It's 5.19am local time and I should be asleep.

I've got a long day ahead of me and I need to be at my best.

However, my brain thinks it's 9.19pm yesterday and owing to my natural night-owl tendencies, isn't remotely tired yet.

It's not that the bed (one of two) isn't comfortable, because it is.

It's not that the room isn't quiet, because it is. I've heard barely any noise since stepping through the door, and the only noises I've heard have been people coming to my room to assist me: the lady who showed me to my room, the bellhop who brought up my suitcase, Butler #1 (I kid you not, this place has Butlers) who came to show me how to use all the features of the room and Butler #2 who brought me hot chocolate at 2am.

It's not that I haven't tried to get to sleep, because I have. I tried avoiding food when I got here, in case it woke me up. I tried having a hot bath. I tried lying down in the dark and closing my eyes. I tried not getting stressed about not being able to sleep. I tried phoning TFH because I miss him and feel very far away. I tried reading. I tried knitting. I tried phoning the lovely Butler people and asking for a hot chocolate. I tried eating something (because I was hungry and my stomach told me it was dinner time). I even tried doing some work.

Nothing has worked.

It's not that I'm hugely excited to see Singapore in the morning, because I doubt I'll see much of it between here and the office where I'll be spending two days working.

It's not that this room doesn't provide the perfect conditions to relax and rest (because it really, really does).

I wondered, when I found out I was coming here, whether I'd wind up in a kind of Lost in Translation-esque combination of jetlag and culture-shock, and it seems I was half right. So far, I haven't felt much culture-shock at all. Most of the signage is in English, as was the radio station playing in the taxi from the airport and most of the TV stations I've flicked through on the telly. Even the plug sockets are the same as back home.

The only real sense of culture-shock I'm experiencing is the luxury of my surroundings and the myriad of nice touches which are combining to make the experience of being here something special.

For example: there's a panel of light switches by the door, with pre-set lighting levels for the bathroom and foyer (I can't think of a better way to describe it) of the room, and one of the settings is "Welcome".

There's a pillow menu with fifteen kinds of pillow that you can request.

The tea menu has ten different kinds of speciality tea in addition to freshly brewed filter coffee, espresso, latte, cappuccino and hot chocolate, available with whole or low fat milk.

In addition to two leather bound notepad and pen sets, there's a stationery drawer, which contains writing paper, a pencil, a stapler and staples, a teeny post-it pad, eraser and sellotape dispenser.

In the bathroom, the toiletries are luxurious, and the amenities provided are way beyond those offered in any hotel I've ever been in (toothbrush and toothpaste, dental floss, shower cap, nail file, q-tips, cleansing pads, tissues as well as soap and lotion) and that's not even getting into the joy that is the deep, free-standing tub and wall-integrated television. That said, I am a little freaked out by the telephone mounted on the wall next to the toilet pan.

It's lovely, and I can't think of any need I have that hasn't been catered for.

I could really get used to this, but I really hope that I never get jaded by it.