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.