A Perfectly Ordinary Evening

It's been raining here, and pleasantly so, the kind of rain you can happily walk across the car-park in - not nasty rain, not Manchester rain, if you know what I mean. And happily the rain seemed to have kept the crowds in, so it was easy to get a place in the Prata Alley shop, near Clementi Mall. It was my first time there, and won't be my last: the coin prata proved yummy in the extreme, especially for a man who just really fancied some prata, and the teh tarik gajah was of the highest standard. The Missus, by the way, opted for the thosai and was not disappointed.

So why am I relating all these mundane details? Because their sheer ordinariness goes to illustrate a great and abiding truth. There is nothing ordinary about the ordinary for the man, and indeed the woman, who keep their minds and their mouths open, and really don't mind trying something not new in the slightest.