Pain

I got up at 6:20 this morning and went for my Sunday constitutional, a 90-minute run that took me 6 kilometres down the river and back, round the Marina bay, culminating in me getting lost and running around Clarke Quay like a deranged fool.

This afternoon, we walked over to Fort Canning, photographed a lizard clinging to a tree, visited a mall to inspect the 100% tax Singaporean shopkeepers seem to be trying to levy on camera gear, and then walked home again. I didn't feel too bad, except for my calves, which felt like somebody had attacked them with a knife. So we decided it would be wise to go for a foot massage.

Productive

Today I didn't manage to get much writing done, but after the streak of typing in the last couple of days, that wasn't so much of a problem; I'm still 800 words ahead of where I need to be, and I'm about to choreograph a punch-up in the toilets at Happy Valley Racecourse (this isn't a spoiler for the plot of my book, unless you assumed the plot was boy meets girl, boy takes girl to see the horses, punch-up in the toilets ensues).

Relaxing, however you can

Last night I saw Alice in Wonderland, Tim Burton's 3D epic, on its opening night in Hong Kong. It's a sign of how far 3D movies have come that the whole film didn't consist of things moving towards the screen and away again ALL THE BLOODY TIME.


See, I'm still bitter about Beowulf. The pain of watching a demon with high-heeled feet may never subside.