GMY Book Contest #6

Tim Light sent me this undated photo, which he probably scanned from a newspaper or magazine, suggesting that I post it as a quiz question. Trouble is I don’t know how on earth I am going to pick the winner seeing that I haven’t the faintest idea where is this place. The only hint comes from the sign which says, No. 2, Tanjong Pagar to Geylang.

Singapore, 1960s – Orchard Road by Tim Light

It’s the mid-1960s.  We’re on a shopping trip to Orchard Road.  We take an STC bus from Whitley Road and jump out at the junction of Scott’s Road and Orchard Road.  Across the road is the Lido Cinema, a stunning 1950s creation, showing The Sound of Music, but today our first port of call is C. K Tangs.  The building is a prominent landmark, with its Chinese style roof and awnings.  Inside it’s a department store with an Eastern flavour, and my parents loved to look around. My mother still has a camphor wood chest from Tangs.  My brother and I would head straight for the toy department … probably the best toy department on the island.  They had some wonderful model railways, mostly Marklin, from Germany, including a working layout.  My mouth would water when I looked at those lovely models, and my eyes would water when I saw the prices.  Anyway they were not compatible with our Triang trains, so we were happy to just look.  The other German import that I loved was the Schuco car system.  It went straight to the top of my Christmas wish list, and Santa came up with the goods.  I still have a couple of cars from that system.

Next stop was Fitzpatricks, for some grocery shopping.  This was a short walk along Orchard Road.  At this time Orchard road was a busy dual carriageway, with traffic flowing intensely in both directions.  Most of the road was lined with traditional old shop-houses, interspersed with more modern buildings like the Lido, C.K. Tangs and Fitzpatricks.  This was a time of transition.

In the mid-1960s Fitzpatricks was the model of a modern supermarket, with novelties like check-out belts and push-button tills.  No bar codes back then.  I don’t remember much about the food section, except for a massive sign advertising Foster’s Lager.  Upstairs was a café and a bookshop (where I spent my pocket money on Biggles and Jennings stories).  If I’m not mistaken, there was also a record store where I purchased my first-ever Beatles album.

Next we walked on to Cold Storage.  To get there we had to pass Princes Hotel Garni … a classy looking hotel/restaurant that I never entered.  Then there were more shop-houses, including a rather grand men’s hairdresser (or Barber, if you prefer) where we had our hair cut.  This was like the barber shops you saw in old American films from the 1920s, with panelled walls, and huge, plush leather barber’s chairs that could be raised and lowered with levers.  Part of the joy of waiting your turn was to read some of the American comics (Superman, Batman, etc.) that were provided.  Out on the street there were always a few hawker stalls, cooking food to order on mobile woks.  These hawker stalls contributed to the unique smell of downtown Singapore, which I’m sure was a cocktail of … well, lots of things!

Another place we sometimes frequented was Hiap Chiang and co.. This place seemed to sell a variety of things from swimming costumes to pewter ornaments.  For some reason, my parents took a liking to this shop and patronised it when they could.  But today we walked past Hiap Chiangs to the Cold Storage Creameries for a milk shake or an ice cream soda.  The Creameries was a good example of American cultural influence … a classic Soda Parlour.  The Creamery was a good place to cool down and watch the world go by. 

We gave Cold Storage a miss on this occasion, having got what we needed at Fitzpatricks.  We continued our walk down Orchard Road past the market buildings.  I only once ventured inside the market, and for some reason I found it a bit scary.  Perhaps this was the first time I had seen raw butchery close-up.  Not pretty.

More shop houses followed, and eventually we came to MacDonald house, where my father worked.  We had arranged to meet him after work.

Last time I went down Orchard Road, about 10 years ago, I was astounded at the change.  It was almost impossible to get a sense of where I was, because there was almost nothing left that I recognised.  MacDonald House was still there, and the Presbyterian Church, but everything else was completely alien.  Even the ultra-modern Lido Cinema had given way.  C.K. Tangs was a massive disappointment … just another department store.  I don’t know any other place on the planet that has been transformed as comprehensively as Orchard Road.

Singapore, 1960s – The National Neon Tower by Tim Light

Singaporeans in the 1960s were used to seeing neon advertisements, and for me they added enormously to the colour of urban Singapore, especially after dark.  My favourite was an animated neon sign at Newton circus, which showed somebody drinking something.  I can’t remember what the product was, but the animation consisted of three stages in which the character started with a full glass, then showed it at his lips and half empty, then finally with his head bent right back and the last drops going into his mouth.

