The Heat Is On

Experimenting with the noon day sun at the City Plaza bus stop going out for lunch. Nearing 1PM in fact, the last quarter. Leaning against the bollard without touching the surface with the hands. The bollards kept us safe from any careering vehicles—nutters, sleepy-heads and terrorist  alike. In order to see the oncoming buses you needed to lean out a little. Leaning, swaying, rocking a little. Through the course of the play, at some point it became apparent the radiant sun was in fact grazing the left ear. Radiant sun, mark you; not direct rays. Minute gradations of heat the further you lent out, was it really? Hmm….Some part past the zenith, up on high the torch was difficult to locate at first. There it was alright, seemingly out of place holding eastward. Sometimes the first drops of rain had one similarly doubtful on the equator. Testing. Testing with a series of swaying motions that must have had the guy on the bench behind wondering. The shadow line of the bus shelter lay only one foot out from the gutter. It did indeed seem to be the case: putting the ear toward the roadway like at a door for eavesdropping, a nice old flame-thrown singe palpably received. Checked and double checked. More than a feather touch that; concentrated. There was no tomfoolery involved. Getting some sun on you was supposed to be good against the virus. In the yard of the Carpmael house yesterday Richard the tour guide had sat sunbaking, if anyone can believe. When the winter in the north began to slip off we were a better chance in the fight, they said. (Rather similar to the position down in OZ vis-a-vis fire & rain.) The scorching power of the great flaming star in the sky here. Leaving a tad earlier, the No. 21 was good enough to get us where we wanted to go. Jeepers! The odour of ammonia along the walkway on Serangoon Road! Over the tiles it seemed. Protection against the germ wriggling up from the soles of the sandals. So far as reassurance for the passersby went, the potential customers, mighty good strategy; you could look over the items in those places with complete confidence. Returning the other way after lunch on the opposite side of the road the gold places had retained the burning of their lemon grass. Locally the hotels were down to 50% occupancy, after almost 100% prior to CNY. On the Mainland where 48 cities & eight provinces were in lock-down, not surprisingly the figure was a miserable 7%. The threat of recession here mooted last week by the retiring PM. A US scientist had forecast 50m worst case mortality globally. (Not difficult to imagine the man’s lab pinned with postcards and pics of wife & kids.) SG was vying with HK for highest infections outside the Mainland. All the prejudice against the latter was in full force in both corners of the diaspora. There had been a reported run on rasam at the Indian eateries across the republic—piles of Chinese at tables sitting before cups of the spicy yellow soup. That was late last week. Today at KV again only about half the tables were occupied: people alternated herd instinct and seclusion. Earlier staple food items & durables had disappeared from the shelves of the supermarkets; a quota on rice, noodles and toilet paper instituted. Masks of course. Matters had become so disturbing a Nominated MP had rashly used the “disgraceful” tag on a F-book posting overnight ala Donnie. Certain to be cautioned by the higher-ups as we speak.