And just like that...

It's been a muggy, humid day in HK - which seems to be pretty standard for this time of the year, to judge by my experience.  The sun's been out but low, slate-gray clouds are ever present and a typhoon is on the way, due to arrive tomorrow (although that may change - the weather can be capricious). The humidity settles on everything like a warm, damp blanket, soaking everyone in a slight sheen of sweat.  If I'm charitable, I'd say some people glow - others just drip.

I ventured into Central to meet S for lunch, in a tiny little place in a back street which served delicious Japanese food.  I'm not sure what the dish was called, but the pork, egg and rice concoction that I had was fantastic - exactly the kind of meal that I wouldn't have had, if I hadn't have been with my very own local guide.  I should have taken pictures, really - I will if (when) I go back - but I was too busy enjoying the meal and catching up on the gossip with S.

From there, I dodged the rain showers and headed back to Central MTR station and headed north, across the harbour and up to Lai Chi Kok (no sniggering at the back).  A short (but frustrating - quick tip to everyone else in HK: why not put your phone away and look where the hell you're going? Just a thought.) walk took me to an anonymous government building.  Three escalators led me into a packed room, full of noise and people.  I handed a piece of paper to a wiry old woman behind a glass screen: she took my thumbprints, scribbled on the piece of paper and handed me a small piece of plastic.

And just like that, on just another ordinary day, with no fanfare or ceremony, nothing to mark the moment in anyway, I received my ID card and became a "proper" citizen of Hong Kong.  

Carr Tax

As I think I've said previously, I don't often blog about current affairs, mostly because while I may be interested, I'm remarkably ignorant about a lot of the issues and I'd rather not weigh in on a topic and make a complete arse of myself.  Having said that, I feel the need to weigh in on a topic and make a complete arse of myself.


From a distance of 6,000 miles, I've been mildly amused by the whole Jimmy Carr/tax avoidance story and largely baffled the amount of hypocrisy involved, seemingly on all sides.  Let's leave to one side the fact that Carr lampooned and criticised bankers for avoiding tax whilst doing much the same thing himself.  There's no law against saying one thing and doing another and there is, I suppose, an argument that when performing, Carr is effectively portraying a character, not being himself.


No, what bothers me is the reaction that this revelation (oh, and by the way, who even gives a monkey's what Carr does with his money, anyway? Why is it even news?  Is there any kind of public interest involved here?) seems to have provoked.  In particular, the suggestion from David Cameron that what Carr has done is "morally wrong."


At what point did morality enter the argument?  What place do morals have in paying taxes?  Other than the fact that, I believe, everyone who lives in a society is "morally" (and, more importantly, legally) obliged to pay the tax they owe there is no moral obligation to pay more than you are due to.  If the law allows for loopholes that can be exploited by those clever enough to identify and take advantage of them, this is a failing in the law, not in those doing the avoiding.


As far as I'm aware, what Carr was doing was perfectly legal.  People may not like it and might not have behaved in the same way if they were in his position but that is, frankly, irrelevant.  He's done nothing wrong and while I have no great love for the guy, the fact that he's felt forced to change his financial arrangements merely after being found guilty in the court of public opinion (a court notorious for the capriciousness of its judgements) is appalling.


Why doesn't Cameron (and it's not just him; the left have been equally as guilty) make as much fuss about Vodafone as he did about Carr? That seems infinitely more important and a subject on which one might have expected the Prime Minister of the country to speak out. Until that day, it seems convenient that this whole storm arose at the same time as the GP strike in the UK, thus providing a handy distraction.  Or am I just too cynical...?

People

One of the great things about HK is that there are just so many people! I don't mean generally - I mean, wherever you go, whatever the business, there are loads of people.

For instance, as I type this, I'm in my bank. One person directed me up an escalator, where I was met by a second, who directed me to a third. I'm currently waiting for a fourth person.

It seems to be the same everywhere - from security guards at home, cleaners on the street to greeters/assistants in shops. There are just loads of people...

Write or Die

I tweeted a little earlier today about an application called "Write or Die" - fancying myself as a bit of a writer (I've had a couple of short stories published but the less said about them the better) I'm always on the lookout for things that will actually get me to, you know, write.  Which, if you're going to be a writer, seems to be a fairly major part of the whole process.