As well as neon, there were giant objects displayed on buildings, or by the road.  I remember a giant bottle of Soy Sauce at Bukit Timah Circus, and an enormous jar of Brylcream somewhere. These were some of the things that made Singapore different and interesting.

Does anyone remember the National Showroom Neon Tower at North Bridge Road next to the Capitol Theatre?  According to the remarks at the National Archives Picas website, the National Showroom was opened by the former Minister for Culture, the late Mr S Rajaratnam in 1963.  It was highly controversial, because it was, to say the least, insensitive to its surroundings, and not at all in keeping with the classing buildings that surrounded it.  It was several stories high, and towered above buildings like the Municipal Building and St. Andrews Cathedral.  At night it was fully illuminated, and could be seen for miles. 

Opinion was divided.  The conservative view was that it was a blot on the landscape, and destroyed the historic character of the area.  The converse view was that it symbolised the modern Singapore, and that the old architecture of the colonial era should no longer be dominant.

Who was right?  It’s a matter of opinion. Personally I liked it at the time, but I would probably think differently today. 

What happened to it?  It’s not there today, and if it was, it would itself be dwarfed by other buildings. 

Below are 3 photos from the National Archives Picas collection showing the dismantling of this iconic National Neon tower in July 1974.

Singapore, 1960s – Television and Radio (by Tim Light)

When we arrived in Singapore in 1961, one of the first things my father bought was a Sony Transistor Radio.  It was a very modern-looking device, not like the big brown wireless sets that we were used to back home.  The picture, I think, shows the exact model.

 

As I remember, there was, essentially, only one English language station, transmitted by Radio Singapura.  There were all sorts of programmes, including news, comedy drama, music of all sorts, and current affairs.  Unlike the BBC, Radio Singapura carried adverts.  We quickly got to learn the jingles for Tiger Oil and Brand’s Essence of Chicken.  The Tiger advert went something like this:

Tiger Oil.  Tiger Oil.

For fast relief of colds aches and pains.

It is used throughout the world.

You must get some right away.

Tiger Oil makes your day a happy day.

As well as the adverts there was constant political propaganda and patriotic songs.  At the time that Malaysia was being formed, we were treated to Malaysia Forever every hour or so.

Let’s get together. 

Sing a happy song.

Malaysia Forever. 

Ten Million strong.  

That soon changed when Singapore left Malaysia.

My favourite radio programs were a comedy whose name I can’t remember, and an American real-life detective series called The Mistakes They Made.

Also available – but only just – was the BBC World Service.  It was very faint, and would be accompanied by eerie electronic whistles and other sci-fi sounds, and it would fade in and out, but we liked to tune in for cricket matches and the English Football results.  It was quite frustrating, as just as our team’s result came on the radio would fade out or whistle, so we would only hear half the score.  Nevertheless, it was a Saturday night ritual, long after lights out, to listen to the results.  Given the time difference, it would be midnight when the results were read out.

One evening, in February 1963, we were driving home from somewhere.  An enormous crowd of people was gathered outside a shop window.  They were watching Singapore’s first television broadcast.  This was the first time Singaporeans had seen a television, and it must have been a magical experience for them.  Of course, it was in black and white, but nobody minded.  Everyone wanted a TV, although they were very expensive in the early days, and for the first few years we did our viewing at the Island Club, at friends’ houses, or in restaurants (where a TV was a big added attraction).

For most of the 1960s, as I remember, there was only one channel, and it catered for at least four language groups – Malay, Chinese, Tamil and English.  I know that there was more than one Chinese language in use, but I don’t know if TV Singapura catered for them all.  Such was the addiction of TV that sometimes we would watch the programmes even when they were in a language that we didn’t understand. Indian and Chinese cinema was very dramatic, and sometimes you could follow the story without knowing the language.  Of course, my favourite programmes were the American comedies (like I Love Lucy), adventure programmes and cartoons.

Eventually we bought a TV and had the pleasure of constantly trying to get a decent picture by adjusting the angle of the ariel, and playing with the vertical hold because the picture kept going round and round. 

How things have changed.

