Yesterday's decision to delay our journey until evening proved uncannily canny. Our passage north was almost effortless, apart from actually doing the driving, sailing easily across at Tuas with nary a jam in sight. We got here before 2.00 am, having enjoyed lavish roti bakar at the ARAB café, and happily collapsed, surfacing only late in the morning. Actually I've got some work to do whilst we're here, but I'm treating myself to a day off, thank you very much.
For some reason my ears seem particularly keen on sweet sounds at the moment, having feasted on the gently acoustic side of Richard Thompson and the monstrously live side of King Crimson (in Chicago) on the journey north. This morning I listened to Haydn's Symphony 95 with a curious hyper-intensity and it was like hearing it for the first time. Glorious beyond words. Decided that the world would be a better place if Haydn were compulsory listening for all each morning.
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