22/11/23

On a pale buttercup morning in November 2023, you’ll wake up from the comforting cocoon of your bed, in an apartment in central London. The day stretches on promisingly ahead, chilly and welcoming, a perfect brew of winter warmth. Though you’re late, you manage to hop into a black cab to get to your office in Belgrave Square. There isn’t much on your to-do list for the day, as an Information Officer for the Malaysian Embassy, so you spend the morning finishing your 28th book of the year, an intriguing tale of game designers. It concludes by noon, and you swing by to an impromptu party for a colleague on the third floor, where someone offers you an ice cream cone, then dash out for lunch with another colleague. Spontaneously, you both agree to dine in Knightsbridge, at the infamous Nusr-et steakhouse, and spend a languid 2 hour lunch eating and chatting in that seemingly sumptuous setting. By the time you finish, the day's curtains are closing to twilight, and you both walk back to the office, passing through the crystalline streetscape of the city’s Christmas. You pack up for the day, and grab the tennis racket for your weekly course at Hyde Park. You leave your bags at the office and depart only with your coat and sports attire. The weather’s dry enough that you decide to walk the 25 minutes. Jordan Mackampa’s What Am I Supposed To Do plays in the airpods your bestfriends gifted you, and the capital’s 5pm hubub mingles with traffic, people, and lights. Tennis goes decently, even though your performance was a little lackluster this week, and you chat to your friends and flatmate on the way home (maybe your weekly Muay Thai is getting in the way of your tennis movements?). Back home, two adorable cats jump on you, demanding love and attention. You relax on the couch before cooking up spaghetti bolognaise, watching an Indonesian series on Netflix, debating on the merits of cinema. There is an option to use your favourite gel skincare face mask, but you opt for a L'Occitane serum instead, before diving back into your bed. 

You grant a silent prayer of gratitude, and give a nod to 2020 you, to 2004 you, and say my love, my darling, you’ve made it this far.