Down the Drain May24

Chinaman on a fishing expedition lookalike of the old butcher at the Haig, who had run a tote on the side in his day. (Spendthrift younger brother?) The Tamil uncle at the register knew the routine without being told, chap evidently doing the rounds there every so often same as round in Geylang Road. No shame about it, bent straight to work and carefully trawling through the plastic & cardboard muck. Often the coins must snag; one needed to be thorough. Last week a Bulgarian patron had gifted the Tamil uncle at the register a dollar that he was keeping as a lucky charm—it had not slipped him and rolled into the drain. Were it not for the wrong colour and the naked hands, give the Chinaman a pair of overalls with insignia, one might take the man for a responsible council employee. Little iron jemmy would make a person wonder passing him on the street. In the case here outside Har Yassin, not needed — grate pulled up no trouble and shallow pit made light work of it. Still the man was properly thorough, sifting, combing, dredging up the soggy sludge. Unidentifiable muck. Lastly run along the rim with fore and middle just to be sure, sometimes coins got trapped in there. Mid-70s, lithe & nimble. There were social services available upon application—join the queue, interview, proper ID. Doctor arranged. Now fill in the forms. Home inspection, earnings of children, domestic particulars again. Call this number in a fortnight. In Thailand & the Philippines, Laos & Cambodia, India & China, Indonesia, there was no safety net at all and elderly sleeping in the streets. Lucky Singapore.