The Long Way to the Sea

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoThe day started at six with a ward round, at an hour when the corridors are still yawning and the coffee has not yet decided whether to help. It was an early start even by recent standards, but there was a reason for the haste. The rest of the day had plans, and they were not inclined to wait.

From there I headed to Pudu to meet the photography crowd for the Kelby Walk. Ripi was leading again, with the easy authority of someone who knows exactly which alley has the best light and which has the best kopi. All the usual suspects were there, cameras slung, arguing amiably about lenses and pretending not to compare kit. Pudu obliged with its usual texture, all peeling paint and morning bustle. I could not stay long, which felt a little like leaving a party just as the good conversation begins, but the east coast was calling, and it does not call quietly.

We left by eleven. The drive to Cherating is long enough that you settle into it, the city thinning out and the hills taking over. Temerloh provided our first charging stop, and with it a pleasant interlude of stretching legs and watching the percentage climb with the patience of a kettle you are trying not to stare at.

The final stretch took us past Lynas, which I can report is not exactly scenic. Industrial in the most sincere sense of the word. One does not drive towards the beach expecting a rare earth processing plant, but here we were, and here it was, unbothered by our opinions.

We reached Royale Chulan by four. The villa turned out to have an extra room, which was a welcome surprise, if slightly puzzling, as though the place had been expecting guests we had forgotten to invite. We settled in, took a quick walk around the resort, and let the sea air do its gentle work of persuading us that we were, at least briefly, on holiday.

The rest was short-lived. By evening we were driving to Kuantan for the wedding dinner of Aya’s daughter. Aya was a classmate from MRSM Terendak, and there is something quietly remarkable about watching the children of school friends get married. It does sharpen one’s sense of time. The dinner was warm and generous, full of faces and familiar laughter, and we enjoyed it thoroughly.

Afterwards came another round of charging in town before the drive back to the resort. Forty minutes or so, along a road that was not in great condition and seemed to regard street lighting as an optional extra. I drove with the concentration of someone reading small print in a dim room, and the car, to its credit, did not complain.

When we finally arrived, I made it as far as the balcony. The plan was to sit down for a moment before changing. The moment, as it turned out, became the rest of the night. I fell asleep there, still dressed for the wedding, the sea somewhere out in the dark doing what seas do.

A long day, by any measure. But a good one, from a dawn in the wards to the waves at midnight.

Charged and Trimmed

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoSome days you can feel coming before they arrive. I woke this morning with that particular awareness, the sense of a diary that had been filled in by someone with great ambition and very little regard for the person who would have to live it. A busy day, then. Best to get on with it.

The morning clinic was a long one. Not unpleasant, simply long, the sort where the waiting room never quite empties and each conversation leads politely into the next. By the time it eased off, the morning had been thoroughly used up, with nothing left over for the luxury of a proper pause.

The afternoon brought a stem cell infusion, which is quieter and slower than it sounds, a matter of patience and careful watching. There is something steadying about it. The clock moves at its own pace, and for a while you move with it, whether you like it or not.

Somewhere in the background, the weekend had been assembling itself. Tomorrow we head for Cherating, by way of Kuantan, where Aya’s daughter is getting married. A wedding has a way of rearranging everyone’s priorities, and ours were duly rearranged. Plans were made, clothes considered, and the question of the drive itself came up, as it now inevitably does.

Which is how the evening began with a trip to Bangsar in search of somewhere to charge the car. Owning an EV, I am learning, adds a new layer to any journey. You no longer simply go somewhere. You go somewhere via somewhere else, with one eye on the battery percentage and the other on a map of charging points. It is not a burden exactly, more a new habit forming, like checking your pockets for keys before shutting the door.

While the car took its fill, I took the opportunity to have a haircut. There is a pleasing efficiency in two things being topped up and tidied at the same time. The barber worked with quiet focus, and I left looking marginally more presentable for a wedding, which seemed only fair given the effort everyone else would be making.

Home again, and the day was not quite finished with me. There was an online meeting with the team in Kota Bharu who are organising the ASM next year. Planning something a year ahead has its own strange gravity. Dates, venues and programmes all feel slightly hypothetical, until suddenly they are not. The team were enthusiastic and organised, which is the best combination one can hope for, and we ended with that pleasant sense of things beginning to take shape.

By the time the screen went dark it was late, and the house had settled around me. The car was charged, my hair was shorter, and the plans for both this weekend and next year were rather further along than they had been this morning.

A packed day, as predicted. There is a certain satisfaction in a forecast that turns out to be accurate, even when the forecast was mostly for exhaustion. Tomorrow, the east coast. Tonight, a little rest, and perhaps a last look at the packing list.

Two Cars, One Driver, Briefly

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoThe new car had its first proper commute today. Until now it had been treated rather like a guest, admired, driven with care and parked with the kind of precision usually reserved for exams. This morning it simply had to go to work like the rest of us.

There is a moment, a few days into owning something new, when it begins to stop being an occasion and starts becoming part of the routine. I noticed it at the first set of traffic lights. No glancing at the dashboard in quiet wonder, no testing of buttons out of curiosity. Just a red car, a slightly sleepy driver and the familiar Klang Valley crawl. It took the traffic with better grace than I did.

The morning's work went smoothly enough, which is to say it got done, and by late morning I had the rare and slightly disorientating feeling of being on schedule. This lasted until lunch, which was a meeting. Lunch meetings have a curious double life. They promise food and deliver agendas, and you leave with the faint sense that the sandwich was mostly ceremonial. Still, it was productive, and the coffee was decent, which counts for a great deal.

