Coming of age

This weekend two significant events coincided - a visit to Hong Kong by my brother Tom and the legendary Hong Kong Sevens.   As a life-long rugby fan and long-time rugby player, Tom couldn't believe his luck when he discovered his business trip to Hong Kong coincided with the Sevens.  In his words "If Carlsberg did business trips......".  However, the realisation that his travels fell while the tournament was on presented his ill-prepared sister with a major issue.  The challenge of securing two tickets for the Saturday.  Fortunately the Hainan Rendez-Vous Boat Show in China clashed with the Sevens so I was able to relieve one of David's colleagues of a ticket, and a very kind friend decided to go sailing on Saturday instead of visiting the rugby, so I was able to acquire a second ticket.

The next task was to source outfits.  I had been advised that everyone dresses up at the Sevens and you feel slightly out of place if you aren't part of the fancy dress brigade.  After a few beers on his first night in Hong Kong, Tom had requested that he go as a matador.  I duly searched Pottinger Street (a street full of fancy dress stalls in Central) for a matador and a bull outfit, with notable success.

However, Tom forgot he had demanded a matador outfit and instead insisted that he went to find our outfits himself.  Being the trusting soul that I am, I banked on my brother finding us creative and fun costumes we could wear with pride around Hong Kong Stadium.  Imagine my disappointment when he turned up with these inappropriate and offensive masks.

Offensive masks

On Saturday morning we were ready and raring to go and donning (what we deemed to be) the least objectionable masks - we set-off for the stadium as Colonel Gaddafi and Saddam Hussein.

Gaddafi and Saddam do the Hong Kong Sevens

As a Hong Kong Sevens virgin, I was unsure of what to expect but it quickly became clear that the Sevens was a massive, fancy-dress piss-up with an on-going stream of rugby as a minor distraction.  The atmosphere was fantastic, and the range and creativity of the outfits, coming a close second to my favourite music festival - Bestival.   I had been advised that the South Stand was the place to be.  For over-18's only, the South Stand is, without a doubt, where the party is at.  However, I had a depressing 'coming of age' moment, when I realised that at the age of 42, I no longer have the desire, inclination, tolerance or stamina to party with the masses.  Instead, we met up with more 'mature' friends and positioned ourselves under cover in the West Stand.  We were very grateful for the cover when at 11.30am the sky went absolutely pitch black and we were hit with torrential rain.  We watched, feeling slightly smug, as the South Stand revellers dashed for cover under the stand or reached desperately for plastic ponchos and umbrellas.  We were able to stay put and watch the poor Scotland team battle it out against the United States and the elements.

Amber rainstorm

As the day progressed, a different side to the Sevens emerged.  The tournament also appears to double up as the key event in the early-teen international school kids' calendar to experience their first binge drinking session.  Throughout the afternoon, the ladies toilets started to overflow with scantily clad, wobbling, slurring, hair-flicking young girls, alternating between screeching rubbish at each other and vomiting.  Their parents probably too busy necking champagne in the corporate boxes to consider what their precious little darlings were up to.  It brought back memories of 'booze-ups' at Sherborne and made me feel nostalgic and old all in one.

Throughout the day I combined people-watching, with rugby-watching.  The South Stand did look a lot of fun and fleetingly I wanted to be part of it.  I wished I had visited the Sevens with my fellow Wasps Ladies rugby team mates when I was in my early twenties.  I know we would have blended in perfectly and had the time of our lives.  Yesterday made me realise that those days are behind me now.    I am far more comfortable observing from a distance - and any time I felt a pang of remorse, I reminded myself of the insecurity and angst that accompanied those hard partying years.  Despite finally 'coming of age' at the Hong Kong Sevens, I enjoyed every second of the day and fully intend to go next year, when once more I will be positioned with the 'grown-ups' in the West Stand.

Hanging out in the West Stand at the Hong Kong Sevens

One step forward, two steps back

The past week has not entirely gone to plan for me.  Having said that neither has the past year and I am getting used to taking one step forward and two steps back.  On Monday I started a new job in an international pre-school.  During the interview I was seduced by the passion of the owner of the school, a very warm Cantonese woman who had given up a career in the Hong Kong police force to set up her own school.  I was interviewed in the school on a Sunday, so the school owner and I were the only people there.  The school was light and bright and very clean and colourful - a far cry from the dark, drab, grey, airless office I had previously worked in.  It was based in Causeway Bay, a very easy commute from our home and conveniently close to the yacht club.  I could picture myself working happily in such a welcoming environment.  The interview went very well and I was offered the job on the spot.

This week it quickly became clear that in my excitement at being offered my first full-time teaching job, I had naively brushed over some of the details - for example exactly what teaching 'pre-school' would entail!  Day one was an eye-opener and with a sinking heart, I realised what I had signed-up to.  From 8.45am a steady stream of wailing two year olds arrived at the school and I was ordered to greet them with a smile, observe them from a distance, and not hold eye contact for too long in case I scared them! From 9am to 12pm I was imprisoned in a classroom with the toddlers (along with two other teachers).  I was asked to sit on a child-sized chair behind two of the most unruly children and jam my feet behind their chairs so they were pinned in place at their desks and unable to escape.  I witnessed one of the little boys sneeze producing a thick green trail of snot from his nose to his hand, and then retched as I had to wipe up the mess he had made.  One little girl cried for the entire 3 hours, asking for her mum - I felt like joining in.  I felt sad that at the age of two, the children were sitting in a classroom, around desks, learning, rather than learning through play.  It didn't feel right to me, yet this is the Hong Kong way, and this is what I had agreed to facilitate.

I found the afternoons more rewarding as I was tasked with teaching four year olds one-to-one lessons and felt I was able to make a difference, hold the children's interest and teach something.  Each morning though I was back in a classroom with tearaway toddlers, fighting over musical instruments, hitting each other when they thought no one was looking, and struggling to stay focused on the lessons.  On Saturday I hit a new low when I was asked to assist in a class teaching 8 month old babies English!  Being stuck in a room with one baby and one set of cooing parents wears on my nerves.  Times that by seven and I was trapped in purgatory for the longest hour of my life.  Fortunately, I had already assessed that I am not cut-out for teaching such young children and had prepared my letter of resignation which I handed over on Saturday afternoon with an immense feeling of relief.  There was not a shred of doubt that I had made a decision I would regret later.

