A Rearranged Sunday

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoSundays have their own liturgy, and mine began, as it usually does, with football — though today's offering was more passable than gripping, the kind of match you watch out of habit rather than genuine appetite, coffee doing more of the entertaining than the game itself.

Ward round followed, and mercifully it was a smooth one — everything in its place, nothing that demanded more than the usual attention. A good ward round has a way of setting up the rest of the day nicely, like a well-tuned instrument before the concert actually starts.

The concert, in this case, was meant to be a photowalk, plans already half-formed in my head for wherever the light looked best. Dayabumi had other ideas — car park closed, no explanation offered or particularly wanted, and just like that the whole itinerary needed rewriting on the spot. There's a specific irritation to a plan undone by something as mundane as a barrier and a padlock, though I've learned by now that photography days rarely survive first contact with the actual city.

Bukit Bintang absorbed the reshuffle happily enough. Ramen at Lot 10 for lunch, which did the job of resetting the morning's minor disappointment rather effectively — hot broth has a way of putting things back into perspective. From there, books at Starhill, a browse that needed no justification beyond its own quiet pleasure, and a stop for coffee where I tried a Kulai blend — fruity, interesting, and priced as though it knew exactly how fruity and interesting it was. Worth it, probably. I'll decide on the second cup.

Then the rain arrived, as it does in this city with theatrical suddenness, and the mall did what malls do best in such circumstances — became a holding pen for anyone without an umbrella or a plan. I wasn't fighting it. There are worse places to be marooned than somewhere with coffee, books, and air conditioning already accounted for. Anita, meanwhile, was over in Gombak, the day unfolding along two separate tracks that would eventually reconverge over dinner.

That reconvening happened at Ali Cafe, a meal that asked nothing complicated of either of us after a day of rearrangements and rain.

The evening closed on two very different registers. First, finally starting Star City, the For All Mankind spin-off I'd been meaning to get to for weeks — a quiet, unhurried way to ease into the evening. Then the rather more chaotic pleasure of the British Grand Prix, which delivered exactly the sort of late drama Silverstone does so well. Charles Leclerc took the win after the race finished under the safety car, a result that had rather more to do with late misfortune for others than dominant pace of his own, but a win is a win, and he'll not be troubled by the small print.

A day thoroughly rearranged from how it started, and none the worse for it.