I am sure it is nothing new for fathers, teachers and mentors. It must be a sign of age, given that most people read about historical events in books, as opposed to witnessing it themselves. In my case, it made me think back to more than a decade ago, when I was the proverbial callow youth of 21.

It was a case of deja vu during my recent three-week overseas In–Camp Training stint in Shoalwater Bay Training Area, where I spent three weeks. It is located in the little town of Rockhampton, with a population of just over 74,000, in the Australian state of Queensland.

It was my second deployment there, after the first one as a full-time national serviceman (NSF) in 2000. But having been downgraded two years ago due to a bad back, the only battles I fought this time round took place on a computer screen and in an air-conditioned room.

I was sent to help out in simulated war games between my unit and the 'enemy', where I worked with a group of full-time national servicemen on the cusp of finishing their two-year national service (NS) stint.

They were the same age as I was when I first went to Rockhampton 11 years ago. Watching them snack non-stop on cookies, chips and candy, and relentlessly 'exercising' on their portable PlayStations during lull periods, I could not help but picture myself when I was 20.

REMINISCING

I did not snack as much then, but our little chats revealed that we have much in common. National Service was six months longer then, but my preoccupations were the same as every NSF: waiting to finish my tour of duty, to further my studies and to get on with my life.

It is almost difficult to recall having such high-energy levels and being able to put up with so much more physical hardship. My platoon-mates and I once walked almost 50km with 25kg field packs for a training exercise, a feat completely beyond me now.

There was also the ability to sleep at any time, any place: rocky ground, a noisy helicopter, a rat-infested bunk. The NSFs proved that this priceless talent is still being passed on, by bedding down on a dusty, sandy floor in between shifts.

I do not know if they will come to feel the same way, but national service was a much more carefree time, mainly because the realities of the working world and greater responsibilities beyond myself were still a long way off.

I do know that the prospect of getting old(er) is probably a distant one for them. Upon discovering my age - 31 - one of the NSFs exclaimed: 'Wah, that’s ancient.'

I would have smacked the little brat, but I contented myself with the knowledge that a decade from now, some young punk of an NSF will be calling him the same thing.

But it was hard to begrudge them anything. After all, I know what it is like to train in an area three times the size of Singapore and filled with all kinds of wildlife.

It is even hotter in the day now - up to 40 degrees - and colder at night, when the temperature drops below 20. And there is still sand and dust everywhere. Lots of it.

In fact, the amount of sand churned up by men and metal must have been enough to build the foundations of another Marina Bay Sands. All you had to do was take an extended ride in a five-tonner truck, and you would be covered in the stuff.

There are also some very sneaky marsupials to deal with. One night, standing outside the command post in pitch dark while checking my mobile, I heard a rustling in the bushes.

I turned to my left and could just about make out two kangaroos hopping away furiously. Attracted by the light of my phone, they had crept up to within a metre of me.

But we have all come home now, and the NSFs have just a month before their ORD (Operationally Ready Date), when, just like me, they will yell the age-old cry: ORD loh!

So, good luck in whatever you do, boys. Just remember that you still have another 10 more years of ICTs ahead of you.

I'm about to find out. On Saturday morning, May 28, I will begin a "Twitter trip", travelling around Hong Kong for 24 hours on a budget of $100, based entirely on your Twitter recommendations.

Follow my live updates and share your ideas with me here:

How you can help:

- Know Hong Kong like the back of your hand? Share your best travel tips with me at www.twitter.com/incoherentboy.

- I am looking to explore places that are off the beaten track, so try and avoid recommending the usual touristy places. Tell me where the hidden gems are instead.

- Use the hash tags #hktwitrip and #hongkong in your tweets. Include actual addresses (e.g. 487 Nathan Rd) and not hyperlinks, whenever possible.

- Give me geographically relevant tips. For example, if I am in Kowloon, tell me about a place that is within walking distance or a few MTR stops away. I've got only 24 hours and $100 to play with!

I've plotted out some of the recommendations I've received so far from my Twitter followers. Check them out on this Google Map.

View Hong Kong Twitter Tips in a larger map

Flowers should know - Le Tissier, considered by many to be the most naturally gifted player of his generation, once smashed a 35 yard lob into his net after dribbling past two defenders.

English football fans will remember Le Tissier as a gifted player who lit up the Premier League throughout the 90s with his extravagant skills.

They will also remember him for strolling around the pitch looking generally disinterested, before suddenly bursting into life with a late equaliser/winning goal.

Today, the former Saint (Southampton’s nickname) has written a book of self-deprecating wit and outspoken honesty called Taking Le Tiss: My Autobiography.

