For I was always waiting for the taxi;

Almost done with criminal procedure and next week’s assignments, but its starting to enter my dreams – for the last weeks have been dreaming about cases coming to life, about people in articles, and about sitting exams (last night I was by the photocopier trying to write an opinion on a family law issue and even dreamt about the studying). I miss dreaming about flying, about wars and floods and mysterious machine people. I hope to be done with this assignment soon (to start on the next?) but I do miss happy dreams.

I met several of the UCL folks at Red Dot, Dempsey one of the nights last week – was wonderful to see my ex house mate, Trev, back from London again, R and her boyfriend, B and his girlfriend. Red Dot was quite a lovely and modern setting, one of those Thai-Japanese type inspired architecture structures, set on a soft hill, with footlights and open-air seating. It claims to be a micro-brewery (its the new-fangled thing in Singapore it seems, I hear of so many micro-breweries and friends working for or investing in micro-breweries) and on meeting, Trev shared about a sort of green vegetable beer in the menu which claims to ‘prevent Aids’. For a moment I imagined my two housemates, Trev and D, arguing about the vitamin properties of vegetable beer, for D is a persistent body-builder. Ah, the memories.

They all had the wagyu steaks/lamb etc. I was happy with a vongole and prosecco. I think the prosecco is my happy afternoon drink, only it wasn’t afternoon, but I was particularly happy to see Trev.

All of us miss London. But Trev just returned from London in fact – and relayed to us his tale of getting beaten up in a racist attack near Covent Garden – landing in hospital (his parents and relatives were so worried they flew to London and almost made him cancel his training contract in London) – and even spent several hours in a jail cell! In an Evelyn Waugh sort of setting Trev played slipper games in a single white cell while a stern British guard would pop his head in ever so often and ask “Mr Tan, is anything the problem?” (insert faux British accent)

But the cctv images saved Mr Tan and his friends, and it will be one of Trev’s many tales to tell in the future. It is his second time being accosted by locals actually, for the first was ironically near the law building, and Trev claims he brought out his fencing sword, swung back and forth a little and professed to be the next generation heir of Li Hsiao Long. But who actually knows.

It was good to see everyone again. It made me miss UCL. And of course, London. I’ll probably be travelling back again this year.

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