I love literature, I love music, I love ideas, I love people, I love life, I keep learning.

Constance Singam I am Constance Singam who at 80 is still learning. But then I was a late developer which meant I have extended experiences and learning to much later in life than most people.

For instance, I got married, like most women by the time I turned 24, settled to a traditional married life, became a widow at the age of 42 , obtained my first
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17 Oct 2016


Void Decks.


Is there a lack of vision, of imagination on the part of planners and policy makers?


I have often wondered, looking at void decks of Housing Board flats, why they were always empty? What its purpose was, besides hosting funerals? Why aren’t these spaces echoing with the laughter of children?


What a waste of space, when they could easily have been a sociable space for neighbourly gatherings for residents, to identify with each other, and instill a sense of belonging within the neighbourhood and form into a community with shared interests.


Such a community could transform itself into a group to improve services for the neighbourhood or for example address environmental needs of the estate. It can also transform itself into a self-help group to offer support and meet the needs of the vulnerable within the community.  But independent community does have the potential to become a major concern for policy makers and challenge vested political interests.


For the longest time the HDB Block void deck used to be just void, devoid of people, of friendly welcoming features. Few years ago somebody in the planning office of HDB was inspired to put in a table, a few chairs around it and a bench, solidly fixed to the ground, all in grim dark colours and heavy sturdy material.  It is progress, however grim it looks.



The lack of imagination is particularly apparent in the demolition of historic buildings.



The historical Ellison Building is about to face the same fate as many other buildings such as the Cathay and Capitol buildings. The Ellison Building, in existence since 1924, is an elegant colonial-styled building located at the junction of Bukit Timah and Selegie Roads. It was given conservation status by the Urban Redevelopment Authority (URA), yet it is now seen as an inconvenience. The International Council on Monuments and Sites, Singapore (ICOMOS SG) ICOMOS SG said reconstructing is only recommended for heritage structures destroyed in “situations that are beyond control, such as warfare or natural calamities”. This is clearly not the case for Ellison Building, they said. The Singapore Heritage Society in a statement on the issue on Aug. 18, 2016 also questioned the need for its demolition and restoration.

Recently during dinner discussion at my house, a few friends expressed varying views about preservation of historical buildings. The buildings are not completely destroyed one of them argued, its facade will be preserved or rebuilt. Yes we will have a replica, others argued, but not the people who formed the community; we will not have the culture that makes the place unique; we will not have the history; we will not have a space that adds character and distinctiveness to that area of Singapore.

The argument that the preservation of the facade will retain the unique quality of the area can be easily demolished by pointing at the way the Capital building has turned out. It has, sadly become just another shopping Mall, expensive one at that, for tourists to wander around.

Assurances given by the authorities that Ellison Building will be rebuilt does not alter the fact that a whole ecosystem of the area, the community, the history, the diversity of activities that currently make the area unique will all be lost forever. The current residents, the shop keepers, the workers will all be displaced and uniqueness of the area will forever be altered. The ‘spirit’, the character and the charm of the place, will forever be lost. These qualities, are intangibles that cannot be replicated and are becoming increasingly in short supply in Singapore’s manic drive towards development.

Heritage is fundamental in creating a ‘sense of place’ for a community and indeed for a nation. Further, a respect for heritage enhances community values and encourages greater social inclusion.

These, heritage buildings like the Ellison Building, heritage spaces like Bukit Brown, are a reminder of the roots of a nation; they maintain a sense of permanency and cultivate citizens’ sense of pride of its past. They make Singapore a unique country.

Singapore planners are destroying what we do have of our history and community spaces. They are instead creating even more ‘void’ decks.

I really think they should watch the Netflix sitcom “ Gilmor Girls”. I recommend that highly for an understanding of community spaces.



My 80th birthday celebrations started  in Singapore, then moved to Perth and now in Margaret River. Western Australia is aglow with wild flowers. Bottom right my niece Sonia offering a toast with style, grace and humour. Thank you Sonia. Thank you to my family and friends for making this birthday meaningful and memorable.




I can’t find my glasses.


I looked every nook and corner of my little house – I can’t find it.


I stripped my bed and it is not there, hiding under the sheets.


