Boots for Somewhere Colder

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoSunday began with the morning round, as Sundays tend to, but the sky had clearly decided to make it up to me. It was gorgeous sunshine, the clear, generous kind that makes the city look freshly washed. After the week’s floods and grey afternoons, it felt like an apology from the weather. I accepted it.

Then off to KLCC, because Anita wanted to see the new Ugg store. I’ll admit I went along expecting to be a patient companion rather than an enthusiastic one. Shops built around a single product rarely surprise me. This one did. It didn’t disappoint, and I say that as someone who walked in with low expectations and walked out carrying a bag. There’s something faintly comic about shopping for sheepskin boots in a city where the temperature rarely drops below twenty-five. But that, of course, was the point.

We bought one pair each, for the London trip. The trip isn’t here yet, but it’s close enough now that the shopping has started to make sense. It’s a pleasant kind of shopping, buying for somewhere else, for a colder version of yourself who’ll be grateful to the warmer one who planned ahead. The boots will sit in the cupboard for a while, faintly ridiculous in this climate, waiting for their moment.

Lunch was at Maria’s, with a view worth slowing down for: the park spread out below, the towers rising above, the whole city looking rather pleased with itself in the sunshine. The spot used to be the Harrods Café, and there’s a small, wistful pleasure in sitting somewhere that remembers being something else. Places change hands and names and menus, but a good view stays a good view. It felt fitting, too, to be eating in a former piece of London while shopping for London. Not planned, but neat.

Then off to Bukit Antarabangsa to collect Mak after her night away. Picking someone up always feels nicer than dropping them off. The drive there has purpose, and the drive back has company. The house had been a little quieter without her, and it was good to have her home again.

Home, as it turned out, wasn’t quiet for long. Idlan had friends over for band practice, and the apartment briefly became a rehearsal space: instruments tuning, songs starting and stopping, the earnest, determined sound of young musicians working something out. It’s not always polished. It’s not meant to be. There’s a joy in it that polished music sometimes loses, and I’d rather hear that through the wall than silence.

Otherwise, an early night for the rest of us, the kind a good Sunday earns. Sunshine, new boots, lunch with a view, Mak home, and music in the next room. A gentle way to close the weekend.

London is getting closer. At least our feet will be ready.

Arrivals and Offerings - Aidil Adha 2026

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoThe alarm went off at a hour that barely qualifies as morning, but there was no reluctance in it. Some early starts carry their own momentum, and driving to KLIA to collect Irfan is one of them. The roads were empty in that particular way they only manage on public holidays — the kind of quiet that makes KL feel like it's still deciding whether to wake up.

I reached the airport just after six, expecting a wait. KLIA on Aidil Adha morning has a stillness to it that you'd never believe if you've only seen it during peak season — all that polished marble and soaring architecture with almost nobody in it. As it turned out, the wait was shorter than planned. Irfan's flight landed a full forty-five minutes early, which is the kind of pleasant surprise that airlines so rarely deliver. He appeared through arrivals looking well, and just like that, the thing I'd been quietly looking forward to all week was done. Everyone home.

We were back by eight, the morning still young and full of possibility. The day's main obligation was the Qurban in Bukit Antarabangsa — the ritual sacrifice that sits at the heart of Aidil Adha. There's a particular atmosphere to these gatherings: communal, unhurried, purposeful. People milling about in the morning warmth, children darting between adults, the whole thing proceeding with the quiet organisation of something that happens every year and knows its own rhythm. We were all done by lunchtime, everything handled with satisfying efficiency.

Afterwards, the decision was made — as it often is on these occasions — to have some beef. When the day has already centred around the animal, it feels only right. We passed our share of the Qurban meat along to relatives, which is part of the whole spirit of the thing. The giving is the point, really.

The afternoon pivoted to something altogether more secular: shopping. Anita had a Rimowa trunk in her sights, and who am I to stand between a woman and well-engineered luggage? There's something almost architectural about Rimowa — the ridges, the precision, the satisfying click of the latches. A proper object. Then it was my turn for some clothes, because apparently one cannot live on the same rotation of shirts indefinitely, however strongly one might feel otherwise.

By the time we got home, the day felt genuinely full — the kind of full that comes from variety rather than exhaustion. Airport at dawn, Qurban by mid-morning, retail therapy by afternoon. Three quite different acts, all slotting together into something that felt complete.

Another day off tomorrow, which is a luxury worth savouring. But tonight, like last night, an early one. The body keeps its own counsel on these matters, and mine was making its position very clear.