Related posts

1)    Days of Black and White TV

2)    One Scoop of Porridge

Singapore, 1960s – Guppies and Tetras (by Tim Light)

Back in England, the idea of keeping tropical fish never entered our minds. Occasionally we would come back from a fun-fair with a goldfish in a plastic bag, as a prize from some side show.  I feel sorry for those goldfish.  In my experience they had a life expectancy of a few days.  If they were lucky.

In Singapore, our first fish was also a little goldfish, won by my brother at the school fair.  We didn’t have anywhere to keep it, so my mother put some water in a fruit bowl and the fish at least had somewhere to swim.  For a couple of hours, anyway.  That’s how long it took for a chit-chat to spot it, scurry down the wall and gobble it up. 

Living in Singapore we were exposed to the idea of keeping fish in an aquarium.  There were tropical fish shops everywhere, and a lot of our friends – especially the Chinese – had aquariums full of colourful fish.  It wasn’t long before we had a small aquarium, complete with air pump, gravel and plants, awaiting their first fish.  My mother took us along to a tropical fish seller near Newton Circus.  My brother chose a pair of Guppies.   I chose a pair of Neon Tetras.  These animals immediately fascinated me.  The Tetras weren’t that exciting in terms of their behaviour, but their colouring was hypnotic.  The horizontal band turned to different shades of blue or green, depending in the direction they were facing.  One of our friends had a tank with 20 or more Neon Tetras, and the display was spectacular.  I waited patiently for them to reproduce, but they never did.  After a while I lost patience and bought a few more.

Guppies are one of the natural wonders of the world.  The females are relatively dull, but the males have the most amazing colour schemes.  The most remarkable thing is that every one has a different design – rather like the human fingerprint, no two guppies are the same.  Unlike the tetras, guppies are not ashamed to breed in captivity.  Once they get going, they will produce about 30 babies per female per month.  At that rate you would have thought that they would have taken over the world by now.  Fortunately (for the world) they eat most of their own babies, so the population stays under control. 

Another remarkable thing about guppies is that they mate in the same way that mammals do, unlike most other fish.  As a nine-year-old boy watching all this going on, I asked my mother a lot of embarrassing questions, and received reasonably straight answers.  So I was ahead of the pack, as regards sex education.

The other un-fishlike behaviour of the guppies was to give birth to small baby fish, rather than to deposit eggs.  The life expectancy of a newborn guppy is just a few seconds, because if its mother doesn’t eat it, one of the other fish will.  Nevertheless, a few of the babies lived long enough to escape into the plants where they kept a low profile until they grew too big to be swallowed.  In just a few months, our fish tank was too small for the Guppy population, and the snobby Tetras were complaining about being squeezed out.  We bought a bigger tank, just for the Guppies, and just like the road system, the guppy population grew to take up the available capacity.

Disaster struck when we moved to our new home on Whitley Road.  The removal men let the tank slip.  It crashed onto the floor, and there were no survivors. 

Chun See continues ….

As a kid I too liked to keep guppies. Coincidentally, I too bought mine from an aquarium near Newton circus. I used to study at the Anglo-Chinese School and often walked to Newton Circus to take Tay Koh Yat no 9A to my home in Lorong Chuan. I even bought a small book and read up about how to breed the guppies. We also bought fish food flakes to feed them.

As far as I can recall, the aquarium was located along this stretch of Bt Timah Road, next to the flyover and Kampong Java Rd. The Newton Post Office as well as a very famous fried kway teow stall were located here.

We also had a small fish tank. Below is a 1969 photo of my mum using the phone which was next to our fish tank. Besides this, I also bred them using small salted vegetables urns. Sometimes, the guppies fall sick and die en-mass. I read that the chlorine from the tap water could be the culprit, and so I used water from our well instead.

Singapore, 1962-64 : 7 Sian Tuan Avenue (by Tim Light)

At the beginning of 1962 we moved into 7 Sian Tuan Avenue.  This was a spacious house in the Hong Kong Park estate, off Dunearn Road.  As a house, there was nothing remarkable about it, but for a small English boy there were a few novelties.  For example, air conditioning in the bedroom was a new experience.  We were renting the house from a Chinese landlord, and some rooms had large mirrors etched with Chinese writing.  I have no idea what the writing said. 

