I have been meeting all sorts of interesting people this visit, partly because of party season upon us like the monsoonal snow falling outside Tanglin Mall. Beyond the photographer all in white and the silent partner in an English antiquarian bookshop, there was Wendy, a printmaker who wore a wig, and who will start an art gallery by the time she’s forty; and not one, not two, but THREE people with whom to gossip about the Straits Times. PLEASE, you cannot expect that I am going to pass on this gossip on my blog. First of all, I only spread gossip about me. And (b), I may sneer at the local paper from time to time, but I may also need a job with the hometown media some day. Heh. Bow, scrape.

There was also the young man at Ren’s party, about whom Ren said: “You have to get to know Charles, because he works at Louis Vuitton.” “But Ren,” I said, “I have moved on from Louis Vuitton. These days we like Channel.” And here I made my thumbs and index fingers form the luxxe logo of the double C’s.

But, so, with the meeting of people. Just the other day in London, I was telling Andrea and Danny about the time I saw a yellow cab down Monmouth Street. I know this seems like I’ve taken a left down Tangent Lane, but stay with me. I’d seen it out of the corner of my eye, and hadn’t thought it peculiar in the least—and then a couple of seconds later realised I was in the wrong city for a yellow cab. I moseyed down the street to gawk, and it turned out—“Quiet on the set!” and all—they were shooting a New York movie. “I wanted to ask what they were filming,” I said, “but I was shy.” “NO,” Danny said, and he is English, so he didn’t have to try very hard to sound wry, or sarcastic, or a little bit of both. “But I am!” I said, because I am. No, I am!

Still, I think I generally know how to talk to people, even though it takes me a little bit to get into it. But then there was the guy I met last week who works for Société Générale. “Oh,” I said, when he told me this. Then: “Um.” Then: “Is that...something...with...finance...something?” You cannot say I have not been to conversation camp. Actually, yes, yes, you can, and quite loudly too. They are showing the trailers for “Memoirs of a Geisha” in the cinemas these days, and there’s this one bit where they tell Zhang Ziyi that geisha training involves learning about the fine art of conversation. Best sign me up, Scotty-san!