I may have broken the back of the jetlag now, to bed around 1130 (which is somewhat late for me) and awake at 5-ish, but I went back to sleep and eventually rose just after seven.

What? No breakfast? I heard ding dongs but apparently they weren’t mine. I checked a couple of times, incredulous with disbelief that the routine I had assumed was in place was in fact just an illusion.

Nevertheless I remained steeled with my reserve to get the day going. Hmmm what should I wear? Staying in or going out clothes? I have all the choices but as Mrs Jones will attest, my dress code hasn’t changed much in the past 4 months or so, shorts and a Tee.

Today it is my new swirly whirly Tee which I am still unsure about. Does grey make me look phat?

After a bit of time engaged in regular ablution I heard the familiar ding dong and hey presto breakfast was there. The obligatory poly bag with a boldly inscribed label and goodies in their necessary packaging.

A little more generous serving of fruits, a combo of mini pastries, some blueberry yoghurt and apple juice. Hmmm not my favourite juice, it does say no sugar added though. I might have that later with my apple from yesterday, to the fridge with that.

Where is the butter? Oh I found it, it was still in the bag. For a moment I thought standards were slipping and my checklist of morning supplies had been short changed.

In other news, no TV or even streamed video for almost 24 hours, just not feeling it.

I did receive a call on my SG phone today, apparently a robocall in Chinese, it is just like being back in Bellevue…

Instead I charged and cranked up my ten plus year old plantronics Bluetooth headset with non standard charging cable 😒and squeezed out some audio beats for my personal pleasure while engaging in my own version of Risky Business underwear dancing.