Please click the photo above to play the daily videoThe morning began the way most working mornings do — early, purposeful, ward round first before the rest of the world had properly stirred. This one came with a slightly unusual travelling companion: Irfan's Jellycat, smuggled along to the clinic for no better reason than birthday afterglow, sitting somewhere near my desk like a small soft-furred colleague who contributes nothing but morale. It did its job admirably.
The rest of the working day settled into its familiar shape — behind the desk, steady and unremarkable, the sort of stretch that doesn't ask to be remembered so much as simply got through. Straight through to the afternoon, no great drama, just the quiet accumulation of tasks ticked off one after another.
Lunch, though, was the day properly announcing itself. Kyomo, and wagyu yakiniku that did exactly what good yakiniku ought to — arriving in modest portions and somehow still managing to feel generous, each piece better than the last. Irfan went the sensible route with a kale salad, presumably atoning in advance for whatever excess the rest of us were about to commit. The kimchi tray deserves its own mention, genuinely excellent, sharp and well-balanced in a way that elevated everything around it rather than simply sitting there as garnish. A properly good lunch, the sort that leaves you slightly regretful about the afternoon's remaining commitments, except today there weren't many, which made the whole thing feel entirely without consequence.
From there, a change of register entirely — the pasar malam, all noise and steam and the particular chaos that only a good night market can produce. Otak-otak first, that smoky, wrapped little parcel of a thing that never quite photographs as well as it tastes, followed by nasi lemak, because no proper night market visit really concludes without it. Street food after fine dining is an odd sort of whiplash, but a welcome one — the day covering an impressive amount of culinary ground without ever feeling indulgent for its own sake.
Altogether, a genuinely good day, the sort that doesn't announce itself as special in advance but adds up nicely in the retelling. Wagyu at lunch, otak-otak by evening, a plush bystander watching over the desk in between — not a bad spread for a Wednesday, or whichever day this technically was.
Early to bed regardless, with England kicking off the next morning and no intention of missing it groggy. Some things are worth protecting a night's sleep for, and a quarter-final is squarely one of them.