The land surrounding Hong Kong Park was an interesting playground for my friends and me.  Immediately opposite was a large area of unused ground, in the centre of which was an abandoned house.  This was a substantial bungalow, which still had a name on the door – an Indian name – but after 50 years I don’t remember it.  Just beyond this house was a stream that led to a kampong, surrounded by fields and grazing cows.  It was a surprising rural scene.  The stream itself was of interest because it was alive with fish.  It was probably alive with a lot of other things too, but we were attracted by the fish – many of them were guppies (my favourite tropical fish).  We had a happy time fishing them out, but always threw them back because we couldn’t take them home.  One day we encountered a big ugly snake that slid into the water and disappeared, so that was the end of fishing.

At the top of the estate, just past the bend of Hua Guan Avenue, was another kampong.  This one had a handful of shops where we would spend our pocket money on dried fish snacks, fireworks and little hand-rolled cigarettes.  The shopkeepers didn’t seem to mind what they sold to us.  We made a complete nuisance of ourselves lighting fireworks and generally annoying the other residents.  We were always careful to operate away from our own homes so that our parents didn’t spot us.  The roads around this kampong were dirt roads, so it was a different world for us. 

At the bottom of Sian Tuan Avenue, next to Dunearn Road, were other “Shack Shops” as we called them, where we could buy sweets and cigarettes for a few cents. I hope my mother is not reading this!

One place that was completely out of bounds was the rifle range.  But did that stop us?  I’d better stop before I incriminate myself.

Looking down Sian Tuan Ave, c 1962

My brother in the front garden, c 1962

One feature of Singapore that was totally alien to us English boys was the monsoon drains.  There was a particular time of year when the drains outside our house filled up with bullfrogs, making the most incredible noise the whole night through.  You could hear it above the air conditioning.

The other use for the drains, sad to say, was a dumping ground for unwanted kittens.  More than once we fished out a paper bag with two or three kittens inside.  My mother took them to the RSPCA where I guess they were put down anyway.  We did once get to keep a kitten, but we couldn’t save all of them.

Finally, at Sian Tuan Avenue, we found out what it means to live in a war zone.  Well not really, but there were a lot of Chinese families around us, and Chinese New Year was celebrated with the letting off of firecrackers.  We were used to fireworks back in England on Guy Fawkes night, but there was nothing like the Chinese firecrackers.  They were tied in strings, and went off one after the other like machine guns.  Some strings of firecrackers were several yards long, and went off for several minutes.  Brilliant!

In Singapore, everything changes before your eyes.  The bulldozers arrived and flattened the ground opposite.  Before long brand new houses appeared and changed the landscape forever.

Earth movers opposite our house in 1963

Our house at 7 Sian Tuan is still there, largely unchanged.  In 2001, almost 40 years later I visited the area, and the main difference was a new canopy over the front entrance.  Looking on Google street view now, it is much the same except that trees are growing taller and obscuring the view.  The most remarkable thing is that the original post box is still there, battered and unused. 

7 Sian Tuan Ave in 2001

Singapore, 1960s – Air Displays (by Tim Light)

“Look Mummy, there’s an aeroplane up in the sky.”


These words were spoken on Pink Floyd’s The Wall album, and the remind me of the time when I was a small child, in the 1950s, when the sight of any aircraft was a cause of excitement.  Today, if I look up on a clear day I can see a dozen or more airliners making vapour trails in the sky.  But in the 1950s there was almost nothing.  That all changed when we went to live in Singapore in 1961.  Because of the presence of British military bases on the island, as well as a busy civil airport, Singapore’s skies were amongst the busiest in the world.


On a couple of occasions in the early 1960s, my father took us along to an RAF air display.  This was a big thrill for a youngster like me, brought up on war comics.  I can’t be 100% sure, but I think the display was at Changi, although something at the back of my mind says Seletar.  In retrospect I think it was very generous of the RAF to open their doors to the public, at a place that most governments would have regarded as most secret.  Anyway, I remember that there was always a big crowd at these events.

My father seemed to know a lot about military aircraft, and he was almost as thrilled as we were to see them flying at close quarters.  He pointed out the Avro Vulcan, Handley Page Victor, Hawker Hunter, Canberra, Meteor, Javelin and lots more.  I loved them all, but I particularly fell in love with the Beverley, which was a big-bellied transport aircraft that looked a lot like a pregnant guppy.  The various aircraft demonstrated their speed or manoeuvrability, and even some formation flying.

After the flying was over, we were at liberty to walk around the hangars where we could inspect aircraft really close up.  There were one or two vintage items that looked like they had survived from the second world war, which my dad said would be used for reconnaissance or radar patrols.

