We went to East Coast Park and some of us rollerbladed (ahem, "inline skated") while others of us rode bicycles like maniacs, terrorizing the skaters. The sun was bright and hot and there was a good but sticky breeze coming in from the sea. And since I can't ride a bike (sad, I know), Mich & Oliver and I went about on skates, which is all well and good and really fun (hadn't really skated in, well, years) until you get so comfortable and carried away that you start speeding down a really great stretch of asphalt, only to go hurtling head first toward the road, because Gravity Is Mean.
I bashed my hands and knees and HEAD on the road.
Speeding is bad for your health.
So I grazed my hands and knees and started bleeding from my cheekbone & chin, and got a weird sort of headache. But it kinda went away, so we started down again, because I wasn't bleeding all that much and hey, we rented the skates for the whole day.
And then after resting a bit and tottering around and regaining confidence, I decided to do it slow and steady, since that's they way you win the race, if you're a tortoise. But slow and steady really is the worst way to go over a speed bump, so I went over, did a little dance, and then went crashing down on my butt and hands, and effectively made a rather bloody mess (literally) of my left palm. It was all bloody and oozy and the skin was coming off and it was cool... like being back in primary school, when we used to run around and scrape our knees. Except this time it was rather unglamorous and it was hands and faces.
Then we all went to eat lunch, then lie on the grass under the coconut palms reading and napping while some of the others went to play volleyball and frisbee games on the sand.
And when the sun set, we went and ate barbecued stingray and rice and rojak and other sorts of yummy Little Tropical Island dinner food.
Now it's midnight and my butt hurts and my hand throbs and it looks like someone punched me in the face.
But I'm happy.