So, being intregued by the thing, I downloaded it and I'm writing this piece on the application.  I've got the thing set up in kamikaze mode means that if I stop writing for more than thirty seconds, the damned thing starts to erase what I've written!


Its quite an incentive, I can tell you.  You can set up targets for time and for word count (150 words in five minutes, in this case) and then you get on with it, to avoid the punishment of having your text deleted.  Not all of the punishments are so severe, you'll be pleased to know.


Now, if I could only find an app that would force me to turn on Write or Die, that would be great...

No Good Either Way

After the loss of The Boxer, I’ve been looking for a replacement and I’ve finally found one - a comedy called No Good Either Way, which is currently showing every evening at 8:30.  Based in the office of some kind of manufacturing company, it’s the everyday story of salarymen and women, their trials and tribulations, their loves and their general escapades.  It’s very entertaining, even though I have no real idea what’s going on.

However, an inability to follow the plot in anything but the broadest strokes has freed me to look at the actors and there are a lot of similarities between No Good... (the reviews must just write themselves) and The Boxer.  As far as I can tell, HK TV characters fall into one of five categories:

The comic relief

This is, after all, a comedy so someone has to shoulder the burden of the comedic role.  You can spot these characters because they’re usually overweight and the acting is marked by world-class gurning and mugging.  Think Benny Hill levels of subtlety and you’re somewhere in the ball park.  The category will inevitably include gay characters (who will be outrageously camp) and most foreigners.

The wise older man

Usually possessed of steely grey hair, fashionable glasses and a generally age-appropriate but trendy wardrobe, the WOM is there to act as the moral centre of the story, generally dispensing twinkly wisdom to all who cross his path.

The bitch

Think Joan Collins circa 1985, you can spot the bitch by her stern expression (the bitch never smiles, except in an evil way when her plans unfold), serious shoulder-pads, a tendency to dress in black and an ability to act almost wholly with her eyes and eyebrows.

Every other woman

When not paying mothers or grandmothers (a sub-category of the EOW character), every other actress is required to be young, attractive and able to play ditsy, whiney and/or sulky - possibly, when the script demands it, all at the same time.  The ability to pull a “duckface” at regular intervals is essential.

Impossibly good-looking leading man

The final category, is fairly self-explanatory: razor sharp cheekbones, razor cut hair, flawless skin and rake-thin, the IGLLM is the staple of any HK TV series.  There must be a factory somewhere, stamping these guys out, because they are seriously good-looking.  But, as I practice my Blue Steel look, I can't help but think there must be more to life than being really good looking...

The thing is, lest you think I’m sneering at all this (ooh, look at how funny the foreign television is) one of the IGLLM roles is filled by an actor called Jason Chan.  Chan was born in Britain and now lives in the same apartment block as us at the moment (hey - my neighbour is a TV star); as good looking as he undoubtably is, he’s no himbo - he has a BA in Ancient and Modern Chinese Literature, as well as a Masters in Economics.  Before becoming an actor he worked as a manager in a hospital and a teacher; he speaks five languages, including Latin.  Another of the IGLLM is played by Ruco Chan (no relation); Ruco, as well as being a model and an actor, is a singer and represented HK internationally at table tennis when he was younger.

The point I’m making, I guess, is that these guys are very talented - certainly more talented than No Good Either Way would have you believe...

Day One

Don't worry - I'm not going to inflict an entry on you every day; heaven knows that would be tedious for me, never mind you.  But as today is my first day "living" in HK, I thought I'd mark the occasion by writing a little entry.  Can you begin to see how tedious my life can be sometimes?* I really must learn to celebrate...


Anyway, I spent today doing - actually very little.  Unpacked a bit, took a few phone calls, read a book (it's amazing how the Kindle has completely kickstarted my reading habit) had a shower and slept.  A lot.  I didn't get much sleep on the plane, unlike the chap sat next to me who was asleep before the wheels left the ground in Heathrow and stayed that way for practically the whole flight.  How do people do that? I wish  I could learn that skill.


