About Rose: I grew up in Singapore, lived in Melbourne but currently call London home. I love gastronomic adventures, especially while travelling. I stated writing at 17 to remember how it all began.
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28 August 2009
saturday; 12.25am
I've been back in Melbourne for a couple of days now and have been mainly trying to get things organised for work on Monday and I am also unpacking and cleaning my way round the new apartment. I get excited arranging my condiments in a straight line and according to height; hanging my dresses in the closet according to colour; selecting cream cleanser as the preferred cleaning agent to scrub the bathtub down; laying out my work shoes in a row- patent, slingbacks, peeptoe, boots. So I eventually get on to having my dinner, when some advert on the television suddenly plays "Wonderwall". It catches me unaware and just like that, I start feeling wistful all over again.
I continue with the unpacking and the last thing that remains are the 3 boxes that have made their way from The Hague. My little weary heart skips a beat when I find my porcelain Delft tiles. As I put those away, I then come across my linen PJs that still smell like fresh laundry because Dory (my landlady) always used a really nice fabric softener. Even chancing upon the HCCH folders which contain the work I'd done at the Permanent Bureau causes a dull ache. And so I stop unpacking because it's getting too hard. I look at the pile of clothes still strewn across my bed that need to be hung/ dry-cleaned/ taken to my seamstress and feel absolutely forlorn.
I know that this too shall pass because I think back to last April when Vis ended and I subsequently found myself slaving away over my thesis, missing the company of the other ten and feeling absolutely miserable. You get over it but the thing is we all nurtured our friendships past Hong Kong/ Paris/ Vienna. This time though, I feel like everything's lost because it's come and passed. I miss sitting on the other side of the room from Charlotte, head askew as I peek from behind my computer screen and ask her if we should have miso soup... making a run to Den Haag Centraal to catch the trains to Schipol for some weekend escapade; I already have the timetables memorised and know that the train leaves from platform 9... going to the Turkish market at Hobbemaplein on Saturday mornings with Sonia picking out the best produce, flowers and navigating our way past 'Chiquitta Bananas!!' to our favourite grocers... sitting through three hours of French classes on Wednesday evenings.
I'm still learning to let it all go and not linger on in a moment that's passed but tonight, for sentimental reasons, I hope you do believe me, I'll give you my heart.
"the stars above have promised to meet us tomorrow till then my love how weary the new day will seem so for the present dear we'll have to part.." -goodnight my love, ella fitzgerald