Truths of Old

Sometimes during the morning meetings, he caught himself searching the room for her. There was something... ill defined that he couldn't pin a finger onto, that attracted his attention.

It struck him as odd one day when a colleague started talking about the girls.

Perhaps in part because he'd always found him... a little effeminate. Although quite a hit with the women. (There's no justice in this world...)

What's that word again... metrosexual?

Metro : "So, ___ is quite pretty too ya?"

Regular : "ehm. Yes."

pause.

Regular : "So...?"

Metro : "she's so not my type."

He looked askance at Mr metrosexual, and thought... yeees. hmm. your type is probably the thin thin guniang girl with the long long hair and the white white skin, who hangs helplessly off the arm of her man in her many moments of distress.

He said : "Oh. okay."

*****

So... are you one of those anonymous doctor bloggers?

Err. Pause.

I'm not one of those.

I'm sure I'm far lower profile than they are. cough.
I avoid writing about work like the plague.

Somehow, the words have dried up... or perhaps I have... since returning home. The few times I feel compelled to write about the people under my charge, and how moved I've felt -- I cannot, for fear of reprisals from the establishment.

And, you know, it's just so pai sei if someone comes up to you and asks... heeeeyyyyy, you're Re-minisce, right?

England felt bigger - a whole lot bigger. And nobody really cared if you blogged about stuff or not; heck, everyone had a blog anyway, and those who didn't just weren't interested. That's the way it worked. You have a blog? ah, how nice. So did you watch coronation street yesterday...

Celebrity bloggers?

Pah!

Only in Singapore.

(No offence to : Mr Brown, Mr Miyagi, Miss LMD, Cowboy Caleb, and all the other assorted nutters bloggers out there who are our nation's hearthrobs...)

******
Looking again...

... midnight blue?

No whaaaaaaat. Black. Most definitely black.