2010 will be a year of running for me.

Farewell (shorts)

I can’t believe what I’m reading. I can’t believe you never told me.

I hesitated from reading on, but I couldn’t help it. I spent the rest of the afternoon poring over all the archived pages I could find. I regret not knowing you better. You’re not the same person you were in your youth. Did I change you?

Whatever happened to the smiling girl in the pictures? My favourite was the one with you and dad sharing a Wendy burger. And then there are the blog posts. I must confess it was terribly intriguing to read about your pregnancy of me, day by day, but you really were someone else back then. Radiant, enthusiastic, lively. Happy. You indulged yourself in the simple pleasures of knitting and the whole experience of motherhood seemed a bliss.

I don’t remember much of our old house, and I’d rather not, it still haunts me. After what happened but one memory still remains with me.

I still have them you know, the red mittens.

I’m more confused than ever. Where did my abusive childhood come from? What did I do to you to deserve it?

We were looking for all the pictures of you in the Archives and stumbled upon your public diary circa 2004-2013.

It’s funny isn’t it how I’m recording this now in my diary as you did over 30 years ago in yours, tragically, both without the other.

Thank you for the mittens. Thank you so very much.

//

Question for the reader:

1. Did you understand what was happening?

2. If any, what is the significance of this piece?

Scones at Carcosa Seri Negara

At last, we have arrived at what is supposedly the creme de la creme of English teas - the famed afternoon tea at The Drawing Room.

I consider myself extremely lucky as it was probably the first and last time I will ever set foot in Carcosa because it will be closed at the end of the month when the lease expires. It may or may not reopen, but even so things would probably be different then.

Unfortunately, tea is now held at the Carcosa mansion as the Seri Negara (other building) has been closed since October. So we didn’t have “afternoon tea, served in the elegant drawing room, or charming wrap-around verandah, overlooking the beautiful gardens” (wiki). Still, the dining room was extremely cosy and charming.

Seeing as there’s someone plucking strings on a harp (yes, I’m serious), I’m surprised that the price is even listed in the menu. Or even have a menu for that matter as you’d know what you’re into if you have a reservation. But I digress.

Tea was promptly served, and there were only a handful, maybe 10 popular types to choose from. And along with it, scones to start.

Fittingly, it came with fresh clotted cream and a dollop of jam. The scone was airy but overall firm and fresh. Slightly hard on the crust but otherwise a good combo. Judging purely on the scone, Westin was better. But I must say though that they got the cream just right.

The most notable thing on the tray however, was the fruitcake on a spoon. Doesn’t look like much but it will blow you away. Very moist and fragrant, I think I tasted rum but I can’t confirm (rum dried fruitcake?). And the yellow stuff you see on the spoon is custard. Truly decadent.

This fruitcake really made the afternoon tea, even more than the scones. It’s that good. Other offerings on the tray were the usual sandwiches, smoked salmon buns, cookies - leaning towards the traditional.

To wrap, I would say that tea at Carcosa has lived up to its reputation, and expectations. The only minor drawback would be that the staff wasn’t as accommodating as expected (for an establishment of this stature). But overall very good. Shame we won’t be enjoying it again anytime soon.

Tiered stand.

People.

Best. Fruitcake. Ever.

Goodbye.

Scones at Coffee Bean

Another unplanned review. Was at Coffee Bean and saw that they had scones. Actually, they’re the only fast-food coffee chain cafe doing scones. I know O’briens does sometimes, but I wouldn’t get anything other than a sandwich there. And Dome too, but it’s more of a restaurant.

So there are two kinds of scones - a raisin scone called ‘My Mom’s scone’ (for some reason), and a slightly more expensive cranberry scone. I had the latter because it was the only one they have left.

It had a very buttery, cakey quality to it. I’m not sure if scones are supposed to be more bread than cake - but I would lean slightly towards bread. And you don’t really taste much of the cranberry bits. At least I think they’re not as obvious as raisins.

The scone came with butter and jam, which is laughable but I had no expectations to begin with. One thing about jam is that it makes almost anything good by covering it up with its sweetness.

Overall, I was hoping for a surprise in the scone, like Dome’s, but it was not meant to be.

P.S: Their Dark Choc Peppermint Ice Blended was good though.

Scones at Dome

An improptu visit led me to try the ‘Heavenly Scones’ at Dome. Apparently this is a new item on the menu?

Anyway, it had great texture. Soft and light. Sometimes it feels like it’s melting in your mouth. However, the cream is a let down. It’s not clotted cream but some sweetened cream. And the strawberry jam was nothing to shout about.

If only it had the cream from Marmalade, this would be a great combo. Overall a good scone but slightly let down by the cream.

