Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Robbed

I have just been well and truly fleeced.Bought a battery charger,which charges everything at WanChai computer centre yesterday for $235.went to the bank today and was surprised I had no money,I went home and found out I had been charged $2350! Went back to the shop and basically they told me to fuck off.twice I had asked them the price and both times they had said 235,I remember shit like that! In the cop shop now Sunday at 2:53pm via BlackBerry
But it is their word against mine-not a good day! Sunday at 2:54pm
Police basically won't do anything,but I got a case number and officially requested all their notes on the case so I can show the bank and consumer council. I now have the world's most expensive charger,anyone looking for a portable universal charger?
If the shop had made an honest mistake,then when I took the unused boxed product back 12 hours later, then they would have given me my money back,but no, these people are robbing bastard mutherfuckers.
The shop is on the first floor of Wanchai Computer Centre. If you know the layout,it is at the back right hand corner.It sells some laptops and accessories,there is a camera/phone shop opposite. If you don't know the layout it is called Manu Digi Creation Co. Shop number 114-115, 1st floor e-mail manudigi@hotmail.com.hk
Tel 34899822


Saturday, September 17, 2011

Hug

I arrived home one day a few years ago in Lantau,to what could only be described as a raging storm which started off with "Who is she?" Never a good sign, "Who's who?" "The girl you were seen with at the ferry pier" I protested my innocence,and couldn't for the life of me remember who I had been with that night.
I knew I hadn't 'been' with anyone,but I may well have been walking with one of my mates,a lot of whom are women.
Many,many hours of protestations later it hit me like a lightning bolt."AHHHHH! Philippa!" This didn't calm matters down,neither did my explaining that yes, I had been hugging Philippa at the ferry pier.I explained that it was the first time that I had seen her since her cancer had gone into remission and being a close old friend,that me hugging her was perfectly natural.
That was the last time I saw her-hugging her at the ferry pier,and how I will remember her.
The storm did subside,but never completely.

Goodbye

RIP Philippa.



 

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Sunday, September 11, 2011

the Mercers on the move: 5 years

the Mercers on the move: 5 years
From 5 years ago.

5 years

5 years ago today, was of course 9/11, or 11/9 as it is in the UK, funny how everyone calls it 9/11.
5 years ago after finishing a really crappy teaching job that i had only accepted as it paid cash- I went to Kowloon Park to chill out, and have a couple of cans.I had just returned from the UK. Joseph was 4 months old, but was with his mother in the Philippines. I had decided that it would take too long to get Teosdee a Uk visa, and that i may not have been able to. Teosdee didn't have a Hong Kong visa either, as there were complications left over from her Domestic helper visa.
I had arrived back with less than £100 and was determined to stand on my own feet-hence the crappy job.
I was staying in Mirador Mansions-next to ChungKing mansions. I had my own room, in a guest house, which i paid nightly.
The room next to mine was full of Mongolian women earning some extra cash, I think they worked in TST East.They didn't entertain at the hostel, so it wasn't too bad. Occasionally, the South Asian guests would get pissed or whatever, and staying inside my room was mandatory.
They would often knock on the doors at night to check that none of the Indian prostitutes were there.A few years after I left, a couple of them were murdered in their room.
I can remember an Italian guy, who was sourcing for cheap textiles in China, and an English girl staying for a while-they seemed normal, but still not quite.
The room was tiny, and the door didn't open fully, as the bed was in the way. I would smoke outside on the landing, and listen to noisy goings on above and below.TST, was 'run' at that time by Pakistanis, Indians and others. These were not Hong-Kong residents but recent immigrants illegal, or semi illegal who ran the prostitutes from India and Bangladesh, and sold drugs to locals and travellers.
It was a dangerous place at night, full of people whose religion apparently forbade drinking and drugs. It was impossible to spend all your nights laying down, so I used to hang out at the 7/11 downstairs.
I was never bothered, but saw plenty of bother." Hey man! you wanna drink beer?", these drinking Muslims were friendly to me-the long haired westerner. The prostitutes would nod at me, but knew that I could never seriously be interested. The drug addicts were drug addicts, I would buy them a can of beer-if they didn't ask.I wouldn't if they did.
I spent 3 months there, saving, trying to balance 'cash work' with getting a decent monthly paying job.This wasn't easy when the rent was due every night.

This takes me back to Kowloon Park, on the evening of September 11th.
I didn't have that night's rent, so I was hanging out until my landlady had gone home, and the Northern Chinese girl, who didn't speak a word of English or Cantonese was on reception(a few doors down).She wouldn't ask me for money, as the next day was generally okay.
My room did have a TV, and after I had closed my door, pleased not to have to explain my lack of rent, I settled down to eat my noodles.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing or seeing.The first plane had just crashed.There is 12 hours time difference between HK and New York. I sat there for hours transfixed, shocked, and suddenly feeling a little scared being surrounded by so many Muslims.
I went out onto the landing to have a smoke, no longer caring about the landlady, I needed air, it was too much to take in, in that cramped space-alone.
I went down to 7/11, got some supplies, stayed for a while to hear and share reactions.
News is not the greatest forte of HK tv, and the chance to watch rolling coverage from the US was too much of a temptation for me, I watched the coverage overnight, and grudgingly dragged myself away the next day for work.
Over the next few weeks tensions heightened between myself and a few of our Muslim brothers, as I got into heated arguments outside the 7/11. It never came to blows though, even as the war in AAfghanistan got underway.
I was glad to get out to my own flat and bring my family over in December.
Over the next 5 years I dropped by occasionally to remind myself of the sights and sounds, and the danger outside the 7/11 or is that 11/9 in English?

first time


Friday, September 02, 2011

Days gone by

Razor-every song tells a story.

Comfortably numb

Hijacked blog?

Just annoyingly found out that my blog was being redirected to blogrolling.com, making reading the blog impossible. I found the offending html code and removed it.Seems to be okay now. If you are having the same problem, look for anything containing blogroller and delete from your 'design'.
William Shakespeare - To be, or not to be (from Hamlet 3/1)

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. - Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.