I was surprised and touched by the response that the rather morose (on hindsight *blush* oh my) ramblings on my last post elicited. You left me thoughtful and encouraging comments. Some of you went further and sent me private emails, asking after me; someone even tried to cheer me up with a chuckle inducing personal story. I'm convinced I have the loveliest blog readers, anywhere on the internet. What can I say? I'm really happy, that you're mine. This week, I've got my big girl pants on, and I'm not letting anything else get me that low again.
Food bloggers especially, are guilty of bombarding readers' senses with tantalising copy and voluptuous, soft focus visuals of sunlight drenched domesticity.
And we, so help us, love them all the more for it, don't we? We see, we read, we are seduced and we want their spotless marble counters, and exquisite table settings, the artfully distressed chairs, on which their radiant children sit, in their fairyland gardens. They make us dream, and wish and covet their picture perfect lives, where no one fails, nothing breaks, food doesn't burn, and tears don't exist.
Thank you for acknowledging my frailty and my imperfect life. For making me feel your understanding of the reality that behind the pictures and the usually upbeat words is a real person with real struggles that sometimes overwhelm her. I have no garden, my castle is a nondescript apartment, my children don't radiate anything but testosterone, indeed, I live in a huge cloud of it. Many of my dreams get shelved or discarded, I get rejected, disappointed, and.... I cry. More than you might imagine. But I laugh too, a lot, and always with my head thrown back and my belly shaking like pudding in a cup :-)
To seal the deal and give you an excuse to clink glasses, I made you, what else for a blog named Singapore Shiok! but this, created by Ngiam Tong Boon, right here in Singapore, at the original Long Bar of the Raffles Hotel, around 1915. Yes, the very same watering hole which charmed the likes of Hemingway, Joseph Conrad and Rudyard Kipling, and where Somerset Maugham put away numberless G&Ts while penning tales of the lush, steaming jungles of what was then known as Malaya. Black Monday you say?! Not with one of these in your hand. Friday just got a lot closer. Glug, glug, glug!!