When I Facetimed my parents later in the day to let them know that I had resigned already, I was greeted by a cry of "Oh, for f**k's sake!" by my father.  A sentiment I reflected on realising, for the second time since arriving in Hong Kong, I had secured the wrong job for me!  I suppose the course of changing career is never going to run smoothly and you are going to make mistakes, and all you can do is learn from those mistakes.  I know now that I do not want to teach children younger than 3/4 years old.    I know to ask more searching questions during the interview process and not rush into taking the first thing that is offered to me.  I am also considering whether I would be better suited to being my own boss and building my own business tutoring.  I have really enjoyed tutoring since I started in February and I have quickly seen the difference I have made through my teaching.  Perhaps this is the route I should follow, particularly as it would offer me more flexibility and the chance to get back to writing my literary masterpiece (!) which has been on hold since December.

While I spend the next week working my notice and clearing up endless trails of thick, green snot, I will be trying to work out how to start going forward... yet again!  Today I feel very disheartened to be back to square one, but sooner or later everything has to slot into place for me here.

Pick yourself up and dust yourself down

Although I have completed a full circle and am back to where I started out when I first arrived in Hong Kong - searching for a job - this time it feels different and I do too.  My previous experience has taught me to bide my time and not leap blindly into the first job that is offered to me.  I feel less manic than before and am endeavouring to remain that way.  I have a plan and, as long as our cash flow allows, I intend to stick to it.  Starting a new career in teaching, I am keen to take time experiencing one-to-one tutoring with adults and children, as well as teaching part-time in a school or kindergarten, before committing to a full-time role.  Up until yesterday the plan was on track with my tutoring work taking off and an interview lined up for a part-time kindergarten job.  Naturally, as with all the best laid plans of mice and men - mine went astray with the kindergarten interview going awry in spectacular style.

It had all started so well.  I had dedicated a majority of my weekend and Monday morning to familiarising myself with every aspect of Jolly Phonics.  I had learnt the actions and songs for all the letter sounds and I had even read the entire UK Department of Education's Letters and Sounds programme to promote speaking, listening and phonological awareness in children.  I felt prepared to answer any question directed at me about phonics.   In addition I had successfully negotiated my way through the MTR system, onto a mini-bus and through a maze-like housing estate, and found the kindergarten.  Then disaster struck at 2.40pm - five minutes before my interview.  I received a phone call to say that I may be expected to teach a class as part of the interview.  Oh brilliant!

I am a highly organised person and I plan things meticulously, as a result I am rarely put on the spot.  I went from feeling confident that I had prepared all I could for the interview - the job was in the bag - to feeling exposed, caught-off-guard and a quivering wreck.   Perhaps naively, it never crossed my mind that I would be asked to teach at first interview stage without prior warning, and as a result I had nothing prepared.  I had no option but to jump straight back onto the minibus and head home or I was going to have to wing it.  Unfortunately, I chose the latter option and I experienced the most humiliating 15 minutes of my life.  And it keeps playing back in my head, over and over again, causing me to repeatedly cringe with embarrassment.

According to the TESOL training I have recently been immersed in, the key to a good lesson is developing a detailed lesson plan with clear objectives for each stage and executing the plan with strong materials to engage your students.  It is vital for the teacher to get the students communicating as much as possible, with the teacher directing and prompting but not doing all the talking.  It would be fair to say that I failed on every single one of these counts.

I was let into the school by the headmistress (slightly lacking in social skills as she couldn't bring herself to say 'hello' to me) who directed me straight to a classroom and pointed at a cupboard to indicate I may find something within to help me teach.  I was given five minutes to prepare before I was faced with twelve little faces waiting expectantly for the English lesson of a lifetime.  Sadly what they were presented with was a deranged English woman who thought it would be a great idea to start the class by singing a song to learn their names.  In retrospect, a bit of a waste of time, seeing as I will never see the children again!  In case you are interested, the song in question goes 'Hello, Hello, What's your name?' to the tune of 'London Bridge is Falling Down'.  The children had literally just woken up from their post-lunch nap so I was greeted by a row of glazed faces while I sang away dementedly, demanding they tell me their names.  I should have got them playing musical chairs, as even though it wouldn't have got me the job, at least we all could have had some fun.

Once the children were 'warmed up' or in reality, still glazed and now post-traumatic, I reached for the phonics book to teach them some letter sounds.  Due to my detailed pre-interview research, I knew this group of kindergarten kids were learning the sound 'th' this week, so I thought at least it would be relevant if I selected this sound for my fifteen minutes of ritual humiliation.  Teaching the sound 'th' requires a bit of tongue sticking out and the odd bit of escaping spittle - an attractive look for an interview.  I managed to supplement the spitting with a Jolly Phonics song about a rude clown making this sound and that sound, which a couple of charitable children joined in with, to my relief.  However, I had no games or materials up my sleeve to make the class interactive or engaging so the next 10 minutes were spent getting the children to repeat or guess words featuring 'th', while I quietly shrivelled up and died inside.  Finally I managed to generate some excitement as I asked the children to sing the 'Bye-bye' song to me.  They waved me off with the most enthusiasm they had shown since they had arrived in the room.

I was hustled out of the classroom and out of the building with a curt - "we'll be in touch".  The only four words the headmistress uttered in the twenty minutes I was at the school.  There was no interview.  Unsurprisingly this was followed-up two hours later with an email to confirm that I had not been successful in securing the job.

I have spent the past 24 hours reliving my heinous loss of face, but finally I am seeing the humorous side.  On a positive note, I know for next time to arrive at an interview with a lesson plan and materials fully prepared.  It is also apparent that this business of changing careers is not going to be smooth sailing all the way, but I will keep plugging on and the plan will fall into place eventually.