If today was a lazy day, tomorrow will have to be busier: there are bank accounts to sort out, ID cards to organise, mobile phones to transfer and probably a million and one other things that I haven't even thought of yet.  One thing at a time, I guess.  I'm not going tackle that all in one day - tomorrow I've pencilled in for a trip to the bank.  I'm wondering whether that will be as frustrating an experience in HK as it is in the UK because I'd like to talk to an actual human being, which seems to be a rarity in the UK.


The other thing that starts quite soon is I have my first formal Mandarin lesson at the weekend, which I'm quite looking forward to.  I've been listening to podcasts and language CDs so I've picked up a few words and phrases but nothing formal or structured.  I'll also be interested to see how the tutor goes about the lessons, as I'm thinking about using my TEFL qualification to offer some English lessons.


Jetlag does strange things; last night - well, this morning - I found myself wide awake at 4am so I got up and watched the weather for a while.  The sky was lighting up on a regular basis but I couldn't hear any thunder, which was a bit strange.  Now, as I remember it, that all feels like a dream although I'm fairly certain that it happened.


Something that definitely did happen is that I got my passport stamped and was given a little sticker, which now entitles me to use the "residents" counter next time I enter Hong Kong.  Given the price I've paid, monetarily and otherwise, that felt like quite an emotional moment.  I'm being booked for work in the mainland, so I might get the chance to use it in the near future.


One sad thing I've discovered since I got back is that The Boxer has finished.  I think I mentioned this TV series in an earlier entry.  After watching a few episodes I became completely hooked, even though it was all in Cantonese and so I had no idea what they were saying.  Fortunately, the story was simple enough and the acting broad enough that I could get the general idea.  I don't know the details but I'm assuming that the bad guys got their just desserts, the good guys came out on top and true love won the day.  Sometimes, life's like that...


*if you can't, this entry has probably helped you considerably.

Waiting

Timing has never been my strong point; to make up for my general hopelessness at dealing with time, I've defaulted to a couple of rules, one leading consequentially to the other. First, assume that anywhere you go will take you at least 50% longer to get there than you first thought. Second, as a natural consequence of the first, always be early.


I have a horror of being late; I can feel lateness in my skin. If I'm late for something, I feel physically uncomfortable.  However, being early for everything means I end up doing a lot of waiting around.  This, in turn, means I end up with lots of time to dwell on things and, being a congenital worrier, my dwelling ends up as worrying.


Now is a case in point.  I am packed - far earlier than I need to be.  I'm going to leave the house in a few hours - far earlier than I need to.  And how to kill the time between finishing packing and leaving the house? Why, by worrying, of course.  I wish I was one of those people who never seem to worry about anything.  Sufficient unto the day are the troubles thereof, says the good book and I want to believe that, I really do. I admire people who act that way, who are able to just put things away and never worry about them.  I wish I knew how to do that.  Instead, I dwell and fret and worry. Like now.


I'm going to be gone for a couple of months. Am I doing the right thing? Have I packed everything? Have I packed for every conceivable circumstance? What happens if...? Now a certain amount of this is healthy - when I'm teaching Project Management workshops, it's usually defined as risk management. I call it "what if" thinking rather than "if only" thinking.  It's good to think about the things that might go wrong and then plan to avoid them or mitigate them.  But now, when everything's done and dusted, it serves no purpose other than to make me feel anxious.


So I sit and I look at my suitcases, x-raying them with my eyes and wondering whether I've packed everything. Perhaps, I should just try to squeeze in a few more bits and pieces, just in case...

Two months

As I sit and write this, the house is a bit of a state and so am I.  I'm packing for HK but this time it's a little bit different as I won't be back for nearly two months.


I've not been out of the country for as long as two months before and I'm not sure what to pack. I mean clothes, obviously, but then I'm going to be working as well, so I somehow need to cram all of my session plans and notes into my suitcase and then there's just... stuff. I'm going to be away from everything here for two months so what can't I do without? What will I need?


And then there's the practical stuff; from silly little things (how will I watch the Grand Prix?) to important stuff like dealing with bank accounts and so on - how will that work? Most importantly, there are people that I'll miss, deeply.


