Eventually, I was clucked through, and went into the departure hall.

Now. I don't know why I waste time doing the next thing: it never lasts. I found a quiet seat at the back of the hall. Within minutes, THE SEAT NEXT TO ME, became home to the smelliest and most gargantuan example of God's homo sapiens. He had a warehouse of seating to go at, but chose to nestle himself in with me.

Fortunately, Silk Air had been having deep discussions about my bike, and, considering that it would be best inside the cargo hold and not tethered behind the 'plane on a piece of rope, asked me to sign some insurance disclaimer. Don't you just love this about insurance? Something which might have a little more risk than opening a can of Coke, and it's on the exclusions list.

However, attending to this insurance detail allowed me escape the gravitational field of the Chittagong-pong, so was worth it. Saying that, a trek to the South Pole in my pyjamas would have been worth it to get away from him.

Sitting in the 'plane, listing from the humming bulk occupying seat 37A, you advance your watch by 2 hours and 45 years, and arrive at Singapore's Changi Airport.

Here's a little know fact about Singapore's Changi Airport. You can't access it by bicycle. There's the MRT (light rail system) and the expressway. On which it's neither comfortable nor legal to ride your bike. So, transferred to taxi, the 22nd century that is Singapore emerged on the horizon through somebody elses windscreen.

Not much more can be said about Singapore that hasn't already been said. It's a country where even your eyelids sweat. It's the most organised nation on the planet, is delightfully clean and full of friendly folk.

I was in Singapore for just over a week. From day-1, I was looked after by the Land Rover community in the place. I can't mention them all here, otherwise you'd be reading a 'phone book. However, I would like to say a huge thanks to you all. You know who you are, and I'll see you in a few months when I'm back in town, shipping to Australia.

If there is one thing which typifies Singapore, it must surely be this sign.

They appear on the traffic signal electrical panels at road junctions.

If the lights are stuck on red at home, who do you call to sort it out? Nobody knows. But here, there is a 24hour, toll-free number to chat to. And just to prevent ambiguity ("you know, the lights near the zoo, just up from that shop which sells cut priced toilet rolls") there's a signal reference number to quote.

What's more, get this, there are TWO of these signs on each electrical panel!

Being a life-member of the "Let's Organise the Planet Society", isn't this just my heaven?