Almost Clockwork

I will admit that the past two weeks of my life have been particularly unfamiliar ones.

For one thing, it had become increasingly frustrating to be continuously on the end of being an F1's personal lackey. At first, it was alright. More of an 'I don't mind' mentality to being ordered up and down - taking bloods, faxing letters, being a postman to bring referral letters to clinics for referral. Simply because I was fast and it was pretty much routine. Clockwork, to be exact. No second thoughts needed.

Then it got worse. It started dawning on me how disastrous it would be to work with people who were disorganised or irresponsible or just plain blur in the future - and I wasn't referring to medical-knowledge wise but just plain common sense. It started getting to the point where I felt plagued with a sense of dreariness going to the stuffy ward office and sitting in front of computers doing endless discharge summaries. And then it got worse when the other med students on my firm became increasingly annoying and started asking me every single blur question under the sun. It got worse when I became expected to pick up alot of people's slack and even got the blame for things I didn't do just because I wasn't up for arguing and defending myself. And most of all, I felt that my brain had come to a standstill. It was terrible. It was bad enough that I wasn't the smartest cookie in the jar to begin with, but this had started hitting all time lows.

And then today, everything changed. At the risk of sounding dramatic, I suddenly felt alive again. My lack of tolerance for the haphazard fashion that ward rounds had been carried out drove me to go in at 8 am to sort out the notes and check all the obs for the patients, simply because Consultant teaching at 8.30 am would mean that everything would not be in place for later if I didn't take any initiative to do it. Who knew that a tiny gesture like that would have earned me multiple praises from the people I least expected them from, and even being labelled 'Star Student of the Day'.

But more importantly, for the first time in 3 weeks, after a useful bedside teaching session, I finally felt in touch with medicine again. I was finally thinking laterally and using my bank of differential diagnoses to work up a patient systematically. I was learning new things, revising my CXR presentations and mentally going 'Ooohhhhh' in my mind because my brain was finally working. I had forgotten the thrill of getting things right and realising that there are some things you actually had no idea that you actually knew.

Thank God as well for the random Vascular surgeon later on who came by our ward to review a patient and randomly started giving me an impromptu teaching session on Mononeuritis Multiplex and the different types of Anaemias that could present in a Rheumatoid patient. Despite my wariness with his brandishing a pair of surgical clamps excitedly around (don't ask me why he brought it with him) while he asked me questions, I was truly intrigued. And grateful. At the very least, my brain was yet again given the chance to function for once.

And most of all, despite the slight dampening in the end to a great day, with my patient deteriorating rapidly in the afternoon and going into Septic Shock, at the very least, I was back in touch with my long-lost self again. I was reminded again that I had compassion as a healthcare provider, and a human being. That I was doing Medicine for all the right reasons as much as I had doubted my resilience greatly from time to time. And most of all, that there was no way in hell I would trade all the lack of seeing sunlight, trekking more than an hour to and from the hospital, and pulling my hair out due to the fact that none of my time would really be my own in the future. Because at the end of the day, the message was clear....

There's really no other place I would rather be.

Five Girls, One Heart

As cliched as it seems, I cannot help but wonder aloud, over and over again.

Where has all the time gone???

It seemed like just yesterday that we were attending play dates, which progressed to Princess-themed birthday parties, slumber parties and then suddenly, we find ourselves at the next phase of life: Hen Do's.

This was the star of the day: Blushing Bride To Be and definitely the first close friend of mine to be walking down the aisle.

And this was the Bridal Party:

All decked out in the same theme of horizontal stripes (which was planned for) and the same COLOUR theme of black and white (which was completely coincidental, and brought about much laughter).

Possibly one of the most intimate and tame Hen Do's in the history of London, but as we always say, it is the company that matters most. And the day wasn't short of laughs, even if they started off as exasperated ones.

Our 'Do' kicked off in the late morning with an activity of designing and making our own 1920s Flapper-style Headbands, which did not fare too well considering none of us could sew competently, but triumph was to be ours in the end :)

After much stressing out and our stomachs threatening to digest themselves, we then headed off to Sloane Street for bubbly and afternoon tea.

