I've just awaken to pouring rain, strong winds ('strong', by Singaporean standards; otherwise it's just a measly 6 mph), and dull gray skies - and all of a sudden, I miss Welly.

I miss waking up to a rainy and blustery Welly.

I miss standing by my windows and staring outside. I miss feeling warm and safe in my room, with the heater turned on.

One of the main reasons I love living in Welly so much is the weather. Everybody who knows me thinks it's because the temperature in Welly never rises above 24°C; so for someone who's as afraid of heat and humidity as I am, Welly must be pretty close to heaven.

Well, when they think of Welly, they inevitably think of it in its summer dress; however, when I think of Welly, I think of it in winter.

My very first year there had started in the middle of one of its worse winters. Maybe this is why I have much stronger memories of terrifying gales and incessant drizzles than bright sunshine and blue, blue skies.

Sometimes, it seems, when you leave somewhere, something, or someone, you are fond of, you remember not only the good times, but also the not-so-good times. Because good times and bad times, they make up the sum of your experience.

And the bad times don't always make you miss or love them any lesser.