60s Singapore , livre ebook

Title Page
60s SINGAPORE
P. J. Parsons



Publisher Information
First published in Great Britain, 2015 by
ARTHUR H. STOCKWELL LTD
Torrs Park, Ilfracombe, Devon, EX34 8BA
Established 1898
www.ahstockwell. co.uk
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
© P. J. Parsons, 2015
The right of P. J. Parsons to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages



Acknowledgements
My thanks once again to daughter Dawn,
who earns every penny of her non-existent
salary as my PPS.



Introduction
With the firm belief that it is better to get one’s excuses in early the reader, singular, is advised that this book has been produced and written entirely from memory of events and without recourse to modern technology to prompt various stories and recollections.
It may well be evident that this information is unnecessary after perusal of the first half a dozen pages, but rest assured that the book is solely the product of my fertile mind, incredible memory and wit, and above all my enduring modesty and capacity for self-effacement.



Prologue
This book is a self-indulgent look back at life in the Singapore of the 1960s, seen through the eyes of a young family relocated from normal life in suburban London to the totally different environment of the Far East.
This relocation can be either a forbidding experience through loss of regular contact with family and friends, or an incredible adventure, and is to some extent dependent upon the ability to integrate with the local environment whilst living and socialising with an expat community.
Since personal adventure highlights consisted of trips to the seaside at Littlehampton it was for me a no contest and the anticipated colour and variety of an unknown country was embraced with enthusiasm.
There is no question that the Singapore of pre- and post-Independence was a vastly different country to the tourist attraction of today where almost anything within the scope of modern development and technology has obliterated many of the old landmarks.
Return to Singapore for the old hands of the 60s would no doubt provide a mixture of emotions, reflecting that a casualty of the massive rise in tourist attractions and business centres has been the loss of character in the multiracial city, including nostalgia for what were, possibly, more interesting times of the past.



Posting
Office rumours had been circulating for some weeks, but since my visits to Head Office were infrequent and as short as possible I was only vaguely aware of the need for an efficient independent and reliable member of staff to be posted to Singapore, and having mentally ruled myself out of consideration I was most surprised to be offered the prospect of an initial three-year tour to the Far East.
Having considered long and hard for at least twenty-two seconds I registered my interest and set off to convince or persuade family members. This, apart from some natural reluctance on the part of the in-laws to lose their daughter and first grandchild, was fairly straightforward, and I accepted the post.
To the friends who were dismayed by the prospect of being deprived of my fund of incredible stories and riveting jokes I was able to assure them that not only would I return with a host of hilarious tales but my lifelong flair in this direction would be undiminished - a fact which strangely enough was greeted with less than absolute joy.
The main point of consideration amongst my sporting friends was the actual distance from Singapore to London and having agreed it was too far for weekend returns, and following intensive research from the geography experts, it was established that it was a long way from London and somewhere near Australia. Optimism was rife and supported by the fact that our first daughter had been christened Kim, which we felt had an Eastern ring and thus would blend with some of the locals, and with the words of a popular song by the Seekers blaring from the radio we set off for RAF Brize Norton to sample the pleasure of flying Comet with RAF Transport Command.
Since the words of the song included the line ‘There’s a new world somewhere they call the promised land’, it was felt that this was a positive omen with which to start life in the Far East.



Arrival
The journey from Brize Norton with stops at Colombo, Akrotiri and RAF Gan in the Maldives, was largely uneventful and after a fairly long flight we arrived at RAF Changi, where we were met by a colleague and transported to a local hotel for a short stay.
The stay at the Cockpit Hotel was pleasant and gave us an immediate example of the adaptability of the local Chinese staff in fulfilling the various demands of foreign guests.
For some obscure reason best known to a four-year-old, the traditional English dish of cottage pie had become known as Ringo pie, possibly by association with a member of the Beatles pop group. Attempting to explain not only the connection but the content of this dish was lengthy and somewhat confusing.
The production of a satisfactory and acceptable Ringo pie was a triumph of communication and our first example of local ability to cope with unusual demands.
Rumour had it that the dish was later added to the hotel menu with a suitable description in Chinese, and with a degree of flexibility in the contents.



The House and Garden
The permanent residence was a fairly modern detached two-storey house, believed to have been built in the 1950s. A separate single-storey block contained the amah quarters and wash house.
Approach to the property was by means of a paved bridge over the monsoon drain to the garage and hard-standing area for cars. The effect of this paved bridge was to form a tunnel over the covered area of the monsoon drain, which became a refuge for various local creatures of varying sizes.
A large garden containing a number of tropical plants and bushes surrounded the property with an extensive lawn to the rear. The sight of this large grassed area and the amount of work required to maintain various plants and to keep the grass to a reasonable length involved the possibility of endless hours of gardening under a hot tropical sun.
Fortunately the presence of the kebun (gardener) Othman enabled me to avoid such strenuous exercise and I was able to acquaint my father-in-law with this fact. The lack of sympathy and understanding at my possible predicament was strangely absent, to judge by his unprinted response.
The deceptive appearance of the large area of lawn, apparently suitable fo