Ready to be Touched

It sure feels good to be touched in all the right places, doesn't it? =)

Gerry was generous and kind enough to treat me to a pampering session today. Been a long time since I had a spa treatment. The venue was Lifespa at Purvis Street. My body was in dire need of a chocolate scrub and soothing massage all over. Through narrow corridors and a staircase to the second floor, the place has a zen-like decor. I was in their good hands for nearly 2 hours (although the last 15 minutes was more painful than relaxing as the lady massaged my head with such force I thought she might be trying to pull my hair out).

Purvis Street is a short, narrow street with shops on either side. It has no lack of good restaurants and modern interior decor shops that only the rich could afford. For us (or particularly, the unemployed me), lunch was cheap delicious chicken rice at Yet Con - the place I brought LH to when he last visited me. Except I don't think the old uncle (who so reminds me of yeye) at the cashier liked us very much.

The plan was to check out the flea market nearby after lunch. But the sun was blazing. We took a detour instead and drove past the market for an obligatory look-see. At the corner of Waterloo Street and Middle Road, we spotted the market. It was small and did not have much crowd albeit being organised for a worthy cause. Maybe ebay is my best option after all. 

We spent the rest of the Saturday afternoon enjoying a cuppa and some good reads at Starbucks before parting ways.

I reached Yishun around quarter to 5. Along the familiar underpass that links the train station and the neighbourhood's only shopping complex was the familiar, always-there blind man who sings along with his guitar and other musical gadgets, for a living. 

When I reached the underpass today, there was no singing or music coming from his gear. Instead, I heard a soft "Excuse me, can someone please help me?". 

Nobody stopped. I was almost ready to do that when I heard his plea the second time and stopped. I walked closer to him and offered my assistance. It turned out he needed to visit the bathroom and was hoping I could help mind his belongings in the meantime. Of course I could.

As I watched him remove the bells and gadgets from his ankles and wrists, I felt a pang of sadness. He took a good 10 to 15 minutes to get ready as he fumbled around in the 'dark'. It is very unfortunate that he couldn't see. How we take for granted the littlest things we have in life is really shameful.

While he was gone, I stood by his gear with much awkwardness. Passer-bys looked at me with utmost astonishment. Did they expect me to sing or perform? Was someone going to jump out from nowhere shouting "you're on candid camera!"? Nothing of that sort happened. In fact, nothing happened. Except for the weird stares I received from all who walked past, no one dropped a coin or two while I was standing there. I was hoping someone would. =(

The blind man eventually returned. From a bit of a distance away, he was calling out for me. I shuffled quickly up next to him and guided him back to his spot. He was filled with gratitude and full of thanks.

Actually, I should be the one saying "thank you" for he has really made my day.