"Celebrating the S'pore spirit" in the comfort of my living room, watching the parade on my 29" TV. The sensation wasn't quite the same as being there, but it was the next best thing having failed to score tix this year.
Instead of joining in the crush of 200,000 revelers at Marina Bay, I quite happily took a break from it all and spent most of the day alone at home basking in peace and quiet. My only company was the pile of essays that I've been slowly gnawing my way through over the past week. June, on the other hand, was doing the more sociable and cosmopolitan thing, joining her colleagues at her FT boss's condo taking Korean cooking lessons.
I wonder if it's because I wasn't at the parade in person (or maybe that after last night's spectacular opening of the Beijing Olympics there wasn't much we could do to even compare), but our 43rd birthday seemed quite a bit understated. It sort of crept up on us, there was this evening's bang and whoopee, and now it's all over.
Oh well, anyway, happy 43rd, Spore!