I checked my face twice – not there.


I remember 40 years ago attaching it to string and hanging it around my neck so I won’t misplace it. And then I read somewhere, in a woman’s magazine, quite possibly, that hanging it around the neck is ageing. I was only 41 and definitely not old and promptly dismantled it. Has the time come for me to hang it around my neck?


Couple of months ago I had to take my glasses to the optician. It had gone wonky and uncomfortable to wear. The young woman behind the counter, examined it and looked at it and ‘How did this happen?’ she asked. I sat on it, I replied. “You sat on it”! I nodded. She took it in, adjusted it and put it back on my face. “Is it better now” ‘Yes’ I nodded. “Well she said it will break if you sit on it again. So don’t sit on it.” She directed.



18 Sep 2016

I met a friend, after a very long time, and we talked about our ‘golden years’. How do you spend your time, I asked her. She is well into her 80s but immaculately and stylishly dressed and made-up.

Oh. She said, I wake up late, get dressed, go out and walk around the malls. She has covered every mall in town and know which foodcourt sells the best food.

I wake up late too, I said. The day doesn’t seem too long, that way. Yes she does that for the same reason.

So my time for luxuriating in bed long past the decent time to get up has come as has the time to be installed in the Hall of Fame!.


10 Sep 2016

“When old age shall this generation waste,

             Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe,

             Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,

             ’Beauty is truth, truth beauty,’ that is all

             Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.”

John Keats: Ode on a Grecian Urn

The ceramics of Iskandar Jalil delights the eye and the heart and brings to mind John Keats’ Ode.

So would poems  be written  in two hundred years praising the beauty of  Iskandar Jalil’s pottery?Will it be deconstructed to explain the historical origins, the cultural influences  that created these pieces of art? That would be nice.

This morning  at the National Gallery I was overawed by an amazing  exhibition of ceramics by Singapore’s most famous potter Iskandar Jalil. He is a hugely influential instructor-mentor, and he occupies a pivotal place in modern ceramics art history in Singapore. The characteristic features of Iskandar’s works include tactile, rich surfaces, use of twigs as embellishments, use of Southeast Asian motifs and Jawi calligraphy, use of Iskandar Blue, his one-hand technique and local clay, his admiration of Japanese ceramics aesthetics and philosophy (e.g. Mingei Craft Movement). Iskandar has produced large public art works alongside the modest chawan bowl.







My early memory of moving into this estate, my first HDB estate, is how visible people’s everyday lives were. There was this old man- partially blind, very unstable on his feet, wandering round the neighbourhood and sleeping wherever he can. One day my friend had to help him from falling and on probing found that his family didn’t want him during the day and only allowed him home at night to sleep. He is no longer around.


Another old man  used to wheel his wife, now with dementia, around and take her around the neighbourhood, stopping every now and then to tenderly wipe the sweat off her face. They were around together for a while and then she died. A year later he was being wheeled around by a foreign helper. He too is now gone. But he had an amazing funeral.. the kind that I had not seen for a long time.


Then there was this old woman who I used to see at the window of the second floor, always looking out of the window…What could she had been thinking, I wondered.  What was her life like? Did she have a family? Was she married? Is she thinking of what could have been. Or is she just waiting to die. Was I making assumptions about her life. She is gone too. Was one of those funerals for her?


I had a neighbour Betty who having just retired, bought a flat and was going to bring her mother in to live with her. She and her mother had till then lived with her brother and now on retirement she had decided to move out and be on her own. Except when she was ready to get her mother in, the mother who was in her 90s, had a fall, was hospitalized and never recovered. Betty made her daily visit to her mother, starting at 8.00 in the morning and returning at night after her mother fell asleep. After about six months to a year her mother died and Betty for the first time in her life was alone, and living alone. It only took Betty a couple of months before she moved herself into a home. She was happy, she said, because there were other people around her, her meals prepared and entertainment organized. She is still there and I don’t think she is 70 yet.


