Never Step in Dog Poo ...

You never know what you might witness.

You never know what characters for a future tale you might discover.

You never know, until you see it.

And, I think, over the past couple of days, I have seen rather a lot. And, I think I am amazed at my composure at the intriguing behaviour of some people.

My adopted home of Singapore is lauded for its cleanliness and stern attitude towards socially acceptable behaviour. No littering, unless you are looking for a hefty fine and a new orange t-shirt. No spitting, or expelling mucous, unless you have $1,000 to spare, As for ablutions, always flush - but then don't you anyway at home? and woe-betide you if you get caught relieving yourself in the street.

All, socially responsible activities or dis-activities (my word). Although why walking around naked in your own home constitutes an offence beats me? Not to mention the challenges of taking a bath or a shower .. Unless, of course, you are an exhibitionist and insist on leaving the curtains open.

Talking of the street, it is always better to resist the temptation to rummage around in your neighbour's dustbin. Although, that has never stopped the little old man who shuffles out of his gate everyday to inspect the adjacent dustbin.

And, so I turn to my colourful morning walk.

This must be one of those weeks for seeing the best of characters in Singapore.

Most mornings, I follow a similar route. It takes you out of the back gate, and along the fairly tranquil residential streets of Singapore, where you have to side-step, with ballerina-dexterity, both fine and mushy "crottes" of what the dog left behind and someone forgot to clear up. Once you have retained the sanity of your shoes, you then employ the agility of a Cirque de Soleil artiste in avoiding some "crazy rich" local in an oversized, overpowered car.

At some point, I meet a tree-lined street, curiously named Lily Avenue. Although, to this day, I am still on the look-out for lilies. Today, as I continued my search, I noticed a figure man lurking behind a bushier area of trees. The man, as I presumed this character to be, spotted me. He side-stepped the bushes. Then, he turned and began to walk down the road. Nothing untoward in that.

I continued my walk. But, because I am always curious, I glanced back. The man had disappeared back into the cover of the bushes. And then, he stepped out again. No doubt irritatingly disturbed by yet another pedestrian who, this time was walking on the other side of the pavement, rather too close to the clandestine bushes for comfort.

I could not help myself. I stopped, beguiled by the mini drama unfolding.

Once again, the man in the bushes, emerged a little way. He attempted a ballerina twirl - maybe he had spotted a sausage of dog poo? - and then, he hopped back into the bushes.

Riveted by this spectacle, I waited.

The man stood, almost motionless. His arms over his chest, as the kindly bushes enveloped him in their greenery.

The seconds ticked away.

Then it was a minute, and a bit more.

I began to feel bored.

Eventually, the man emerged.

He stood still. He fiddled with his trousers. He turned. He hitched his trousers that looked like they were held up with a piece of string. Taking a note pad and pen from his pocked, he walked off.

I remained conspicuously unnoticed. Maybe I had finally mastered the art of invisibility. Something I have been working on for many years.

Resisting the urge to skip after him and enquire what he had been doing, I could not resist a precursory glance into the bush area, on my way back. Nevertheless, I did manage to resist the urge to complete a forensic investigation of the aforesaid area.

While, the character in question may have been in violation of paragraph 15.1 of Singapore's Environmental Public Health Act, Chapter 95, Section 113, I held no evidence to prove it. And, I am rather relieved I didn't. (I wonder if anyone will notice my incredibly painful puns?).

I wended my way home with a couple of bags of shopping. A totally irrelevant detail to this story. But contextual all the same.

Finally, closer to home, I was greeted by an old man lifting his t-shirt as he walked along towards me, airing his nipples. Probably, temporary embarrassment prompted him to pull his shirt down as he walked past. Only to pull it up again, once he thought I wasn't watching.

But then, that is what I do. I watch. I watch life go on, around and past me.

Life is far more colourful than having my head stuck in a smart-phone.

Life provides characters, and a reality that all too often, we have lost touch with.