Wry comments on his lack of fondness for running abound. Upon being told by a referee that playing on a frozen pitch would be fine provided the players only gave 90 per cent, Le Tissier declared that he was not raising his work rate for anyone.

Former England captain Alan Shearer even notes: ‘I wasn't surprised when Matt asked me to write the foreword to his autobiography. After all, I did all his work for him when we were teammates.’

Despite being a football pundit who is still actively involved in the game, Le Tissier is also not afraid to slag off various individuals such as former Southampton chairman Rupert Lowe ('people called Rupert should not be running football clubs'), a man who once tried to appoint a rugby coach as the club’s manager.

There are surprising revelations too - the two England managers who ultimately dropped him (Terry Venables and Glenn Hoddle) actually tried to buy him for Spurs and Chelsea respectively at club level.

Much of Le Tissier’s bile is reserved for Hoddle, who was ironically his boyhood idol and later also his manager at Southampton.

Many thought he had found a soulmate in Hoddle, who had also been considered a highly gifted, yet lazy, player. Instead, he left him out of the 1998 World Cup squad and left him to find out through the media.

11 years on, the memory is still a bitter one: ‘I shouldn't think he regrets it though - people that arrogant are never wrong.’

Le Tissier also denies the common accusation of a lack of ambition, pointing out that he played at the highest level and for his country. But the fact remains that he stayed at Southampton for 13 years while the likes of Shearer and Flowers moved on to bigger clubs.

Despite his forthrightness, the mystery of why a man who scored an astonishing 209 goals in 540 games from a midfield position only played for England eight times is never quite resolved.

Or perhaps the answer lies in incidents such as when Le Tissier fainted in training due to the effects of having had too many sausage and egg mcmuffins.

All in all, Taking Le Tiss is a highly entertaining read, with Le Tissier’s wit, charisma and love for Southampton shining through.

To be fair, the festival was never a big thing when I was growing up in the 1980s. As far as I can tell, it's only really grown in popularity in recent years.

Luckily my first time turned out to be a highly memorable one, full of vivid sights that will live long in the memory.

I was at the centre of the action at the bridge leading from Riverside Point to the clubs and bars of Clarke Quay, amid hundreds of revellers dressed as everything from devils and ninjas to geisha girls and Scooby Doo.

Singaporeans come out to play for Halloween.
PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

An enterprising stallholder was selling hairbands with glowing horns to those who did not come in costume, but many did not need it.

In a carnival atmosphere reminiscent of Mardi Gras, the night was full of little spontaneous outbursts that livened up the whole atmosphere.

Like the surreal sight of Watchmen's Rorschach calling out to X-Men's Wolverine: "Logan! Come on over for a picture, it’s a superheroes gathering!"

'Wolverine' gets up close with a she-devil. PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

Watchmen's Rorschach isn't scared of H1N1.
PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

Or the Roman who got his toga pulled up by his friend, only to reveal that he was wearing nothing underneath, to moans and cheers from onlookers.

Just below the bridge, partygoers admired one another's costumes and sportingly posed for photos with one another that were guaranteed to find their way onto Facebook the next day. A man dressed as a soft drink even caused a small commotion when numerous individuals ran after him for a picture.

Many came dressed to party, and had clearly put in effort into their costumes.

"Eh, I even did research," said one dressed as a parking attendant, who proudly showed off his big hat and small slingbag with an equally small umbrella hanging from it. He looked so convincing that I almost thought he was going to issue me a summons, even though I hadn't driven there.

Perhaps the anonymity provided by the costumes – a Scream mask here, a ninja hood there – and the haze of alcohol were what ensured a no-holds-barred party.

Nevertheless, even those without masks contributed to the carnival.

A Michael Jackson circa 1985, treated the crowd to an impressive dance display, before slinking away into the night like his very own one-man flash mob.

Standing in a corner, three Brits dressed as old women with mightily impressive fake breasts cackled away in character.

Cackling 'ladies' at Clarke Quay's Halloween celebrations.
PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

Then came my favourite moment of the night: four revellers in iconic costume who sparked a spontaneous cry of "Ghostbusters!", to the tune of the famous song.

Who you gonna call? PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

And of course, the night would not have been complete without the debilitating effects of booze.

My friend, who was in surgical scrubs, arrived at Clarke Quay so sloshed that he actually looked like he was in need of medical attention himself. "I cannot take it, I have to go home already," he moaned after about an hour.

I might have sympathised, but I was too distracted by some Japanese schoolgirls.

