Wobbly at the Knees

Golly gee! You're a retiree of a certain age from the States, from the UK, Queensland and other parts of rural Australia, what a ride you get here in the Tropics on this little red dot hotspot most particularly. The malls, department stores, supermarkets and community nodes. You're my China girl from .......Hmmm Hmmm town.... when least expected just now rounding the corner behind the Haig. A kind of bushwhacking in this instance. All small stores in that quarter—one or two mini-marts, hair-dressers, luggage places (bursting at the seams in this international port-town the latter). An organic Health place, Yes, Natural, of which the author was a card-carrying member. (In recent days seriously considering blocking after all the online bombardment.) The little Chin provisions store where the mouthwash had been discovered almost at Malaysian prices did not pump any kind of music, least of all Western golden oldies. There was very little English at that particular counter. Anytin? Anytin?... the enterprising owner politely enquired at frustrating single item purchases. Worth noting while we are about it, certainly a rarity for Sing' believe you me, and hidden away from main street: beside the old provision shop there at the Haig stood a veritable Op. Shop, as we called them down on the Great Southern Land. Opportunity knocking. Second-hand clothing mainly in this case, second-hand carry-bags and costume jewellery. The lady running also offered tailoring and laundry service on the side. A foreigner of any stripe, and many a local too, would ID the delightful Sweet here as only Chinese. Not the case, she protested. Very much Malay! Adopted in infancy no doubt, like so many others. (Five plus years later the author was still searching for a Malay child similarly given up in those dark days before Mr. Lee transformed his gangster-ruler, opium-addled, embarrassing little backwater.) Taking the corner at the back of the Haig there was no immediate thought at the oddity of this particular lyric. Da-da-Di-dam…. Highly catchy…. Da-da Di-dam. Some part of the way further along, suddenly, — Oh yeah! His China girl....The source of the music would not be enquired. Little did it matter. Most likely the culinary supplies place beside the Health clinic, odds on you would wager. His China girl from old Honk Kong, wasn’t it?? Not entirely politically correct in some other locales. It was not Glen Campbell, but somewhere thereabouts. Of the period and genre toward the end of the war in Vietnam, some fella riding on the coat-tails of the Wichita Lineman. Just a day or two past one had stepped from the stationery section of what must needs be called a bookshop—Popular Bookstore, a ubiquitous chain here and also over in Malaysia and Indonesia—down to the basement supermarket at OneKM with a feeling of bursting repletion at all the rich fare accompanying, ringing in the ears. It was rather like rising from a sumptuous, a stupendously provisioned dining table, five star yum cha perhaps where one had inevitably over-indulged. A bit wobbly at the knees.

NB. Because of Dave Bowie/Iggy Pop, it was difficult to locate the old crooner and his 60’s hit on either Google or Youtube. The oldies would know it, and the Singaporeans most certainly.