Two things to be grateful for: I woke up this morning to the smell of rain (yes, rain does smell: it's a musty, steamy, gravelly smell, of cold rain splashing on hot concrete and gravel) and secondly, I woke up at a reasonable time, which suggests I might have a shot at breaking this horrible early-to-bed-early-to-rise phenomenon of the past few days.
The unbearable slowness of Friday afternoon passed, as all things do, eventually, and yesterday night found K and I at Sunset Grill for dinner (she had to drag me out of bed: I was in mortal danger of sinking into sleep at 8pm), where I discovered that the very thing that I liked about the place - it's ulu-ness and isolation - had been compromised. It's the fate of all good restuarants, I suppose, but I had hoped that the sheer difficulty of getting to the place would be its strongest defence against the hordes looking for the next big culinary experience, but I underestimated the determination of the Singaporean middle-classes to congregate at the latest in-place. The moment K and I pulled into an almost-full parking lot whre the only space left was next to a Mini Cooper, we knew that the days of having the place all to ourselves were gone. The funny thing is that it was never the food that attracted me to the place, but the atmosphere - quiet, isolated, quiet, quiet, and quiet. This island just isn't big enough for all of us, I fear ...
The unbearable slowness of Friday afternoon passed, as all things do, eventually, and yesterday night found K and I at Sunset Grill for dinner (she had to drag me out of bed: I was in mortal danger of sinking into sleep at 8pm), where I discovered that the very thing that I liked about the place - it's ulu-ness and isolation - had been compromised. It's the fate of all good restuarants, I suppose, but I had hoped that the sheer difficulty of getting to the place would be its strongest defence against the hordes looking for the next big culinary experience, but I underestimated the determination of the Singaporean middle-classes to congregate at the latest in-place. The moment K and I pulled into an almost-full parking lot whre the only space left was next to a Mini Cooper, we knew that the days of having the place all to ourselves were gone. The funny thing is that it was never the food that attracted me to the place, but the atmosphere - quiet, isolated, quiet, quiet, and quiet. This island just isn't big enough for all of us, I fear ...
Comments