Nighttime Surprise
Lest you believe that every day of our Singapore lifestyle is filled with sun-drenched holidays, cocktails and cultural escapades let me reassure you, it can be hard. I’m currently in my sick bed, joints aching, temperature finally receding slightly, but still on the lookout for rashes (in case of Dengue).
The fact that I’m even in this bed at all, is a testament to my bravery, given the experience I had on Sunday night.
The city is made up of towering glass and concrete structures and the greenery is tended to by an army of workers to ensure the manicured facade of man’s power over nature stays in place. However, now and then Singapore likes to remind you that we’re only an extended gardener’s strike from being fully overtaken by jungle.
About three in the morning, my light-sleeping other half was awoken by the sound of some sort of electrical clicking noise. Assuming it was merely our slightly temperamental air-conditioner she attempted to sleep again. Not such a far fetched supposition as it has already leaked on me and required some ceiling repainting.
Literally moments later I awoke in a blur of motion and yelping noise, leaping to the light-switch across the other side of the room. I’d felt something on my face and as I’d flew from horizontal sleeping to upright, heart going ten-to-the-dozen, I’d flung whatever it was away. Moments later as we surveyed the bed the culprit was identified.
A cockroach had clearly entered the flat (one assumes via the air-conditioner) and taken it upon himself to eschew the typical haunts of bins, spilled foods and decaying piles of leaves for our bed and more specifically my face. Eventually the little blighter was captured, using the tried and tested glass and postcard method and flung from our sixth floor balcony, to die a chlorine-y
drowning death in the pool.
We slept in the other bedroom, with the door shut, and I only awoke for one further phantom bug hunt. It should be noted that Jo says that had it crawled on her face she’d have cried, that both reassures and makes me feel very brave.
Although every time I think about it (including writing this missive) I get a tickling feeling of tiny insectoid legs and feelers batting on my top lip. Not pleasant.
Andy 15 August 2007
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