Albert does it again

I have only gone and found a new quote from that clever little Einstein that quite accurately defines Krusty and me:

"There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."

I am sure you can guess who's who.

15 days to go...

I’ll definitely miss the daily walk in to work in the morning. Of course the initial hurdle of the aroma is a little tough, but once I get past the smell of shriveled scallop at the bottom of the building, it’s a real delight.

First I skip across the road, avoiding buses and trams and soliciting all sorts of cries of admiration from the local boys delivering the seafood. Then I dip into a side alley, where lots of very tanned men with no shirts on and insane six pack abs and cigarettes hanging out of their mouths scuttle around with trolleys loaded up with boxes, like a colony of frowning ants. In this alley there is only one man who notices me usually, and he always greets me with a bellowing ‘hello’, surprising all of the other workers. He really makes me feel like I belong to this little villagey community.

At the end of the alley, past the tiny park of chirps where the oldies bring their birdies to watch them meditate, I turn into Hollywood Road, past the coffin makers. There are no dull, square angle coffins here, only curvy red wood affairs that look a little like people in the 50s imagined flying cars would look like in the future. Maybe their predictions were wrong, and the Jetsons actually shoot around in flying coffins in those cartoons…

Next up are the paper-offering sellers, but you already know everything about those thanks to Krusty’s pipe burning for gramps. By this time I am drenched, as the whole walk is up a steep hill and the humidity levels in the air are never far below 90%. By now I also start to realize why people take taxis everywhere, even for short distances, but by the next morning I’ll have forgotten again. Right when I get a little too hot and sweaty though, I get to walk past the frozen meat wholesaler, and chill out there for a second as I watch the guys lift the steaks in their heavy coats while the rest of us find a mere t-shirt too cumbersome.

The final leg of the walk is in Cat St, where there are all sorts of antiquey rubbish on sale, from mini Maos to posters of Michael Caine, from tin planes to lucky bracelets and trinkets. Maybe I’ll just have to find a reason to walk here in the morning once I have finished, to make sure that I can still get my daily fix of the Sheung Wan neighbourhood…

The day after

Well, we did it, we were British enough to have a BBQ in the rain, and it was a success! The rain stopped just long enough for people to come over, and we spent the day grilling and chilling instead of watching DVDs under the duvet.

A few too many G&Ts were consumed however, and I would really love it if the church-going Philippinas to whom we have allowed access to the roof for the day would stop doing their 'Jesus I love you long time' dance, as it isn't really very hangover friendly...

Housechilling

At some point in the last three months, we must have done something to really p*** off the weather gods.

The first time we tried to have a Housewarming party, the forecast was for terrible terrible rain so we cancelled it, and then, on the day, the sun came out and it turned out to be a lovely day. We had a fridge full of food and no one to eat it.

So this time, when we saw that it might rain, we decided to stick to our guns and go ahead anyway. This morning though, at 7am, we witnessed the biggest thunderstorm I have ever seen. I don't know whether it is being in an old commercial building by the sea as opposed to a swanky residential tower on a mountain, but I can't remember seeing thunder and lightening THIS bad.

Determined to have a hardcore "we're English, rain doesn't scare us" attitude though, we went down to buy some drinks for the day's festivities. That is, we tried. As we got to the bottom of our staircase, we found out that the entire street was completely flooded and that people were wading knee-deep in water.

Of course Krusty just couldn't resist wading out himself to get a better look, so we got some good evidence of the situation in the street.

It is now 9.30am, I have cancelled Housewarming no2, and the storm has, if anything, got worse.

Looks like this house is very far from ever being warmed...

Then again we shouldn't complain - we live in DRIED seafood street, and the water has risen to shop level. It's really sad watching those guys bailing the water out away from their stocks. In fact, you'd think that if you were going to set up a dried seafood street, the further away from the water, the better. Here we are in some kind of valley with terrible plumbing. I wonder if the guys up on the peak realise what is going on beneath them, or if it's just us, stranded amid the shark's fins?!

Pilates

Looks like a load of people laying around resting, but it's actually a pretty effective torture mechanism for gym teachers on a power trip.

I am not sure I will actually be able to walk tomorrow. Or sit, or move at all, for that matter...

Pilates people, I am sorry I ever called you lazy.

There's no escape

This week, sick and tired of being surrounded by Chinese stick insects who trough on fried rice but remain rake-thin, reminding me all the while of the devastating effects that joining them in their carb-intensive diet has had on me, I became the reluctant member of a gym.

I am actually quite pleased to have access to the Yoga classes, if only for relaxation purposes (although this is a bit of a factory gym, with relaxation becoming a communal project undertaken by at least 40 people per class...), but I had no idea that this is where all of the models hang out. So while I, scarlet-faced and sweat-drenched, am trying to ignore the pain the last sets of abs caused me, these mostly Eastern European clothes hangers are standing around, posing in their tiny shorts and lifting nothing heavier than their mini Evian bottles. I wouldn't mind if they were actually doing any exercise, but having a bag of bones just standing next to my running machine is far from comforting.

Although instead of the urge to become like them that most other ladies there probably have, it does fill me with so much rage that my rpm increases dramatically. Making my heart beat as fast as possible is the only way I can quieten the urge to scream 'Just Eat Something'!

And there are some other interesting things to look at, like the hilarious body builders kissing their biceps with each weight lifted, the strange older men with their city shoes and out-of-date eyewear and the girls like me, who have just had one too many cocktails...

Oh well, Pilates tonight, let's see how that goes.

Berry Noire

Krusty worried me last night by calling his Blackberry his "rechargeable wife", but now I am even more worried because I realise he is absolutely right! People walk around attached to these machines that ask for their attention, need stroking occasionally and are helpful almost always, when they are not nagging for a reply at unseemly times like dinner and bedtime... Think about the slang for a wife - ball and chain, trouble and strife... Sounds like a Blackberry to me.

But what worried me WAY more than this is that, now that I have decided to start my own business, I... well... I actually want my own! Although having a "rechargeable husband" will be interesting, especially when Krusty disappears off on one of his business trips again... Shame on me!