What's a celebration without champagne? :)

Looking forward to the wedding reception (which we can hopefully all attend) where we can look back and reminisce these moments where we were all single, young and painting Londontown red (well, not really, but again it's the company that matters right?).

And as they say, the most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart.

(Credits to Lynn for the pictures)

Bagging That Style

I am a firm believe of undivided loyalties.

And it is true what they say, that your heart truly lies where your mind wanders, because the moment I set my eyes and heart on these two bags a couple of years ago, there was no turning back.

1) The Balenciaga City:

I thought I was done when I got my purple Balenciaga First, which was a dismal second choice because I could not find a SINGLE purple Balenciaga City despite hunting all over London. The 'Kiasu' part of me then proceeded to snap up the very last purple 'First' on display at Harvey Nichols, despite Keith's disapproving comments of "No, Alyssa. It's too small!"

But No, I had built my hopes up so much for a purple Balenciaga that there was no turning back.

Almost 4 years down the line, it looks like there was a reason I fell in love with the label in the first place, because this has sent my heart fluttering at 224 bpm all over again:

The combination of this shade of Military Green and the Rose-Gold Hardware is a touch of class, miles above all of the rest. I have to admit I was rather skeptical about this shade of hardware when I first read about it, but this just proves me wrong....all over again. I am sold, through and through.

Now....just to karate-chop anyone else who tries to prey this away from my hands at the Balenciaga flagship store, or hunt down every nook of Londres for this colour in this style. And of course, the ever imminent problem of 4-figure price tags.

Credit Crunch whaaaaaat?? Swipe Now, Think Later......definitely. Thanks, Daddy.

2) The Proenza Schouler PS1 Satchel:

I remember clearly, the days of first setting my eyes on Leighton Meester strutting across New York City with this bag in tow. And I remember even more clearly, that I couldn't find a single retail store in London that carried Proenza Schouler, lest to say a proper flagship store in itself. It was then that I made a solemn resolution to visit Manhattan one day, and stride right through the doors of Bergdorf Goodman to claim this piece of art as my own.

Last year, I saw a couple of PS1 dotted over stores in London. A small dark purple one at Liberty, a brown one at Harvey Nichols. Sad to say, it was the exact same price in Pounds Sterling as it was in US Dollars. And as much as I tried to resist, my heart broke.

Because who.....who in their right mind could possibly resist this:

I would be willing to trade a kidney for ALL 4 of these PS1 satchels. LOVING the vibrance of these colours indeed, and SO jealous that I will not be heading to NYC or clearing the racks of Saks 5th Avenue with a (very hampered Credit Card limit) any time soon. Screw clinical electives though....shopping trip to NYC anyone??? I would even be willing to instill self control and complete discipline with a strict, no-nonsense shopping ban in London for the next couple of months or so. AHEM. For real.

Fat chance. As much as I can get away with making 'Puss in Boots' eyes at my Dad, I hardly think my own bank account limit would allow it.

Perhaps this is where my Grand Scheme to con a Cartier ring and as many PS1 Satchels as I want out of my future IB would come into play.

Canary Wharf tomorrow, anyone? ;)

And in the meantime, let's just say....all you need is Love. Or in my case, Balenciaga......and Proenza Schouler.

XOXO

Kung Fu Fighting

Everyone knows that I am pretty much a gym junkie.

NB: That statement was dripping with sarcasm, just in case you guys didn't notice.

Yes, I go to the gym once in a blue moon, at the most. In the past year, I could probably count the number of time I have been to the gym with my fingers. And each time, in the midst of each workout session, I would be on the verge of arresting on a treadmill and proclaim aloud in my head that starving was MUCH easier than the pain I was going through. I would think back to the days of gymming with Pei Hua where the two of us would overdose on Body Combat, Body Pump and Yogalates. Unfortunately, the ULU Gym had none of these, and when it comes to leaving Shing to devise a workout session for herself without the guidance of an instructor, there is only one thing she does: she cuts corners. The lightest weights possible for all resistance training and well, the occasional crunch or two.....you know, when she feels like it.

And then this year, Coco, Daisy and Minnie switched gyms. It initially came as a bit of an impromptu decision, but I must say that two months into this routine (in which 90% of the encouragement comes from Coco, I must admit), I am loving life!!! Saturday mornings are much looked forward to because of this:

Oh Body Combat, how I have missed thee!!

