Well, I've arrived safe in sound in Singapore.
That's the good news. Having checked into my basic but pleasant and clean hotel, I did what any good son should do after a long trip - text their mum to let them know all is well (they like this sort of thing). No sooner had I done so and started to run a shower, my phone bleeped to indicate I had a message. Surely my mother's text sending prowess had not got this good - even a 14-year-old using every abbreviation of the English language known to mankind couldn't reply in that time. Indeed it wasn't her - it was my bank, HSBC, asking me to call their fraud department urgently...
To cut a long story short, someone has copied my debit card. The bank were calling to say they had consequently put a block on my account. No money has been taken fortunately, but obviously there is a risk some thieving bastard will try and do so soon. The obvious problem with freezing my account and ordering a new card is that I am, erm, in Singapore...
In order to get my hands on my own money I have to arrange a Western Union transfer. This should not be a problem as there are plenty of outlets in SE Asia, but it is a right royal pain in the arse and not the start to my holiday that I either expected or wanted.
Anyway, the journey over here was relatively straightforward. I indulged in my last ever legal drink on the London Underground before Boris' booze ban comes in on Sunday, and got to Heathrow Terminal 4 in plenty of time for my 10pm flight.
I found Terminal 4 a slightly odd place. It's only 20 years old, but has a very tired and shabby look about it. I waited for my flight in the 'comfort' of a Wetherspoons. Why is it that all of these pubs - no matter where they are situated - stink of stale beer and puke? Actually, don't answer that.
My Qantas flight was rammed, principally with people going onto Australia from Singapore. Unfortunately this meant I could not get my favoured aisle seat and was instead wedged in between a fat bird and a weird bloke (so weird was this bloke that for the entire 13 hour journey he did not watch any in flight entertainment or read anything. He just sat there. I don't know about you, but I find that slightly strange).
After throwing back a few complimentary G&Ts, I managed to fall asleep relatively easily. The Qantas in flight entertainment had barely changed from when I was in Australia last year, so there was little incentive to try and keep awake.
As the plane approached Singapore, I felt daunted and tired. I always feel like this when I'm about to arrive in Asia. The thoughts of all the dangers, annoyances and cultural differences suddenly come to the forefront of my mind and I start to wonder why I didn't just get a package holiday to Spain instead. I should add these considerations are temporary and a result of 13 hours crammed on a plane next to someone who is probably a sex offender. Speaking of which, I saw a young couple 'sneak' into the toilets during the flight, presumably to join the famed Mile High Club. I'm not a member of this club - unless you count having one off the wrist - and I've never really seen the attraction of it. There's not exactly enough room to make it enjoyable.
Anyway, after landing at the uber modern and clean Singapore Airport, I caught the train across town to where I was staying. Singapore is a scarily strict and tidy place, even chewing gum is illegal on the trains, and I must admit it made me feel a bit uncomfortable. It wouldn't have surprised me if I had been given an on the spot fine just for bringing my wretched presence to the place.
My hotel was in the Little India part of Singapore, and this was an altogether more welcoming place. Teaming with backpackers, it is quite literally a little bit of India plonked in the middle of sprawling Singapore. Spicy aromas waft around the streets, and there are a few nice little bars to chill out in - which I did.
Anyway, it's now almost time for me to head off to the train station and my next destination - Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia.