I'm back

I know, I know, it's been ages since I last blogged but I am back - in every sense of the word.  After a fabulous break over Christmas, back home in the UK, catching up with friends and family, I returned to Hong Kong to start the Trinity CertTESOL course.  Having met and spoken to many people in Hong Kong who had completed the CertTESOL at English for Asia, I was entering into the course with my eyes wide open.  Without exception, everyone warned me about the intensity of the course, the horrors of writing assignments and lesson plans until the early hours of the morning, the sleep deprivation and kissing goodbye to a social life for the duration.  I would be lying if I didn't say I was both apprehensive and scared when I arrived on day one.  After my horrendous experience of working for an American PR agency in Hong Kong and the affect it had on my health, I was nervous that I would fast-track back to that horrible place I found myself in back in September.

For the first week I felt completely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of assignments we had to complete.  I hadn't expected to be working until 1am in the first few days just to keep up with the deadlines and as I felt my stress-levels escalate on a daily basis, I wondered if I actually had the mental strength to survive the full four weeks.  However, over the first weekend, things started to fall into place, I resigned myself to the fact that real life was going to be on-hold for a bit, and I started to enjoy learning and being a student again.  During the first week I compared the course to what I imagine it would be like to join a cult.  You are effectively programmed to think in the TESOL way through an intensive brainwashing process combined with extreme sleep deprivation.  I am clearly very malleable as I 'got it' pretty quickly.

The years of working in advertising and PR, completing lengthy tender documents and pitch proposals definitely stood me in good stead for churning out the seemingly endless array of written assignments and observations.  The time and money JWT and MindShare invested in my presentation training, and the years of putting that training into practice in client meetings, at pitches, running workshops and roundtables, and presenting at conferences was invaluable.  There is something a lot less intimidating about standing in front of a class of smiling students, rather than a room full of opinionated marketeers looking to catch you out, impress their boss or justify their inflated salaries.  As a result I loved the teaching practice side of the course and the creativity I could apply to planning my lessons.  Who would have thought that I could begin a lexis lesson on 'expressing opinions' using 10 collocations such as 'we are poles apart' and 'contrary to popular belief', with an image of Miley Cyrus twerking at the VMAs?  It worked though, with the students quickly demonstrating that they had strong opinions!

Miley and Me

For me, the highlight of the course has been developing deep friendships with the fellow students.  Together we have survived the highs and lows, the stress, and the lack of sleep with a combination of sweat, tears and most importantly humour.  We have propped each other up through the good times and the bad.  Having spent 5 months last year working in the least supportive and compassionate environment imaginable, I had started to believe that maybe that was the norm in Hong Kong.  The last month has affirmed that this is simply not the case.  I have met some wonderful, kind, caring people - in the other students, the tutors, and the willing victims who were kind enough to give their time to be our English Learners.  I feel confident that I have made long-term friends in the past month.

Ladies who lunch

Yesterday I was ecstatic to be told that my hard work had paid off and I had come top of the class and achieved the A I had yearned for.  It appears that I am a bit of a natural teacher - something I would never have predicted.  I am now looking forward to the next stage and going out and teaching in the real world.

I could not feel more different today to how I felt five months ago.  Last September I know I was a broken person, the CertTESOL course has mended me, my confidence has returned and I feel I am finally ME again.  Thank you English for Asia and Sara, Donna, Simone, Tracey, Laura, Trish, Keenan, Manuela, Jo, Gerry, Charlotte, Frank and Diederik, the makers of Maltesers and MacDonalds flat white coffee!

 Pizza feast with the students and the tutors

How many sleeps until Christmas?

It's a well known fact that I get very overexcited about Christmas and in particular the run up to Christmas.   David resigns himself to his annual trip to B&Q on the 1st December, where he reluctantly adopts the role of Chief Christmas Tree Holder-Upper, while I ummm and ahhhhh over selecting the perfect tree.  Last year, I made the mistake of handing the decision making process over to David and we ended up with a tree so large we struggled to cram ourselves into his Landrover with it.  Decorating it also proved a challenge as we only had enough baubles and fairy lights for our usual sensibly selected 5 foot tree as opposed to this spindly 8 foot monstrosity - proving biggest is not always best and certain tasks are best left to the girls.

Besides decorating the tree, daubing our entire house with gaudy tinsel and twinkly lights, and filling the air with generous squirts of M&S' festive room spray, I dust down the 'Now that's what I call Christmas' CD.  While singing at the top of my voice to the original Band Aid's 'Do they know it's Christmas', I'll crack open the first of many bottles of M&S mulled wine.  David will return from work each night to find that once more M&S party food is on the menu for dinner.  Ever the long-suffering husband, he will feign excitement at mini-steak and kidney pies, pork belly on toothpicks and brie and cranberry bites washed down with a glass of Baileys, silently willing January to hurry up and arrive.

Once the house is decorated, the Christmas music is blasting, and the microwave is pinging repeatedly in time, the Christmas parties start.  With our rapidly expanding waistlines, we don our meticulously chosen party outfits, which seem a bit tighter than when we had last tried them on.  Joining our work colleagues we hastily force alcohol and food down our throats like foie gras geese, before demonstrating our questionable dancing skills.  Then wake up the following morning full of drunken remorse, brooding over what we may have said and done the night before.

This year is different though.  It is 9th December and there is nothing in our flat to indicate that Christmas is fast approaching.  We have no tree and no fairy lights.  I have only indulged in a couple of Starbucks' gingerbread lattes, and not a single M&S canape has passed my lips.  I haven't even bought a party outfit as my diary is bereft of Christmas parties.  Somehow Christmas isn't Christmas for me in 20 degrees and sunshine.  Mulled wine, mince pies and Christmas carols don't seem the same when they aren't shared and enjoyed beside a log fire with friends and family.  But only 4 more sleeps and I'm back home in the UK and Christmas can commence.....

