The long anticipated holiday in Singapore is finally over. We were fortunate enough to be there for nearly a month, unlike the poor hub who flew over just to attend our 'xiao-bu-dian's' wedding and spent only 10 days there. Actually the girls and I had booked to come back at a later date. But hub couldn't get that many days off so we changed our flight to come back with him.
I don't enjoy all the unpacking. But luckily, there is only a small bag of dirty laundry to wash. We had been pampered in Singapore. No washing/cleaning/cooking. Hub was saying I enjoyed a month of doing nothing. But I don't think there's anything wrong with that. It was my holiday, my break. Here in UK, we don't have outside help. So it was such a luxury for me there.
I think it's about time we come back. But like always, as much as I look forward to coming back to our home here, I felt sadness the day we left. Strangely, there wasn't any sense of exhilaration when I reached London. On the contrary, I felt a weight on my shoulder. Perhaps it's because I was subconsciously planning in my head all the things I had to do. Back to the grind of life I suppose.
More on our holiday later.
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