Lesley in Hong Kong

Michael Jackson RIP 1958-2009

I was utterly shocked at the news of Michael Jackson's death.  It is so incredibly sad that a man with so much talent is no longer among us.  Now we have speculation about when and where the funeral will be, who will his estate be left to, does he actually have anything to leave or is he in debt.  There are so many questions about his personal doctor and then there's the children and ex-wife...will we ever get to know the true story...

My cynical side has real doubts about whether anyone really cared about Michael Jackson.  Did anyone care enough about him while he was alive to guide him on a less self destructive route?  Was there a single person in his employ or in his family who was close enough to him to take him to one side and say 'Enough already Michael'?  Was the vast fortune just too much for one person to handle and remain sane?  I don't think so.  The music industry took it's pound of flesh and much much more from Michael Jackson and then sat back to watch him implode.  Yes, he made millions and was rewarded for his work but is a life worth that?

I am really concerned that the entertainment industry in general just do not do enough for their artists.  There are too many incidences of death through drug overdoses where actors or singers have been seen to be successful, become famous and then felt the pressure of living a life in the public eye.  They crack.  They turn to drugs to help them cope. It seems accepted in those circles.  It seems normal.  If they are lucky they survive their addiction but are no doubt damaged by the experience.  If we are not reading about an inevitable divorce we are told of a new patient in The Priory.

I think it should be compulsory for all record labels to provide a physiologist for 24 hour consultation to all up-and-coming recording artists to help them cope with a) earning vast amounts of cash b) knowing what to do with it and c) convincing them that mind altering substances are NO  GOOD!

I could add a further suggestion which would involve not actually giving the artist so much cash in the first place and, therefore, reducing the cost of Cd's, concert tickets and eliminating all tacky merchandising from the planet.  I ask the question - Is pop music really worth millions and should individuals such as Paul McCartney, Mick Jagger, Robbie Williams or Amy Winehouse be let loose with wads of cash to squander on drugs and fast living when that money could be given to me - whoops - I mean, given to reducing third world debt and promoting world peace.

I can feel a Monty Python sketch coming on.  Money doesn't buy you happiness.

The Chippy, Pottinger Street, Hong Kong

The Chippy, a truly British experience.

www.chippy.com

The summer holidays are approaching and soon I will be visiting Blighty for a reminder of the culture I am deprived of.  I haven't been home for a couple of years now so the lure of midget gems, fresh Cadbury's chocolate and cream cakes with real cream in them is becoming intense.  The food hall at Marks and Spencer's and all those supermarkets with aisles big enough for 2 trolleys to pass each other with a vast amount of choice will be so lovely. 

Yesterday as a pre holiday treat we went to eat at The Chippy.  It is exactly what you imagine.  It's a chip shop.  A very British chip shop right in Central Hong Kong.  They have recreated the grease and smell of a typical fish and chip shop with a menu that wouldn't be out of place in any town in the UK.  Cod, chips, mushy peas a mug (yes a mug) of tea (Tetleys) and a slice of white bread and butter.   Fish cakes, steak and kidney pie, chips and peas and then the deserts  deep fried Mars bar.  They also offer the full all day English breakfast with black pudding. 

It is all bad but all good on the same place.  I just knew that grease was sticking to my arteries as I was savoring the scrumptious crispy batter on my lovely white flakes of deep fried cod and I knew the butter melting through the white slice as the heat of the chips warmed up the bread was raising my cholesterol levels but Lord I enjoyed it.  The big mug of tea washed all the fat away and left me feeling cleansed yet belt loosening full.

The decor was, obviously, white tiles with a touch of seaside blue dado, a wall of blackboard for the menu, rickety wooden tables all stocked with the condiments you expect.  HP Brown Sauce, Heinz Tomato sauce, salt and yes you've guessed it - vinegar.  The glass counter had pickled onions and pickled eggs on offer in large glass jars.  The only pretentious features of The Chippy in Hong Kong, which you don't often get in England, is the reading material provided for customers - The Sunday Times Magazine.   The background music was BBC Radio 2 live, via the internet. All a bit posh frankly but it's what us expats expect these days!

The whole experience made us feel comfortable and at home.  The only bad thing was knowing we were in Central and had to travel an hour back to the tranquility of Sai Kung in rush hour.  Once our clothes are washed and the smell of deep fried fat is removed we'll be fine.

 I'll be running tonight to work off those calories.

They're Happy Because

They Eat Chips

The Studio in Sai Kung is Saved!

http://www.thestudiosaikung.com/homepage.html

My previous blog about the Perky Buttock Party ended in a tearful moment because at the time of writing THE place to go for exercise in Sai Kung seemed to be doomed.  Sarah is leaving and there was the possibility of The Studio closing.

But fear not. 

A plan of action has been put into place and so I now have no excuse to stop exercising at all.  Is that a good thing?  I was wondering...but after a second of deliberation it became apparent that my perky buttocks and other more toned areas of my body will be saved as I can continue sculpting my muscles.

The even better news is that not only will the classes continue more classes will be offered.  So if you live in the Sai Kung vicinity don't be slovenly and take advantage of this friendly place to get you off the sofa and into exercise in a supportive way.  If you hate lyra, are scared of gyms but want a flat stomach and a higher bottom The Studio is the place for you.

It took me six years before I stepped inside.  That was too long.  Go now and don't delay.  I promise you'll have a good experience and want to go back for more.   The photo shows the intrepid Sarah closing a gap in the earth with her powerful thighs in superman sort of way.  You too could have those thighs!

Nipple Covers

Marks and Spencer's is a very reliable and homey shop.  You just know where you are with M&S. Their products are renowned for lasting many washes, especially their under garments. You can't beat a pair of M&S knickers.

When I was browsing the under garment section I discovered a new product. Something I had never seen before. In a small plastic pouch was 'nipple covers'. I was intrigued by this item but it was not possible to open the package in the shop so, truly believing all M&S products to be of a high standard I made a purchase.

For those of you mystified as to why a girl should require nipple covers I will attempt to throw light on the matter. You see, when its a bit cold, and your top is a bit on the flimsy side, nipples tend to pop out for the world to see. Living in air conditioned Hong Kong this happens a lot. You step inside after being out in a hot and humid 30+ degrees and out they pop.

I thought that using this new fangled item would be the answer to this little problem.

The next morning I decided to try them.  I opened the packet to find they were made from a thin 'band aid' type material in the shape of large daisies. The center of the daisy was a slightly padded circle. It was early, it was dark in my bedroom, I wasn't properly awake to read the 'How to Apply' section on the back of the packet and besides I couldn't find my glasses.

It seemed straight forward. I peeled off the backing paper and stuck them over my nipples, put the rest of my clothes on and  went to work. Never gave them a second thought.   I wasn't aware of people pointing at me on the air conditioned bus saying "Waa look at her nipples sticking out" so I presumed they were working.

When I got home after a hards days toil the first thing I did was strip off and get in the shower. Upon the removal of my clothes I remembered the hastily applied nippled covers as I glanced at myself in the bathroom mirror. Best take them off now I thought to myself.

Easier said than done.  The very thin sticky cover was almost impossible to get hold of. I have nails but I couldn't just get one under the edge of the nipple covers to remove them. I showered. Tried again.  No better. I showered again and used lots more shower gel to soften the fabric (steady on now!).  Still couldn't get hold of the edge to pull them off.  They were well and truly attached to my breasts and did not want to come off.

I found my glasses and the discarded packet and read the instructions. This was not enlightening at all. It just said stick them over nipples, peel them off when you are finished.  No clues, no hints.

About half an hour had gone by since I got home and I was still naked in the bathroom attempting to remove the offending articles.  Eventually I managed to get my thumb nail under the edge of the left one and began to peel it off.  Oh my God! The pain was excruciating.  There was no way I could just rip it off quickly. I had to slowly, slowly, millimeter by millimeter pull it off and try not to pass out with pain.

I have had two children, I have ran a marathon. I know pain. But this? It was really making me feel nauseous. I came out in a hot and cold sweat and began to shiver. Perhaps I was in shock?  I am guessing that the process took about 10 minutes and it was such a relief to remove the torturous devil item from my delicate anatomy. But wait, horror of horrors - there was still the other one to remove.

I was almost crying at the thought.  I had a lie down to physiologically build myself up to the removal of the second nipple cover.

It was the same horrible experience. Sweating, shaking and on the brink of tears.

Gentle readers - do not ever buy these items. They should have a health warning written on the packaging. I definitely do not recommend them. Don't be fooled by the steady and reliable Marks and Spencer's brand.Give them a wide berth and let your nipples be free.

American Idol

For the last, I guess, five years, I have been an American Idol watcher.  To start with I thought it would do no harm.  Just a little fun that wouldn't hurt anyone.  I thought I could stop any time I wanted to.  I thought I was in control.  I thought I was strong.

I was wrong.

Gradually I began to notice that American Idol was controlling my life.  It started to affect my work, my social life, my sleep patterns.  After 3 seasons it began to dawn on me that I was addicted.  I do not use that word lightly.  Not just smitten or hooked.  Addicted.  I have become an American Idoloholic.  No matter what I do I just can't stop watching it.

Each year the auditions start around January and each year I  promise myself I would not watch the particularly humiliating round of delusional Americans being given the uncensored, harsh reality that they cannot sing.  But I am never strong enough.  The lure of humanity being made a fool of is too tempting.  Listening to Simon Cowell tell the painful truth is so satisfying.  Then it gets to the final 100, then final 36, then final 12 and after that I feel involved.  I know each contestant intimately and have established a favourite.  It is a seasonal cycle of compulsory viewing.  The addiction is strong and it just won't release me. 

You see I do feel guilty about this habit.  This high that I get each Wednesday evening and the thrill each Thursday when it's the voting off.  Oh the heartache.  Oh the relief.  A myriad of emotions from the comfort of my sofa.  Why does such enjoyment give me so much guilt.

Dear reader, it is because it is seen as a lowly tv programme.  It's not gritty or edgy, it's not current affairs or hard cutting interview.  It's just a plain old signing competition that warrants no intellectual benefit.  But now that this season is over,  and the boy Kris won and not Adam which I am gutted about but that's another blog, I am at a loss as to how to fill my Wednesday and Thursday evenings.

Then it occurred to me.  Why on earth should I feel guilty about this addiction.  This sensation must be exactly the same as following a football team.  Season after season your team turns out for it's weekly matches, and some mid-week games to keep you salivating.  Then it builds up to a crescendo at the end of the season in a mixture of emotions depending on whether your team is relegated (Newcastle!) or is the Champion (ManU).  I am no different from thousands of male football supporters who are hooked on the match each Saturday and once the season ends they don't know what to do with themselves but wait until the new season starts again.  All those male footy supporters sit around for hours discussing the fortunes of Arsenal or West Ham.  They don't feel guilty.   They are proud.

So roll on January when Ryan will be hosting the next...American Idol.  I think I'll get a foam finger and a scarf for next year!

The Studio, Sai Kung

Yesterday evening was a momentous day in the history of The Studio.  And I mean this most sincerely folks!  Sarah Woodhouse held the long awaited Perky Buttock Party at Sauce.  To make the invitation list required attendance at The Studio in Sai Kung and, most importantly, Sarah had to have been a direct influence on the aforementioned buttocks.  This was no hit or miss affair.  The buttocks were inspected, occasionally even prodded, and needed to pass the non-clenched test in order to make the grade for the party.

I was so relieved to have been deemed perky enough to attend after months, nay years, of squats and lunges under Sarah's watchful, yet demanding eye.  All my hard work had paid off.  It's official, I have perky buttocks.  Well I assume I have as they let me in the party last night!  I did hover by the doorway and read the sign "No Fat Bottomed Girls Allowed" but wasn't challenged so I headed for the bar.

There was food, Sauce did us proud.  After troughing at least 3 deep fried goats cheese yummy morsels I noticed the sign PBD.  I thought it was something to do with it's meat content at first, P for pork, B for beef, D for er... duck?  But no.  It was a warning sign meaning Perky Buttock Disaster.  Other tasty morsels had PDF (Perky Buttock Friendly) or PDA (Perky Buttock Alert).  A handy guide to the calorific content of the grub.  So I had just inadvertently eaten the food containing the most calories.  Whoops...they were great though.  Everything in moderation eh?  Let's have another chardonnay.

Sarah then took the stage (well Pilate's box) and awarded prizes to many of her trusty clients, bestowing them with honours we never even knew existed never mind be worthy of a certificate, for their varied performances in her exercise classes.  I think I shall take to blurting out expletives from now in when in moments of pain.   Instead of gritting my teeth, like us good northern girls have been taught to, it seems yelling "Oh my arse" can result in reward.  

We all got a bit emotional after.  The hankies came out.  The sad but true fact is that Sarah is leaving Hong Kong and heading for Melbourne.  By late August she will be gone.  She is looking for a buyer for her wonderful studio.  Someone to take over the goodwill and client base she has built up over the years.  So far no luck.  There was a cry for people to form a syndicate to ensure that this facility remains in place because, quite frankly, there is nothing else like it. I am living in hope that it will continue to be open and that my schedule classes will actually run for many years to come.

I really have appreciated my time at Sarah's classes (and Lindsay's if Sarah has been away).  My body has gone from saggy to perky in many areas, not only buttocks, and I truly believe that it has had an effect on keeping me sane in this heady, fast paced life that Hong Kong throws at me.  It will be a sad day if it has close.

   ANY TAKERS?

 

By the way, I don't care what anybody says, I like Sarah's taste in music!

Swine Flu

After the flurry of media attention last week we seem to be moving into a week of more low key reporting of the Swine Flu.  Last week the words 'pandemic' and  'killer' where banded about and we were led to believe that we should quit our jobs and go and climb that peak we have always wanted to do...before it was too late.

Ever the optimist I want to believe that the WHO over reacted.  I would be interested to know just how many people contracted ordinary flu and died last week.  I predict it was more that 20, being the now readjusted figure reduced from over 100.  I actually feel a bit sorry for all pigs especially in Egypt where a mass cull is going on right now!

Here in Hong Kong with our recent SARS experience the Government has implemented their Gold Standard method in dealing with Swine Flu.  After one Mexican was found to have the dreaded Swine Flu 300 guests at the Metropark Hotel, Wan Chai where he stayed, have been put in quarantine for one week.  I can think of worse experiences than having to stay in a 4 star hotel for a week although I am told that they are only receiving food from the social services and not the hotel kitchen so life is not such a bed roses within the hotel walls.  But it can't be too bad, comfy bed, Internet connection, tv, gym, corridors to stroll along.  I do wonder if they use the lift and if so do they use their fingers or their keys to press the buttons?

Reporters can be seen on the streets outside the hotel.  Goodness knows what they are waiting for?  Bodies?  I feel they will be disappointed given that the first couple who landed in Scotland exhibiting symptoms have now recovered and have gone home.  Not much a drama in the end.  The 20 people they were in contact with were not quarantined and all in all the reports indicate that the spread is declining, symptoms are mild and not many require hospital treatment.

So what will the newspapers do now?  I suppose it will be back to the giddy heights of the financial tsunami stories and global warming.  ho hum.

BREAKING NEWS   DON'T CALL THE SWINE FLU HOTLINE.....YOU JUST GET CRACKLING

G20 Summit

Sitting in my peaceful (still a bit damp) village in Sai Kung I can watch the outside world via high tech broadband tv and one of the channels piped into my lounge is Sky News.  In an illogical yet regular way I watch Sky Weather each morning before I leave home.  I can venture out into the wilds of Hong Kong streets happy in the knowledge that its raining in the north east and a little overcast with a chance of rain later in Watchet.

I am irritated, daily, by the tone of Sky News.  Their overly dramatic and narrow view of world events feeds its audience with a tabloid mentality, an skewed point of view with an unbalanced emphasis on celebrity and scandal with a smattering of the real news watered down to the essentials.  They claim they have been awarded prizes for their news reporting although this must be for breaking news or perhaps the more technical standing up news while holding a laptop.

Yesterday was a big breaking news day.  I watched live coverage from the City of London of protesters using the G20 Summit to bring attention to their cause.  That varied from anti capitalists who burnt an effigy of a banker hanging from a traffic light to an anti carbon trading group who feel strongly enough to camp out and play music on their solar powered music system all day.   The Sky-copter and the bat-boat, whoops I mean the Sky-boat had been deployed to get as close as possible to the protesters although they were just no where near as good as the camera men on foot who could take close ups of flustered policemen linking arms and keeping the surging crowd encased in a particular are.

