Qing Ming 2018

I was in a cab last week and the driver complained about how it was crowded around the Sin Ming area because it was the “last weekend” of Qing Ming.

So to assuage my guilt about completely forgetting to visit my parents’ tombs (they after-live separately – Mum’s buried in Choa Chu Kang, and Pa’s urn is at St. Ignatius), I’ve decided to visit some of the places that were of significance to them, and by their stories they told, significant to us.

I started on Saturday with a couple of places in the south of Singapore that my father loved.


I remember my father trying to get me to take up golf, which was something he really enjoyed. And by enjoyment I mean, he sucked at it but still loved heading to several of the clubs for rounds that took forever because he sucked at it. There was once he got muddled on the course and went onto the wrong fairway and played on with someone else’s ball. There was a huge kerfuffle of course. And now I remember Pa’s very characteristic, shrugging sheepishness that accompanied every one of his apologies. People rarely stayed upset with him.

Pa also enjoyed the F&B outlets at Keppel. My mother disliked them, and so these places became venues for him and I to hang out and bond. We’d have giant lunches at the Bib Gourmanded Peony Jade at level one, although this was back when Michelin was just known for tyres. There are also other recent additions like Peramakan – which is quite a pity because this club will be no longer exist when its lease expires in 2021.

But the part of the club I remember my father by most is this Tee Top Golfer’s Terrace. We used to spend some days there just nursing a cold drink (because the food was middling) for hours. We’d both be spacing out, staring into the Singapore Strait and he’d break the silence by asking me questions which showed his concern for me – but which also showed his restraint – because he either didn’t want to pry, or didn’t know how to handle what I might tell him.

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