good dream on wilkie road

First day of normal commute to the office went surprisingly smoothly despite the throngs of people now returning to London and to work after the holidays. For the past 2 weeks, i've been pampered by empty tubes and buses, quiet pavements and queue-free cafes as most of London is somewhere else, celebrating the festivities with their families. Good things just don't last!

Upon arriving at work, I was greeted by one of those emails that just brightens an entire day. A good friend sent an email, simply titled 'Your Dream Home'. She had attached a link to an advertisement - Apartments for sale on Wilkie Road, and wrote simply that - 'this sounds like what you would like!'. 

Some day I'll like to live in:

A small apartment (preferably walk up, built in the 60s), with large windows looking into the canopy of many trees - like my current apartment but with a newer bathroom.

Painted entirely in white, furnished with brown wood furniture, with large art deco prints or something cubist on the wall. Barely any clutter. 

With a decent kitchen (meaning a proper gas fire hob, none of those electric or induction rubbish, and an oven with light inside so you can see your food cooking). A deep kitchen sink (only SK knows why). With a large avocado green or mustard yellow SMEG fridge freezer that works and require no defrosting. And room enough for a well-used dining table that could sit a large group of friends.

On a pretty, tree-lined road in Singapore that is secluded enough to be quiet but not so secluded that none of your friends want to come and see you. With interesting, quite possibly also single, neighbours from all over the world.

I can already map out my me-time Saturdays on Wilkie Road in my mind. I'll wake up early and spend some time staring quietly at the canopies of the raintrees outside my window.  Have the first cup of coffee while checking facebook. Slowly make my way out for breakfast at a nearby museum cafe or soya bean curd at Selegie (if its still there), could have roti prata too. Read the papers over breakfast. Take a walk round the area - is there a new exhibition at SAM or the substation, maybe cycle to Botanic Gardens? Head to the gym. Do some grocery shopping. Head home, and come back out in the evening to enjoy a drink at a nearby bar (maybe Wild Rocket's bar - where i can just turn up in usual un-glam clothes and sit outside on those rattan chairs?) where the staff would undoubtedly know my name - the old woman who sits alone on weeknights in the corner with a magazine but on certain weekends come with a whole big bunch of very wild, very glamourous, lao-hiao friends with their multitude of children.

It's not much, but it's a nice image that's worth going over again and again in my mind. With each round, it gives just that little more pleasure as another layer of color gets added to the picture. Day dreams could be almost as good as the real thing. What's more, that my friend remembered my dream and was putting detail to it, helping me will it into existence, was like a warm hug on a cold January day.

I am hopeful too.