...Dracula (for it is he) went on to say "...you must need to eat & rest..." which is was fair enough...but then added "...but this is not England - there will be many strange things, and these are not your ways..." which - we now know - was a cue to run like the clappers for the (very large & creaking) door.
Next up was the sound of howling wolves from outside and the classic line "...listen to them - the childern of the night...what music they make!No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be!" Now that last bit is pure class, poetry, but by now, anyone with a brain would have either simply begged to be spared or at least offered the dirty magazine hidden in his suitcase as a bribe...
And so it was, last week, a pal of mine arrived from the UK to stay for a few days. OK, this isn't Transylvania, and Beijing may not be used to the sound of howling wolves at night (they've all been eaten or are in zoos pretending to be leopards) but the sound of spitting is just as gut-wrenching, and just surviving the scrum of people at the airport holding up signs to collect people they'd never seen before required a crucifix and Holy water, as well as a firm arm to shove and give as good as you get...
I'd run a competition offering a trip here for readers of my column, but the editor said I couldn't restrict entries to only be from women with decent chests who were "well up for it", and - just my luck - a bloke won, but I made him pay for his own ticket. Hell, I had to buy another quilt and all sorts of bedding shite...
Actually, I'd known the guy for well over 30 years (poor sod) and we have similar interests, so no sooner was he here than we we set off for the 'genuine fake' market, where - even on the first vist - he filled a shopping basket with 70 DVD's and 20 CD's, to which we later added considerably.
On day two, he met my good friends on the t-shirt stall (he hugs me, but I know he's also patting my wallet to guess how much cash I've brought)who gave us two binbags full (FULL) and the watch man, who did well (we bought 6 which would have a total value of over 50 grand had they got a lifespan of more than a week)...
My pal on the shoe section rolled his eyes as I approached ("I neeeever make any monneeee from you, my friend, you are too hard!", which is a phrase I've not heard for a while...)- we had 10 in total (that's pairs, dummy)and the handbag lady, who wants to know how many wives I have, added to the binbag collection.
We did a BIT of culture, and went to the art & cultural quarter, which is a fave place of mine, and I had a few moments alone, which was part of the deal over the 4 days...
Outside the APPLE shop - which is always packed - the security guys were insisting the blokes who stand outside selling fake phones (the new 5's were in the market within 48 hours, and were bob-on copies) had to stand away from the shop perimeter, so they stood right on the line (see photo)and on Sunday night - his last here - we went to an Irish bar which contained no Irish people, farmers or cows (Kerrigold)just us, 4 Chinese blokes playing pool (!) and a highly annoying Southerner who supported Chelsea, who weren't even playing. We watched the F1 race first,before I admitted I didn't really like football that much, and so fell asleep, no doubt aided by 3 very strong gins (very little tonic, and no ice, 'cos they are fake & made from battery acid)...
We got home at 1;30am, and had to be up at 4 to go to the airport, where I kicked him out, so I didn't lose my taxi...and now, typing this at 8pm at night, listening to The Eagles (Long Road) I'm knackered, but I've just written a storming good column for the 'Chron' this week (if I may say so), which goes to prove that a woman should have come over instead.
Staying power...age has sod all to do with anything except your bus pass, and I have no intention of ever getting on a bus...
No comments:
Post a Comment