Falling back into the routine of Upper Cuts, Cross Jabs, Roundhouse Kicks and Spinballing brings about a kind of euphoria of its own....not to mention that it is particularly therapeutic to be punching the air as hard as you can (+/- the option of imagining an opponent that you are really in combat against).

And really, besides the awkward hours I will possibly be anticipating in my next two weeks of Emergeny Medicine, at the moment, life cannot get any better than improving my cardiovascular fitness and strength.....at the very least.

(I have resigned to the fact that it is a tad impossible to actively wish any amount of weight loss upon myself when not much effort has been divulged on my part. Hellooooo water diet?!)

Perhaps it would be time to invest in a pair of combat gloves after this? :) Depending on how long I can keep this habit up for.

A is for Airway....and Anaesthetics

I had had several apprehensions before starting Anaesthetics....and I had experienced EVEN more doubts prior to this when I had heard more than one individual proclaim their love for the specialty.

Perhaps it is true when they say pleasant surprises happen when you are least expecting it. Because my first week on the placement so far has been anything but unpleasant. Fair enough, I did come across a fair bit of grilling on my very first day and very first theatre session, but the amount that I took away from it surprised even myself.

And, taking into account the fact that I was still pretty much riding on my wave of vacation fever when I started last week, I had to say that the patience and effort that these wonderful beings poured into helping me grasp the core points around the topic was definitely much appreciated. At the end of last Friday, I had reverted from a Cardio Fangirl to an Anaesthetist Wannabe. Pretty much sold. No further persuasions required.

Okay, I kid. The door is pretty much still open to me, and at the moment, the anchoring heuristic in me still sides the matters of the heart (pun intended) strongly. But it was moments like last Thursday where Lynn and I had had a very productive afternoon session brushing up on our Gen Med knowledge and our systematic approach (or maybe lack of) in handling emergent situations, that struck a significant chord in me and made me realise.....that moments like these...moment like these are what drove me to endure the hours of trawling the hospital, of being ignored or chastised as liked, of tearing hair out prior to exams.....and of potential identity crisis when work commences....and that at the end of the day, there is nothing else but this that I could imagine myself possibly doing.

I will miss Anaesthetics when it is all over. And maybe in another 3 weeks or so, I will have reverted back to the broken, bitter, ill-tempered med student scurrying around A&E when you next check this space.

But for the moment, in customary ABCDE approach, let me just say.

A is for:

- Airway

- Anaesthetics

and - Alyssa being strangely happy for the first time in ages.

Sensory Lab

So much has happened since the last post.

For one, the dreaded farewells and customary bidding of Goodbye to Kch came and left, with less drama than anticipated. At that moment, it did seem apt when my own words rang true, that things were only as drama as you made them out to be.

Then the inevitable embracing of a new academic year came and went as well, amidst suffering from bouts of drowsiness and jetlag between Prescribing, Handovers and Case Histories.

And on the first weekend of all of us being reunited back in Londontown, what else was there to do but continue with the coffee-hunting adventures.

This time, our destination was Sensory Lab:

The latest Australian cafe to take London by storm. Or, as 'Time-Out' would put it, 'Great Coffee finally hitting Oxford Circus by way of Melbourne'.

Much thanks to Jane again (my Coffee-Hunting partner in crime - in spirit of course) for introducing us to this second Melbourne-based brand name. The first being St. ALi which we had visited and absolutely adored.

The ambience was slightly less appealing than it's sister branch in Clerkenwell, but later, Daisy and I came to love the countertops and window seats overlooking Wigmore Street, which allowed us much entertainment in way of people-watching on a rainy, windy afternoon in Londontown.

And of course, not forgetting the main point: The Coffee.

My Latte was awesome enough. And as Lynn pointed out, so was her Flat White, and YL's Cappuccino. Slightly stronger, I might add, than St. ALi's brews, from what my uncultured taste buds could recall, but definitely a gem of a place to add to our Coffee-Hunting adventures.

And with the string of Melbourne-based cafes that are jetting over the miles to land on this part of the world, it seems that life can only get better from here. Here's hoping that this final year will be filled with more laughs, wonderful memories and perfectly crafted espressos amidst coffee beans from over the world.....besides the best company in the world, of course.

