I’m feeling a little more chirpy today, and I was up early, so I decided to go to Tekka Market, the only place that’s open before 10 o’clock. I went during our early days in Singapore, but when I got my local iPhone (they “recycle” phone numbers here, so it’s interesting trying to figure out who had your number before; mine definitely belonged to a lady, and I often wonder what happened to her; maybe she died), I started receiving these odd texts, saying things like, “Meet me in the toilets at Tekka, so I can bleep your bleepy bleep”. Pardon?!

Initially, I just ignored the messages, but they got more and more bleepy, to the point of unpleasantness. So I responded that I was most definitely not interested in having my bleep or my bleep bleepily bleeped. That didn’t seem to make a difference though, and it was only when I got threatening that it stopped.

I wrote, in caps, that I would report the filthy bleep to Starhub. That worked. It’s so nice that in Singapore even the low-life vile people feel intimidated by authority. I know only too well from my previous life as a lawyer, that that is not the case in the UK.

Anyway, now that it’s safe to return to Tekka (avoiding the toilets, of course), I decided to go for a couple of reasons. Firstly, we’ve been in Singapore for two solid months now without any regional travel, and it’s lovely to pretend occasionally that we are in Southeast Asia: the hustle and bustle of the regular folk, and the interesting, if at times sickening, sights and smells. The nag champa takes me right back to my summer festival days, when I was young and free, and didn’t have all this responsibility.

Secondly, my helper and I usually shop at our nearest supermarkets, on Orchard Road, and it’s really much cheaper at the wet markets. I’ve heard that our local shop is the most expensive place on the island to buy food : ( Oh dear. Naughty old me!

So I bought some wonderfully fresh fruit, veggies, and fish, all for under $50, and then dashed home in a cab, which was $10.

I’m in a bit of a hurry now because I have to run to my private Pilates session, and then I’m meeting Deb for lunch at one of those swanky celebrity chef restaurants on Sentosa. I think I’d better have the helper meet me after Pilates to collect my gym stuff. I don’t want to be lugging all that around at a fancy-pants restaurant, now do I?? That’s not my modus operandi.