Being told off by Stephanie because I forgot the war bunker

Well,

I actually thought I had mentioned the war bunkers in previous inputs but evidently I forgot and promptly got told off by Stephanie who, on her first viewing of a potential flat was confronted with the notion of such thing and, rightfully so, dropped her jaw and then decided to lay into me for not warning her.

So here is how it goes!!!

Post 9/11 some clever beaver decided that condos, in view of the fact they are rather tall, constituted a potential risk of bombing by much less clever beavers. The response to this was not to work on peace and reconciliation talks but to build reinforced concrete private bunkers equipped with an air vent and steel doors. These bunkers are inside each flat and proudly shown by estate agents to bemused potential tenants.

The fact they are used as storage not of water, canned beans, a portable toilet, a mattress and survival goods but mostly of old boxes, broken TVs, baby clothes for the baby that might come one day means that only the latter will survive a nuclear bomb fallout.

At the same time I do not understand what good it can do to be stuck in a bunker 30 floors up or being buried by rubble 30 floors thick if the proverbial bomb does hit the fan so I personally have dismissed the whole point as ludicrous and have decided to live happily with the notion that my guest sheets and towels will survive all sorts of terrorist attacks.

So my answer to this is going to Raffles Hotel with Steph and ordering a Singapore Sling, a sweet, dark pink concoction with a maraschino cherry on a stick. Not really my favourite drink but when in Singapore do as the Singaporeans.

Cheers!!!!