In the meantime, here are a selection of Hong Kong's very stylish Christmas decorations to get everyone in the festive spirit....

 The Landmark

Pacific Place

Tai O Heritage Hotel

  

The Fine Art of Procrastination

Throughout my school, college and university days I perfected the art of procrastination.  I excelled at postponing homework, coursework, dissertations, projects and revision until the last possible moment.  Generally this led to a horribly angst-ridden last minute panic and I still have a recurring nightmare about sitting my A Level exams knowing that I had done the bare minimum to scrape by.  Once I started working I became far more controlled and focused on completing work within defined time frames and without a last minute panic.  This is undoubtedly a necessity in the advertising and PR world where clients will often chuck in a last minute curveball or bring forward a deadline so you need to stay ahead of the game and be highly organised.

Now that I am not working and not in a pressured environment where if you let things slip you will unleash the fury of your client and your boss, I am rediscovering my talent for procrastination.  I'm not enjoying this foray back in time to teenage me, it makes me feel restless and angry with myself.  While I have time on my hands I feel I should be making huge in roads into my novel, blogging regularly and doing all the pre-course reading and studying for my course.  Instead, in the past couple of weeks I have crawled my way through my pre-course studying, made pitiful progress with my novel and hardly blogged at all.  I have been trying to work out what has caused me to put on the brakes and revert to me aged 18.

Excuse No.1 :  Recently we have had a few visitors which has disrupted the routine I had developed and as each visitor has left, I have found it harder and harder to re-establish my daily rhythm. 

Excuse No. 2:  I have attended a variety of writers' events and critique groups which have made me question my writing abilities and quelled my enthusiasm for writing.  Many of the writers I have met are academics, developing cleverly crafted literary work.  I am neither academic nor writing anything worthy of a Booker Prize nomination, and I have felt embarrassed reading my light-hearted puerile prose to them for critique.  As a result I have struggled to put pen to paper while I internally wrestle with myself as to the exact point of turning my back on my established career to do something I may not even be any good at.  

Excuse No. 3:  In the past I know I have deliberately filled every moment of my day, fearful of stopping to give myself time to face up to feelings of discontent.  Maybe I'm no longer scared to stop so with a sigh of relief I've pulled on the handbrake at last.  

Today, I have vowed that there will be no more excuses and the procrastination will end.  The visitors have stopped, so my routine can be reinstated.  So what, if my novel isn't high-brow, some people like light literature and I will learn from the academics to make it as well-written as possible.  And does it really matter if I've stalled for a couple of weeks, it is only me telling myself I 'should' be doing more that has created this angst.  So this is my first step to putting a stop to procrastination.

High fives and hugs

If I had visited a fortune teller a year ago who had predicted that before the end of 2013 I would have walked away from my hard-fought for career to train to become an English language teacher, I would have laughed in their face and asked for my money back.  Yet, here I am, volunteering as an English support teacher at a YWCA funded kindergarten in Kowloon one morning a week, as well as preparing for my CertTESOL course starting in January.  

I have surprised myself at just how much I am enjoying my Wednesday mornings at Faith Hope Nursery School  (if you click on the link you can watch a short video filmed in the school).   Each week for three hours I have had the opportunity to unleash my inner thespian.  To the wide-eyed astonishment and amusement of the children I morph unabashed from a lion, to a monkey, to a rabbit - roaring, simultaneously scratching my head and tummy, and twitching my nose.  I delight as they mimic my exaggerated facial expressions to illustrate 'toothache'.   I see their eyes widen with pleasure as they are able to point to their knees and their feet when asked, and I love how they remember the shoulder-shrugging dance I have taught them when I ask them where their shoulders are.  Singing 'Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes' has more relevance and appeal when you know you have taught the children those words and they understand them.  Each Wednesday I leave the kindergarten with a broad smile on my face and a warm sense of accomplishment.  After I have received formal teacher training, I know I will be able to make a greater difference - right now, I am only scratching the surface.

Every week I return to Faith Hope Nursery School the children come further out of their shells.  When on day one some of the children averted their eyes and hid behind their parents legs as I arrived at the school, I am now greeted by a chorus of 'Good morning' and 'Hello Adrienne'.  The children have mastered my mouthful of a name quicker than many native English speakers I have met in my lifetime! Each week I have managed to engage more of the children in each class, and today I was thrilled to get a number of the previously mute children speaking English.  My spontaneous tactic of getting the classes to high-five me as they said goodbye last week appears to have established a little bond between us all.  This week, many of them demanded an upgrade to a goodbye hug!  

As I went and said goodbye to the headteacher today, she asked if I would be able to return to the school after Christmas - apparently they like me and think I am doing a good job.  As I will be studying full-time in January and then need to find paid employment, I have reluctantly had to say that I am unable to commit.  However, she did say that there may be a possibility of paid part-time work next year, so I will keep in touch once my volunteering finishes in December.  I would love to be able to carry on at Faith Hope Nursery School - working there is genuinely the most rewarding thing I have done in 41 years.  I hope the children are getting as much out of it as I am.

The richest people in Hong Kong

Since I have been having time out from working, David and I have had no choice but to live a more frugal existence.  For someone like me who is adept at spending money and has been known to desire the finer things in life, I thought this was going to be a great challenge.  However, over the past couple of months I have quickly learned that 1) flaunting money is futile (not that I have ever had all that much to flaunt!) 2) I can live relatively cheaply without missing out and 3) I have wasted a LOT of money over the years.

When I first moved to Hong Kong I was a little taken in by the ever-present hunger to accumulate and display wealth through wearing the right clothes and jewellery, eating in the right restaurants and holidaying in the smartest resorts.  I wanted to earn enough so I could have the odd pair of designer shoes (preferably Louboutins), to dine occasionally at a Michelin starred restaurant and to relax in five star luxury once a year or so.  I wanted to fit in and feel a part of this affluent crowd.  Since I have been here I have achieved two of the three things on the list.  Owning a pair of Louboutins when you live on a practically vertical hill is asking for a broken ankle and even I see the frivolousness in owning a pair of shoes you can only look at.