In reality, living in Singapore at that time was like one continuous air display.  At the Naval Base School there seemed to be a procession of aeroplanes and helicopters coming in and out of Seletar, and military aircraft seemed to turn up any time, anywhere on the island.  I never got bored with these planes, as they all seemed to have their own distinctive character.  I have to admit that, wonderful as they are, most of today’s airliners look pretty much the same to me.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

** Found these these photos of planes mentioned by Tim at the National Archives Picas Website.

A RAF Meteor Fighter being towed at midnight from RAF Changi to Seletar Technical Training School. The jet will be used by the Singapore Air Force for ground training. Picture shows the Meteor being towed along Upp Serangoon Road (Sep 1969)

Canberra WE139 which won the London-Christchurch Air Race in October 1953 in 23 hours and 51 minutes. Royal Air Force, Changi, Singapore.

Lightning supersonic fighter jets of the RAF 74 Squadron at Tengah Air Base. Known as “Tigers”, the 12-missiles jets will take over the air defence duties in the Far East. (1967)

Related Post: Plane-spotting in Singapore, by Brian Mitchell

Singapore, 1960s – Casuarinas (by Tim Light)

A Casuarina is a kind of tree, but I didn’t know that when I was a small boy in Singapore.  But one of our favourite destinations was a tea house on the East Coast called “Casuarinas”. 

I can’t say exactly where it was, but I remember something about the journey, and its situation.  From the Bukit Timah area we would drive into the City, and then along the Nicholl Highway, along Upper Changi Road, past the prison, and then we would turn right to get onto the East Coast, and somewhere around there, perched on top of a bit of a cliff, was Casuarinas.  It might have been on Nicholl Drive, but my 1963 street map doesn’t show it.  The other clue was constantly being buzzed by very low flying jets from a nearby RAF base, presumably Changi.

Can anyone say where this place was?

I don’t remember anything about the building, and anyway we would always sit outside and be served tea and sandwiches or scones under a parasol.  The refreshments were served on nice china with silver cutlery – very English.  There was a nice elevated view over the sea, and all in all it was a very pleasant experience.

There were steps down to the beach, so my brother and I would scoff our sandwiches and head down to the beach to explore.  I was fascinated by the rock pools that contained small fish and crabs.  I managed to smuggle a tiny crab home one day, and was disappointed when it didn’t survive in our fresh water aquarium.

It’s most unlikely that Casuarinas would have survived very long after we left.  Extensive development on reclaimed land would have left it a long way from the sea, and possibly even under the tarmac of the new Changi Airport.

Sadly I don’t have any photos of this charming place.  All I have are a few misty memories.

Chun See continues ……

Our regular guest-blogger, Peter Chan throws some light on this mystery:

“When you travel down Tanah Merah Besar Road, after the junction with Tampines Road, you go down the “valley” and up the top, then down the “valley” until you reach Nicoll Drive junction. There was a sand pit on the left of Tanah Merah Besar Road (just before the junction) …….  Once you turn into Nicoll Drive, on your right was Casuarina Motel (later called Aloha Rhu Village opened in 1971) – got Hawaiian waitresses dressed in grass skirt – then next was this Singapore Handicapped Home or Cheshire Children’s home.”


Here's a 1974 photo of the Aloha Rhu.

Here's an aerial view of the junction of Tanah Merah Besar and Nicoll Drive. The white patch next to the sea was the Aloha Rhu.

Singapore, 1960s – Joo Hen (by Tim Light)

We needed to eat, so we had to go shopping. I can remember shopping trips to Cold Storage and Fitzpatricks, but pretty soon my parents settled on Joo Hen (that might not be the right spelling). Joo Hen’s was a small grocer at Sembawang Hills Estate. I’m struggling to remember the exact location, but I seem to remember just off Sembawang Hills Circus, near the junction with Old Thompson Road, there was a group of shops surrounding a small car park. The other shops included a newsagent (where we bought our Superman comics) and a toy shop that had very desirable but unaffordable Hornby Dublo train sets. My best guess is that Joo Hen’s was near where the Shibly Muslim Food shop is today, on Casuarina Road. I walked past there in 2001, and was unable to recognise anything. It looked like everything had been rebuilt, although memory can play tricks.



I imagine someone must have tipped my parents off about Joo Hen’s. It’s not the sort of place you would find by accident. From outside it was a small, unpretentious shop with Chinese owners. Inside it was well stocked, and clearly had everything that we needed. I don’t remember if they sold local products, but there was everything that we were familiar with. Persil, Corn Flakes, Spam … you name it. I was fascinated to see familiar boxes like the Corn Flakes box, with Chinese writing.


