ok so, Hong Kong was good

Part 1

On Friday 1st September, I got up at the frightful time of 05:45. My flight wasn't until 1pm, but I had some copywriting to do for a dearly valued client. I finished it, emailed it and shutdown the laptop just in time to dance around to Scissor Sisters on Radio Two.

Now, last year I went to Mexico with 14 pairs of shoes, 8 books (2 hardbacks) and a clothes mountain the European Union could have used to dress the entire population of Bosnia (though they do seem to prefer those 80's numbers. I remember seeing some Bosnian refugees on a news item one night and mistook it as confirmation that the cast of FAME were reuniting). My case weighed in at 32kg. It was not something I wanted to repeat this year. So, I packed only 3 pairs of shoes, 1 book, and a small selection of clothes that I conceded would render me neither well nor properly dressed. My case weighed in at 26kg. How disappointing! So much sacrifice and still classified as 'heavy'. It seems packing has more in common with dieting than I'd previously realised (or, indeed, ever thought about).

At the airport my case was labelled orange and 'heavy', and we were on our way. After a short wait in London, we were Hong Kong bound. I looked down at my boarding pass where it had the words 'world traveller' after my name. How very appropriate; it sent me into a state of acute giddiness. Of course, 'world traveller' is British Airways' way of saying 'plebian, economy, schemie, steerage girl', but it is definitely a nicer way of saying it and I felt good about myself as I adjusted my slightly longer-than-average femora into my incredibly cramped seat.

Five hours into the flight my ankles felt funny. Kinda, well, ... tight. I got up to do some exercises at the back of the plane where I discovered that my ankles had in fact swelled to three times their normal size. They were sore and movement was limited, and I felt like a candidate on 'Diet Doctors'.

I fell asleep on the way from the airport to the hotel (most probably avec ma bouche ouvrez-vous) and was reliably informed that we'd crossed the longest road and rail carrying suspension bridge in the world (Tsing Ma Bridge). Upon arrival at the Hotel on Kowloon, I whipped off my clothes, put my PJ's on and snuggled into bed. Waking up some four hours later, I was stunned by the size of my ankles. I swear to God, with a pair of American Tan tights and some brogues I would have passed as an 80 year old. My comments met with agreeable laughter.

In Part Two

How will our heroine cope with fankles?

Why are the Hong Kongers so fascinated with her 'temples'?

and will she get a decent cup of tea?

Stay tuned!