Now that we have only one income supporting the household and we have had to cut-back on everything, it is becoming more and more apparent that we are far happier living a more basic existence.  Yes, posh restaurants are nice, but you are often seated within earshot of at least one table of w**kers.  Five star resorts are picture-postcard perfect, but you miss out on an authentic experience of the country you are visiting.  As for designer clothes, well, when you are a comfortable size 14 (UK), the thought of  being turned away by a stick-thin sniffy shop assistant for being too large, puts me off even passing through the entrance of such clothes shops.

So, as flashing the cash has been put on the back-burner for David and me, the changes we have had to make to live a more frugal existence have included:

1)  I have only bought one item of clothing (and it cost less than HK$250/£20) in the past three months.
2)  I have found a hairdresser that is half the price of the one I was visiting (only HK$860/£70 for cut and highlights).  NB I would have to be completely broke before I gave up getting my hair coloured!
3) I will never shop for more than a day in advance - this prevents us from having to throw away things we don't get round to eating.
4)  Meat is a treat.  Eggs, veg, rice, bread and pasta are our staples.
5)  I have reverted to my student style drinking - pints of lager and lime.... cheaper and lasts longer than anything else.  Not very lady-like but who's judging?
5)  If I crave a cocktail, I will find a Happy Hour serving a lychee martini for HK$30/£2.40
6)  If we eat out, we will choose a budget restaurant.
7)  We spend much more time at home together, playing cards and talking/fighting depending on who is winning cards.
8)  Sometimes we just have to say, "We're sorry but we can't afford to do that"

We have had to adjust our lives and I can hand on heart say that these changes have in no way detracted from our enjoyment.  In fact, right now, life in Hong Kong is the best it has ever been for us.
Each day, I become more and more convinced that this ever-present quest for wealth is futile - no matter how much you strive to earn, it is never enough. Life is far richer when you are surrounded by close friends and family who love you, care for you and don't judge you for what you have and don't have.  I guess that makes David and I the richest people in Hong Kong.

Airing my dirty laundry

As anyone who reads my blog regularly will know, I have been engaged in some fairly intensive soul searching during my time in Hong Kong - trying to define what will give me the direction and purpose I feel I have lost somewhere along the way.  Over the past month I have been seeing a cognitive behavioural therapist who has been helping to guide me through the process of finding calm, peace, acceptance and to rediscover my bearings.  I know for many of us 'stiff upper lip' Brits, the concept of airing our dirty laundry to anyone - let alone a stranger - is very un-British and we would rather sweep our issues under the carpet and drown them in alcohol.  For me, it was a case of desperate times call for desperate measures, plus drowning my issues in alcohol was only exacerbating the problem!

I was introduced to a number of techniques and ideas that have really helped me to get to where I am today - content, calm and back on track.  Besides keeping a thought diary to help me change my negative thought patterns, and meditation to calm my overactive mind, my therapist suggested that I may find it useful to write down my feelings.  I don't think she anticipated I would share those feelings and publish them for anyone to see on my blog - neither did I for that matter.  However this has proven to be the most cathartic and productive part of the process and I want to thank all of you who have 'liked' my blogs, posted supportive comments and directly emailed me.  You have all played a fundamental role in this mending process.

One of the hardest blogs to write was 'Finding my Baby' as it was so deeply personal and revealing and I had to muster up considerable courage to press the 'publish' button.  From the staggering response I received in my inbox, it is evident that many of us feel that life has not dealt us the hand we had hoped for and some element is missing.  As one of my friends wrote “It is a bugger that human nature makes us focus on what we do not have instead of the joy of what we have”.   Revealing my heartbreak and vulnerability helped me discover that I am not alone.  This has provided me with an overwhelming sense of relief, as well as faith that I can start to move on.

I have recently watched Brene Brown's TED Talk on 'The Power of Vulnerability' which discusses her extensive research into courage, shame and vulnerability.  Her research has revealed that connection is what brings meaning to people's lives.  In order to connect we have to fully embrace our vulnerabilities,  have the courage to reveal our imperfections, let go of who we think we should be and accept who we are.  Her words resonate with me - I have had the courage to tell my story on my blog with my whole heart and am reaping the rewards.  

Before I left the UK, I announced to my friends that I was starting a blog when I moved to Hong Kong.  My friend Carly, author of the blog Covet.Collect.Connect, was very encouraging, pointing out that I never knew what writing a blog could lead to.  In Carly's case her blog has led to the opening of her own shop - an extension of her Covet.Collect.Connect brand.  Never ever would I have thought my blog could help me get through a very difficult period in my life and allow me to connect so deeply with so many people - but it has.

Starting the next chapter

A month has passed since I was gainfully employed and I have been resolute in finding ways to give my life the purpose I feel it has been lacking.  My primary challenge has been to investigate how I can earn money doing something meaningful, balanced with having sufficient time to dedicate to my writing.  I am proud to say that despite reaching rock bottom shortly before leaving my job, I have quickly managed to pick myself up and start working towards my path to contentment.

I have applied for a place on the Trinity CertTESOL course to train to teach English as a second language and have been accepted on January's course.  The first step to attaining a salary to fund the writing, which should hopefully simultaneously provide me with a renewed sense of meaning.  I am also starting to volunteer at one of the YWCA kindergarten's one morning each week from next week, where I will read stories in English, to children aged between two to six.  While this fills me with slight trepidation, it will give me my first taste of dealing with very young Cantonese school children.  The Faith Hope Nursery School is on the Lower Wong Tai Sin Estate in Kowloon and should expose me to some of the less affluent inhabitants of Hong Kong - a side of Hong Kong I have been disconnected from since arriving here.

One of the things I love the most about Hong Kong is that if you are passionate about committing to something, there will undoubtedly be a networking group or club you can join to advance your passion.  In the past month I have become a member of WIPS (Women in Publishing) and submitted my first short story which will be published in the next couple of months in Imprint - WIPS' annual anthology of members' work.  This will be the first time a piece of my work has ever been published and I can't wait to finally see my words in print.