Two doors away lived another old lady with her three sons and her husband, a bend old man, who I used to see drop his plastic bag of rubbish at the lift lobby when he caught the lift to go down. Never quite understood the logic of that. Slowly her sons disappeared, marrying quietly without her knowledge – one of the sons told me that his mother is very foul-mouthed and hard to live with. But she and I had something in common – our plants which we lovingly nurtured. She even gave me one of her plants and we spoke to each other in our limited Malay. One day she had a fall, went into hospital and came back after weeks of therapy. She then walked around with a stick. She became even more difficult to live with and chased her husband away. She was alone. My neighbours tell me that she used to knock on their door in the middle of the night accusing her sons of stealing from her. Her flat was in shambles, cooking utensils and plates and stuff, pilled up in a sink that had not seen detergent for months. The bathrooms were black with grime. My very generous neighbour, armed herself with cleaning gloves and the strongest of detergents cleaned out the dirt, the grime and the stink. I raise my hat off to Rita, my neighbour. I couldn’t have been able to do that.  The old lady has now been removed from her home, I know not to where. Her plants are neglected and dying.


That old generation is going. There have been many funerals. They are usually sent off to the next world in style – amidst prayers, feasting and noisy music. One day I watched  two expensive cars(Bentley?) drive into the car park.  Expensive cars in an HDB car park? It piqued my curiosity and I watched. I wanted to find out which block they lived. They parked their cars. Two very nice-looking young men, elegant and well-dressed, came out and headed for the funeral at the void deck. They were monks who had come to lead the ceremony!


I can always tell when there is a recession. The car parks which are usually full slowly become partially empty. There is a recession now. There are not many cars around.


As old people die, young people take their places – young busy, working people whom I hardly see. Occasionally when I bump into somebody new in the lift my conversation always begins with “ are you new here” and the answer is invariably ‘no’. They would have been here for 5 years, 6 or even ten years, he or she would say and I wouldn’t have seen them in all these years.



8 Sep 2016

Here it is my next labour of love and hard work. I will be talking about it during the Singapore Writers Festival.

I suppose I can keep writing more memoirs since I have no talent for writing fiction.  I am ever so glad and grateful that in the autumn of my life I have something worthwhile to keep me interestingly occupied.

Here I am almost at the end and  to quote Diana Athill in Yesterday Morning  my beginning rises up to meet me…it was always there. And because in my eyes it was always so beautiful, it delights me yet again’. Part of those memories are in this book Never leave Home without your Chilli Sauce.

Diana Athill will turn one hundred next year and still writing.




29 Aug 2016


Thank you all for your expressions of sympathy. I wrote that piece about Elizabeth, on the advice of my sister, Fil, who saw how affected I was by the news of Elizabeth’s death. Writing will help, she said. And, yes, it did. It did more than release me of my pain. Writing about my experience showed me what an impact she has had on my life and how I live it. (those of you who have not read the full article in my blog do go to connie.sg and read. She was an amazing woman and you too will be inspired).


When I first went to Melbourne, I was doing one of the bravest things I had ever done in my life:  go to university, live in foreign city, and live an independent life after the death of my husband. I had up to that point in my life led a very protected life. I was 44 then. I was diffident and disempowered. And in Melbourne I met a group of women, all older than me, seizing the opportunity to earn a degree and having fun. Elizabeth and I got along and became firm friends. She was generous and had a positive attitude to life. We had common interests: music and the arts.


Old age never bothered her. For her it was natural to continue living the way she had always lived with vitality, laughter and energetic activity. When she found herself crippled with arthritis, she fought it with vigour, with diet and exercise.

The last time I saw her, she was 92, and she came to see me in the city using public transport.  I watched her striding away from me, a little bent now, but still confidant.


The way she lived her life up to the end is an example of how to live as I age and a particular challenge for me in this time of my life. I live in a society where old people are invisible and are seen as feeble.  Just as I have imbibed Elizabeth’s energetic attitude to life I fear that I will fall victim to our cultural attitude towards old age. The daily challenge is to fight that attitude and my own inclinations to slow down.

28 Aug 2016

” What though the radiance which was once so bright

Be now for ever taken from my sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind;

In the primal sympathy

Which having been must ever be;

In the soothing thoughts that spring

Out of human suffering;

In the faith that looks through death,

In years that bring the philosophic mind.”


Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

William Wordsworth, 1770 - 1850


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