Singapore - clearly one of the entrepreneurial capitals of the world. You can tell a lot about a country from their media. In Singapore, the local radio intersperses interviews with experts explaining the benefits of networking events for your business with little "tips of the day" on obscure English pronounciation - the lingua franca of business here. The presumption is that everybody has their own business, and probably most people do, from the tiny stall to the megacompanies. If you don't make your own fortune through business then you are presumed to be at least playing the stock market, and tips and trends also wing their way across the airwaves regularly.
Now, for a fashion-conscious sheep who thinks that a stock market is a pen at a Builth Wells sheep auction, this is somewhat confusing. So I decided not to try and fathom the intracacies of integrated capitalism and instead suffered from severe vertigo in our hotel. This is called the Holiday Inn Atrium for a good reason. Its got an atrium. For the uninitiated, this is a very big hole around which those of a delicate disposition hug the walls as they walk shakily from the lift (which is glass) to their room. Think High Anxiety for those of you who are film buffs.
Too hot to stay inside (I am told that the coldest temperature ever recorded in Singapore was 21C) we drifted out to the terrace where we could marvel at the new financial district, most of which appeared to have been built since our visit a year ago and all on reclaimed land. This is a can-do society!
The following day, we had some free time before the Vice-Chancellor's plane departed back to Blighty and became unashamed tourists. Raffles Hotel was a must (Julian's family will now know most of what they are getting for Christmas this year after his visit to the gift shop) as was the National Museum of Singapore and the ubiquitous Singapore Sling. Then it was back to the hotel, a farewell to Prof McMahon, then a few hours of kip before a very early start to the aiport for the flight to Sydney.
Now, for a fashion-conscious sheep who thinks that a stock market is a pen at a Builth Wells sheep auction, this is somewhat confusing. So I decided not to try and fathom the intracacies of integrated capitalism and instead suffered from severe vertigo in our hotel. This is called the Holiday Inn Atrium for a good reason. Its got an atrium. For the uninitiated, this is a very big hole around which those of a delicate disposition hug the walls as they walk shakily from the lift (which is glass) to their room. Think High Anxiety for those of you who are film buffs.
One has to wonder how many guests they lose per year as the slightly tipsy bounce off the walls and disappear over the non-too-high guardrails thirty floors up. One equally has to say, however, that it's highly impressive.
But enough of these side-issues. We are here to meet alumni and meet them we did. At the aptly-named Blarney restaurant and bar (Julian was in his element), a great cross-section of alumni (another apt metaphore for Singapore itself) gathered for an evening of nostalgia and forward-thinking. Andrew Jones and Duncan Edwards were our hosts and, in a country where ties are rarely seen being just 85 miles north of the equator, duly were presented with University ties and tie-pins as a modest thank-you by the Vice Chancellor. There were a few no-shows (shame on you all) but more than enough guests to keep the chat going and the ties renewed (as well as the new ties).
The following day, we had some free time before the Vice-Chancellor's plane departed back to Blighty and became unashamed tourists. Raffles Hotel was a must (Julian's family will now know most of what they are getting for Christmas this year after his visit to the gift shop) as was the National Museum of Singapore and the ubiquitous Singapore Sling. Then it was back to the hotel, a farewell to Prof McMahon, then a few hours of kip before a very early start to the aiport for the flight to Sydney.
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