I found out about Saveur via the Sunday Times, just towards the end of my block leave, and seeing the raving reviews that that particular food critic gave, I decided that I had to give the place a try - I mean, French (style/inspired) food for under $30 is really reasonable.

Going to the place wasn't exactly the most convenient thing to do - Saveur was lodged between City Hall and Bugis, in a quaint little row of shophouses at Purvis Street. I visted the place with the usual guys, and it was really enjoyable having that meal with them, right before I had to face my fate of being in the Infantry. That aside, the food was really quite good, not exactly very French, but tasty nevertheless. The portions were a tad bit small, especially for the crispy pork belly that I had, but the taste made up for it.

I'm done with my praises, now its time for a little bit of rambles about the place. It's quite small, and lunch crowd is definitely to be expected in such an area, so one of my gripe with the place is the lack of a proper waiting area, and staff to wait you in the restaurant (granted, the place is a little small). Another gripe of mine is the terrible lighting in the restaurant - I know it is supposed to be basic (a way to keep the cost low), but no food should be served under fluorescent overhead lighting, it simply does not do the food justice, and maars the dining experience.

Regardless, it was thoroughly enjoyable dining there, especially with friends. I highly recommend Saveur to anyone craving a good bite at affordable prices.

Image Credit: ArchDaily & Pedro Pegenaute

A very nice example of how tradition can merge with the modern, in this case, how Neri & Hu managed to incorporate elements of the Chinese courtyard home into a modern structure. My only gripe is that the house seems excessively large, but then again, wealth has the tendency to make itself known.

AIT - Advanced Infantry Training; 6 weeks long. Week one.

17.04.12 It was a Tuesday morning that started rather painfully - few would look forward to being a rifleman, where life was defined as being "chiong sua". Stepping into the camp was like being rudely awakened in the morning; I experienced a severe culture shock. The place was in an appalling condition - I was expecting at the very least Tekong's standard of upkeep. We were ushered into a smallish multi-purpose hall - one where cobwebs dotted the corner of the walls, where the stage's curtain was torn, where a sorry-looking mural that seemed to aim at inspiring hope welcomed us. Stepping into the COY (army-speak for a large unit of soldiers) line , I was definitely taken aback by how many shirtless individuals were just leaning over the corridors that overlooked us, most had tattoos, and the words that came out from their mouth were mainly Hokkien (swear words). These were the folks that I would be spending my time with for the next 6 weeks, and presumably the next 18 months as well. I was apprehensive, so were the other guys from Tekong. Trying to interact with them was difficult - simply because we shared so little common topics, because my comprehension of Hokkien was to say the least close to zero; my respite lay in my buddy (another Tekong guy). Interestingly enough, he was also a fellow HK PR. What pained me was the degree of regimentation in this particular camp - Charlie COY, 2SIR, it was something that would become more apparent in the coming days.

18.04.12

Isaiah 46:4 -
Even to your old age, I am He,
And even to gray hairs I will carry you!
I have made, and I will bear;
Even I will carry, and will deliver you.

I'm trying every day to pray for strength - that I believe is my only hope of sustaining myself through the week (which would last all the way until the late morning on Saturday).

The day began with our first parade at AMQ (Amoy Quee Camp, the initials of the place somehow reminds me of McQ, too bad it isn't nearly as fashionable). I had a terrible sleep the night before; I woke up constantly throughout the night - it was far too stuffy in the bunk, too warm to sleep comfortably. Some of my section mates had noticed my dark eye circles. The lack of sleep made staying still during the parade rather difficult - there was always this constant bodily urge to get some shut-eye. In my diary, there was quite a fair bit of beseeching to God to help me through the day, but I shall leave that out of this blog post - the fact that I am writing this post is sufficient of a testament to prove that the Lord does provide, that He does bring us through our sufferings.  Apart from learning all these technical handling stuff, I also had to learn to intact with people who were very different from myself - my section and platoon mates. At least they were friendly - that was a start, and it would make it easier later on in the week. On a side note, I realised that Far East's Cabana project is just beside my camp; I wouldn't want to stay anywhere beside an army camp. Another activity that tested my limits in this particular day was something called Combat Circuit. This was where the verse above proved particularly apt. The activity consisted of the following: firemen lifts, transporting (full) jerry cans, leopard crawling, dragging a "casualty" and sprinting - it was all very physical and draining. Yet I was carried through it by His hands, despite my belief those tasks were beyond my physical limits.

