coming ‘home’?

I’ve been in England for almost a week now. I’ve met up with old mates from University for the wedding and old work colleagues. They are all interested in how life is going in HK, but the question they all ask is: “When are you coming home?”

Being back here is great. The weather is remarkably good with lots of lovely ladies in summer dresses. Everything feels both familiar and strange. Being surrounded by the English language is good, but the latest things on the radio and TV are obviously unfamiliar, except Dirty Den is still on Eastenders and Harold Bishop is still on Neighbours!

The office is great. Office banter is one of the things I miss most, seeing as in HK, I work in a primarily local team, and pretty much I have no banter at all. Partly my fault, I don’t speak Cantonese, but I do work for an international company. Leaving the office at 6pm is not deemed way too early. Anyway.

Seems more expensive than it was. 50p for a can of Coke? Is that right? Books are cheap. £3 for Truecrime.

I don’t think I’ve been served in a shop or restaurant by an English person yet. They are all Europeans: French, Spanish, Swedish. What’s that all about then? And the service is pretty shit.

Anyway, I was starting to feel a little homesick, well not homesick, just missing a lot of things. Sports coverage is just great. The cricket on Channel Four. Oooof, Hawkeye.

But then there’s the news.

It’s full of murder, murder, murder, murder, murder, murder, shootings, theft, animal cruelty and police in the playground. What the fuck is going on?!

My mate told me about the run-ins he’s had over the last few months, just walking home. A bloke having a go at him and his girlfriend for their interracial relationship, and a gang of kids giving him abuse, having a go, and actually coming into his apartment complex.

So when am I coming ‘home’?

Not soon.