I love the way Singapore allows you to return to things, unconsciously and easily. When Dad was here we did the park connectors walk, which both of us loved. It was a special day, the one with our first golden oriole and first snake (a pale green wiggly tree snake in Hort Park) and I know he will remember it with pleasure, as I do. Coming down to a stretch of main road we noticed some black and whites off to one side of the bridge, high up on a little lane partially hidden by greenery. We wondered who might live there, had a little chat about the history of these beautiful houses, remarked on what a great spot it was and continued on.

Fast forward two months and I’m following up a call to collect a barbecue cover that goes with the Weber I have just bought from a woman online. She would like me to pick it up this week, she is moving house. I look up the road: I can make the visit on Tuesday morning, fitting it in between lots of other small chores in other places I haven’t been to yet, and I set off with my favourite app and am soon hopping off a bus and thumbing the phone map, head down, focusing on the four square foot immediately in front of me until before too long I’m trudging up a leafy side road full of black and whites and realising…

Here’s a photo from the other side, Dad: