Tic Talk

My biological clock seems to be ticking much louder than usual nowadays. It must be down to the fact that everyone I know appears to be having babies or getting married in preparation of having babies. And I’m jealous. I know I have lots to be happy about in my life, but there always seems to be something missing!

And the reason I know there’s something going very wrong with my body clock is because we went to see Juno the other day at the cinema, and I started crying because I was jealous of a pregnant 16-year-old... I am quite sure that this is not the sentiment the film was trying to get from me. And so during all of these funny, endearing scenes with the poor girl trying to figure out what to do with this baby that she obviously can’t bring up herself, I was just crying and thinking how lucky she was! It's official, I’m a freak.

And seeing Meko and Dave didn't help. As we dined on the delicious Thai food being served to us at the back of their local corner shop, on formica tables and folding stools amid the shop's back up stock, I couldn't stop cooing and looking at her bump. She is so tiny that it looks like she has stuffed a pillow under her sweater. It's adorable. No, of course I don't know what stuffing a pillow under your sweater looks like. I mean, I certainly have never stuffed a pillow under my sweater to pretend I was pregnant. Of course I haven't...

Anyway, Krusty found a good way to put me off procreation. In fact he found a way to put me off living altogether – he took me to a financial risk magazine's awards ceremony. I can confidently say that this was, without a doubt, the most boring event I have ever been to. Not just because I was the only ‘civilian’ there (so people kept coming up to me offering their business cards, only for me to have to answer, ‘oh, sorry, I don’t have a card, I don’t know anything about money, I’m just here as a lady of leisure’), but also because I had to smile along as I listened to a bunch of men in suits talk about FX rates, equity derivatives, ELDs, CRDs and more... The editor of said risk magazine (a riveting read, I can assure you) finally stood up to give out the awards with a speech that made him seem like the founder of hypnotherapy, and all I could do was go from staring in disbelief at his inCREDibly greasy hair to staring incredulously at the nodding zombie participants of this grim ode to cash... Who would want to bring children into this sort of environment?!

There was one interesting bit to the evening though – the head of communications for an investment bank was there, and while she completed the usual scan of the room to try and find someone more important than us to speak to, she realised that Krusty’s surname was quite peculiar and that she had only ever heard it once before, when she was living in London. In fact, she said, her neighbours had the same surname. In fact, we realised, her neighbours in London were Krusty’s parents! I knew HK was a small place, but this is just...

Anyway, the next day was a much more fabulous affair as I met up with my HKU buddy, the lovely Victor, for lunch. His hair defies gravity, his style defies testosterone, and I realised how much I had missed him as we chomped down on an odd Chinese interpretation of Japanese cuisine.

He invited me to a product launch that night, and I took Krusty along to show him how fun one of these events actually should be in comparison to the suicidal-tendency-inducing shambles of the previous night. We got there by Star Ferry, enjoying the romance of the boat swaying on the water, which rocks you and slows you right down as you admire the reflections on the water of this vibrant city. It’s so much more photogenic at night, when the grey clouds of pollution are impossible to detect.

Once there, we displayed our rank of novices with a long list of PR no-nos... First we were pushed into a room lined with people on one side and a velvet roped corridor on the other. As a heavy curtain had been closed behind us, we couldn’t turn back, so all we could do was ask this troupe of people where to go. They kept saying ‘we are the press, we are the press’ so we tried to find our way out. Someone started edging us towards the empty corridor, which we engaged in, squinting in the dark to try and find the exit. Half way down, we turned to realise that we were in the line of fire of a row of cameras! I am sure that great pictures of us fumbling around with confused frowns will grace the front pages of the society sections this weekend... How embarrassing.

We finished the walk of fame – or walk of shame, rather – and continued to get frustrated as we couldn’t find a drink. We stopped in a corner, realised that everyone was dressed appropriately fashionably and that Krusty’s overcoat and laptop look coupled with my riding boots and jacket look were a little out of place... We soon left, preferring the spicy wanton soup next door to the fabulous sweat pit. Oh how I have aged!

So maybe I AM ready to trade in standing around in a crowded room of opportunists looking for a free glass of champagne for sitting at home with an opportunist looking for a free bottle of breast milk... But I’m ready to give the party scene one more try before I do. And next week has big brand catwalk shows and Chinese fashion magazine launches written all over it.

Baby, it ain't over ‘til it’s over.