Some mutton varuval, a jug of margarita, a book on womenomics, and thou beside me singing in the wilderness

Is it freaky to love your dentist? Cos if it is I am, and I do. An early morning appointment (the first of the day) after a three-margarita night, coming back squiffy to do some editing and knocking off at past 3, required me to set the alarm clock.

So yeah, Monday at Backyard with Nits and Wednesday at the Reef with Addy and in between, a great, great silence as KL went into its customary somnolence during this festive season. I stayed at home, comfortable in my jammies, hung out with Arnold (yes he's still here), did some editing, in between other more pleasurable tasks, like working on my tapestry and vision board. The first is not quite finished and the second is on my wall to give me pleasure and delight.

A few days with no contact (except the dog's) can go either way. I love PJ when it turns into a ghost town. Parking places everywhere, no traffic anywhere, the occasional firecracker going off to shatter the tranquility of the nights, Jane Austen fests going on in the background (no, not Pride and Prejudice but the 1971 version of Persuasion - and I love Anne Elliot, seriously!).

But anyway, back to my dentist. Dr Priya shares a birthday with me (so you already know she's very cool) and about a year ago, she tackled my extremely infected gums and managed firstly, to get rid of the infection and secondly, to bring my recalcitrant teeth under control. As she hacked away at the tartar, she told me I was a trooper for not flinching. (She's the only dentist who's ever called me a trooper or told me I have a high threshold for pain). Today, after she cleaned the teeth (noting that the gums had receded even further and asking me to take Vitamin C to see if I could regrow them) I told her my bottom teeth are moving around something awful. The upshot of it is that I'm to wear a retainer. She made the mould, I pick it up on Thursday. Dr Priya always has some video going at the patient's eye level to distract them. The other three times I've been here it was a Mr Bean cartoon. Today, it was Michael Jackson's old videos. When I asked her if she was a fan, she told me, always. In fact, she was one of those who forked out for a very expensive ticket when he performed in Singapore in 1992.

Remember that one?

The concert we ALL went to?

Then it was time for a little shop as Arnold's food had run out and I needed to see to that so I could make his lunch. At the pet shop (OK I finally got a card and became a member) I went looking for brushes as the boy is shedding like he's trying to stuff a mattress and when the shop assistant heard he was a mongrel, he pointed me to the cheapest brush there. I fixed him with a stern look and said my mongrel is a five-star dog and only the best will do. He pointed me to a better brush.

I was a little tired from my late night and so, made a beeline for home and cooked Arnold some chicken and added the lamb and rice biscuits the guy had convinced me to buy. (Arnold finished every last drop and then came over, as is his habit, to give me a thank you lick and fall asleep. It's a dog's life, truly!).

Counter-intuitively, the first thing I ate on getting back from the dentist was a large bowl of Snicker's ice cream. Never mind. I bought a ton of tooth care products from the doc and will be putting them to use as soon as I finish some work.

The Backyard margaritas are very good (OK that's the margaritas talking), and Mark was in top form. Well, I suppose he was, Nits and I were making so much noise either cheering, hooting or singing along, that it was hard to tell. There was another noisy table nearby and Nits flicked them a contemptuous look.

"Americans," she said.

"Yeah," I agreed. "They're almost as loud as us."

Which reminded me of being in Penang and remarking to my cousin Evelyn that wherever we go, we tend to be the noisiest people there. She corrected me: "Wherever we go, YOU are the noisiest person there."

Which I couldn't argue with. Not when it's true and I'm loud and obnoxious even without alcohol.

There's NOTHING like Backyard on a Monday night.

Seriously.