Outside was the delivery van. It was lettered with Joo Hen’s name in both European and Chinese writing, and was covered with pictures of some of the products they sold. If I’m not mistaken, 555 Filter King cigarettes was one of the products. Vans decorated with advertising images were a feature of Singapore at that time. Back in England, delivery vans would carry the grocer’s name, but there would be no illustrations. Sadly I don’t have a picture of Joo Hen’s van, but I’ve found a few that were similarly decorated.

After a while, we started to have our groceries delivered in the van. My mother would telephone in the morning, and the delivery would be made that afternoon. We still went out to Sembawang Hills once a month to settle our account. I always liked that place. It was friendlier and quieter than the big supermarkets.

Singapore, 1962 to 1964 – Royal Naval School (by Tim Light)

At the end of 1961, my brother and I left St. Andrews School, never to return. In January 1962 we started as pupils at the Royal Naval School, in the Naval Base at Sembawang. In 1962, the British armed forces still had a massive presence in Singapore, with a large proportion of the territory being occupied by the various Naval, Army or Air bases. The Naval Base was probably the biggest of these bases.

My parents were not in the forces, but the services schools must have been the best option for giving us an education aligned to the British curriculum. I imagine that our places had to be paid for, but I don’t know how much or who paid it. I have an idea that the Metal Box company made a contribution towards our schooling. One minor bonus for my parents was that the uniform was exactly the same as St. Andrews, i.e. Navy shorts and white shirt. Minus the St. Andrews badge, of course.


Also at the start of 1962, we moved into our new home at 7 Sian Tuan Avenue, Hong Kong Park, off Dunearn Road. We went to school in the RN School Bus, a smart Bedford bus, in Navy Blue livery with white trim. There must have been naval personnel scattered around the island, because the school ran a large number of routes out from the school. There was even a mini-bus station at the school.

The bus proceeded through Bukit Timah, Bukit Panjang, and Woodlands, entering the Naval Base through the gates near to the causeway. There were still a few miles to go to reach the school, which was at the Sembawang end of the base. We had to pass the dockyard, and it was always interesting to see the various warships in the dock. I was never an expert, so I couldn’t distinguish between battleships, cruisers or most of the other vessels. There was always a buzz of excitement when one of the great aircraft carriers was expected. I remember Ark Royal and Bulwark. They were enormous.


The school was a pleasant collection of buildings in a nice location. The classrooms were a set of three long, single storied buildings, with 3 or 4 classrooms per block. The sides were completely open, allowing a refreshing breeze to pass through. The main assembly hall was a classic old colonial-style wooden building on stilts, with a balcony. This hall was used for assembly, music and drama lessons. My most vivid memory was hearing the announcement that President Kennedy had been assassinated.


There was another similar building that was used for martial arts and crafts. I was a member of the fencing club, and enjoyed some success with the foil. School finished in the early afternoon, but there were activities every afternoon including sports, crafts, choir, etc..


The other buildings that I remember were a staff and administration block that also had a library, and the toilet block. Finally there was a Padang where we played football and rounders.


My first teacher was Mrs Ransome, who was a somewhat mature lady, kindly but stern, in the tradition of Victorian matrons. I’m probably doing her a disservice with this description. She was probably not as old as my young eyes perceived her to be. One memory of Mrs Ransome was her insistence on the accurate use of English. One poor lad said to her, “Please Miss. I’ve got all ink on my hands.” Mrs Ransome said, very severely, “You do not have all ink on your hands, William. You have some ink on your hands. If all ink was in this classroom, we would all have drowned in it.”


After that, in year 3, we had Mr. Nutter. He was a decent bloke, who made lessons interesting, and was constantly distracted by the wildlife. He set up an aquarium, and had various live insects and rodents on the nature table. In cages of course. I managed to incur his wrath by failing to deliver my homework on a number of occasions, with increasingly laughable excuses. He finally lost patience and caned me. I deserved it.


In year 4 we had Mr Steele. He was a little more severe and not as much fun, but still a good teacher so long as you didn’t mess with him. Which I didn’t.