Still, the only way to find out all this stuff, the only way to answer all these questions, is just to get on and do it - they'll all be answered as I go along, I suppose. And, if you're remotely interested (and even if you're not) I'll try to write a lot of the answers here.

Gawd bless 'er

So, having previously outed myself as a grumpy old sod who doesn't like Christmas, I might as well go the whole hog and confess to being a republican. Hence, I've been largely avoiding the jubilee celebrations this weekend, in my quietly grumpy republican way.


I don't have anything against the current queen - she seems like a nice enough person and has certainly done her fair share of public service; it's just the institution that I don't agree with.  The idea that some people are special just through an accident of birth doesn't sit well with my desire to live in a meritocracy.  I guess it's just another example of the kind of privilege that runs through this country like the lettering in a stick of rock.  It's fine if you're on the inside, not so great if - like the vast majority of us - you're on the outside.


If you've been observing the country over the last few days, you might think that I'm in a vanishing small minority - there's no bunting on this house, I can assure you.  But as Billy Bragg wrote recently, not everyone who celebrates Christmas is a christian and not everyone who celebrates the jubilee is a monarchist. Figures vary but generally most surveys report that between a fifth and a quarter of the population are republicans.  


Obviously, given that the current incumbent seems to be doing a decent job (by which I mean she's stayed alive for a long time, avoided controversy and provides a link, through sheer longevity of service, to an age when Britain was a much greater power) the republican cause is unlikely to form a majority of the population.  However, that might change when the Queen dies and Charles ascends to the throne.  Charles is a much less popular and sympathetic character and carries quite a weight of baggage with him (and no, that wasn't a cheap shot at Camilla).


I've heard people say that the crown should skip a generation and go straight to William, which sort of misses the whole point of a monarchy, really: you have to accept what you're given.  If you want to pick and choose your head of state, making sure you get someone suitable, there's a word for that: it's called republicanism and I'm all in favour of it, which is where we came in.

The spark went out

So, I went to see Prometheus the other day and, being a bit of a fanboy, I felt that I had to chip in my two-penneth.  Because, after all, that's just what the world wants and needs, isn't it? Another ill-informed amateur film critic weighing in on the subject of (one of) this summer's blockbuster movies.  Well, regardless of whether the world wants it or needs it, that's what it's going to get and there will be spoilers ahead: consider yourself warned.


Given the weight of expectations, it was always going to be very hard for Prometheus to be anything other than a disappointment and, unsurprisingly, a disappointment is what it is.  It looks spectacular - which is what you'd expect from a Ridley Scott film - but the story and the characterisations are, frankly, a muddle and if you want your movies to be more than just pretty to look at, Prometheus is going to leave you unsatisfied.


It's always interesting to think about why characters behave the way they do - what's their motivation.  A "good" character is one whom we can understand, who seems like a fully fleshed out human being, with motivations and intentions that we can understand, if not agree with.  Their behaviour in the story matches our understanding of those motivations - unless the writer is deliberately toying with us or, as in this case, has just not thought things through.  Instead of acting on understandable motivations, people in this film behave they way they do (sometimes doing unbelievably stupid things) for the sake of the plot and with no thought to character coherence.  


For instance, Rafe Spall's character Millburn is supposed to be a biologist.  When confronted with an alien species displaying the same kind of behaviour as a pissed-off cobra, he thinks it's a good idea to try to stroke it.  Why? Not because that's what a biologist would do in that situation but because the writer needs someone to get attacked by an alien.  What's worse is that there's no particular purpose in that character being killed by the alien - the character just isn't needed any more, so it's written out.  


Sean Harris's Fifield, who is with Millburn at the time, is also attacked and later comes back to the ship as a mutated version of himself.  Why does that happen?  It's not referred to elsewhere, it doesn't happen to anyone else, it's not coherent with anything else that happens in the plot.  It's hard to escape the feeling that this happens to Fifield because there are a whole bunch of tertiary characters on the ship that we need to dispose of, so that we can focus on the main characters.


