That was the week that was

Hello again.  My regular readers may have noticed that I like to have fun with the titles of my posts and hopefully one or two of them are even old enough to remember the TV programme that gave the name to this post.  For those of you who are sitting there scratching your heads and wondering what on earth I am talking about, have a look at the link below.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6NtmGlvHbqA


That Was The Week That Was, also known as TW3, was a weekly satirical comedy programme on the BBC in the early 60s.  As you will see from the clip, it was in black and white - yes, black and white - and featured a very young looking David Frost, as well as Lance Percival (who, I hear you cry, but what on earth is Wikipedia for if not to look up the details of the iconic figures of 50 years ago?).  The show followed the same format each week, looking back at the events of the previous seven days and having a good laugh at the establishment. Millicent Martin (who, I hear you cry etc.etc.) introduced proceedings with a song.  While it all looks a bit old hat now, this was ground breaking stuff at the time.   Of course, Saturday night television on BBC 1 now features such superlative offerings as Pointless Celebrities, The Voice and The National Lottery, but in 1962, we thought TW3 was quality stuff.


Anyhoo, the point of all that was not merely to point out what a load of rubbish is shown on TV these days (whoever invented "reality TV" should be taken out and shot.  No, wait a minute, not shot; they should be made to watch reality TV with no respite until they lose the will to live.  Much more fitting).  The point was to introduce my action packed week as a prelude to thrilling you with details of my exploits.  So here goes.


It started with a trip to the Titanic exhibition at the wonderfully shaped Art Science Museum.  My regular readers will know that I have a tendency to wax lyrical about the spectacular architecture of the Marina Bay Sands area  and I'm about to do it again.  The museum is shaped like a lotus flower, or an open hand with the fingers curing upwards, depending on your point of view and is as wonderfully bizarre to look at as the three towered hotel with the ship on top.  The exhibition commemorates the untimely end of the Titanic on April 15th, 1912 and features original artifacts reclaimed from the sea bed as well as reconstructions of the famous staircase, staterooms and an iceberg - made of real ice - which visitors are encouraged to touch.  As you enter the exhibition, you are given a boarding pass, with details of your name, class of accommodation and travelling companions.  Towards the end, you can check the name on your ticket against the list of survivors.  Well, I was the 25 year old Mrs Bess Allison, in a first class cabin for which I paid the princely sum of 150 pounds 16 shillings and so I fully expected to have a place in the lifeboat and make it safely to shore.  Alas, that was not to be, and I was pretty disconcerted by the news, I can tell you.  


I managed to put it behind me, however, and the next night TLC and I headed off to pub quiz night at The Old Brown Shoe, with the lovely Amy and Jerome.  We've been meaning to do this for ages, but things got in the way and so this was our first time. We were prepared to come in the middle of the pack, our usual placing at such events, but - to our amazement - we won!  Great excitement all round.  The social whirl continued over the weekend when we attended the South East Asia pole dancing championships at Avalon, an amazing night club in an amazing building at - yes, you guessed it - Marina Bay!  Now, those of you who know me will be aware that the words Isabel and night club seldom occur in the same sentence, never mind Isabel and pole dancing, but we had great fun.  We went along with a friend of ours, who is learning to pole dance and she introduced us to the Singapore scene.  I'm happy to say that the lovely C and I successfully predicted the winner.  I took some photos, but a combination of darkness and strobe lighting does not make for high, or even low definition, so you will just have to use your imagination.  On second thought, forget your imagination and use this clip of the amazingly acrobatic and wonderfully named Jenyne Butterfly (perhaps not her real name?) instead. She was not performing on Saturday night, sadly, but don't you just love her technique - and the slutty shoes too, of course.  Apparently the reason that pole dancers strut their stuff in such skimpy attire is because of the need for skin contact with the pole, to enable them to grip on.  Nothing at all to do with showing off their gorgeous bods, then. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fTQDOEXA8NU&feature=fvwrel

As if all that wasn't enough for one week, I managed to find myself in the role of scrutineer at the vote counting following the AGM of the club that we belong to here in Singapore.  It  must have been one of the stormiest AGMs in their history, with all manner of challenge to the chair and general confusion.  I say it must have been one of their stormiest AGMs, but I also have to admit that it was the only AGM we have ever been to, so perhaps they are all like that.  I thought at one point I would have to offer up myself as a mediator!

The week finished rather more tranquilly, with a showing of the film The Artist, which the lovely C and I had missed first time round.  It was absolutely wonderful, albeit rather bizarre, being both black and white and silent.  Chris loved it - even the bits he slept through apparently.

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