Hope all of you had a rocking Halloween.

I  raised the point last week, with a blog entry on the word 'boomz', What does 'boomz' really mean?.

I suggested, tongue firmly in cheek, that Ris Low was an artist who created the word in a sudden burst of creative endeavour, then intentionally left its meaning unclear to mystify us all.

I added that the all-purpose word would eventually come to mean all things to all men (though a friend mischievously suggested that 'boomz' might well be the sound of prison gates clanging shut, given Ms Low's recently unearthed history).

Predictably enough, more than a few readers misunderstood the intended irony of the blog post. Some accused me of promoting bad English, while others spoke of Ms Low in terms usually reserved for convicted criminals.

Notwithstanding the fact that she has actually been convicted in a court of law (though this may well have had something to do with her unfortunate bipolar condition), it was all enough to make my head go boomz.

But one reader hit the nail on the head with the following observation:

" 'Boomz' defies a standard definition and can be used by all and sundry for every circumstance. The genius of Ris Low is that she has created a word that can mean anything to anyone. All the great words that enter our cultural lexicon have this unmistakable 'every-man' appeal."

Sure enough, Ms Low validated this point in her now famous Sunday Times interview: "If I cannot find the right word, I'll just go 'boom'! I have no idea where that comes from. It's like a comic book effect."

While it would be a stretch of anyone's imagination to acknowledge her as a genius, it must be said: There aren't that many people who can get everyone quoting them with just one soundbite.

Even though Ms Low is undoubtedly a polarising figure, she has arguably had a lasting impact on popular culture here. Facebook, YouTube and Twitter already bear the mark of her imprints (or should that be 'impreence'?)

So I daresay that, sooner or later, someone is going to use 'boomz' in an advertising campaign. This will then be followed by the obligatory, and no doubt prolonged, agonised soul-searching over the standard of English in our country.

Then, like the ugly step-child we had initially refused to acknowledge, we will grow to love it and embrace it. Before you know it, tourism campaigns will be urging visitors to visit our boomz island and help the economy go boomz.

Then the day will come when we will reach out, and come together to unveil our National Day slogan: Singapore Boomz!

In all seriousness, there is no doubt that standard English is important. But new words are being invented every day, intentionally or otherwise, and who is to say which are valid and which are not?

So let the debate about bad English, standard English and Singlish go on.

At the end of the day, the thankless task of improving the standard of English in this country will fall to our tireless teachers, who can only do so much.

Personally, I can't wait to see how the use of the word evolves. In fact, I'm feeling pretty boomz about it.

Read more:
Ris Low gives up crown

Whether among friends or strangers, on the MRT or the bus, on Facebook or YouTube, it's been resounding everywhere, like a bad trance remix of some rap song.

It's become apparent to me that Ris Low, the unwitting pop culture phenomenon of 2009, has created a word that will surely become a permanent part of our cultural lexicon.

Unlike 'leopard preence' and 'zipbra', this was no malapropism - rather, it was a deliberate, spontaneous, wildly successful attempt to invent a whole new word.

The more prosaic explanation is that she probably meant to say 'va va voom', and badly messed up the pronounciation.

I disagree.

I think Ris Low is an artist. I think what she has created will stand the test of time.

Along with 'kiasu', 'wayang' and the ubiquitous 'wah lau', 'boomz' will surely come to occupy pride of place in the Coxford Singlish Dictionary.

In years to come, we will fondly tell our grandchildren stories of where we were when we first heard the word. And how it made us fall over in our chairs with laughter.

And yet, no one quite knows what it means.

People bandy sentences like "I'm feeling so boomz" and "I’m wearing something boomz" about, often to peals of laughter, but don’t really know what they are saying.

Like Eric Cantona with all his talk of seagulls and trawlers, Ris spun her mysterious web of mispronounced words, then loved us and left us, forever holding her peace (though some of us would probably rather she never spoke again).

Wherefore art thou, Ris? Why will you not come forth in your rad beegini and your profound knowledge of steel, to enlighten us?

Perhaps it is simply meant to be this way. Perhaps, like some holy scriptures handed down to us by the divine, we must needs some prophet to interpret the Word for us.

Or maybe Ris was right. Maybe it really is all about ME. Maybe I can use 'boomz' any way I like, with scant regard for what it actually means.

But surely that won't do. We need a standardised definition, one that can be preserved for posterity long after Ris fades from the scene. Something we can all agree on, and use forevermore.

So - what do you think 'boomz' means? Do tell us, so we can all use it together.

