Being Chinese and Singular.

I was wondering today where my fascination with old China comes from. It’s been apparent ever since I became infatuated with Rupert Bear’s friend Tiger Lily when I was about seven. Maybe it’s because there’s something singular about both Chinese women and Chinese ghosts. And then there are those wide sleeves in which mandarins used to hide their hands (at least, Tiger Lily’s dad did.) I was always doing that as a kid. It seemed right and proper, somehow. And despite all the negative propaganda towards Communist China to which we in the west have been subjected over the past sixty years, I never gave up on them.

And then there’s this little story:

When I moved house in 1986, I decided to go to the local chip shop to get dinner, rather than cook after a hard day’s labour. I wasn’t particularly familiar with the locality, and I’d certainly never been into the chippy before. I walked in to find a perfectly traditional British chip shop, and yet I somehow felt I’d walked into old China. And do you know what? The proprietor came into the shop from the back, and he was Chinese. I didn’t know him from Confucius, and yet he said to me: ‘It’s been a long time since I last saw you.’ Isn’t that strange?

Anyway, you can watch a bunch of singular Chinese women dancing if you like. I must try searching ‘Chinese ghost stories’ in YouTube. Might be in for a good bit of post-midnight entertainment.