And if they did, the conversation is drawing out to an end pretty soon. Whew.
On Friday, I came home to an empty house. L had given notice and decamped to a friend with cable TV. He took HRH with him. She was quite the party animal, I later heard, demanding biscuits and bellyrubs from everyone, little slut.
I pottered happily round an empty, quiet house and went to bed early. Next thing I knew, there was a scratching at the bedroom door and I opened my eyes to that split second of two paws and a furry face in the mid-air, inches away before I felt the crashlanding and had the wind knocked out of me. Oof. Guess my doghter loves me. L said she spent the last hour of their visit sulking in her carrier with her tail down because she wanted to go home to Mummy.
Yesterday was M's birthday and family, friends and furkids all descended on our favourite dog-friendly grill. I'm sure the pix will be on M's blog pretty soon. This place is tucked away in the depths of the old Seletar camp and it's like a secret place -- like Heidi Klump keeps saying in that Runway show, "you're either in or you're out" -- you either know how to get there or you don't. It's got no aircon, no frills, no TV and definitely no World Cup.
Very rare, a World Cup free place. Even the kopi tiams in the heartlands of Ang Mo Kio have a TV or two blazing away to crowds of bleary-eyed football fans.
And then, as we drove out of Seletar, past the black-and-white bungalows, there was Portugal vs England, glowing in the dark, large as life and twice as natural. Someone had a projection TV thing set up and was using the side of his house as the screen! Talk about a block party. That guy must be a real hit with his neighbours.
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