Yesterday was a beeaaauutiful day. I enjoyed myself immensely!
My Prince whisked me out for dinner at this restaurant with such an adorable name, Spageddies. We had the most splendid of meals. I would have to say it's the best of three worlds. The spectacular feast consisted of steak, so tender and juicy, crayfish, so fresh and tasty, and of course, pasta, al denta with a touch of olive oil. It was absolutely divine. I ravished it, with grace of course.
We talked merrily and laughed happily.
Then, he brought me to this dark room with a massive, giant-sized painting with actual moving pictures. The pictures could talk and sing and dance!!! It was most beautiful and exciting! OH but the evil queen was terribly awful. She scared me to bits.
There was one part in the story which was most dear to my Prince and I. Do listen to me tell this story...
The Princess Giselle, oh she was most graceful and had a beautiful voice, unfamilar with the practices of the strange real world she enquired about dates. And Robert, a real man, gracious and kind, was explaining to her what real people do on dates. Oh he suggested going for dinner, chatting, long walks, or visiting the museum.
It was at this point that my Prince turned to me and asked this rather strange question, "Who would go to a museum on a date?"
As if a spell was cast on me, I remained silent and still. And suddenly, as if a bolt of lighting had flashed before his eyes, he remembered, gasping as he turned to me and exclaimed, "It is you!"
I blushed furiously. I was utterly embarrassed for this is how the story went. Long long ago, I accompanied my date, EK, to the museum, on several occassions in fact. One time while we were at the grand museum of Singapore, my Prince called and I happily mentioned I was at the museum with EK, the person I am most in love with.
And my Prince, with his immaculate memory, held me hostage with this one account. After the movie - oh yes, that is what it's called, those moving pictures - we had a good laugh over this. I think, oh yes I do really think this is one story I will tell my children, and my children's children, and, OH, should I live to tell at that ripe old age, my children's children's children.