It was in year 4 that I started to fall in love with some of my fellow pupils. Anne Turner and Margaret Pillage spring to mind. I wonder where they are now. My best pal was Keith Stannard, and I spent a few weekends stopping over at his house in the naval base, just up the road from the school. These were lovely old black and white houses on stilts. We would go fishing on a jetty, catching lots of fish as we watched the big grey warships coming and going. Wonderful times.


To my eternal shame, I left the Royal Naval School without exchanging addresses with any of my friends. This was not intentional, but my parents had arranged for me to be placed in a prep school in Yorkshire at very short notice. But I could have made an effort to contact my friends. Now they are just a distant memory.

The school buildings still exist, as a school for prison staff, I think.


I have many more happy memories of this school. Too many for this blog.

Singapore, 1961 – Chequers Hotel (by Tim Light)

In Chun See’s blog of 17/9/2008 he takes us on a journey around the Balestier Heritage Trail. This area has special memories for me, for two reasons. One reason is that early in 1964 we went to live at 115 Whitley Road, and the Thompson Balestier area was home territory for us. But before that, at the end of 1961, we left our temporary home on Marsiling Road and stayed a few weeks at the Chequers Hotel. I was surprised to see, in Chun See’s blog, that the hotel still exists, under a new identity of Europa Country Club Resort.

My memories of Chequers are both vague and vivid. It was populated, if I remember rightly, by British families in transit, either just arriving or just about to leave. There were a lot of children, and we had non-stop fun from breakfast time until dinner. We had the run of the place – not officially – but the staff were very tolerant so long as we didn’t overstep the mark. The gardens were our jungle, and we played war games, as children do, or visited each others’ rooms to play. On one occasion, another small boy and I got into serious trouble. We were fighting the Second World War in the garden, and were soon throwing hand-grenades at each other. The hand-grenades were actually small, knobbly fruit that had fallen from a tree. When I got back to my parents I was told off for the state of my shirt. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The whole of the side of the building was covered in dark green splodges. They had to whitewash the whole wall. Needless to say, I was in hot water!

I particularly remember Jeanette, a girl about my age who I secretly fell in love with. She had a little sister called Alexandra who was a bit of a pain, because she wouldn’t leave us in peace.

I made other friends, too, but the names have long gone. It’s funny how people come and go in our lives.

We spent our first Singapore Christmas at Chequers. Singapore in the tropics is surreal when you’ve been brought up in the frozen wastelands of Yorkshire. It’s a time of year when we wrapped up in our woollies, and huddled round the coal fire to stay warm. The days are short and dark, and the Christmas decorations and lights brought a bit of cheer and warmth. So Christmas in the sweltering heat of Singapore was something else!

The hotel had a bit of a colonial feel to it, not that I remember too much about it. I vaguely remember a building with a big open porch, and another where the dining room was located. I think most of it was single storied. I don’t have one single photo of Chequers, nor can I find anything on the Internet. It would be interesting to see it today, and to see if any of the original building has been preserved.


****************************************


Chun See continues …


In this 1971 photo of the Thomson Flyover (from the National Archives Picas website) you can see bits of the Chequers Hotel behind the trees. By the way, I usually refer to this as the Whitley Flyover. The car on the left is emerging from the Mt Pleasant Police Academy.

Mike Robbins also remembers the Chequers Hotel. This is what he wrote in a recent email.

“We arrived at Paya Lebar airport at around midnight having spent over 26 hours en route from UK - 10 hours to Abadan, 1 hour on the ground, 8 hours to Colombo, 1 hour on the ground and six hours into Singapore. Apart from the heat, we arrived at the height of the durian season, and that smell together with the smell of rubber emanating from the many lorries making their way to the docks with their loads will stay with me for the rest of my life! On arrival we were taken to our hotel - Chequers Hotel mentioned in your book - thought you might like a picture of the illuminated sign!”

Singapore, 1961 – Singapore Swimming Club (by Tim Light)

Shortly after arriving in Singapore, we joined the Singapore Swimming Club. My father had enrolled the family as members. The SSC was a most impressive place, to my young eyes. The building was built in the 1930s, I think, but it looked very modern to me. The style was Art Deco. A distinctive feature was the diving board, shaped like a pair of whale bones.


Driving to the club was enjoyable, as we had to cross the island from Woodlands. I seem to remember that we passed the Britannia Club (which I never visited), joined the Nicholl Highway and crossed the Merdeka Bridge. My father pointed out the old Singapore Airport building and runway at Kallang.
In 1961, the SSC was right next to the sea. The water in the pool was salt water, so I assume that it was sea water, hopefully filtered to remove fish, snakes and seaweed! Strange thought that we didn’t think twice about paddling and swimming in the sea, but we would have been horrified to think that any sea creatures could find their way into the pool.

