Down Memory Lane

Something happened here. First I heard a loud boom. Thought nothing of it. Next, the wailing sirens and flashing lights followed and before I know, a huge retinue of police motorcade and ambulatory vehicles parked themselves outside the HDB Hub and the area was sealed off. Something must have happened here but I don't know what it is. It had been raining the whole morning. I will have to wait for the newsflash.

But wait. Is this the surprise civil defence emergency exercise that I am reading now on the online Straits Times? Think so.

I was reminded of a fight that broke out at Kinokuniya in Takashimaya. Having seen Jacelyn Tay earlier, I thought it was a film-out. But it wasn't. A guy with a motorcycle helmet was punching the living daylights out of a tall Chinese dude, with him lying flat down on the floor with his spectacles astrewn. I learnt later how he had tried voyeurism up the skirts of the lady companion of Mr Motorcycle Helmet with a mirror or camera.

But I thought the woman was wearing pants whom any self-respecting woman pillion rider would. Imagine a Marilyn Munroe with skirts swirling as she sits tight amidst the wind drafts and turbulence whirling around her. Women! They are such trouble!

I made a wrong turning yesterday. I had intended to shop for my loaf and just head straight back home afterwards. Instead I found myself treading back to my old living place in Lorong 1, Toa Payoh and spending considerable time eating out and chatting with people I knew in my childhood days.

It was nostalgic and insightful as I found out more about what was happening in their lives. About how some old shopkeepers had tenanted out their premises, how some are still standing, how their kids had flown the coop and not keen to take over the businesses, how some had found it difficult to cope with dwindling trade while keeping up with rising rents and costs. In no small part attributed to the siting away of the car-parking lot where customers once used to park in front of the shop and just walk in to browse and buy.

It was about development and its impact on people and their livelihood. The relentless drive of the economy and unfettered market competition, oblivious to the sufferings of the ordinary folks.

M/s Mee Pok used to dish out fried kway teow and mee pok when I was living in the estate. She could no longer pay the stall rent when a "tender-driven" operator took hold of the entire coffee-shop and raised rents. She is considering selling food in a school canteen and now helping out in the kopi-tiam as a charwoman. Her younger brother had died from an electrical shock accident at home.

In keeping with the times I suppose, she even had a facial overhaul. Sigh. How our beauty culture has affected us all. The women to look svelte and young. The men to look young and muscled.

Another shopkeeper, who moved in after we had left the town in 1985, was such a learned old woman in HDB flats' prices and goings-on, I am awe-stricken by her wise counsel and knowledge. In all, this part of Toa Payoh, has people respecting one another, knowing everyone, engaging in friendly banter and conversation. So unlike the mean-spirited, cold and unfriendly Toa Payoh precinct where I live now. These are the rental, one, two and three-roomers.

I lambasted a potential landlord yesterday. He was some young Indonesian Chinese who the moment he learned of my age, turned down a viewing of the premises. I texted him, telling him how his education must have been wasted on an ageist like him and how his homeland is a corrupt Third World. He would have been hauled to court if this had been America, much like Bata or the rogue realtor would have been if I had my way.

This incident had me recalling the hordes of rich and wealthy Indonesian Chinese who throng the private hospitals in the hey-days when I was doing my rounds in the medical and pharmaceutical industry. They were loud, aloof, aloft and flashy.

Another thought I was selling my body and wanted to view me first, asked for my vital statistics and had a litany of no-nos. But it was asking me for my body built that took the cheesecake. I am renting a room not whoring, thank you very much. Told you how the narcissitic wimps are here in our country.

Let me explain a bit about the domestic monopoly part I espoused yesterday in my blog. I mean if you are the sole provider managing an energy market which everyone has to have anyway, it is no big deal. So too if you are the only local bank with a proliferation of ATMs spread out geographically. Guess who would turn to you if only for the convenience!

I was doing some checks and I am convinced we are charging First World prices here while paying Third World wages. A Sony Ericsson W550i is retailing for something like S$578 (assumedly including the VAT) in UK, a good $20 cheaper. I know for a fact that food is expensive in Japan. A piece of hash-brown cutlet costs 120 yen and a decent meal starts anything like 900 or 1200 yen. Something much lesser would be 400 yen.

Right, enough for one morning. I have more at the back of my mind for sure but as I mentioned before, I cannot even begin to blog all my thoughts, the events and happenings in my life and the people I met. I can only blog some, probably just a fraction.

You have a good day now ok.