Sensory Lab

75 Wigmore Street

London W1U 1QD

Coffee Hunt....Continued

This time...in the comforts of none other than our beloved hometown of Kch.

I know there have been occasions time and time again where I have gotten a raised eyebrow in response to my ignorance of certain Kch 'hotspots', to the point that I am possibly....?Pseudo-Kuchingite, but hey, I swear I'm getting better.

So while Lynn was coffee-hunting in London, I decided to pull my weight and set off to do some evaluating in Kch.

Back to the awesome Carpenter Street where limited parking + lousy driving skills = exasperation escalated by subtly sarcastic reactions from my BFF in my passenger seat.

No matter though, Vamos Shing! Eventually success loomed. Managed to build some immunity towards the snarky remarks and head over to this:

Iced Lattes

It was definitely refreshing to be able to drink Iced Coffee again, after all those moments in London where any form of an iced drink would lead to uncontrollable convulsions and chattering of teeth the moment you walked out of the store.....and into the arms of the brutal cold. Ironically, the context in this case was the lack of any form of cooling device and a series of new mosquito bites to add to my current collection.

Overall, it was definitely a refreshing layout to the typical London (or rather Aussie) style Coffee place.

Simple, old-school and functional. This was Kch-style through and through. And the coffee wasn't bad either.

My substitute Coffee-Hunting partner in crime: Best Friend Forever and one of the causes of my deteriorating laughter threshold.

*Note: Shades are Tom Ford aviators belonging to the author, not the model...just in case you were wondering*

Black Bean Coffee & Tea Company 黑豆食品咖啡茶叶贸易公司

No. 87 Ewe Hai Street

93000 Kuching,

Sarawak, Malaysia.

Apologies for the mediocre photo qualities. All snapped with my sturdy HTC Desire S on a new awesome app that Daisy recommended.

So all in all, who would have thought that Kch would be so much fun this time around. And honestly, no sarcasm intended. As much as I thought there would be no one to see and nothing to do prior to coming back, the reality when I was back was that there still weren't that many of my High School friends back, and Kch was pretty much still a hole.

But then you realise that all it boils down to is 'The One where Laughter Never Ceases'. Or in this case, a list of random, significant, bizarre, 'What-The-Hell', yet memorable Kch moments with the Liangster.

The Adventures of Dora and Boots

Back from a week-long adventure in KL! Which I must credit for the title of this post.

And a huge adventure it was! Definitely best KL trip to date EVER! Lol. Bit of an inside joke for me and Daisy Hoo, but this was definitely one summer holiday I would never forget.

What was supposedly a week of 'being keen' for two medical students, ended up being a barrel of laughs. From being continuously sloughed off onto the service of other members of the team to continuously being asked to 'study in the library' and my personal favourite.....'No patients have turned up for Clinic'. Just to say, the end point was that we both transitioned through periods of wanting to kill certain people, to being exasperated to the point of laughter, to making the most of our time together and turning it into an 'adventure'. What's not to like about escaping from clinic to go shopping in Pavilion countlessly?

Well, to be fair, I guess we did learn maybe 6 important points about Cardiology at the very end. Two new Diabetic drugs I hadn't heard of, VSD's, Wolf-Parkinson-White Syndrome and two more interesting patients we saw on the single round with pretty distinct conditions.

Other than that, this was definitely THE gastronomical KL experience!!! And sadly, I have to agree that the West has a far larger variety of food than the East, where my standard answer for good Kch food is 'Kolo Mee' and 'Sarawak Laksa'. Lol. Or maybe that's just me. Please don't kill me, I am still very much a Kuchingite at heart ;)

And the holiday is coming to an end.....soon it will be Kch-Withdrawal Symptoms again for me. And I have a feeling that they will be FAR worse this time around.

Oh well, still have got the week left.

In the meantime, a huge shout-out to my BFF Daisy Hoo, aka my fellow explorer Dora for an amazing time in Kay-Elle :) And pRease okay....I am being truly sincere ;)

Almost There

4th Year done and dusted.