19.04.12 This day would prove to be a long, tough and arduous one, especially with the knowledge that I was not booking out on Friday, but a Saturday morning, all because of a live-shooting that we have on Friday. The morning started out with 5BX (5 basic exercises) - something which I haven't done for the longest time (the commanders at Bronco often skipped this). Subsequently after breakfast was a 1.6km cadence run, something which I found rather tiring (my physical fitness is going down the drain - if there was any to begin with), and right after that was 11BX - the most painful part was the push-ups that we had to do on the rough and sharp asphalt flooring of 2SIR's parade square. The afternoon was spent learning how to handle a SAW rifle (section automatic weapon) that I was assigned to (I'm a back-up shooter) - learning how to handle it was like learning how to deal with a SAR 21, only tougher. There were more components to dissect apart, more IA drills to learn etcetera. The hardest part was meeting the timing for the stripping and assembling of the weapon - the lesson ended with a test that I knew I had to pass - lest there be any RT sessions. Thankfully, I passed (albeit just). Which makes this particular verse particularly apt (I was praying like crazy to pass):

Jeremiah 33:3 - Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know.

Unfortunately, life in a unit is all about extra duties as a form of punishments - and I hate how regimental that particular portion is.

20.04.12 The activity on this day was the very reason for a Saturday (late) morning book out. Urban Operations (UO) basically involved shooting in a room, both as an individual soldier and as a small unit (4 people). It wasn't conducted at AMQ camp, rather, it was done somewhere in Lim Chu Kang, which due to the morning traffic, was an especially long drive away - that compounded with the fact that the ride there was in a tonner, made it an especially painful morning (for my legs and bum at least; I was sitting on the floor). That aside, the individual component of the UO shoot was nothing too bothersome; the group shoots were far more unnerving. The feeling of a bullet whisking right by you (just a few metres away) is nowhere near comforting - that was especially the case in the night shoot, where things were close to pitch blackness. The reverberation of the formerly still air just right beside you is really quite scary. But in between those shoots, there was absolutely nothing to do except to wait - I regretted not bringing my Time magazine along with me. The day was monumentally long, but the night that succeeded that was even longer. Upon returning to camp, we had to return the dummy soft-plates that we inserted into our ILBVs, following that, we had to clean our rifles (the SAR 21 remains a devil to keep carbon-free). We reached back to camp slightly later than 12.30 am, and by the time I landed in my bed, it was 3.30 am - just 2+ hours away from our morning reveille timing.

The morning after (Saturday) was made especially terrible by the area cleaning that we had to do prior to our book out. The mono-intake guys in my section all knew very well of the sergeants' especially elastic take on book out timings. For that reason and more, I was the only one rushing to clean up the bunk - in the hopes that that would accelerate our book out time. What was I supposed to do, I am but a mere fish in a school - how could I possibly direct them all and control my fate. This lack of control over my circumstances and my fate is especially depressing; it leaves me feeling more miserable each day. The sergeants did not help by constantly compounding new things to clean, from just the room, to the windows, and then the fans. We finally left at 10.30am, far later than the 8.30am that they hinted at. I truly hate how they are such liars - how can one respect their superiors when they cannot even respect the time that those under them are allotted to rest? My buddy was lucky - he had a scholarship interview that day and left at 8am, freeing himself from the nonsense that is the army.

I feel especially tortured, I feel especially helpless; I truly hate the degree of regimentation at 2SIR.

God help me.

Image Credit: ArchDaily

I love how the old fa�ade was weaved so interestingly into the modern addition, almost as if it were a piece of art hung on a gallery wall. The interplay of light in the spaces of this museum is also quite nice - especially how it shines though the translucent material (I'm not sure if it's plastic or frosted glass).

Image Credit: ArchDaily

A rather good studio conversion project, housed in a former matchbox factory. Somehow, it reminds me of those SOHO projects by Far East Development, though it seems to be better executed, undeniably because it is not a mass-market project.

Not many people outside of my section have seen this; it was only through this that I could recall the weekly events that I have been blogging about. This kept me sane throughout BMTC - I think I'll continue the habit; I think I'll need to do so. I make it sound as if the first part of my NS life was so difficult, but it was (especially in the earlier days) for me.

Oh the sweet joy of writing on crisp, cream paper.

To get older is always a significant milestone in one's life, in spite of how some may choose to dismiss it. Last year, it signified to me the looming A-levels, and another year closer to enlistment. It was also my first time having quail. We grow and change with each year that passes, but in addition, we also gain and lose much.

