Last Meals

Changi airport  is humming with the replays of the World Cup as I write. Various males are reclining in a variety of postures and a mock grandstand has been set up to add to the ambience.

I am feeling somewhat like a condemned man after having eaten a last meal of chicken rice at the Killeney Kopitiam on the third floor of Terminal Three.

My wife complained of a chilly right foot and we belatedly discovered that the sole of one of her sand shoes had detached from the upper.  Such are the unplanned joys of travel.

Our flight departs at 9:10 pm and ten hours later we will reach Auckland.

I shall miss Changi which has become almost a home away from home this past year as I travel back and forth throughout Asia.  It is undoubtedly the finest airport in the world.

We are feeling quite pleased with ourselves as the combined weight of our luggage did not exceed the prescribed limit of 50 kilos.