Officially one step closer to achieving my Cardiothoracic dream. Well, of course before that comes job applications and Final Year and FINALS.

KL-bound 15th Aug - 20th Aug.

HELLLOOOO SUMMER!!!!

The Djokovic Factor

When these two great champions faced each other on court (or rather, grass), at SW19 before the Championships drew to a close this year, it was inevitably going to go one way or another.

And as though he was still sleep-walking and living his 4-year-old dream, it was eventually the Djoker who managed to follow through.

This was a moment of many firsts:

- This being Djoker's First Wimbledon Final EVER.

- The First time in years that anyone other than Nadal and Federer had dominated this renown title at SW 19.

- And ultimately, the First time anyone other than the greats Rafa Nadal and Roger Federer was World No.1....the last time being Andy Roddick in 2004.

But as much as Nadal put on a tremendous show and looked every inch the gallant champion he was last year here at the Championships, there was only so much that VAMOS RAFA could spur him. Because this year, it is all about the Djokovic Factor. And that proved to close that little gap between these two and give him the extra push towards living his dream.

And with that, we bid farewell to the grounds of Wimbledon, to the fantastic shows that the Championships brought this year....and to the perfect finale of it all.

See you again next year, Nole.

PS: In the meantime, I hope you realise how many meals I have had to buy my Tennis Partner in Crime this year, while you are happily on this winning streak. Perhaps the day will come when you will reimburse me.....or even acknowledge my existence. Lol.

The Djokovic Edge

As much as I rave about tennis, this is the closest I will ever get to playing. This was taken last year at Wimbledon, posing with a Giant Babolat.

This year....no Wimbledon, and hence no Giant Babolat.

Instead, books, books and more books. Oh Joy!

But a big day lies ahead tomorrow....because for the first time, this man is World No.1 AND has scored himself a ticket to the Wimbledon Finals:

It is hard to identify just what I like about Novak Djokovic. I recently read an article identifying that despite his arrogant strut, the mad gleam in his eyes, the pumping of fists in mad euphoria each time he wins just one point, and the many times he has battered his racquet to smithereens, earning cautions from the umpire along the way, there is just something about Nole that is charming in so many ways.

That would be the so-called more poetic reason I could draw out as to why I am one of the few Djokovic fans in this tennis world.

Honestly, I am not sure. There is a part of me that just relishes being different from the norm. When 90% of all people I know are Man Utd fans, I have stuck to my guns and maintained my position in the slowly diminishing pool of Liverpool fans. Perhaps I like the fact that I am actually one of that 'rare breed', perhaps I just am used to being taunted at by this guy and that, and the numerous Red Devils who modify names to 'Loserpool'.

And when many a tennis fan grabs their hair in admonishment and exclaim "YOU LIKE DJOKOVIC?!!", it is almost a reflex reaction for me to defensively say "What are you trying to insinuate?!"

Maybe I just like being different, as per being a Liverpool fan. Who knows?

But there is just something about Djokovic that stirs an indescribable bond with me. I have lamented continuously that it was boring how this man was 45-matches unbeaten this year and that someone should stop him, but the moment he lost to Federer in the semis of Roland Garros, I realised that old habits die hard. It took great effort for me halfway watching the match to realise that I was not supposed to be hurling insults at Djoker on the TV screen but should be silently applauding Federer for his brilliant efforts.

So as much as Rafa is my favourite Spaniard in terms of determination and resilience, as much as I salute Federer for his absolute grace and poise on court, and as much as my Djoker totally defies the rule of tennis being a 'Gentleman's Game', it is with this Serbian that my loyalties lie. Love is blind, they say. But it is too late to start over now.

But I have always been a rational girl, when it comes to tennis and football and any other form of sport I watch (read: none), so I will lay down the odds for tomorrow as such:

Rafa will probably take the cup, but please, compadres, do it in less than 3 hours so as to save our time! We are busy people, you see!

And as for my Djoker: we'll see how much of the 45-match-unbeaten-streak man he is tomorrow. As far as I was concerned, he was pretty much a shadow of it when he was playing Tomic and Tsonga over the past few days.

Perhaps celebrations will be in order after tomorrow. Buying my tennis counterpart a Michelin star meal at Heston Blumenthal's restaurant, maybe. Lol.