Turning nineteen, I now begin to see the need to be more appreciative and grateful of the many blessings, and even the trials that are in my life. I'm trying, each day to see it as a means for God to mold and guide me. It was by no means a revelation that dawned upon me on the 11th of April, but it was a lesson that was slowly inculcated in me over the past few months.

I've come to appreciate the really great friends that I have around me - Joel, Joel, Ansen, Nathanael. I'm terrible when it comes to people (yes, I'm shy), so it's particularly wonderful to have this [small] group of people whom you can trust and depend on, people whom you can form a connection with without that lingering sense of feeling awkward. Such people know that you love croissants, and take the special effort to get a few for you from a bakery that you once mused you wanted to try. Such people spend a day creating a handmade card for you, personalised, thought out. Such people are willing to be dragged around by you for a day, indulging your whims and fancies (I do believe I can be quite absurd at times). So thank you guys, brunch with you all was especially wonderful, and so was the time wandering around afterwards.

On a side note, the 10th was the first time I had risotto; I had it at Food for Thought, quite nice indeed.

Only towards the later half of my BMTC days did I begin to realise how easy I had it in Bronco; I have wonderful section mates, [generally] wonderful sergeants (they were reasonable), and a really nice platoon commander. I do believe it is a part of God's promise to never let anyone endure more than they can take - which in my case, is evidently not a lot. My apprehension and distaste for all things military prior to my enlistment was probably the reason why I was blessed with such a relaxed (everything is of course relative) company, and such reasonable commanders.

So now, what I need to do is to take these lessons learnt - of perseverance, appreciation and the fear of the Lord, and apply them to the next challenge that I'll face: life as a rifleman in an infantry unit.

Oh God please help me!

On another side note, each time I write about my life, I feel as though it'll all come together to become some sort of bildungsroman or something of that sort.

Pi Patel endured a shaky existence aboard a life raft with a tiger in the Life of Pi - I feel that my life at this point in time somewhat parallels that. I am surrounded by a sea of uncertainty, in particular, about how life will be like in my vocation as a rifleman (I hear it will be tough, that there will be nothing glamorous about the mess that I will endure). But I still must hope, and I must overcome my fears - for that is the only way forward.

I must persevere, I must endure. I must survive, but not on my own strength, but that of the Lord - perhaps that is why I am in such a situation (I hesitate to use the word predicament).

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 -

To everything there is a season,
A time for every purpose under heaven:

A time to be born,
    And a time to die;
A time to plant,
    And a time to pluck what is planted;
A time to kill,
    And a time to heal;
A time to break down,
    And a time to build up;
A time to weep,
    And a time to laugh;
A time to mourn,
    And a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones,
    And a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace,
    And a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to gain,
    And a time to lose;
A time to keep,
    And a time to throw away;
A time to tear,
    And a time to sew;
A time to keep silence,
    And a time to speak;
A time to love,
    And a time to hate;
A time of war,
    And a time of peace.

Perhaps due to impact created by the overwhelming use of anaphora in this bit of scripture, I find it a particularly apt way to start off my recollection of what happened during my last week in BMTC - I'll keep this (relatively) short; there's still a barrage of other posts that'll come in these 2 days.

02.04.12 Despite having less than a day out of camp following my guard duty shift, the night before (1 April) was still quite a decent evening - my spirits were up, and it was that sort of emotions that I hoped to have on the 2nd of April - one where I felt uplifted, positive and possibly even empowered as a result. I don't know how a day of rain exactly creates such an effect, but I felt tossed into the (somewhat) depressing world of both Housekeeping and the moors of Wuthering Heights. Perhaps I'm being hyperbolic here. To be honest, apart from the rain, and the returning of our UMPCs (that marked the end of after-RO internet usage), there was nothing eventful in the morning - the rain killed off the only supposedly eventful one: 5BX. Subsequently, the afternoon was spent doing drill practices (thankfully, at the COY-line), and dinner had broccoli (courtesy of the vegetarian side of the cook-house; I needed it to mitigate the damage that a fried-food-filled dinner would do to my throat). Upon returning from the cook-house, some dumb chap decided to "semula" (spelling?) another platoon - good grieves, why can't you simply not mess with others unnecessarily; that led to us being made to march on the spot for quite a bit, thankfully it wasn't excessively tiring.

