Day the first started in yesterday and spread without permission until it was a big fat bloater of a day. This was, I admit, mainly due to my inability to sleep on planes. We rose at 4.30am (which is not a civilised hour in any language and anyone who disagrees needs to seek psychiatric help very soon) and set off for the airport. Oh joy, the A1 and the M25 first thing on a Tuesday morning. Suffice to say, the trip started well and then degenerated into farce once the M25 put it's oar in. A crash - what a shock – leading to 2 lanes closed on our side. Answer me this, anyone, why are British drivers so incapable? Is it me or has the standard of driving not just slipped, but torn free of the mountain and avalanched into the depths of hell? Explain it to me, someone, please! A quick check on the map, a small diversion through London – Rickmansworth, lovely – and we rejoined the M25 post accident (and crap drivers) and still made it to Stalag Parking on time. We would have been earlier but, being a bloke in a crap mood and driving in traffic, I failed to get in the right lane and then failed to listen to instructions from my better half.
Car parked, bus boarded (wave at the rest of the family as we pull out and they pull in) and it's off to Heathrow. Now Heathrow would be lovely if you banned all the cars from going anywhere near it. Taxi's, Coach's – fine. Private vehicles – banned. They don't know where they're going, what they're doing and the word park is just that. A word. Without meaning. If I was in charge I'd have a crane with a big magnet attached and just take the cars away the moment they stopped in the middle of the road and everyone started to get out. Four security guards to drag the occupants out, attach the magnet and crush the car straight away. Screw you, learn to drive, park and have some sense and respect for everyone else on the road. God, I'm turning into a grumpy old man.
Anyway, Heathrow. With a hat. Not just any hat, but THE hat. THE wedding hat, in fact – more of that later. Heathrow, for a change, was actually a breeze. Check in was quick, security check was fast and easy (with the custom's man trying to procure the hat – everyone wants it, but no one else can have it. It's mine! Well, Inga's) and we were let loose in a tax free temple to consumerism – The Duty Free. We escaped relatively unscathed; a couple of sandwiches and some water, a lucky escape you'll no doubt agree. On the subject of duty free, who on earth buys fresh salmon to take on a plane???
13 hours and no sleep later....
Singapore!
The airport was its usual super efficient self and wasted no time in spitting us out of the door and into the heat and humidity of a normal Singapore day. A quick coach journey saw us puling up outside of a different hotel to the one we were expecting. The hotel Grand Plaza Park Royal was in the centre of the city not on Beach Road. A quick scan through the paperwork showed that we were indeed in the right place (just goes to show how important it is to read the paperwork before you set out and not after you arrive!) and it wasn't long before we had all settled in to our very nice hotel rooms to freshen up and – in my case especially - sleep!
The rest of the day (once we had awoken and refreshed ourselves was dedicated to the national pastime of Singapore – shopping! Oh dear, the IT mall was right next door to the hotel :-) A troll through the mall with a strict spending limit of $0 attached and a flat NO! attached to the top floor (software heaven) meant it really didn't ease my frazzled nerves as much as I would have hoped. Oh well. One day I'll hit Singapore with money to burn and an empty suitcase. For dinner we decided to venture onto Boat Quay which is one restaurant after the other.
Unfortunately, each restaurant also had staff who were not just eager, but desperate to have us eat at their establishment. It gets very tiring saying 'No Thanks' every 10 feet and you soon start to get pissed off and just wish they would leave you alone. It might be cheaper than other places to eat but the touts just get on your nerves. We finally settled for Thai/Chinese and had a very nice meal with a complicated bill at the end of it. Fighting our way free of the touts left us by the banking district and a nice walk back to the hotel. Inga and I took a detour and saw the Merlion lit up in the dark and spewing water from its mouth like a demented water canon before walking slowly back to face a strenuous nights sleep. Warning of the day: When they say slippery when wet (talking about the streets), they're not joking. The slightest bit of wet turns the pavement into a pseudo ice rink. Watch your step!
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