Raffles Hotel in Singapore has become just the second member of my 'St Peter's Club'; it is so far only the second place in the world where I've been refused admission because of my knees. Or, more precisely, because I was wearing shorts.
"Are you returning to your room, sir?" this little guy in immaculate white uniform asked as he held the door open.
"No, I'm meeting someone."
"Ah, sir ... I'm afraid, for the gentlemen, it is long trousers only in the foyer."
He led me from the doorway and back outside towards a wicker chair set under shade well out of any offensive view by the properly dressed patrons. "You may sit here, sir."
So I did. Mind you, if it hadn't been for the fact that I was meeting somebody, I'd have had the same attitude to the place as when I was turned away from St Peter's Basilica; if God doesn't want me in His house dressed like this, do I really want to be in His house? Then I figured it wasn't God who ran the place, but His minions.
And God doesn't run Raffles either, but somebody's minions do. Funny thing, when I was here the other day, I got into the foyer in the same dress without a problem, but then it was through a back door. Maybe Heaven works the same way?
Anyhow, even if I couldn't get to have a drink at the Writers Bar, off the foyer, I did have a bit of lunch in the Courtyard, and did a little bit of work (including this piece), which was very nice.