03.04.12 I woke up realising that the 'sore throat' I had the day before wasn't simply just a sore throat - it was symptomatic of a flu that I was developing. An excellent way indeed to start the day - and one that definitely affected how I felt the rest of the day. While we were rehearsing our drills (for our Graduation Parade) during the day, I spent practically half of the time either sniffling or sneezing. It was terrible, a state that was made only a little better by the breezy morning (the calm before the storm, which ironically here refers to the unyielding heat of the afternoon). The flu (technically, cold would be a more appropriate term) bug that is going around is simply unstoppable, and it strikes swiftly and relentlessly. Taking my temperature at the end of the day, I realised I had a fever - 38 degrees, definitely not a reassuring sign. I wasn't sure what to do, or how to react to that; going to the MO would mean a definite end to my chance at doing the 24km march, and by extension, my participation in the parade.

04.04.12 My initial plan in the morning, as Sir Shaunald (gosh that makes him sound like he got knighted) suggested the night before, was to not see the MO, to wait until Thursday and to see my own doctor outside of Tekong. In the meantime, I would simply give the day's rehearsal a miss. Judging by how terrible I felt under the heat the day before, following this plan seemed a good idea - one that gave me the best hopes of competing the march on Saturday-Sunday, and doing the parade after. Yet that was thwarted by the inflexibility of the army system - I'm not blaming the commanders here - in order for me to miss an activity, I had to receive an excuse from the MO. I knew for sure that would mean an end of my chance to POP (yes, I'm using the acronym for Passing Out Parade as a verb despite it being a noun), but what was I to do; participating in the rehearsals wouldn't do my flu and fever any good, at least in the former, I would get some medication, and possibly the chance of negotiating with the MO. I was wrong however about the last bit - the moment the MO diagnosed me with having a viral infection, what was handed to me was a 5 days excuse from heavy duties (i.e. the march), dismissing my suggestions at a Friday re-assessment. That effectively ended my chance at POP-ing. At that particular point in time, I felt deeply conflicted about my fate - on one hand, I was relived (but not thrilled) that the burden of the 24km march was lifted from me, yet I felt it a tremendous shame to lose the opportunity to take part in one of the quintessential experiences of BMT (both the march and the parade). But what's done was done - the doctor's decree was final, and all I could do was to accept it, irrespective of the torrent of emotions swirling in my heart and mind. Breaking that news to my parents wasn't exactly easy - I knew how much my mother (and to a lesser extent, my father) wanted to see me at the parade, and as expected, my mother did not take it too well (though that only manifested itself in the subsequent days).

05.04.12 - 07.04.12 Being given a status (Attend B: Light duties in my case) effectively stripped me of the need to pay any more attention to any future briefs on the parade - basically, the moment that I left Tekong at 1.30pm on Saturday, I had passed out, sans a parade. That was something that my mother resented tremendously (for reasons that are undeniably numerous), and she made it known. As for myself, I had resigned to my fate, silently assured that I was freed from the burden that the 24km march would bring, but also tormented by the feeling that my BMT days did not receive a proper closure, that I had missed out on events that would prove defining and deeply memorable.

But I believe that there is indeed a time and place for things in accordance to His plan, that my position (of missing the parade), strange as it may be to put it in this manner, was a part of the Lord's plan for my life. That there was a time to 'chiong', and a time to place my health above all other pursuits. There was a time to strive, and a time to accept defeat, a time to suffer, and a time to reap the harvest of one's effort. Truly, BMTC hasn't been an easy feat - especially for me, but I also accept it as a phase of my life that the Lord has allowed me to go through, to learn from and to grow from.

I'll only know whether I truly made the right decisions in the future, when I reexamine this chapter of my life, but till then, I surrender everything that I'm going through, and will go through into Your hands.

Photograph taken at the Armenian Church of Singapore

1 Peter 2:24 - "[He] bore our sins in His own body on the tree, that we, having died to sins, might live for righteousness-by whose stripes you were healed."

I remember reading some time ago that this art deco landmark would be restored/rejuvenated/repurposed, but up till now I still don't see any concrete work being done, other than much of the building being shuttered away. I honestly wonder how it'll look in some years to come - whether it'll lose its art deco beauty, or will that be woven into the restoration/redevelopment of the building. I honestly hope it is the latter.

At the start of last week, I had every intention of continuing my weekly ritual/routine of blogging/reflecting/musing/lamenting about the week that had passed, but this particular entry was delayed due to my fantastic luck at being selected for the first and only weekend guard duty of my BMTC life. But I'll ramble about that a little later.

