Of late, I am beginning to realise that I am re-discovering the joys of creating stuff with my hands. It started with crochet late last year.
There I was, excited, a bit scared even, when the lights were dimmed. On stage, save for two plastic chairs (like the type you get in modern kopitiams) and a small table, on which sat a mini compo, were all there was to a set. A blueish-silver saree hung from the ceiling. Oil lamps lit the floor, adding much Indian flavour.
I had come to watch Cheet Chat at The Actors Studio Greenhall, a play about two colleagues and the tragedies and comedies of their lives.
Nic came up with an insight yesterday when we were out shopping for Chinese New Year clothes at the local shopping mall.
We had just entered the Ladies Department and it being a Sunday, was crammed full of people, men, women, children, teens.
You know what gets me excited each year during Chinese New Year?
The food. Yes. And specifically the jam tarts. Pineapple tarts.
Not the store-bought stuff in their garish, plastic containers. Where there’s hardly a whiff of rich butter or the fragrance of fresh pineapple jam.