Back to Singapore

I get up at 6:45 AM. And discover that out flight has been delayed by 40 minutes. I could have had another hour in bed.

Andrew rises about an hour after me. I'm not feeling great. One too many of the Imperial Stouts last night. But I look positively chipper compared to Andrew. He's not a great morning person at the best of times. He looks like death warmed up today.

“Feeling fresh and raring to go?”

“Fuck off, Dad.”

“Charming.”

“Just shut up, Dad.”

We leave at 8:30 AM and soon are rumbling our way down the motorway in an Uber.

Dropping off our bags is a bit of a fuss as the machine doesn't want to accept them for some reason. We get a member of staff to help. He has the same problem, but can get into an override screen and our bags shoot off.

There's quite a queue at security. But it moves pretty quickly and it doesn’t take long to get through. While immigration is a doddle with its electronic gates.

Just two things to do now. Get some duty free and get to the lounge. Cheap whisky for me, Appleton Estate for Andrew. 

“We wouldn’t want to pay Singapore prices for booze, Andrew.”

“No.”

“My bank account still hasn’t recovered from the days in Singapore on our way in.”

“Always about money, eh?”

“My money, not yours. Remember that.” 

Being a health-conscious sort of chap, I get some fruit. While Andrew notices that our flight has been delayed another 45 minutes. 

“More time in the lounge, then, Andrew.”

“That’s a positive way of looking at it.”

“You know me, Mr. Positive.”

“Right. Mr. Negative, more like. You’re always moaning.”

“Constructively critical, I’d call it.” 

“As constructive as a neutron bomb.”

“Bugger off.”

In Sydney, the bar in the lounge didn't open until 12. So, I'm a bit surprised when I see some people getting sparkling wine. It's only 9:30.

"Is the bar open?" I ask the young lady.

"Yes."

"I'll have a whisky then. One cube of ice. And a cafe latte."

The coffee is very good. And the whisky perks me up.

Andrew gets himself a Light Beer. Which is a surprise. It's only 2.2% ABV.

"Is that all they have?"

"No."

“Feeling rough? I’ve never seen you voluntarily drink a Light Beer before.”

“Shut up, Dad.”

“Ooh, touchy.”

“Fuck off.”

After a while, this bit of the lounge closes and we're asked to move upstairs. Where they have a range of draught beers, including Coopers Original Pale Ale. I get Andrew one of those. And a whisky for myself. Along with some scrambled egg.

We can see our gate from where we're sitting. Which is handy. 

When Andrew comes back from the bogs, I tell him:

"I just saw the crew getting on the plane. We must be going to board soon."

Still time for a couple more whiskies. And ice cubes.

When we see the flight starting to board, we head on down.

The on-board entertainment is done rather differently. Rather than embedded in the seat in front, they have a tablet that you plug in. It does have the downside of not being usable before or during take-off. I take advantage of the free wifi with my phone instead.

The lunch we're served isn't bad. Braised beef and mash. Followed by a timtam.

After the meal, the lights are turned down. I suppose they want people to sleep. But it's early afternoon. No sleeping for me. Instead, I watch a few films. Blockers, Spit, Another Small Favor. Spit is fairly decent. The other two pass the time. 

An hour or so before landing, we're served pork and kimchi dumplings. Which are really good. And quite spicy. Some of the best food I’ve ever had on a plane. Including in business class.

When I have to stow away the tablet for landing, I check on the test match on my phone. England need 35 to win. But keep losing wickets. When we land, it's down to 20 runs. But only 2 wickets left. One of which is one-armed Woakes.

Despite it being quite a way from our gate to immigration, it doesn't take too long as they have moving walkways. Unlike in fucking Rio airport.

A taxi transports us to our hotel in Chinatown. Once checked in, I ask Andrew:

“What’s the plan now?”

“Well, there’s a 7 Eleven just over the road.”

“Sounds like a good idea. Do you think you can make it that far in the heat?”

“Very amusing.”

“So, can you make it?”

“Yes I fucking can. I’m not that bad.”

“Just making sure.”

“Fuck off, Dad.”

Ay the 7 Eleven we stock up with essentials. Mixers for our duty free, sandwiches, crisps, beer and Strong Zero. The last one for Andrew, obviously.

Feeling quite knacked, we just laze around in our room watching YouTube.