25.03.12 The week didn't exactly begin particularly well with a 2.25pm book-in on Sunday; I would still be enjoying lunch outside if it weren't for such an ungodly hour being set for us to return to camp. Unsurprisingly, the morning hours felt was incredibly tight, and because of that, I had to miss my Sunday service - somehow whenever I do so, I feel as if I have no sense of closure for the week that had just passed. To make up for such feelings, my folks and I decided to have lunch at a place called Ramen Champion, where some of the best ramen chefs from Japan are supposedly gathered to serve 'quality' ramen to the people of Singapore. It was pretty decent (the broth was especially

good); the food was quite enjoyable, but the experience was marred by a sub-par environment. But I digress. The early book-in was meant to give us additional time for rehearsals for the upcoming drill-competition (drill comp for short), and as one can probably infer from the time that the book-in was set at, the commanders felt that we needed quite a fair bit of work (it also speaks volumes about the degree of competitiveness that some of the commanders possess). It involved a lot of turning, marching and stomping of one's foot - all done to commands that are delivered in Malay. The day only ended at 11pm - rather late, might I add, of which only testifies to how much the commanders want us to win that competition, and by extension, the title of Best Company (in BMTC School 1).

26.03.12 The day began proper with a re-SOC for those who failed the previous test, and to be honest, there's nothing more that I can say about this particular activity, other than the fact that the low wall and rope continue to remain a hurdle that I fail to overcome. Nonetheless, I was relieved by the fact that it was over - that was the last SOC of my BMTC days. The rest of the day was extremely relaxed, starting with a rest period of over an hour (albeit unofficially) before a Community Chest talk, and ending with NE practice (which in my case, means doing close to nothing). But before the last bit, I must say that I am especially bad at planning my finances - I agreed to donate an amount that I probably shouldn't have (according to a pragmatic point of view), and it took quite a bit of trouble the next week to address that. I must also add that Bronco really has to get its LT projector fixed - moving back and forth from lecture theatres in an attempt to find one that works simply isn't a very efficient thing to do; one could see the frustration in the poor Community Chest volunteers. For some reason, the 9^th week was the week that I started feeling particularly lethargic in afternoons, when I started to crave for siestas - I suppose one can infer from this how I spent my time at NE rehearsal(s). The day waned off in a rather unusual manner - with a haircut; I'm so terribly glad that the previous two haircuts that I did were not done in camp - gosh the barbers in camp are so rough. Nevertheless, it was an experience (I suppose a quintessential one) that I could only experience in my BMT days. Just after the day's last parade, I found out that I was down for weekend guard duty; I can't say that I was especially surprised - I had somehow felt it coming my way, but a sense of anticipation isn't the same as acceptance. The knowledge that my weekend was going to be burnt still felt painful - I wrote this in my diary: "I feel like Jonah, being an unwilling spirit in God's cosmic plan. Please Lord, free me from these [negative] emotions. You said you were merciful, please prove it!" It's not difficult to see how much I resented my fate (at that particular point in time).

27.03.12 Continuing the failures of the previous day, the 27^th of March was characterized by my IPPT failure, caused by both my SBJ and chin-ups. Clearly I'm not cut out for the army life, but it is something that I cannot escape from, even in my sleep. I rambled: "I'm extremely tired, worn down, there's still guard duty this weekend. this week will be terribly long for me".

Psalm 119:16 - "I will delight myself in Your statutes; I will not forget Your word."

If anything, that verse proved to be particular apt for the days that lay ahead, that even as tough times (mentally and physically) came, my trust had to remain in the Lord. I suppose God works in the strangest of ways; even though we had drill comp practice in the evening (gone was our supposedly restful evening), a rather chirpy Sergeant-Major eased the pain of losing our very precious rest-time, in fact, he made it rather bearable, if not decent. Our Company (COY in SAF speak) Cohesion activity got cancelled for the sake of that rehearsal, and as a result, the evening ended particularly late (11.15pm), not because of the length of the drill practices, but because we had to finish up the fruits that were purchased for COY Cohesion night.