Not my words, but those of former ST reporter Koh Buck Song, who travelled to Kashmir in 1996. His article on the trip lies framed and hanging on the wall of a houseboat in Srinagar where he stayed.

ST PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

By sheer coincidence, I stayed in the very same houseboat on Dal Lake for a night, during five days of travel in the region bitterly contested by India and Pakistan since 1947.

Abdul, the genial butler who served Buck Song 13 years ago, remembers him as “a very good person”.

A quick glance through the houseboat’s guestbook also revealed a surprisingly large number of Singaporeans who stayed there in August alone.

ST PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

Our hosts noted that they had entertained many Asian tourists, mainly from Singapore, Malaysia and Hong Kong. Nevertheless, we attracted curious looks and concealed giggles from locals seemingly unaccustomed to seeing Chinese faces, as we walked around town.

According to our guide, Srinagar largely attracts domestic tourists, with Westerners often staying away due to the ever-present threat of violence. Bobbing on a shikara (river taxi) around Dal Lake and admiring the floating gardens, one wondered how the serenity of the place could ever be disturbed.

Traders haggle at the early morning floating market on Dal Lake. -- ST PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

But just as Buck Song travelled amid the spectre of unrest all those years ago, so the knowledge that tensions bubbled just beneath the surface was never far away from our minds. Just last month, hundreds were arrested in Srinagar for rioting, amid allegations that Indian troops had raped and murdered two local women. Lonely Planet also advises travellers to check the latest updates on the security situation in Kashmir before venturing there.

But despite the presence of Indian troops with guns everywhere, we were never made to feel unsafe during our stay in Leh and Srinagar. Instead, we pondered the words of the 17th century Mughal emperor Jahangir in praise of the beauty of Kashmir: “If there is a paradise on earth, it is this, it is this, it is this.”

Walking in the Shalimar gardens that Jahangir had built in honour of his deceased wife, against the backdrop of the spectacular Himalayan mountain ranges, it was easy to see why he had uttered those words. Perhaps it also becomes easier to understand why India and Pakistan have fought three wars over the region, the most recent in 1999.

At the Shalimar Gardens, with the Himalayan mountain ranges in the distance. -- ST PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

Locals enjoying themselves at the Shalimar Gardens. -- ST PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

Dileep, our concierge at the hotel in Leh, indignantly told me: “If you look at a map, Kashmir is really the head of India. And Pakistan wants to take it away from us because it is so beautiful.”

I could not help but feel that talking to a Pakistani would only elicit equally heated sentiments about the region’s rightful ownership. But all talk of conflict and dispute were lost amid the peace and serenity of Kashmir. We merely counted our blessings for the opportunity to be amidst paradise on earth, even if it was just for a little while.

Sitting on the edge of the Indus Valley. -- ST PHOTO: Nicholas Yong

The NDP Photo Caption contest, which is now into its fourth week, is getting a more than enthusiastic response.

A photo runs every Tuesday, with instructions to complete the phrase, "I'm proud to call Singapore home because..." in no more than 25 words, in a way that best describes the photo.

While we have received some outstanding efforts, some readers evidently took the instruction to "come up with the most creative and quirky caption" to heart.

Or depending how you look at it, they failed to read the earlier part of the phrase more carefully.

The first photo, of some elderly men watching a game of checkers, produced this stellar effort: "because crude and gross looking old men have the intellectual capacity to play chess".

Another was highly optimistic about the curative effects of checkers: "because she has a natural cure for Parkistan's (she meant Parkinson’s) Disease: she turns our seniors into Mr Busy, keeping their minds running and limbs active".

One gentleman evidently believes that the nation possesses weapons of mass destruction: "because we can plan our strategy for nuclear disarmament in the OPEN, so long as members of our FORCE 09 are all EARS, EYES and FEET".

Meanwhile, the second photo, of some children on a playground, saw an entry with shades of George Orwell’s 1984: "because no one is left out of our government's thoughts, not even the children".

Another had an impeccable flow of reasoning: "because we can see our children from the house — HDB — safe".

But it was the third photo, of some anglers fishing by a river, that threw up the most memorable entries.

Most were enamoured of the fishing analogy, with one proclaiming: "because it's where I was taught to fish". Another evidently had the Republic's famed cleanliness in mind: "because Singapore waters are so clean that fishes caught are safe to eat, no worries".

Others seem to have looked at the photo in question and seen something else altogether.

One wrote: "because it's warm, nice and there's no need for winter clothes". Another said that his love for the country stemmed from the fact that "Singaporeans are such a cohesive and entangled lot".