The afternoon belonged to physio. There is a particular humility in lying on a treatment table while someone gently but firmly identifies every muscle you have been neglecting. Each stretch arrived with a polite explanation and a less polite sensation. I emerged walking a little more freely and with a renewed respect for parts of my body I had largely been taking for granted.

On the drive home my thoughts turned to the MyVi, which has been patiently waiting for some attention of its own. It needs to go in for repairs, a task I have been mentally postponing with impressive consistency. It feels slightly unfair, really. The old faithful has done years of uncomplaining service, and the moment something shiny and red arrives, it is relegated to the to-do list. I made a mental note to sort it out soon, and then made a second mental note to actually follow through on the first.

The evening brought the day's main event. Anita took the new car for a drive. I would like to report that I sat back and relaxed, the very picture of serene confidence. In truth I was a fairly attentive passenger, offering the occasional observation in a tone I hoped sounded helpful rather than supervisory. She handled it beautifully, of course, and seemed to settle into the quiet of it far quicker than I had. The car, for its part, appeared entirely indifferent to who was holding the wheel, which is perhaps the most reassuring quality a car can have.

By the time we came back the house was dim and still. One car tucked away, the other awaiting repairs, and two people who now, it seems, share custody of a red EV.

A quieter day than the last, but none the worse for it. Some days are milestones. Others are simply the miles.

Seeing Red, Quietly

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoSome days announce themselves the moment you open your eyes. Today was one of them. After all the paperwork, the gathered documents and the neat little pile by the door, it was finally time to collect our first electric car.

The iCAUR 03 was waiting for us, and it was red. This was Anita's choice, made some time ago with the calm certainty of someone who had never seriously considered any other option. I had offered opinions about greys and silvers at the time. They were received politely and filed somewhere I suspect I will never find them. Seeing it in person, I am happy to concede the point. It looked rather pleased with itself, and so, frankly, did she.

There is a small ceremony to these things. Signatures, keys, a walk around the car while someone explains features at a speed suggesting they have done this many times before. Then the moment itself, pulling away and noticing, almost immediately, the silence. No rumble, no clearing of the throat, just a soft hum and the road. It is an odd sensation at first, rather like discovering you have been talking loudly in a library for years without realising.

Driving it home felt less like a commute and more like a small parade of two. I took the corners with the exaggerated care of a new owner and glanced at the mirrors more often than strictly necessary, mostly to admire the colour reflected in shop windows.

The celebration, alas, came with a time limit. Before long I was heading straight back to clinic, the new car parked somewhere I kept thinking about, like a child left with a babysitter for the first time.

The evening brought a dinner talk at BSC, and Anita came along, arriving with the car. I would like to say this was for the pleasure of my company, but I suspect the drive was at least part of the attraction. The talk went well, the food was good, and there was a pleasing symmetry in leaving together in something new.

Afterwards we did what any reasonable couple with a new car would do. We drove around town for a bit, entirely without purpose, simply because we could. Kuala Lumpur at night is kind to aimless driving. The roads loosen, the lights soften, and the city seems content to let you wander.

Our wanderings took us past the Petronas Twin Towers, which were unusually abuzz. Kimi Antonelli and George Russell had been visiting ahead of this weekend's F1, and by the time we passed by, the crowd was just about to leave. We had, in effect, missed two of the fastest drivers in the world by a matter of minutes, while sitting in our own quiet car going at a very respectable thirty. There is a lesson about timing in there somewhere, though I am not entirely sure what it is.

Home now, and the red car is parked outside, ticking over in its own silent way. It was a happy day. Simple as that, and none the worse for it.

Lazy, Strategically

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoThe day began early, as they so often do now, with the sky still undecided between night and morning and the neighbourhood holding its breath. I stood at the door weighing my options and came to a decision that I would like to call strategic but which was, in all honesty, simply lazy. I booked a Grab to UMMC.

Anyone who has tried to find parking there at that hour will understand. It is less a search than a pilgrimage, circling the same rows in the hope that someone, somewhere, has had a change of heart and decided to leave. Sitting in the back seat, letting someone else worry about lanes and lights, felt like a small luxury. I watched the city wake up through the window and felt very little guilt about it.

The respite was brief. Before long I was heading back across town to SJMC, where the morning clinics and round were waiting with the patience of things that know you cannot avoid them. Two venues before mid-morning is a particular kind of geography. You spend the first hour in one place and the next three slightly catching your breath in another, as if part of you is still sitting in a car somewhere along the Federal Highway.

Lunch was with pharma, which is to say a meal accompanied by conversation of the professional sort, polite and purposeful. The food was good, the company pleasant, and I left knowing a little more than I did going in, which is about as much as one can ask of any lunch.

Then the afternoon clinic, and after that the rest of the day simply whizzed by. There are days that drag their feet and days that sprint, and today was firmly in the second camp. I looked up at one point expecting it to be mid-afternoon and found the light already softening, the hours having quietly slipped out while I was looking the other way.

The evening, though, had a different flavour. Tomorrow I pick up the car, and so tonight was given over to preparation: documents gathered, details checked, the small administrative rituals that come before something new. There is a curious anticipation to it. Not excitement exactly, more a sort of tidy readiness, like packing a bag the night before a trip.

It did not escape me that the day began with a decision not to drive and ends with the prospect of a new car. If there is irony in that, I am choosing to enjoy it. Perhaps the Grab this morning was a farewell of sorts, a last indulgence before parking becomes, once again, entirely my problem.

For now, the papers are in a neat pile by the door, the house is quiet, and the day that sprinted past is finally sitting down. Tomorrow will have its own pace. Tonight, I think, I am allowed to have mine.