That pretty much said it all

Trips to Hong Kong are never that sort of holiday.

I was looking at the entry I wrote last night and think that that’s just about sufficient for my trip to Hong Kong.

I can report that I found my original flash drive in the office. I’d left it in the USB port of the computer near the door. It’s very easy to do that. I’m also often worried that I’m going to wash it one day, which is what I thought I’d done on this occasion. [21.08.13. I’ve washed the drive at least once, but having left it to dry out, found that its operation was unimpaired; I’ve also lost it several times when I’ve been distracted before leaving the classroom.] When I bought the new flash drive from the Wan Chai Computer Centre, I went into a shop selling mobiles and asked if it was possible to set the phone up so that I could add Chinese characters to text messages. He managed it in the blink of an eye, and I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to figure out what he’d done. As it turns out, there’s a hidden menu when you’re writing text messages with the option of a secondary method of input.

When I went to Wan Chai MTR station, I used to go through Southorn Park to the entrance beside it. Around the edge of the park, the old men like to sit and watch what’s going on, but there was one day when the council workers were spraying the path with a hosepipe and all the old men looked like they were being scattered like leaves by the jet of water.

Lust, Caution was an over-long rendition of Eileen Chang’s short story which I’d read the previous evening. The story is, by and large, a summary, with the focus being the scene in the jeweller’s when the lovers go to get the ring and she warns him to leave. The bonking scenes will ensure that the film will only be seen on DVD here. In fact, I thought most of the bonking was unnecessary and the scene where the students murdered Tsao wasn’t in the original story and rather overblown. It wasn’t a bad film, but it was another where judicious editing might’ve reduced the length to the 80 or 90 minutes Eileen Chang’s story was worth.

Speaking of authors much unloved by Nanny, I bought Wei Hui’s Shanghai Baby out of curiosity more than anything. I skimmed through it at high speed yesterday afternoon. My impression is that it’s the tale of an over-privileged girl whose life bears little resemblance to much of her generation. I couldn’t help but wonder how Coco can swan off to the airport in a taxi (expensive) at a moment’s notice and be buying plane tickets at the airport (presumably also expensive) if she’s meant to be a waitress. Where did the money come from? I’ll read the book properly in due course. I also had a look at Marrying Buddha, which Alison had a copy of. Seemed to be a tale of irresponsibility without significant consequences. [21.08.13. At the time I think the book was still banned on the Mainland, but since then I’ve seen it on sale in the Foreign Languages Bookshop in Shanghai.]

I note that the RSS feeds from Tokyo Times have been out of action for some time and the feeds from Japundit have now gone the same way, although they were all right last week. I’m mentioning this partly because I’m still getting a lot of hits via RSS feeds at the moment. Obviously Nanny has been sitting in the control room in Beijing wondering how else she can annoy the Cyberians and what other petty impediments she can impose on them. “I haven’t messed with RSS feeds before,” said Nanny, and started flicking switches on the control panel. “Ooh! The red lights!” she said and swooned orgasmically at the sight of the rubicund glitter.

We seem to be having fun and frolics with the lifts in the building. One of them was stuck on this floor; then both seemed to be stuck; now one is working, but the other isn’t, and is still stuck on this floor. The lifts are a pain in the arse at times. You press the button and the lift on the ground floor heads up to the 10th floor, while the lift on the 11th floor gradually comes down to you. Or you summon the lift from the ground floor; it stops for you; and then goes to the 11th floor out of spite. The stairwells aren’t lit between this floor and the ground floor, which makes them a little dangerous. Actually, the lights appear to be out so that the people working in the massage place can have a sneaky shag. Since I’m only on the fourth floor, I don’t really need to take the lift.

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