Though we grew up speaking Teochew (a Chinese dialect) at home, I was often intrigued and impressed with mum's English vocabularly from young. Today she still speaks fondly of her old English teacher, a perfect gentleman who enriched their lessons with loads of proverbs and idioms. He taught them the intricacies of grammar and expected them to speak nothing less than proper British English.
Later when she was working alongside her British colleagues at the Royal Airforce, she was once again communicating with native English speakers. Naturally her Teochew sentences were often peppered with English words and sayings.
She likes to use the phrase "as fickle as the weather" simply because she is often at the mercy of the exasperating weather as an orchid farmer. This is how I would describe this morning's weather.
I walked out to the patio at 6.10am to see a bright crescent moon and stars twinkling against a clear blue sky. Thinking that we're in for a sunny day, I watered the plants and brought the laundry out to dry.
The air was strangely still when I brought Rusty for a walk yet when I looked up, the sky was no longer blue. Within a span of 10 minutes, white clouds had completely taken over.
When we got back to the apartment, little raindrops were pelting down on the patio, threatening to drench my laundry. We drove through the rain to get to school. Many students were caught unaware by the sudden downpour as they dashed for the nearest cover. Rusty must be cowering in fear at home, probably shivering under YK's warm blanket.
Traveling along Geylang Road, ominous clouds roiling overhead sent foreign workers scurrying across the road in the dark, paying scant attention to traffic. 7am felt more than 6am now. The dark, angry clouds looked like they were ready to dump sheetloads of rain upon us but all we got was a spritz.
Now that the rainclouds have moved away, what we're left with is a dull grey sky. It's only 9am and the weather has already flaunted its fickleness for all to see.