Cavalier

As a testament to the disproportionate amount of time that I allocate to my academic pursuits, I have embarked on the noble quest of building a second weblog, which is incidentally also considered de rigueur for any Singaporean adolescent living in modern times. Many days have passed since I last chronicled my daily living on the wonderful World Wide Web, but given the general state of decay of my social life and the painfully perceptible chill I experience when trying to rub shoulders, it is no surprise then that I should turn to the Internet as the closest substitute for a confidante.

My June break thus far has been passed in relative idleness, although occasionally I may be found loitering at the street soccer court near my home, sharpening my already well-honed skills. For all my exertions, I am now pleased to announce that I have become more throughly acquainted with the typical Malay mind than your friendly neighbourhood policeman. As if that were insufficient reward for a few hours of work, I have also been afforded the privilege of knowing one Vincent from St. Gabriel's Secondary School, who apparently was confronted with considerable difficulty in reconciling my footballing mastery with his notion preconceived of a Rafflesian - distinguished intellectually but possessed of the most fragile constitution.

Perfect candour, however, compels me to admit that despite the warm reception I had received while plying my trade on the court, the hospitality was not universally extended to all places in which I might choose to demonstrate my abundant talent. Shoulders dropping, I sold my feigns cheaply to Messrs. Loh and Chan when suddenly I was halted by a dour, humourless man outside the Airport Management Office. Here, it is imperative for me to clarify that the above-mentioned employee was in no way competent enough to check my run, and it was out of deference to his hidden paymasters that I finally ceased my unyielding attack upon the Viewing Gallery. In a separate episode, a soldier donning the uniform of an airport security personnel coughed in my direction while I was attempting a highly advanced trick that would bring me past the best of defenders. Interpreting his gesture as a dare, I was about to pull a flip-flap à la Ronaldinho when it struck me in a flash as a highly unwise move. Claudio Ranieri once said that the only way to stop Arsenal star striker Thierry Henry was with a gun, and that was just what our nameless challenger was craddling in his arms. With the sagacity and sang-froid that so chracterises me, I intuitively decided to retreat and run away and live to fight another day. In any case, it is highly unlikely I will be returning to Changi International Airport anytime in the near future - if I continue to spend more time in that building, they might actually start changing me rent for it.

Before I sign off for today, here's a little poser that Leonard Chan has so far failed to elicit a solution for: Where do my feet fit in when there is already so much magic in my boots?

P.S. It is indeed a pity that I have no Gallic blood in my veins, or I could have aided Monsieur Zidane in his cause against the Greeks just 19 hours ago.