Speaking of whom, Logan Marshall-Green's Holloway has been searching for what he finds on LV223 for (we are lead to believe) his whole life.  Is he pleased when he uncovers what would be, by any measure, the greatest archaeological find in human history - proof of sentient life that has arisen elsewhere?  Is he buffalo; instead, he decides to get terrifically maudlin drunk.  Why? Well, that leads us to the biggest non-sequitur in the movie which is tied up with the movie's biggest attraction.


I don't think Prometheus is very good but if you asked me whether you should see it, I would say yes - for Michael Fassbender's turn as David, the ship's resident robot.  In much the same way Up and Wall-E did for their main characters, Scott gives Fassbender an almost silent five minutes or so near the start of the film to establish his character, as we see how David spends the two years of the journey to LV223 alone, while the human crew are asleep.  It's a fantastic part of the film and sets the tone for a brilliant, charismatic performance.  It's a sign that, somewhere underneath all the nonsense, there's a decent film - mainly starring David - straining to get out.


However, even poor David is given stuff to do that simply doesn't seem to make sense.  Why does he infect the drunken Holloway with the alien gloop?  Holloway then impregnates Noomi Rapace's Shaw, who has a miraculously quick pregnancy, conducts a do-it-yourself caesarean and then that whole sub-plot is forgotten until the end, when the alien removed from her can re-enter, almost deus ex machina, to accidentally save her.


In interviews, Ridley Scott has talked about how no one ever answered the question of the "space jockey" from Alien - who he was, how he got there and so on.  The reason for that, Ridley, is that there's not much of a movie in it - you know what happens to him at the end.  You don't have to answer every question left hanging from Alien - that's not film making, it's fan-fiction.  One of the appeals of Alien, especially the parts set on LV426, is that there are so many unanswered questions: it's an alien ship - you wouldn't expect to be able to understand everything about it.  Nor would you expect a human-made, decapitated android to be able to fly it, but don't get me started on that.


Alien is a special movie for me because it was the first "X" rated movie that I went to see at the cinema, at the tender age of 14.  I love that film because it does what it does almost perfectly.  It sets up a series of believable characters, places them in a confined space, and then knocks them down with great efficiency.  Sure it goes a bit wonky at the end (although I'm not complaining about seeing Ripley's pants) but there was enough that came before to allow me to overlook the formulaic ending.  


Sadly, that's just not the case with Prometheus.  It could have been - and should have been - so much better than it actually is. With fantastically talented actors like Harris, Idris Elba, Fassbender and others, it is far less than the sum of its parts.

The joys of a good clear out

The last few days have passed in a blur of boxes, sorting and decisions as I'm wandering through the house, trying to sort out all this... stuff!  The questions most on my mind are where did it all come from and why have I still got it?

It started with the books; over the course of Thursday, I sorted out somewhere in the region of 170 assorted paperbacks and took them into the office, so they could be used in a fete to raise money for charity.  I used to be in the habit of using the receipts from buying the books as bookmarks and some of those paperbacks date back to the early 90s.  For the last eight years they've sat in a waterproof box in storage, so I was pretty certain that I was never going to read them again - plus, my tastes have changed since then, so I was quite happy to give them away.

I did, however, find my cherished copy of Logan's Run - a book which I haven't read for years and which I absolutely love.  It's so much better than the film...

Speaking of films, after the books came video cassettes - about fifty films.  This is where it started to get a bit painful because as far as I can tell, no one wants video cassettes.  Charities don't want them because no one buys them, they're an outmoded technology, so I've just come back from the tip, where I've dumped them.  That felt a bit tough and I was reminded of the time, many many years ago - at the time of a another move, I think - when I dumped a whole stack of LPs.  

I suppose I could have tried to sell them; perhaps someone on eBay would be interested but it's all a bit of a fag, so off to the tip they went.  The good news is that they'll be recycled - either by the tip itself or by the guy who works at the tip, who dived into the bag that I dumped almost before my back was turned! Fill your boots, fella!

There's still a lot to go but, in a funny way, it feels good to be rid of a lot of this stuff.  It's just dead weight that I've lugged around for years.  Possessions, as they say, possess (man) and sometimes it's good to be free of them...