Following on from my last post on apps that are actually helpful and vaguely deliver on their life changing promises, here’s my three latest downloads that I’m loving:
I am not much of a fan of Tanglin ‘maul’. It’s useful but there’s something distinctly over-priced and over-rated about the whole experience. And just when you thought Cold Storage couldn’t be any more expensive…there’s Tanglin Market Place.
I am, however, quite a fan of Shopping at Tiffany’s, nestling in the corner spot on the same level as the taxi stand (the two ground floors here always confuse me). I know its rails look like a sale shop and you have to root around quite hard to find any treasure but, guess what? The prices are reasonable and some of the clothes are amazing.
I was in there two days ago, having only meant to pop in briefly, and came away with a dress, pair of trousers and four tops.
Despite my Scottish roots, I don’t own any tartan. Our family tartan happens to have an orange streak running through it and always used to remind me slightly of sick (although looking back on it, that was probably the combination of having to wear it to lunch with Great Aunt Muriel and taking a long twisty car journey in order to do so).
I have always been under the impression that Asian weddings are, in general, pretty opulent affairs. English – or Irish or Scottish for that matter – weddings are, by comparison, rather tame with a guest list of about a third of the size. If not less.
That isn’t to say they aren’t a whole lot of fun, but they are more demure. I had assumed that this had always been the case.
This picture, (below) that includes my grandmother, taken in 1938 has just been unearthed by a relative and only last night pinged in to my inbox, along with a newspaper clipping about a long-forgotten wedding in Dublin, Ireland. My Grandmother (far, far right in the picture below and looking straight ahead) was one of 21 bridesmaids at the wedding of her good friend, Patricia Kennedy, herself a 21-year-old bride.
I am often getting in to slight scrapes with my car. Generally nothing too serious – I tend to run in to bollards, the odd wall and, on more than one occasion, the back of a taxi (weirdly they only ever seem to be the blue ones).
Anyway, I realised after about six months of being here that I was going to need to find someone very good at paint jobs on cars – whether for big scrapes or small – and bodywork repair…AND who wouldn’t rip me off. H’s car had to have a whole new driver’s door just last week; yup, mea culpa sadly. Very luckily no one else was involved.
