Flying through the air with the greatest of ease

It was an uneventful flight from Seattle to Narita. I was in seat 10A, which is the foremost seat in economy next to the exit. That meant I could stretch my legs out more than anyone else on the plane, although as I was about the third person to board it was very cold, because I was sat right by an open door for half an hour. Ah, at least it's fresh air.

Air travel does strange things to you. I watched The Expendables 2, which is terrible, but I was surprised by this, even though I've already watched The Expendables. It seems that at 30,000 feet, large parts of the plot evaporate into nothingness. I slept a bit, read a good book and half of a terrible, terrible attempt to write Cthulhu-noir, and dozed a little. I was hoping to do some work, but the battery on my laptop was flat and it appears I've packed my charger in my hold baggage, so I've been less than productive on this flight. I doubt I'd have got that much done, crammed into such a small space.

At the airport I bought vast amounts of gum. This, combined with unfeasibly large amounts of shredded wheat that I'll be taking back into Singapore, makes me a nervous flyer. Still, only a few hours left now. If only I could rid myself of the taste of stale beer that is glued tight to my lips after last night's carry-on, I'd be able to relax. Water doesn't wipe it out, nor does chewing gum, aspirin or maple-glazed doughnuts. Perhaps Singapore will fix me.

Waking Up To Zinio

Woken from my slumber by a purring kitten, this morning I found my chest quite sore from yesterday's burst of exercise. It remains to be seen whether this new fitness regime, touted as requiring only 12 minutes of exercise per week, does the trick or not. Then again, it's probably perfect for me as I only manage one trip to the gym per week.

Happy 2009 - and already what a mess...

It was a beautiful sunny day in Hong Kong on the 1st of January. Blue skies and everything. I missed out on this, because I couldn't get out of bed until 6pm. Drat that going out to Gecko and taking advantage of a proffered bottle of absinthe. Double drat that staying up until 7am rather than going home at 1 in the morning like you meant to. Treble drat the state the apartment is in, and the general mortifying feeling that you've done some Terrible Things. I guess that's the start of a New Year - appropriate to begin it with feelings of woe, self-disgust and general opprobrium - a good base to build from.
On the 31st, read my exercise schedule wrong, and ran 10km rather than 13. Meant to make up for it yesterday, but being ruined from drinking precluded that. Would sort that out today, but my friend Beth is visiting from Macau so I'll be going out and doing the drinking thing again, and then tomorrow it's a birthday party - oh dear oh dear oh dear.
Positives: did 10k in 51 minutes and 25 seconds. That's a pretty rubbish time for being in competition, but I'm trying to run slower than pace at the moment, and thus I'm sort of ok about that.
Read Bad Vibes - Luke Haines' scabrous account of the Britpop years. Was amazed that I'd forgotten about - and could remember when prompted - both Northern Uproar and S*M*A*S*H (although I can't remember a single thing about them - but then who can?). Does that mean that Luke Haines is the indie music revenant of Peter Kay (cf Richard Herring and "a man who's job is to remember things from the 1970s that we thought we'd forgotten")? Or am I now vanishing in a overly-1990s-referential frame of mind? Who knows? I'm too busy rereading the Fist of Fun annual to ponder on that one...