• My friend’s newly hatched chicks from the bird’s nest on her patio got stolen by a large monkey that was spotted a few days earlier running across the outside wall of her condo. It’s a jungle out there

• Our exciting swamp-ish Easter plans now carry a Foreign Office caution thanks to rebels occupying parts of Sabah. It is highly unlikely that anything will happen to us but still: it’s not working out to be a jolly hike in the Norfolk Broads

• Our living room roller blind jammed and when I wiggled it, out fell a very flat gecko #flowerpressanyone

• Pulling the bookshelves apart to wipe down mould is a weekly chore

• The skateboard instructor is about two years older than my son

• The next six weekends are booked up. Only in Sing.

Am on MRT and have found a space where I can lean against partition, balance bag, get phone out and send a quick WhatsApp before I get to the station. Race to finish sending message before train pulls in. Shuffle forward ready to get off. Train slows. Tap out last words “…just on train” then press send. Doors open, step off…

…straight into the person I was texting, who was waiting patiently for doors to open watching me through the glass and laughing. Really only in Sing.

I went down Orchard Road yesterday (Singapore’s version of London’s Oxford Street). I don’t go down there very often and I am only sitting here writing this post today thanks to the sign below. If I hadn’t stopped to look I would still be in Wisma Atria, going up and down the bl**dy escalators trying to find the exits, living an underground life like Fantastic Mr Fox, never to be seen above ground again.

It’s not hard, is it, giving good clear instructions? But most of the signposts are concealed politely around corners or up so high that you don’t spot them until you’ve sailed past into the next huge shopping grid. I can’t march the holy tiles all day and I certainly don’t have the handbag capacity in my wardrobe for a mega shopping splurge. Often I resort to asking people: ‘how do I get out?’ and by then I am looking a little crazed but I don’t care, I just want to get home. No, I don’t go down Orchard very often.

It’s not all bad. Amongst the ‘Things I Like’ about Orchard are the plentiful food stores, clean and functional toilets, the welcome air con, the little baskets they give you at restaurants to put your bags in, the Bond Street-esque reminders of London and the all-round spotlessness of the place. There’s a downside to the tidyness, though: I’ve considered bringing a bag of snacks and leaving a trail to retrace my steps but of course I couldn’t because someone would have been along to sweep up.