A girl can hope.

As It Happens....

....amidst 130mph serves, ground strokes that are pin-point precise, drop shots that make your jaw equally hang open in awe...and mind-boggling matches that persevere beneath the fabulous new technology of that Centre Court roof in spite of the temperamental English rain....it has taken much resilience on my part not to give in and visit the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club multiple times because, hallelujah: I still have exams. Which are yet to be sat. And preparation on my part is so slow that it is almost insane.

It took a great deal of self control the other day to relate my experience in Centre Court last year to my Reg and my firmmate when we drove past Southfields and the hoards of people (I threw them a dirty look as we drove past....pffttt) who were flocking to the grounds. I am sure it must have been devastatingly obvious how I had gone from monotonously naming the Clinical Features of Bipolar Disorder to suddenly raising my voice a couple of octaves when I retold my excitement at watching the great man himself, Roger Federer play.

This year, I have deteriorated horribly, so to speak. It makes me devastated to think that by the time I start working next year, I will probably not even know whenever a Grand Slam is being played. I have yet to find the time to watch a single Wimbledon match properly (blame my intense stress over trying to find one last stupid specialist visit ARGH!), and I have totally not been keeping track of my Djoker's performance this time around!

The most I have done is flick through BBC Videos at the end of the day, and placate myself with these:

The.....wait for it......LEGENDARY man himself: Roger 'Fed-Ex' Federer. Whom I am still hoping will dethrone Rafa this year, even if it means trampling on my Djoker to get to Centre Court on Sunday.

And who could forget the Near-Invicible creature this Serbian has become this year: the man who started it all by sparking off my interest in tennis - My Djoker.

So for the moment, as we cruise into Week 2 of this year's showdown of the creme de la creme of all Grand Slams, I am aware of how much I lack the euphoria and anticipation of the past year....simply because I lack the time.

And as much as I harbour resentment against these exams just because I am skewed in where my passions lie, I promise myself this: that next year I will frequent the grounds SO often that by the end of it, I will have exhausted Wimbledon in every possible way, and that means not just having to rely on a recapitulation of these amazing showdowns or ponder on a distant memory of my surreal moment in Centre Court in 2010.

Wimbledon, I'll be seeing you yet. Let's keep our fingers crossed.

Something Old, Something New...

....Something Borrowed, Something Blue.

I must be the most unromantic person in the entire female population universally.

Back in school, when my friends had dreams about their weddings in full detail - down to their dresses, the flower bouquets they were going to carry, the interior of their reception hall and so on, the most I could offer on my part was roll my eyes and declare, in all sincerity, that I really wasn't interested.

When asked to describe my dream wedding in words, all these years later, my response is exactly the same as it was when I was a teenage girl.

I don't know, really.

To be fair, the realistic side of me means that I should probably take baby steps, one at a time, and only speak of this when I actually have a tangible wedding candidate. Yet, to be honest, I am not being pessimistic. Because the obsolete truth was that I really didn't care, still don't...or rather, to put it more subtly, I am pretty much flexible and pretty much up for anything.

Which made me move on to pen down another prerequisite in a future husband:

- Able to plan the wedding and its further minute details.

Lol, I kid.

All the same, a friend remarked that this was a dream practically every girl had had some time in her life, and it was almost as though I was developmentally missing a milestone not to echo this thought at all. Hence, I decided to come up with the bare minimum, i.e. set my style straight.

In terms of my preferred styles of wedding dresses, of course! Because God forbid I will have to strut down the aisle in something horrendously un-Shing in every single way!

There wasn't much difficulty in terms of browsing through a website and mentally short-listing. I was done in 5 minutes.

Elie Saab was a sure-win. I have always been a huge fan, and there is something about his designs that overshadow the crowd favourites of Vera Wang or lately, Alexander McQueen (Sarah Burton). There is nothing about his soft, feminine lines that one can dislike, and even for a wedding cynic like me, I was thoroughly sold.

Fangirl much. Hah!

This gown above, with its flowy layers of French lace, was an instant favourite immediately! (Virtually to me of course. How easy when there is no thought of real cost at hand when picking out an outfit. Lol!)