For ages they showed a bloodied headed protester goading the the police.  The point being he was a single person in the crowd in a small area but good old Sky News made it seem like the most important thing connected with the G20 - never mind Barack Obama and his meeting with The Queen or the Russian Prime Minister, Medvedev, meeting Gordon Brown.  Oh no the breaking live news from Sky is some insignificant broke with a cut on his head. 

Then they found Russell Brand amongst the crowd and attempted to interview him on his views and philosophy and motivation to attend the protest.  If they had ever listened to Brand they would know that he is planning his own revolution and over and above that has zilch interest in politics.  Mr Brand was predictably disappointing but luckily another scuffle broke out near by so they were off to film up the nose of a protester and, hopefully, find a bit of police brutality - at least a bit of blood.

Damp Patch

Darlings you just can't imagine how difficult it is to live in the tropics.  I know you folk in Europe sit there in your centrally heated homes and look outside at the rain and sleet and snow and are full of longing for the sunshine and heat like wot we have here in Honkers.

But how wrong you would be to assume such a thing.  The sun does not shine all the time and although you might look at the weather reports and see that the temperature today is around 21C it doesn't mean its a nice day.  The relative humidity is 95%.  That is almost like swimming!  It is Grey, misty and claggy.  The humidity is a never ending problem all through the year.  In the summer it makes you sweat buckets and steams up your glasses but in the winter a never ending battle against dampness starts.

It lingers and lurks in every nook and cranny of the house and is particularly nasty in the back of wardrobes and behind furniture.  The bed, the towels, the cushions all have a cold damp feel to them.  And because of the dampness and coolness (yes its all relative) the result is mold.  Black or green mold tends to grow in areas that are not ventilated enough.  Clothes and shoes which are not worn regularly  and stored away start to grow mold.  I know, its quite disturbing to think about rootling about in the back of the wardrobe looking for that top you need for that lovely party only to find it has a streak of mold growing up the sleeve.

How to win the battle against the humidity is the big question.  We have dehumidifying units that look like darleks around the house which help, a bit.  We have small dehumidifying tubs of chemicals which sit in wardrobes and supposedly suck the water out of the air thus keeping the clothes crisp. The help a tiny bit.   I have even heard tell of small heaters for cupboards which keep the clothes from growing mold although where to get them from and how they work is still a mystery.

The only solution to the mold and damp inside the house is to wait until the temperatures go up and although there will still be high humidity the cold, claggy dampness will be pushed away until at least next January.  The weather will change next weekend.  It always does.  I know that because its the Hong Kong Rugby 7s.  That is Hong Kong folk lore.

Offensive or not?

I now have quite a large collection of names which other nationalities use to refer to white folk and they are very nicely displayed in the table below.  I keep adding more as I get them and I am quite sure there are more out there although I do think we could be getting into the offensive bracket if we go any further.  The Lone Ranger reference by Clive may be pushing it a  bit!  It amused me to add the photograph of the black and white minstrels as they are really white people.  Between1958 to 1978 the British were entertained by this act until they were banished to the vaults of political incorrectness together with Love Thy Neighbour and Mind your Language.

I am wondering if Inuits, Inca's, South Pactific Islanders, Jamaicans (oh there must be hundreds) also have a name for me, a white person that is?  How can I get them to read my blog is the question.

Name for White People	Country	Contributor
Gwielo (male)	Hong Kong	Lesley
Gwiepo (female)	Hong Kong	Lesley again
Farang	Thailand	Lesley yet again
Hawaja	Saudi Arabia , Bahrain possible all Middle East please let me know	Me again
Gaijin	Japan	Sykes of Holmfirth and Japan
Mzungu	Kenya	Sarah Hobday
Ang Mo	Singapore	Sarah Hobday
Orang Putih or londo	Indonesia	Drew Wilson
Pakeha	New Zealand	Sarah Gerlach
Palagi (pronounced Palagni	Samoa	Sarah Gerlach
Guiris	Northern Spain	Ayesha Mendham
Suh Yang Sa Ram	South Korea	Bong Sil Lee
Limey	American	Richard Peters
Charlie/Honky	African Americans during Vietnam War	Richard Peters
Gringo	Hispanic	Richard Peters
Gubba	Australian Aboriginal	Richard Peters
Haole	Hawaii	Richard Peters
Kimosabi	Native American Indian (think Lone Ranger!)	Clive Theobald