Well here we are sat in a Black Angus restaurant and then we came across this little sign. What we want to know Is how do they know Stu and what do they mean by Special?
Answers on a postcard to Black Angus, Orchard Road, Singapore.
Oh and the food was average, but the company, knock-out!
What a tiring day, a long walk down to the Singapore Flyer, the worlds tallest observation wheel, followed by a trip up the Marine Sands Bay Hotel which has a mockup cruise liner perched across all three towers on the 57th floor.
A womble back through the hotel to see the lion and the former home of the curry club (apparently where Nick Leason used to drink and eat) before heading to Raffles and the Long Bar for the world famous Singapore Sling and the chance to eat monkey nuts then throwing all the shells on the floor.
Sho shevral shlinnngs later (and a lot poorer since each one is £12.50) and it’s a womble for food, via the world famous tailors to have a handmade suit for both of us, let’s keep the fingers crossed they get the measurements right.
Well after a snooze and then a womble up Orchard Road, after I had to walk a mile back to the hotel cos Mrs Fogg had the wrong shoes on and they were rubbing, we stopped at a little Teppanyaki restaurant with a difference. Here you order your meal and they bring out all the raw ingredients for you to cook it yourself.
Bizarre concept, but very clever, your own hot plate, wok and utensils and off you go. Since Mrs Fogg does little cooking these days being a high powered executive and having her very own house boy for that sort of thing, I had to explain what things were (bet that gets me a slap). Could you see that catch on in the likes of Yorkshire, not really, plus imagine someone undercooking their own grub and suing the restaurant for not explaining the ingredients were raw!
A fantastic first day, so since it’s now 10pm local time, we are off to get some rest, then tomorrow it’s the worlds largest sky wheel (with champers of course) and then raffles bar for a Singapore Sling or three with a hottie on my arm.
So this was us sat at Heathrow waiting to board the A380 Airbus to Singapore for the monstrous 12 hour flight, which although uncomfortable wasn’t actually too bad, so much food and excellent service, plus we paid for extra leg room as well.
We arrived at the Shangri-La a little tired and as always the greeting was exceptional (oh and the women are beautiful and impeccably dressed).
So it’s 9.45am on Sunday 6 March here (1.45am UK time) and we are just waiting for our room readiness so we can change and then explore.
What a long day so far, starting with the dreaded cat farce, he not only despises his carry box, he projectile urinates over 60ft, fully directional when stressed, I only wish super soaker was this accurate and deadly! But surprisingly this morning Mr Spike went quietly and we were able remove our protective clothing intact (picture two grown adults in Hazmat suits and that is close to the vision that is putting spike into his box).
Mrs Fogg went off to work for a jolly, leaving me to sort everything else as usual (anyone got a violin?).
The trip down was long and uneventful (sorry Bartys we weren’t able to stop off, but we will drop Aitch’s Gameboy in on the way back).
No Garmin Satnav this time, instead using the ultracool Navigon on my oh so cool ifone (or if you are from Newcastle Why ifone, sorry), straight to the front door of the hotel, perfick.
Booking in, now not that we are awkward customers (but we are), leaving the car parked at the hotel requires you to write all your details on a sheet of paper plonked on the front desk for anyone to view (car reg, room number, name, address and how long you are leaving it there), I don’t think so, poor girl went white when Mrs Fogg started on her about security implications.
On then to our room, right at the other end of the hotel and up 2 floors (that’ll teach us to argue), door duly opened, room fully occupied, starkers bloke in the bog, nice! Off we trundle to reception. Is everything ok sir, err no there is someone in that room, oh well there shouldn’t be, are you sure, err yup, well it should be empty, well it ain’t, but it should, well it ain’t, are you sure it is occupied, yup, but it should be empty! Well it AIN’T. I would like another room please, without occupant, empty, not full, no-one in it, FREE of a person or persons.
So here we are in an empty room, let’s see who comes knocking on the door when they give out our room key.
Tomorrow, the joy of airports and the silly plastic bags, removing every item of clothing and cavity searches and that is just to get into McDonalds!
Yippee! Work is over and we are on our way south to the airport. Just think that in another 48 hours we will be in Singapore in 32 degree heat sipping Singapore slings in some tropical bar! Bliss, Mr Fogg has already gone delirious at the thought. He will be pleased to know that in my capacity as travel tour geek I have failed this time to plan our days…it’s been a long hard slog this year since Jan for both of us, so roll on the relaxation and gentle tourist ambles.
I am not quite so keen on the long flight though. I wonder if they serve cocktails in the air?
Next stop Heathrow
[Posted from Mrs Foggs super cool iphone]
So little Mrs Foggy had a fantastic evening with the Caddies to see Elvis in Dewsbury. Highlight of the evening was Mrs Foggy and Mrs Caddy racing up to the dancefloor to boogie on down, just as Elvis stopped singing, then trying to get one of Elvis’ scarves.
Best of all was Mrs Fogg sat with the Caddies camera, with full zoom focused on Elvis impersonators crotch. She actually flattened the battery, Elvis has a new stalker.
The end to the evening saw us all with a bottle of Bolly to celebrate Mrs Caddies B’day and Mrs Fogg telling anyone who would listen that she was tired, very tired, very very tired. This morning she has no idea how she got to bed, good advert for falling down water.
Well if Elvis is truly dead and not selling chips in Scarborough, he would most definitely be turning in his grave.
Don’t think I have ever seen an impersonator who is so inanimate. Elvis with a broad yorkshire accent is something to hear Sithee.
Not bad but at least we have beer. Well providing the chimps behind the bar can figure out how to use the till that is.
In celebration of our trip to see the Elvis World Championships in Bridlington (of all places) last year, The Caddies and the Foggies went to the happening hip town of errr Dewsbury to see an Elvis personator in concert, oh boy.
Will it be any good, who knows, but we is all tiddly so who cares.
Hippo Bathday to Jenny, next year Elvis in Graceland
Well bless my soul, tis Elvis, oh no it isn’t. Oh yes it is.
Meet Mrs Fink trying our Elvis mask on over the weekend. We had a fantastic time with Al, Bel and little Fink.
Spike has been pining for 2 days now since no-one wants to keep on brushing him and fussing him every 5 minutes. He has been walking around wailing and looking for someone to give him the 24/7 attention he has had over the last few days.
Hey Finks, wanna adopt a kitty, well actually a big ball of fluff.
