Please click the photo above to play the daily videoSunday, and another early start. I’m beginning to suspect my alarm clock doesn’t believe in weekends. It certainly doesn’t respect them.
The rounds, at least, were smooth. After yesterday’s overrun I’d braced myself for more of the same, but the morning was kind. Things went where they were meant to go, in roughly the time they were meant to take. I’ve learnt not to celebrate these mornings too loudly. Gratitude, quietly expressed, seems to work better.
Down in the lobby there was an unexpected bustle. People queuing to pick up their kits for the SJMC Run next weekend, clutching bags of race numbers and branded T-shirts with the hopeful look of those who’ve signed up for something and are only now remembering what it involves. There’s a lovely optimism to a kit collection. Nobody has run a single step yet, so everyone is still, in their own minds, rather fast. I admired them from a safe distance, which is my preferred relationship with running.
Then off to Bukit Antarabangsa to pick up May. It’s a drive I enjoy more than I probably should. The road climbs and winds, the city falls away behind you, and for a few minutes it feels like you’ve left Kuala Lumpur altogether, even though you plainly haven’t. There’s something about a hill road that makes you drive a little more thoughtfully. Or at least that’s my excuse for going slowly.
A quick lunch at Melawati followed. Melawati has an unpretentious, neighbourly feel that I’ve always liked, the sort of place where lunch is lunch rather than an event. No queues for photographs, no theatre, just food, a table and a moment to sit. I’m increasingly convinced the best meals are the ones nobody bothers to post about.
The afternoon turned to rain. Not the relentless kind of earlier in the week, but enough to settle the question of whether we’d be going anywhere else. We wouldn’t. Home it was, and home was exactly where I wanted to be. A rainy Sunday afternoon indoors is one of life’s small luxuries, though only if you’ve chosen it. Today, the weather and I were in complete agreement, which happens less often than you’d think.
At night I caught up with the Man United match. Supporting United these days requires a particular blend of loyalty and selective memory. You watch with hope, and you also keep a cushion within reach. I’ll say this for them: they never let you get too comfortable. Whether that’s a strength of character or a flaw in the defence is a debate for another evening. Possibly every evening.
Still, there’s something steadying about ending the week in front of a football match, whatever the outcome. It’s ritual more than entertainment now. The same seat, the same muttering, the same faint certainty that I could have done better from the sofa.
A full Sunday, in the end, but a gentle one. Work done, people collected, lunch eaten, rain watched. Next weekend, the runners. I’ll be cheering. From the sidelines, obviously.