Palm pilot scribble: Tuesday, 18th April, 2000

I'm sitting in a fake beach hut by a man made beach, schools of grimy container ships hovering just offshore, in the middle distance are the chimney stacks of heavy industry on the far shore, with fat, luscious raindrops falling through the turgid air, drinking a schooner of Tiger Beer whilst listening to Ol' Blue Eyes telling the world about his love affair with New York, New York... If this is Tuesday, this must be Siloso Beach, Sentosa Island, Singapore... A growing flock of sparrows, mice of the air, rampages carefully around the grounds, chirping and chittering away. A familiar presence in these unfamiliar surrounds of the thin opulence of the Sentosa Golf Club, sitting Raffles-like, with wide balconies and fat colonnades at the top of the hill, overlooking the lush green-ness of the carefully manicured course, with the sea in the background carrying the ships that carry the riches that drive this island - country that is Singapore.