I got into hospital at 7:30am, then proceeded to rush around until 2pm-ish doing responsible surg stuff: discharge summaries, organising a tute, watching surgery etc.
En route to outpatients post-path/radiology/consultant Ward Rounds, I spotted Elvis Presley: hair, suit, sunnies, bling and all, having a cigarette outside outpatients clinic. The Elvis Presley sighting prompted this discussion between my intern and I:
Sue: Hey, check Elvis out!
Intern: What are you on about... oh my goodness, that IS Elvis! By the way, it's meant to be 25degC today.
Sue: Oh man, a whole afternoon of outpatients. I have to stay indoors. Or *jokingly*, I can go to the beach!
Intern: *Accompanied by wild arm gesticulating* F*&% Yeah!!! GO GO GO! Man, I CANNOT GO, I HAVE TO STAY HERE TIL 930PM! YOU CAN GO! SO GO! GO!
Sue: When you put it that way! :)
Which lead to this:
Which is an idyllic scene. Unfortunately, this photo was taken 5 years ago, on another unplanned beach day.
What really transpired was, I called Gaya to impulse meet me at the beach, which took an hour to drive there from Epping (including start-stop traffic near Toorak and Commercial Roads). We got to Brighton, and I changed into my bikini (ala Malaysian locker-room style, elbows galore under one's t-shirt) in my car next to a bus full of teenage boys. Gaya and I spread our towels onto the sand, and lie down to catch some rays.
It was picteresque. The brightly-painted Brighton Beach huts behind us, the cerulean blue sea as far as the eye can see. Windsurfers, and parasurfers having an absolute blast, speeding along, catching the waves. But wait... waves. Strong wind = Strong waves. Within 10 minutes, we had our jumpers on, as we stoically attempted to "enjoy the beach". As Gaya said, "We have to spend longer at the actual beach than the time it took for us to drive here!" Five minutes later, after a quick paddle, we were racing it back to the car, dragging towels and pulling on work pants again.
But mere wind did not daunt the skiving duo (well, to be honest, skiving singular, as Gaya was actually on leave). We ended back out in the sun again, but this time in Laurent on Church Street, sipping coffee and sampling funky pastries. Took about 40 minutes to get back into the city again, but what would life be sans spontaneity?
Right now though, I am dearly missing a little of this:
The handsome one in the middle turned a quarter-century old today!
Big big mental hug.
En route to outpatients post-path/radiology/consultant Ward Rounds, I spotted Elvis Presley: hair, suit, sunnies, bling and all, having a cigarette outside outpatients clinic. The Elvis Presley sighting prompted this discussion between my intern and I:
Sue: Hey, check Elvis out!
Intern: What are you on about... oh my goodness, that IS Elvis! By the way, it's meant to be 25degC today.
Sue: Oh man, a whole afternoon of outpatients. I have to stay indoors. Or *jokingly*, I can go to the beach!
Intern: *Accompanied by wild arm gesticulating* F*&% Yeah!!! GO GO GO! Man, I CANNOT GO, I HAVE TO STAY HERE TIL 930PM! YOU CAN GO! SO GO! GO!
Sue: When you put it that way! :)
Which lead to this:
Which is an idyllic scene. Unfortunately, this photo was taken 5 years ago, on another unplanned beach day.
What really transpired was, I called Gaya to impulse meet me at the beach, which took an hour to drive there from Epping (including start-stop traffic near Toorak and Commercial Roads). We got to Brighton, and I changed into my bikini (ala Malaysian locker-room style, elbows galore under one's t-shirt) in my car next to a bus full of teenage boys. Gaya and I spread our towels onto the sand, and lie down to catch some rays.
It was picteresque. The brightly-painted Brighton Beach huts behind us, the cerulean blue sea as far as the eye can see. Windsurfers, and parasurfers having an absolute blast, speeding along, catching the waves. But wait... waves. Strong wind = Strong waves. Within 10 minutes, we had our jumpers on, as we stoically attempted to "enjoy the beach". As Gaya said, "We have to spend longer at the actual beach than the time it took for us to drive here!" Five minutes later, after a quick paddle, we were racing it back to the car, dragging towels and pulling on work pants again.
But mere wind did not daunt the skiving duo (well, to be honest, skiving singular, as Gaya was actually on leave). We ended back out in the sun again, but this time in Laurent on Church Street, sipping coffee and sampling funky pastries. Took about 40 minutes to get back into the city again, but what would life be sans spontaneity?
Right now though, I am dearly missing a little of this:
The handsome one in the middle turned a quarter-century old today!
Big big mental hug.