A Ritual Nightmare
A RITUAL NIGHTMARE I. The episode related here began one bright day in 1962. Some six months earlier, I had taken up my post as Assistant Lecturer in Singapore’s Faculty of Law. My circle of friends was still narrow, comprising mainly lecturers of the English Literature Department. That morning, my head was still buzzing from a drinking bout of the previous evening. Allan had brought with him one bottle of Johnnie Walker Black label and another of fine French cognac. Looking apprehensively at my recent bank statement, I wondered whether I would be able to be equally magnanimous when it was my turn to supply the booze. Then, to my utter surprise, the telephone rang. At first, I wanted to give it a miss. It was still early in the morning; I had not had my breakfast and craved to have my peace. Then, reluctantly,...