I have attended one of the events organised by WIPS about finding a literary agent.  I returned feeling slightly despondent that the path to being published is clearly going to be far harder than I ever hoped.  It has encouraged me to find out more about self-publishing and I am attending a further WIPS event in November about creating eBooks.  Unprompted, my lovely cousin, Patrick Fidgen, also sent me a lengthy email about the ins and outs of self-publishing which is also a useful start point for a complete novice like me.

Finally, tonight, for the first time, I have met up with a group of Hong Kong based writers who get together every Tuesday night in a coffee shop in Central to write.  I have quickly discovered that writing can be a fairly isolating activity.  However, somehow, sitting in a bustling cafe with a small group of people also trying to craft their own short stories, novels or screen-plays, is strangely sociable. Even if you are barely engaging in more than a few minutes of conversation, before returning to your computer screen, it is comforting to be in other people's company.  Tonight's meet-up has opened the door to further creative writing groups and introduced me to 'NaNoWriMo' - National Novel Writing Month - where writers are challenged to write 50,000 words of their novels during November.  A challenge I am considering taking up.

I am really pleased with the progress I have made in the last month and feel excited about what I could achieve over the next year on my new journey, if I can accomplish so much in 30 days.  For the first time in a long time I feel energised, motivated and positive and it feels fantastic.

Finding my baby

In retrospect it is clear to see that my current situation was an unexploded bomb waiting to be unearthed.  Regardless of whether I had stayed in the UK or moved to Hong Kong, it was inevitable that at some point, I would have questioned my purpose and been drawn off the hamster wheel.  In many ways, moving to Hong Kong was an escape from my draining job and a sense that I was struggling to see where I fitted into society any more.  Finding I had secured a significantly more demanding job, and unwittingly, packed this sense of ‘not belonging’ into my suitcase, was the proverbial ‘straw that broke the camel’s back’.

This feeling of no longer ‘fitting in’ is connected to being in my early 40s and childless.    You are conditioned from an early age to believe that your life should follow a structure comprising: going to school; completing university; securing a job; getting married; having kids; living happily ever after; the end.  I believe that when you are unable to tick one of these boxes you feel in some ways you don’t belong.  In our case fate has teased us with the hope of a family four times, and each time cruelly snatched that hope away.   No longer having the emotional strength or inclination to open that chapter again, we are left with a feeling of ‘now what?’  We have involuntarily signed up to a minority group that we never wanted to join in the first place.

I have just read a book by Kasey Edward’s called “30-Something and Over it:  What Happens When You Wake Up and Don’t Want to Go to Work… Ever Again” – I wonder what drew me to purchase this particular tome?  In the book she cites a psychologist, Erik Erikson, who talks of life being split into stages and outlines what we need to do at each stage to be happy, fulfilled and functional.  The seventh life stage, which starts when you reach your 30s, is called ‘Generativity vs Stagnation’.  The premise is during this phase we need to dedicate ourselves to caring for, and passing on our skills and knowledge, to the next generation – or we stagnate.  A depressing thought for a full-fledged member of the childless minority group.  However it goes some way to explaining my feelings of dissatisfaction and purposelessness, and my current desire to ensure my life is serving something bigger than just me.

Now that the metaphorical bomb has exploded, the process I am going through is defining what my ‘baby’ is going to be so I can continue to lead a fulfilled and happy life, rediscover a sense of belonging, and not stagnate.  I have no doubt I will find the answers and each day I am making little steps in the right direction – it is just a rather painful, but necessary, episode to work through.

Jumping off the hamster wheel

When I started this blog it was meant to be a lighthearted look at the thrill and adventure of moving to a new country, documenting the alien and exotic experiences David and I were to encounter.  I wanted to write about living 6,000 miles away from family, friends and our dog in a new, exciting and vibrant place of opportunity where we could further our careers, earn lots of money and return home to England financially secure and fulfilled.  Instead, I feel it has developed into a cathartic outlet for me to vent my frustrations and inner turmoil.

In many ways my expectations of moving to Hong Kong have been met.  We have made our small, but perfectly adequate apartment in the buzzing Mid-Levels, our home.  We are developing an ever-increasing circle of close friends.  We have become active members of Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club.  I found a hairdresser that can tame humidity-induced frizzy hair issues.  And I secured a job that would further my career.  So, within a couple of months of moving to Hong Kong, we were definitely on-track to return home with healthy bank accounts.

Unfortunately my job did not work out leading me to scrutinise every aspect of my life and ultimately my purpose.  Since leaving work I have had time to draw breath and start evaluating what is important to me and what I want from life - which had become a necessity rather than a luxury.  I realise that I have been pounding around the advertising and PR hamster wheel for almost twenty years now, and while from the outside I have been moderately successful, inside I feel depleted and dissatisfied.

Stopping has allowed me to see what a pointless, hedonistic existence I have been leading.  Working long hours, not sleeping properly, feeling so anxious at times I couldn't breathe, worrying and brooding about anything and everything, and snapping at my lovely husband.  Yet each month taking my fat pay cheque to invest in the nice car to look the part, to squander on alcohol and cigarettes to 'ease the stress', to splurge on clothes and shoes to make me feel better, and to fritter away on 'stuff' to clutter my house that I never needed.

So if my chosen career and money isn't the key to happiness, the question is, what is?  I know that I get great pleasure from writing and I think I'm OK at it.  However, I'm a realist and much as I would love to be the next Marion Keyes/David Nicholls/Adele Parks/Jilly Cooper, this isn't going to happen overnight (if at all!).  We have bills to pay and Hong Kong is an expensive city to live in - although it is possible to live here a lot more cheaply than we have been.