But my personal favourite is this: "I'm proud to call Singapore home because I am proud to be Singaporean".

Can't argue with that, all right.

If you ask me why I'm proud to call Singapore home, my answer is this: because Singaporeans will write just about anything to get closer to NDP.

There are other reasons of course, but that should make for a "creative and quirky caption".

Do keep those entries coming, readers. We look forward to reading each and every one of them.

Read more about this year's NDP preparations and competitions.

Speaking at a welcome ceremony for the airline at Changi Airport’s Budget Terminal last week, its managing director Eddy Leong noted that Firefly is not actually a ‘budget airline’.

This even though it is offering a promotion one way fare of $31 all in for its Malaysian destinations, and is only the third airline to be based at the Budget Terminal.

Mr Leong pointed out that Firefly offers all the services of a full-cost carrier - free baggage allowance of up to 20 kg, and complimentary in-flight refreshments.

He even joked that Firefly does not charge its passengers to board the aircraft, a reference to the numerous ancillary charges - such as for baggage or refreshments - that low-cost airlines typically impose. Instead, the Malaysia Airlines subsidiary prefers to be known as a ‘community airline’ - whatever that may mean.

Firely is likely mindful of the negative connotations typically associated with budget airlines, also known as discount or no-frills airlines. These stem from numerous complaints about anything and everything: flight delays, an inability to reach the airline by phone, the length of time needed to obtain a refund, and poor customer service in general.

Figures from CASE show that the number of complaints against low-cost airlines have risen to 108 just within the first six months of this year, compared with 157 for the whole of 2008.

Many readers have also written to The Straits Times Forum about their experiences, with one even concluding: “Ever notice that the budget airlines never promote their ‘service’? That's because it's not part of the bargain.”

Many agree that you get what you pay for. But as someone once pointed out, every paying customer is entitled to a minimum level of service.

It remains to be seen whether the so-called community airline will serve its community better than the likes of Tiger, Jetstar or Air Asia. Nevertheless, it is well-placed to take full advantage of the traffic between Singapore and Malaysia, and the consistent demand for the services of budget airlines.

Official statistics show that Malaysia received almost 11 million visitors from the Republic last year. But only some 3 per cent of them travelled by air, with the vast majority crossing by land.

Acting Director General of Tourism Malaysia Amirrudin Abu, expressed hopes that the expansion of air services would help lessen the congestion at Johor Bahru.

Be that as it may, we should also hope that Firefly and its competitors will provide the right level of service.

The US economy is going through the most serious downturn since the Depression. There’s a rising tide of public anger against fraud and mismanagement in the financial sector.

The American people, and by extension the world, are looking for some reassurance.

So what does the president of the United States do? He goes on one of the country’s most popular late-night talk shows.

If you think about it, US President Barack Obama’s appearance on The Tonight Show was the perfectly natural thing to do.

After all, his presidential campaign saw him bantering on-air with every talk show host from Ellen Degeneres to Jon Stewart.

So he was on comfortable ground; after all, The Tonight Show is hardly 60 Minutes.

And in spite of his gaffe about the Special Olympics, Mr Obama was everything he always is: almost supernaturally calm, measured and unflappable.

Mr Obama fielded softball everyman questions (“Where’s all the money from the bailout gone?”), drawing much applause from the audience. In simple, concise language, he gave the appearance of being very much in control (“Ultimately, all this stuff is my responsibility.”)

Perhaps even more importantly, the President was entertaining. He found time to joke about his daughters, college basketball and even plans for a White House dog.

In other words, he was the ideal talk show guest.

So why did Mr Obama choose to become the first sitting American president to appear on a US talk show?

Perhaps it was simply due to the well-known fact that more Americans get information about current events from the talk shows than from daily news programmes.

His appearance certainly drew attention; the Tonight Show saw its fourth-highest ratings in its 16 year history.

Maybe it also had something to do with his approval ratings taking a dip recently, in tandem with the public’s fears about the faltering economy.

A Pew Research Center poll taken this month found that his ratings had slipped to - a still very much respectable - 59 per cent from 64 per cent last month.

To be fair, Mr Obama’s appearance didn’t please everyone. Some accused him of cheapening the office of the president, while others said he was risking overexposure.

Such criticism misses the point. In these times, Americans naturally want to know that the country is headed in the right direction.

So Mr Obama did what he does best: he communicated. More importantly, he did so effectively, via arguably the most effective tool.

And maybe it’s important to do so at a point in his presidency when he is still immensely popular, and people are still prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt.

In other words, he needs to show that yes, he still can.