ‘Game of Thrones’. Or the stress of
watching Roger Federer lose yet another tennis match. And don’t get me started
on the haze. We’re still trying to wash the stench of smoke out of our hair.
Really, it’s just been one thing after the other. I
so need a break.
Of course, the big issue now is just where to go.
Brighter sparks out there will probably observe that we should jetted out of
Singapore before the horrible haze
hit and that now is the time to sit back and enjoy the much cleaner air.
Like my friend Barney Chen.
Long before the haze was shooting up into the 400s,
Barney had already packed a bag containing 15 pieces of swimming briefs, a
bottle of suntan oil and made a beeline for terminal 3. A few hours later, he
was lying by a pool in Bali, wearing the first of his briefs and Tweeting about
the glorious clear skies and Instagramming pictures of his gin and tonic.
“This is what Superman must feel like when he’s
flying up near the sun!” he said smugly on Skype.
Saffy snatched my phone away from me. “Listen,
Barney Chen, if you were a real friend, you would have asked us to come along
with you! It’s just completely vile right
now. I can’t see two feet in front of me, but…oh my God, pan back, pan back! Who is that cute guy in the background?”
“That would be lunch!”
Barney smirked and hung up.
Saffy was incensed. “It’s absolutely unbelievable.
Why is Barney Chen living it up in Bali and breathing good quality air while
I’m turning into a smelly piece of smoked salmon?”
That was a few days ago. The haze has lifted. For
now anyway. For the first time, we’ve opened our windows and though we continue
to sniff the air with deep suspicion, it almost feels as if the worst has
passed.
And with that passing, comes a feeling of deep
exhaustion. Amanda says this is probably what giving birth must be like, a
comment that led to Sharyn to give her an earful about the difference between
post-partum exhaustion and post-haze delirium.
“I tell you, ah, you think giving birth is like
holding your breath, is it? Damn painful, ah! It’s like, it’s like…it’s like
someone pull the top of your mouth over
your head, ah!”
Amanda squealed. “Oh my God, that is so disgusting,
Sharyn!”
Sharyn, a veteran of four violent births, preened.
“Abaden?”
When even a simple conversation can suddenly turn
so bloodthirsty, is it any wonder that I’m so drawn to the idea of just lying
on a soft cushion of sand with the sun warming my face and a breeze tickling my
toes? I’m in half a mind to get on the next plane to Bali and joining Barney
Chen.
“You’re inviting me and Amanda to
come along, aren’t you?” Saffy asked suspiciously when she saw me Google plane
fares.
“Absolutely not,” I said firmly. “I’ve
just spent the past week and a bit holed up in this flat with the two of you.
All the windows have been sealed. We’ve been breathing in recycled air and
eating tinned tuna and takeaway pizza for days. I need a break from you!”
Saffy’s fabulous bosom, newly
liberated from the haze, expanded. “That is just so incredibly rude! Fine, go
to Bali by yourself then. See if I care! I’ll…I’ll go and watch ‘Man of Steel’
instead! And at night, I’ll just fantasize about Henry Cavill!”
I turned from my laptop and looked
up. “Look,” I said kindly. “It’s nothing personal. I need a change of scenery.
Why don’t you girls go off to Penang or something and eat some char kway teow! Or check into a nice
little hotel in Bangkok and get some cheap Botox injections!”
You could tell by the glint in Saffy’s eyes
that she was taken with the idea. But like a dog with a bone, she wasn’t about
to let me off the hook too easily.
“Excuse me,” she began, “but are you
saying that I am looking wrinkly?”
“Oh, look at the time!” I said, standing
up in a rush. “I’m late for drinks with…uhm…Stan.”
“Oh, you better go then. Wait, who’s
Stan? Is he single? Can I come?”
Like I said, I so need a holiday.
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