Singapore in All Good Things

Singapore is bad. No. Not true. Singapore is exactly as it always is, as it’s always been for the nine years that I’ve been coming here and living in this wretched hotel. Everything just costs about double what it used to and there are more skyscrapers and the harbour’s been blocked in and my favourite bookstore is gone, but otherwise nothing has changed. Oh, there’s no sun now either. Every time I’ve come here in the past few years it’s been almost 100% overcast. What’s with that? Where’s the blue sky? I might as well be in England - except it’s three times hotter and so humid I have a panic attack just walking out of the hotel because the air is so thick I can’t breathe.

I’m trying so hard to be positive. To enjoy what I pray will be my last ever trip here.

I can’t do this like I used to.

I’m more than halfway through. I arrived a week ago today, and I’m leaving in five and a half days. Annette is already in Dubai, got there last night, and I am so fucking envious that I have to wait another six days before sunshine and breathable air. I miss the desert so much. If I’m forced to be away from my home, living in a hotel with no ability to eat decent vegetarian food or have any of my stuff around me or live my life or be with people, then I’d much rather do it in the desert. Where I can breathe. Where there’s sun.

Next week.

I have five days of court work coming up starting tomorrow. I barely survived three last week. Then I fly overnight to Dubai, arrive there late on Saturday evening and start another five days early next Sunday morning. My hands and shoulders hurt so badly already. After three days. How am I going to do ten?

But then.....I get to go home. At last. Hopefully to never leave again.

I’m going to do my utmost to enjoy these next eleven days. To be positive and upbeat and cheerful and enthusiastic and make the most of them.

285 hours. I can do this.