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.