Before we joined the SSC I couldn’t swim. I had taken swimming lessons back in England, but I was only capable of a special form of the breaststroke that involved hopping along with one foot touching the bottom. Within a couple of weeks at the SSC I was able to swim. No particular stroke, but I was able to flap around and stay afloat without a lot of effort. One of our friends said that the salt water improves your buoyancy.

My parents did a bit of swimming, but whereas my brother and I would stay in the water all afternoon, they would spend most of the time reading and chatting with friends.

The SSC was right below the Paya Lebar runway approach, and it was a great thrill to see the aeroplanes roaring overhead, not very high and extremely loud. In those days a Boeing 707 looked enormous when viewed from just below, and the jet engines were much louder than today’s planes.

My last memory of the SSC was the 1961 Children’s Christmas Party. This was an afternoon event, which for the most part is just a blur of images. There were lots of children in their party outfits, and I believe Santa Clause made an appearance. I remember being a bit uneasy because some of the games involved holding on to girls, and I found it all a bit embarrassing.
From the Google satellite view, it would appear that the SSC still exists on its original site, but the art deco buildings have been replaced. And of course, it’s nowhere near the sea.

At the end of 1961 we left the SSC and joined the Royal Island Club. My dad was interested in playing golf, and the RIC offered both golf and swimming. That’s something for another blog.

 Singapore Swimming Club c 1909

 Singapore Swimming Club 1930s




Singapore Swimming Club 1950s

1960s Singapore – Amahs (by Tim Light)

amah [ˈɑːmə ˈæmə]
n
(in the East, esp formerly) a nurse or maidservant, esp one of Chinese origin.
[from Portuguese ama nurse, wet nurse]



Throughout our time in Singapore we always had an Amah, as did most of the people we knew. Our Amah had her own room or quarters (depending on the house), and she did all our housework and cooking, six days a week. On the seventh she would go home to her family.

Our first Amah was also the longest-lasting and most memorable. We knew her as Kim. Her Chinese was something like Gan Chwee Gin (no idea how you would spell it). Kim was a young woman, probably no more than 20 years old when she came to us, in 1961. My mother took an immediate liking to Kim, and took her under her wing, helping her to improve her English, as well as teaching her some traditional English cooking.


My early recollections of Kim are that she was sweet and patient, as well as willing and hard-working. What I didn’t realise at the time was how good looking she was. But I was only 7, and she was off my radar!


Kim stayed with us for about 3 or 4 years, then something went wrong. She and my mother fell out. There was shouting from both parties. And tears. And when the weekend arrived my father paid her off. And that was the last we saw of her. It was a great shame. She had become like a family member to us.

My parents interviewed a series of girls, and eventually picked one. I don’t remember her name. She was an older woman, short and business-like. She got on with her work, without smiling or speaking. Her English was limited. She seemed to understand what we were saying, but answered in monosyllables. I don’t know whether my parents were happy with her, but she moved on while we were away at boarding school.


When we got back for our summer holiday, there was another amah in place. Again, I don’t remember her name, but she was a good natured woman with a couple of young children. Her English was not great, but at least she made an effort, and she seemed to be happy with her lot. I don’t think my mother was over the moon with the cooking, but they seemed to get on otherwise. There was none of the closeness that we had had with Kim, though.

Coming from an English working class community, it must have been a strange experience for my parents to employ a domestic servant. In olden days, we (the working classes) would have provided the serving girls for the well-off families in Bradford. By the 1960s, live-in servants were only employed by the very richest families.


Some people back home were shocked to hear that we employed a live-in housekeeper. They somehow see it as demeaning to have someone else do your housework for you, just because you are better off. I have an open mind about it. Personally, I think work and dignity go hand in hand, and every employer has a duty to treat his or her employees with dignity.


What did disturb me, even at a tender young age, was to hear my mother’s lady friends moaning about their Amahs. Some of them were quite bitchy and two-faced about them.


I would like to hear what the Amahs had to say about their employers!

Related Posts.

1)   Amah, grandmother, mother or servant by Peter Chan
2)   Mike Robbins’ fond memories of Singapore
3)   Lynne Copping remembers Pulau Brani