Vines (shorts)

“Please, take a sit.” says the middle aged man. A young man walks in, his shirt and jeans slightly crumpled. There was no seat, simply a cushion on the tatami mat. Unsure of what to do, he simply knelt down on it.

Pearl shoji screens line the walls, a large white paper lantern mark the center of the room, the quiet softly punctured by the flow of water from the tsukubai fountain in a corner.

“Alex Foster,” he starts, reading from his laptop. “26, three years with the company, hardworking, takes initiatives. Good.”

“Er…yes…thanks, Mr. Rowland sir.” Alex answers hesitantly, forcing a grin.

“Why are you here Mr. Foster?”

“You…mean HR? Here this office?”

“Yes, why?”

“I don’t know, actually”

“Well, unfortunately we have to ask you to leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“Resign. Before I’m forced to give you a pink slip.”

Alex is momentarily stunned, eyes fixated to the ground. He sighs and mutters an OK. “You’ll have my letter tomorrow morning…”

“Actually, you have to leave now.” Rowland interrupts. “You will be compensated as per your contract. Lisa will take care of everything.”

“I…”

“That is all.”

Defeated, Alex shuffles to the door and let himself out. Lisa, Rowland’s secretary was already standing by with the paperwork. “Sign here and here.” she gestures to the contract on the clipboard. “Your personal effects are in that box over there. I wish you all the best in your future endeavours.”

An oddly chilling sensation washed over Alex as she offered her hand. Actually, it was more of a mix between disgust and awkwardness, like she was the very personification of the corporate world, full of false niceties and professional sounding jargon. What she’s really saying is - Bye! Thank goodness I’m not seeing you again.

“Thanks” was all he could muster. Alex removed his tag, picked up his box, and that was that. He was free.

“Here you go Mr. Rowland.” Lisa says as she hands him the documents.

“Thanks Lisa. Oh yes, Kelly will be replacing Alex effective immediately.”

“Kelly the new girl?”

“Yes. She’s been involved in most of his projects over the past few months. So it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why Alex?”

“His time has come.”

“How do you mean?”

“My…vines… stretches to the very edges of this company. I see and hear everything. Every keystroke, every email, every byte from every workstation.” boasts Mr. Rowland. “Foster. 11 October 2014. Communicated dissatisfaction and undermined the authority of his superiors. Foster. 16 January 2015. Replied to an unknown recipient regarding a freelancing gig. Beginning February left company early with increasing frequency. You might think they’re unrelated but these are signs are clear as day.”

“That he’s planning to move on?”

“No, that he’s increasingly a threat to the wellfare of the company. We couldn’t afford to let him hold on to much responsibility any longer, nor could be afford to renew his loyalty. They all think they’re the key, but in fact they’re just a cog in the machinery.”

“I see.”

“Sometimes I see timers above people’s heads. I know when their time is up. My data never lies.”

“And me?”

“Haha…You’re good Lisa. Don’t worry, you’re not in an M2 level position for nothing. Now could you get Margaret in? Margaret from Marketing. Thanks.”

Scones at Marmalade

Over the weekend, I went back to Marmalade to properly review the scone that started it all.

I was dissapointed.

Well, the cream was good. Tastes like clotted cream but I can’t confirm this. One thing’s for sure, it isn’t sweetened, which is good. The scone also came with a small packet of strawberry jam, which is laughable.

You could taste an even firmness in the scone, which could be a good thing, but I prefer it softer. There’s also a staleness to it that they couldn’t hide with a minute in the microwave. Not surprising since it spent the whole day in the fridge.

Overall, it was mediocre at best. I still love the cream but the scone could’ve been better.

Rush (shorts)

The wind rushes against Dave’s face and hair. The initial sensation of falling has given way to the joy of floating. Sarah has obviously not gotten over this sensation and is clinging onto his hand for dear life. Beneath them the speedboat is beginning to pick up speed as the operator extends the rope.

Ahead, the setting sun glistens against the blue waters. Fishing trawlers dot the horizon in silhouettes large and small. Not a care in the world. Well, there is Sarah who looks as though she might throw up at any moment. But that’s beside the point.

Beep beep!

“For fuck’s sake Dave. What is that thing doing with you!?” Sarah shouts against the wind.

“What? I keep my phone on me wherever I go.” Dave shouts back.

“Hand it over. NOW!”

“Alright, fine!”

Sarah snatches it and hurls it into the water below and starts laughing uncontrollably.

“WHAT!” exclaims Dave. “WHAT THE HELL SARAH?”

He is fuming, but a grin creeps in and soon they’re laughing. The operator on the boat is saying something below, probably wondering if everything’s OK.

The wind rushes against Dave’s face and hair. The pleasure of floating evaporates into a panicked state of falling. Dave is laughing. There it is, the broken Blackberry in a million pieces on the pavement.