28.03.12 I received an SMS from my friend Joel, and it gave me some degree of hope that my guard duty would begin at 10.30pm on Friday night, and end at 7+pm on Saturday night. Reality proved different, but I will delve into that a little later. All I can say is that throughout most of the day, I felt rather down-trodden over my fate of doing guard duty; perhaps even upset. Though the day had nothing particularly significant to it, most of it was spent dealing with the torrent of negative emotions and thoughts sprouting in my head. What put it to rest (temporarily at least) was the evening's "Recruit's Night" - an evening of show and dance, essentially aimed at satisfying the recruits' lack of exposure to the fairer gender by throwing in 2 female singers and dancers. I hated how it was done in a manner that objectified the girls, but all in all, I won't deny that the evening was a relaxed and entertaining one.

29.03.12 - 30.03.12 As the week progressed, I began to accept my fate of guard duty - nevertheless, I clung on to the hope of a Monday book-in, something that was hinted to us earlier on. The morning was spent doing Games Day, which for me, meant nothing other than watching really competitive people fight it out for 'pride and glory' (I'm part of the NE team, and our event was on another day). That being said, as gung-ho and testosterone-filled I deem such competitions to be, I must say that the degree of bravado and gusto put into trying to win it is to say the least rather incredible - especially when one observes how the Bronco Tug-of-war team won. On a side note, I discovered, through the snack bags that we were given, that Piccadeli's Glucose Honey and Milk biscuits are rather nice. We were supposed to have a rather long drill comp practice in the afternoon that followed, but a thunderstorm cut it short. but never underestimate what competitiveness can do - the lost time was supplemented by an evening practice. Nevertheless, everything went fairly smoothly, the weariness passed, and the practices were soon over. The following day was when we had both the NE presentation (a competition in its own right), as well as the drill competition. The latter came first, and if it wasn't for the chap who got his rifle taken from him (he was apparently quite a careless/unobservant individual), we would have won the competition. No matter, at least we won NE. I suppose my role as a weeping girl played a part in securing that win (I am joking), which despite the slightly choppy story line and a lack of full-dress rehearsals, was not entirely a surprise. The day ended with everyone but myself and a few other poor individuals with book-out; I had resigned to my fate by that particular point in time, so the pain was rather muted. It definitely felt rather surreal to be entirely alone in my bunk, without anyone else, having the room to myself.

31.03.12 - 01.04.12 Guard duty officially began at 7 in the morning, and being a 24-hour shift, it lasted till 7 the next morning. To be honest, I have few complaints about my experience doing guard duty, other than the extremely poor cellular reception at where I did my duty (Tekong Ammo Dump), the constantly looming threat of a 'turn-out' in the middle of the night, and the rather boring nature of the duty. Incidentally, as it had been so the past few days before, it rained on the morning of my guard duty, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise - it shaved off one of my guard shifts. The route that we patrolled was interesting to say the least, in the day, one could see wild boars and monkeys, at night, one couldn't see these beasts, but one could most definitely hear them - the boars at least. It was rather scary actually, especially for the first night shift - you never knew when the boar might charge out at you (though honestly speaking wild animals seldom initiate attacks, they only reciprocate to them in defense). Much of the breaks in between were spent either snacking, reading (Newsweek, not Time, as rather ironically, Time wasn't on time that particular week) or sleeping. I must however lament on the poor quality of sleep that one gets during guard duty - it's difficult to rest well when one has to keep his boots on, and when each break is only 4 hours; your sleep cycle doesn't start and end properly, leaving you feeling ill-rested. The night route was much more interesting than the day, it was close to pitch black, 'the almost inadequate street lamps left you wading through yellow lighting and darkness, the sound of crickets, birds, frogs and more scarily, the wild boars, were also another defining [and memorable] trait of the night shift - plus the fear of being rammed into by a rogue and crazed boar'. Thankfully none of the last bit happened, and before we knew it, the night was over, and the mad rush to return home (and in my case, head to church subsequently) began.

Psalm 37:4-5 - "Delight yourself also in the Lord, And He shall give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord, Trust also in Him, And He shall bring it to pass."

That verse pretty much sums up how the week progressed - it was only through committing everything that happened, good or bad, that I gained closure over the week's events (guard duty especially), and gained more from regular activities (like Sunday's church service) than I ever thought I would.

Image Credits: Hufton and Crow, ArchDaily

It's particularly interesting how John McAslan and Partners managed to make such an overwhelming structure appear so delicate - I suppose it's got to do with how it blends rather nicely with the original Victorian era glass roof of the original train station.

I can't help but draw comparisons to Foster and Partners' iconic British Museum though; they seem to have produced one of the most recognisable glass roofs around. Nevertheless, beautiful work by John McAslan and Partners, it's nice to see how the past and modern blend so neatly, each complimenting the other.