I am keen to explore doing something to give my life more meaning than filling the pockets of the shareholders of a faceless American holding company.  Therefore I am investigating TESOL courses, giving me the necessary qualifications to teach English to school children.  While I may have to cultivate my patience, it would allow me to reignite my creative side that has laid dormant since Art College and Uni. Reassuringly I have been told that helpers are present in the schools to clear up any 'accidents'.  It will also give me the opportunity to work part-time if necessary, freeing me up to spend more time writing.

As I spend the next couple of months taking time out to consider my future direction, I am back to writing my book... 17,000 words down.... 73,000 or so to go!  And while I'm not sure exactly what is going to give me a sense that my life is serving something bigger than just me - I am absolutely sure that it will not be by throwing myself back onto the hamster wheel.

How low can you go?

One of the few things that stuck in my mind from A Level English and Geoffrey Chaucer's intolerably dull 'Monk's Tale' was the Wheel of Fortune - a concept in medieval and ancient philosophy referring to the capricious nature of Fate.  The idea that we all have positions on the wheel and Fortuna, the goddess of fortune, spins the wheel at random and when it stops turning, your position determines your fate.  Those at the bottom of the wheel suffer great misfortune, while those at the top gain good fortune.  For the past twenty-something years, I have imagined myself on this wheel and when I feel life is treating me well, I wonder at what point the wheel will be spun again and I will sink to the bottom, and vice versa.  Over the past three months I have felt myself sinking further and further to the bottom of the wheel, each week hoping that I had finally hit the bottom and could at last start rising again, only to descend further.

This week I believe I encountered ground zero and imploded under the stress of my job.  Although I am working my notice, the pressure escalated  rather than abated in the lead up to a major event, and although I have been crying out for help, it has felt as though anyone who could have helped had averted eyes and hands clasped firmly over their ears.  I have never felt so unsupported, isolated and helpless in a work environment.  Each week I have seen my confidence, positivity and happiness sapped from me and this week I realised I was no longer me anymore.  This was reinforced by a complete loss of appetite - although on the plus side weight loss has been a benefit of this emotional apocalypse.

On Friday the sun came out literally and metaphorically and I took the first positive steps to finding me and my direction again.  After such a tumultuous confidence battering, I am left questioning everything and my head is overflowing with questions about my future path that I'm not ready to answer yet.  What I have learnt over the past three months is not to throw myself back into the first thing that presents itself to me, but to take some proper time out to define what I want from my life and what I want to do.  Writing is high on my list, so I intend to spend the next couple of months attempting to complete my book and if nothing else, I will finally satisfy that desire!

Also, I intend to start appreciating and exploring this wonderful, vibrant, exhilarating city I am lucky enough to live in.    This started today with a wander down some back streets where I stumbled across the masterpieces of Hong Kong's answer to Banksy.

So, please Fortuna, start to show some compassion and start spinning that wheel a little bit more favourably so I can pick myself up and start over again.

The Wrong Path

From around the first full week of starting my new job in Hong Kong I had a nagging feeling that I had chosen the wrong path.  When my rational head was telling me to stick with it, give it time, things could only improve - my emotional head was telling me that this was neither the right job nor the right working environment for me.   For the past three months my mind has been in complete turmoil and I've been lost in a fog of contradictory advice offered by friends and family, desperately trying to process the best course of action.  

An email was circulated at work a couple of weeks ago asking everyone to send one of the more senior members of the team three to five positive words we associate with the company.  Realising that the only positive word I could offer was 'money' was a big wake-up call.  Suddenly it dawned on me that I had been walking purposefully down a path I had chosen to follow, only to find that it didn't lead to anywhere I wanted to be.   On Monday I made the decision that it was time to get off the wrong path and find a new route.

So, I am currently staring into the abyss of unemployment and self-inflicted poverty, however I feel an overwhelming sense of relief.  I just have to make it through 21 more working days in my grey cubicle, under artificial light, breathing  recycled air-conditioned air before I am free to find the path that leads to where I want to go.

Surviving Hong Kong

It's been a while since my last post primarily due to work taking over my life and not wanting to spend the few precious moments away from work sitting in front of a computer.  The last month has been incredibly tough, resulting in endless soul searching over what I truly want from my life.  Hong Kong is a tough city to work in.  In the past, I have always had confidence that I have been good at my various jobs and an asset to any company I have worked for, suddenly I find myself engulfed by a sense of failure and an inability to achieve.  With my character being tested to the limits, every single day I am torn between battling on or walking away.

David and I are very fortunate that in the short time we have been here we have made some close friends and got to know our Hong Kong family - Uncle Neil and Uncle Paul - all of whom have been an invaluable support through the past challenging month.  The words of Uncle Neil, ring in my ears daily:

"Hong Kong is a city of survivors - people who have been through some very difficult times without succumbing - they respect survivors."

As a Hong Kong veteran of over 50 years, and a highly successful business man, I know Neil talks sense.  So, this is becoming my daily mantra to remind me to keep fighting, to stick with it and remain positive that all will turn out well.

Enjoying today every day

In my last blog I mentioned coping mechanisms I have developed to deal with the stresses and pressures of working life in Hong Kong - the primary one being to push myself to enjoy the now and not postpone happiness until tomorrow.  Determined not to make work the focus of my life I am making a concerted effort to do one positive, fun thing every day - no matter how small.

In the UK there were times when work would become all encompassing and it would strike me that life had morphed into a cycle of work, dinner, bed, work, dinner, bed, work, dinner, bed until THE WEEKEND, and then repeat.  When I left London I was jolted into taking a good hard look at what my life had become and it kick-started me into throwing myself into sailing and making time to have interests beyond work.  However, as time ticked by in Hamble, I gradually reverted back to the person I thought I had left behind, as sailing slipped by the wayside and once more I was living for the weekends, with few interests beyond work.  Effectively I was only looking forward to, and enjoying 27% of my life and just existing and waiting during the other 73% - a depressing thought.

