Memories of a Red Autumn

That is the title for the kent ridge hall production that I saw yesterday in support of Elvin, my good friend from JC.

Anyway because he is my good friend and he reads this blog sometimes, I shall keep my comments about the play to myself. Those who want to know can ask me when you see me....

I just want to say subjectively speaking, yesterday while watching the play I suddenly remembered why last year I swore never to watch a play by NUS again.

But okay lah, my friend has agreed to support me in return for my directorial debut so not all is lost. Haha

I got some memories of red autumns anyway.

I remember one autumn some naughty fat bully in my class threw a ink leaking pen to me and stained my shirt red. And that was my school uniform. My mother was angry washing away the stupid pen ink

I remember another autumn when I fell down on the floor and blood trickled out of my scrapped knees.

Yet another autumn when my face had a pimple outbreak and my whole face is full of red spots.

Finally the last red autumn that I had memories of is when I was especially naughty and my mother caned me and slapped me. There were red strips all over my body and my face was red quite often

Haha, maybe this will be the material for my new script for next year: 'Memoirs of a Man who had many Red Autumns'