By Vincent Teh
Christmas means different things to different people. To some, it’s a time of excess. A time to drink a year’s worth of alcohol in the span of a day, and to stuff oneself in one night with enough food to feed a small African nation for a decade. To some it’s a low budget remake of Iron Chef. The challenge is to cook a gargantuan fowl in time to feed the family without carbonizing the bird and in the process setting the house on fire, and subsequently, to come up with new and exciting ways of preparing the leftover fowl for the remainder of the week in various edible forms. To me, it’s the time to traipse around the house all day in my PJs, rewatch soppy Christmas themed movies like Bridget Jones’ Diary and Love Actually (which incidentally is the best movie ever made!) for the 1567th time, and engage my grey matter in writing random poems and stories like this…