Haven't been to town for lunch for the longest time. Today, decided to catch up with old friend, SJL, and had our normal Ipoh Sar Hor Fun in Tongkat Tong Shin. She only just found out about this blog, and was questioning me why she's one of the last to know. Actually, it's not that she's the last or what, it's just that I never publicise it. Afterall, it's not really a diary of my innermost thoughts, more a therapeutic outlet to just waffle. Anyway, SJL looks as glamoros as ever, complete with Ferragamo shoes, and smart suit...which she claims is unbranded. Her shoes probably cost more than every item hanging off me, combined. As in clothing items and accessories hanging off me.
Kids fevers are down a bit. Will need a few more days before doing blood tests to see if it is anything serious, IF the fever doesn't go down. Sumo (no 3) doesn't seem any worse for wear, despite his tonsils being larger than apples...he could still eat his usual 1/2 portion of roti canai, liberally doused with dahl.
Anyway, I got this picture in the email today, which reminded me of my own experience in 1988.
The place was the padang in the Royal Military College. The year was 1988. We were in the fields, when suddenly, I had this massive contractions, like a woman in labour. As I tried to hold it in, (REO Speedwagon's song springs to mind), I raced to the nearest toilet, which was at the building called the pavilion. Now, the college, situated in Sg Besi, has a water supply as unpredictable as a PMS-ed woman. Anyway, not having the luxury of recce-ing around for the cleanest cubicle, I manage to reach a bowl (squat type) just in time. A second later, and it would have been a "shit hits the fan" kinda scenario. Except no fan.
With great relief, I unloaded the load, and after the initial stress of reaching on time had subsided, I look around....for signs of how I was to clean up. To expect toilet paper in that place would be like expecting to meet Jennifer Lopez in a toilet in Sg Wang plaza, so I hop along (bare assed) to the nearest sink, and to my abject horror, there was no water either. Not a drop. And bear in mind, for these kinda nature calls, it's not a clean one long banana strip that comes out. (The australian army rations apparently get dieticians to ensure a good combination of chocolate and cheese, one a laxative, the other an anti laxative, to make sure the poo poo comes out as one long roll, having to use minimum loo roll). This was messy.
So, no paper, no water. How? Call it serendipity, call it fate, call it luck, I check my wallet, and am SOOOOOO relieved to find there was a used airline ticket, with at least three sheets intact. Cover, Back, and the one sheet that has the baggage limit instructions. Those days, domestic tickets were smaller than international. Aneeeway, the MAS logo probably went where it's never been before.....also, you know how they have that red carbon for triplicate copies of the ticket? Well.....
Sorry, SJL, to put this story in your debut on this blog.