Friday, A Short Flight and a Quiet Room

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoThe day began where the previous one had left off — one more ward round, one more morning clinic, the last outstanding threads of the week gathered up and tied off before I could allow myself to think about being anywhere else. Handover done properly, patient sorted, nothing left dangling for whoever picked up after me. There's a particular relief in leaving things tidy behind you, the sort that lets you actually enjoy the leaving.

From there, straight to the airport, driving myself rather than being driven, which always changes the character of a departure slightly — less ceremony, more errand. Lunch was had at the lounge, unhurried in the way airport lounges manage to feel even when the rest of the terminal is anything but, a small pocket of calm before the business of flying.

The flight itself was smooth, no complaints, the kind of short hop that barely gives you time to settle before it's asking you to prepare for landing. Midflight, satay appeared, which felt like a small and unexpected kindness — proper satay, not the sort of apologetic snack one braces for on a domestic route. I wasn't expecting much and got rather more than that, which is always the better way round.

Checked into the Renai Hotel on arrival, into a square suite that had the particular tidiness of a room built more for function than flourish — nothing wrong with that, especially after a day already full enough of its own texture. There's something quietly appealing about a hotel room with clean lines and no pretensions, a blank enough canvas that you can simply exist in it without it asking anything of you.

I'd thought, briefly, about heading out — Kota Bharu has its own particular evening rhythm, and there's always some pull towards seeing a place rather than just passing through it. But the day had been long enough in its own right, ward round to clinic to drive to flight to check-in, and the idea of putting on real shoes again lost out fairly quickly to the idea of not. Ordered in instead, ate without ceremony, and let the evening close itself down at its own pace.

No regrets about staying in. Some trips are made for exploring, and some are simply made for getting somewhere, doing what needs doing, and getting some proper rest in between. This one, at least tonight, was firmly the latter. Early night, then — tomorrow will ask its own questions, and I'd rather meet them having actually slept than having merely wandered a strange city on principle.

For now, square suite, quiet room, and the particular contentment of a day that went exactly as long as it needed to and no longer

Monday Rounding Into Shape

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoThere's a particular kind of quiet that comes with a Monday after a Friday that had, by all accounts, gone somewhere. The bags still hadn't quite settled back into their usual corners, and neither had I, but the sun outside made a decent case for optimism before I'd even had my coffee.

Traffic, for once, seemed to have read the room. Smooth going in, no theatrics at the junctions, no one testing the structural integrity of their horn. I took it as a good omen, the kind you don't trust entirely but accept gratefully anyway.

New face at the department this week, a medical student assigned to shadow for the next few days. There's something faintly recalibrating about having someone new watching how you do things — not scrutiny exactly, more a gentle reminder that habits formed over years still need explaining from scratch to someone encountering them for the first time. I did my best to make the mundane sound purposeful, which is, I suspect, most of teaching.

The morning itself belonged to paperwork, in the fullest and least glamorous sense. Forms begetting forms, signatures chasing signatures, the sort of administrative undergrowth that never quite gets cleared, only temporarily beaten back. I made what progress I could, occasionally glancing up to see whether my shadow for the week was suitably unimpressed by the glamour of it all.

Afternoon brought clinic, and with it, new patients — always a slightly different register of concentration required, meeting people for the first time, piecing together a picture rather than continuing one already sketched out. There's a rhythm to it, an unhurried sort of attentiveness, and by the time the last one had gone, the light outside had shifted into that softer, more forgiving late-afternoon gold.

I managed, against the usual odds, to get home before sunset — a small victory that felt disproportionately satisfying, the way minor wins often do when they arrive at the end of a long first day back. By then I was thoroughly starving, in the specific way that only a day spent mostly indoors and mostly on your feet can produce. Dinner didn't stand much of a chance; it was gone before I'd properly registered enjoying it, which I suppose is its own kind of compliment.

No grand plans for the evening. Just the practical business of winding down — the day settling into memory rather than lingering in the room. An early night beckoned, and for once I didn't argue with it. Mondays have a way of asking rather a lot upfront, on the promise that the rest of the week will behave itself in return. We'll see.

Tomorrow, no doubt, will bring its own version of paperwork. Tonight, though, belongs to sleep.