Moving along the popular theme of lacy bodices, in the style of Duchess Kate Middleton, I stumbled across this sleek piece, which reminded me of a rather Oriental-incorporated theme - perhaps because of the neckline and the cap sleeves - and the Mermaid-inspired skirt was a definite shoo-in. Not really my style, to be honest, because.....shoot me.....I am still a believer of lower necklines in formal gowns, but definitely something more refreshing than the standard A-line skirt and strapless tube top of many a bride these days.

And yes, I contradict myself from my previous line above about wanting to be different from the standard strapless-necked gown and full skirt, but what is not to love about this piece? A true Elie Saab piece of work, if I may, written all over it, with the chiffon folds and the little train at the back.

Now to find a rich Investment Banker husband to con to buy me this *rubs hands gleefully*

Much of a 'Wedding Grinch' as I am, I could probably risk my cool facade and be all starry-eyed and giggly and tearfully joyous walking down the aisle in this while proclaiming that I knew this dress was MADE for me the moment I laid my eyes on it.

Similarly, this gown isn't standard Vera Wang / Vivienne Westwood, puffy-ballgown-skirted Princess Wedding material, but there is nothing about Elie Saab's flowy lines that can't buy me enough to be willing to be that fortunate blushing bride gliding down the aisle in this.

And of course, the Duchess of Cambridge aside, who could forget the woman who started it all. My fashion icon and one of the most stylish creatures the world has ever known: Grace Kelly

Flawless piece of work indeed. Perhaps if I were fortunate to be the next 'Princess of Monaco' in the future (read: marry the tennis player who is actually really Serbian but is based in Monaco), I would cast aside all my dress preferences and proudly carry on this 'Kelly tradition'.

My friends scoff off my cynicism and proclaim that I will be the giggly, blushing bride that I am so distasteful about, and will one fawn about planning the dream-come-true wedding that I have so vehemently veto-ed all these years.

I say: Curse me not!!!

Jokes. Perhaps, if it involves a rich Investment Banker with a ginormous fortune and an Elie Saab gown.....

Coffee-Hunting....

....Aussie Style.

It seems that these days, the BIG thing in London is Coffee Houses, Brunch Places, Breakfast Bars....popping up all over the place, and everything so far has been synonymous with the words 'Australian Style'.

Due to my large contact base in Melbourne, I have been reminded time and time again how trendy the 'Coffee Culture' is over there, so much so that it is much less of a past-time than a distinct feature of the city itself.

London, on the other hand, perhaps owing to its vastness and our lack of insight, falters behind in the quaint coffee places that a city like Melbourne has to offer. Sad, really....seeing how vibrant and colourful a place this city is in terms of gastronomy, trendy eateries and the likes.

And then we discovered that St. ALi had spread its wings to this part of the world....much thanks to Jane.

Of course, with an opening like St. ALi, it was pretty hard for us to ignore. The fact that I had received nothing but the highest of praises from every single Melbournian I had asked after, and that the owners had chosen to open their second branch 10,000 miles away from the first, definitely warranted a mention....and naturally a visit.

So off we went on our coffee hunt:

Being greeted by a myriad of Australian accents when we entered was truly heart-warming. It was as though we had just crossed over from East London to Melbourne in an instant.

I especially liked the open-plan counter where the baristas worked their magic

Flat White

Filter Coffee

Lynn obviously found the miniature milk bottle very entertaining

Overall, it was an experience worth two thumbs up! I was fondly reminded of my many dapples with excellent coffee experiences in Perth over last summer, and although many a Melbournian has vehemently reminded me that it is not a shadow of the REAL stuff they serve down in Melbourne, I still maintain that the coffee culture in the land Down Under is one thing that trumps England hands down. So much so that I almost forgive them for all being such Coffee Snobs. Gasp! (I kid, I kid!)

Also, Psssstttt.....you didn't hear it from me, but as a little birdie told me, St. ALi will soon be acquiring an Alcohol license and extending its opening hours to dinner times, so you'll be seeing me chilling there more often after I am rid of something called dreary finals.

And as for the Australian invasion to the slowly growing coffee map on this side of the waters, I am welcoming it all indeed....with open arms:

St. ALi

27 Clerkenwell Road

EC1M 5RN

London