So, here is how I have applied my new found approach to life in the past week:

• Monday:  Met David in a bar by our house so we could have a conversation over a glass of chilled wine before going home and collapsing in front of the TV
• Tuesday:  Met David for a gin and tonic in Soho and watched a flash mob dance routine break out in the street in front of us
• Wednesday:  Met up with a friend of a friend who was visiting Hong Kong and had a lovely night making a new friend over a delicious dinner at The Pawn, before experiencing Wan Chai's most popular underage drinking establishment
• Thursday:  Lunchtime meeting at Gaia where I enjoyed some fabulous Italian food
• Friday:  Dim Sum lunch with work colleagues, Friday mojitos at the office and dinner at Kowloon cricket club
• Saturday:  Highlights and haircut courtesy of my lovely hairdresser Henry, holiday planning at The Flight Centre and a posh cocktail at Blck Brd with David
• Sunday:  Trip on Aqualuna junk to Stanley followed by lunch

The end result has been that even if work has been hard or high pressured, there has always been something else to look forward to.  While I had developed this approach as a way to cope with the difficult transition into Hong Kong work life,  I am beginning to wish I had addressed my 'living for the weekend' attitude a long time ago.  Like it or not I am 'middle-aged' and it is time to make sure that life doesn't continue to pass me by.  None of us know what is around the corner and we all need to start enjoying today every day.

'No' has been removed from the dictionary

The past month has been tougher than I could have ever imagined.  If I had been aware that the transition from a comfortable life in our sailing village with a drinking problem, to a super-charged, atomic-paced city with an even worse drinking problem would be quite so challenging, I probably would have opted out of making the change.

Perhaps my biggest challenge has been settling into my job which I naively thought would be the least of my worries.  Business is conducted differently here.  Hong Kong is an entrepreneur's playground and anything is possible.  'No' has been removed from the dictionary which means that when a client proposes the 'impossible' you have to work out a way to make it happen.  This requires quite a change of mindset when dealing with clients, shifting from the British 'conditioning of expectations' to the standard Hong Kong 'yes, no problem' - accompanied with well-disguised internal angst and (in my case) complete blind panic.

Dealing with this completely alien work culture has resulted in my mind going into over-drive deliberating over micro worries like do I have the ability to do my job, to macro worries like what do I really want to achieve from my life.  The only thing I have concluded is that I don't know the answer to any of these questions, so while I try to get to the bottom of these dilemmas, I have begun to develop a coping mechanism.  The techniques that I am applying to deal with the pressures and stresses are:

1. Dealing with one day at a time and focusing only on what I need to achieve on that particular day;
2. Learning to say yes but realising that finding a solution does not rest squarely on my shoulders alone; 
3. Trying to care less - the worst thing that can happen is I get fired;
4. Pushing myself to enjoy the NOW and not postpone happiness and fulfilment for tomorrow;
5. When all else fails - throw money at the problem by investing in a neck and shoulder massage followed by a lychee martini.  

Chucking money at the problem... a foot massage

So in answer to the question in my earlier blog - "What’s the great lesson that this culture and these people seem to be teaching me?" - it is live for the moment and worry about the future tomorrow.

The shock of culture shock

Before I moved to Hong Kong I spent many a sleepless night dream scheming my new life in Asia.  I read a lot about culture shock but naively I brushed it aside believing that I was worldly and adaptable and it would not be an issue I would encounter.  Besides, I know lots of people who have relocated abroad over the years, and never once have I had a conversation with them, or seen a single post on Facebook, to indicate that they are, or have, suffered from culture shock.  In fact the photographs of smiling faces, stunning locations, blue skies, sunshine, exotic beaches and snow capped mountains would suggest that life beyond the UK shores is nothing but an idyllic adventure.

The shock of the bad news we received from the UK a couple of weeks ago, combined with a tough start to my new job, toppled me from my smug high-ground and I have been descending fast into a pit of anxiety, loneliness, sadness, irritability and depression.  Silently I find myself hoping that I have hit the bottom and it is time to start finding a way out.  Having tried to understand and analyse why I feel the way I do it is clear that I am deep in the throws of culture shock.  This was not meant to happen to me - I'm open-minded and culturally sensitive.  I have lived and worked abroad before and never experienced this intense combination of emotions dragging me down to a place I don't want to be.

My culture shock is all encompassing and it sends ripples out to all those close to me.  I have never been very good at masking my emotions.  I wear my heart on my sleeve and what you see is what you get.  The result being that when I'm up, I'm great fun to be around but when I'm down I have a tendency to drag down with me those I love and care for the most.  I am very lucky to have David as a husband.  He is one of the most cheerful people I know and he can always see the positive in every situation.  I have no doubt that he felt the 'honeymoon phase' passing and 'the honeymoon is over phase' kicking in.  I suspect that being the person he is, he suffered in silence, put a big smile on his face, and just knuckled down and got on with his new life.  I, on the other hand, have been extremely tearful, dwelling on my emotions and over-analysing what I can do to overcome this culture shock.  However, despite feeling like withdrawing from the world, I have started to set in place some coping mechanisms to see me through this phase and on to the 'all's well and everything's OK phase'.

I am working hard to build a support network of friends around me here in Hong Kong.  Two girlfriends here in particular, have very patiently listened to me articulate my feelings and buoyed me up with their invaluable advice.  I have signed up to a number of Meet-Up groups and last Wednesday I took myself off to a pub quiz with an eclectic group of strangers and surprised myself with my contribution in the music round with my immense knowledge of song lyrics.  Everyone was incredibly welcoming and it was a great comfort to talk to an American guy who completely empathised with my feelings and reassured me that it will pass.  Last weekend I was very happy to receive a friend request on Facebook from an old school friend who I was unaware lives in Hong Kong and we plan to meet up when she returns from a holiday in the UK.  And today I have been contacted by a girl who has recently relocated from Shanghai to Hong Kong suggesting we meet up for a drink.  As my support network builds, I have no doubt that this minor set-back will pass and life will become easier to deal with.

I am determined to fight this culture shock hard and beat it quickly. Thank you to all those who have born the brunt of my negative emotions and in particular my amazing husband and my long-suffering parents.

My Winnie who I miss soooo much