As usual the rebirth of my blog (my blog has been reborn at least 6 times since 1999, making it a looser Christian than even myself) begins in a really random period, at a really random time, when thoughts are ample and my fingers are itching.

Tonight this strange phenomenon is taking hold of me for a number of factors: firstly (you guessed it), I am back in Europe, more specifically in the UK. I am here for six months on a work secondment. And considering the state of the markets today, you should already know - unless you have been living underneath the floorboards - that work is quiet. Hence, I have oodles of time.

Secondly, this is the first time in my life I am officially living alone. My firm has graciously set me up in a pad in Islington, basic but charming and fit for my needs. Perhaps I shall take a little time describing it later when I get past this awkward explanation for my sudden reappearance.

Thirdly, I have ended my year-long hiatus from reading novels. Correction: finishing novels. For some reason I hadn't been able to finish any book that I've picked up in the last year (with the exception of Paul Auster novels which I always manage to finish). Aptly, this ended on the plane ride from Asia here to what I regard as a new chapter of my life in HK. And I am glad this cruel separation is ending - a life without connection to literature is a life without a connection to inner thoughts, and hence yourself. I should say for good measure that this book was the first of the Millenium Trilogy by Steigg Larsson, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, a mighty fine crime novel with a surprisingly fine narrative despite having been translated from Swedish.

This one novel has unblocked the dam and I promptly visited Amazon.com and picked up 4 more books (though I must guiltily admit that one was another Auster paperback which I am reading now). What a relief that I can read again!

So, back onto my original vein, reading books again has rekindled my itch to write. Writing helps one get a stronger grasper of oneself, and I probably wouldn't count sending a SuperPoke to an overseas friend on Facebook reasonable prose of any kind (though arguable).


So, on to bigger things. As mentioned, I'm now put up in a one-bedroom pad near Highbury & Islington tube station. It's cosy with a sizable living room containing 2 olive sofas, a chest of drawers, a simple dining table for four, an open plan kitchen and a red brick wall on the far end, which I especially like. My bedroom includes a roomy double bed and a wardrobe just about roomy enough for my threads. Aside from my iPod docking speaker I have brought very few personalising touches for the flat, and so it will remain 6 months of white walls and wooden surfaces.

It's surreal to be back in the UK, even though this is my fourth week here and I really should have gotten over the novelty! London is a great city, and I'm glad I'm back here after heaps of support and encouragement from family and friends. Life has changed of late, changed very much indeed since my last post, and sometimes it takes a swap in scenery to take you out of context and take stock of yourself.

My life in summary: working for a year now; single; collecting and maintaining friendships; back to playing music but only for myself; active fundraiser; travelled several more countries; planning to run the Great Wall Marathon next May; well and truly living for myself .

Ahh my eyes fail me (it's almost 2am) and I really can't carry on. Just take this potpourri post as an indication that my blog is back! For those who care at all!

L

If anything could make me revive this godforsaken blog again, it is a reconciliation with my Europe. My kingdom for a camera as I walk the streets of Rome, and having left my Canon back in the pore, it is down to my inaptly modern blackberry to document my eyes' delight.

I spent the last four days in London, which felt very much like returning home. Emptied my wallet for a generous helping of tailored shirts and ballet pumps sans regrets but that I failed to save more for shopping in Capri, which I am currently in the train heading for. Italy is one of my prime loves of Europe. The city's intense beauty, natural inclination towards good taste and affection for history appeal to my every sense. Perhaps in a past life I was an Italian artist's muse or a Gondola master, what pleasurable thoughts!

Aesthetics aside, the city of
Rome calls to mind the glowing moments of romance past and the aroma of fine sangiovese and pinot noir vintage, some of my favourites. Thus it is little wonder I am so thrilled to be here. Ciao, till my next post.

I've figured it out. Hong Kong has an dumbing effect on my brain activity and hence my blog activity. I have been back in Singapore for less than 48 hours and here I am at 3.25am sitting at my damn desk blogging away in a battle with insomnia. At this time in Hong Kong I am usually as drunk as a Chinese prawn, smelling of smoke and beer, lying on my bed with my hair in shambles and my eye make-up half on. So it's no wonder that thinking appears to be a novelty for me (and maybe the iced coffee at my auntie's didn't help).

I'm thinking a whole fucking LOT. It's actually driving me insane. I've contemplated things I never thought I cared about. I've been lying in my 5-star home bed with my gorgeous down duvet thinking of all kinds of crap and it won't stop!!

I'm thinking of what to do for summer, whether to do real estate work and how long to travel to NY for and where to buy my ticket and how to buy my ticket and how to get the lowest fare so my dad doesn't have to cough up too much and who I'm gonna stay with and who I'm gonna see and who means the most to me and I'm also thinking of whether I should do volunteer work in China or take a wine tasting course or a fusion cooking course at the Coriander Leaf or golf or all of it or none of it and I'm thinking of whether I should buy a home in Singapore or wait till later or not buy one at all.

I'm thinking of whether I should call up my investment plan adviser and throw some more savings into it or keep the money to buy myself furniture or put it into IPOs in Hong Kong or wait for a stock market crash and just collect stuff through my banker friends or whether I should just save money and be a good girl and earn interest from my savings account.

I'm thinking of my family and how glad I am to be back here and what to say to my brother about the matters of his heart and how much independence to assert with my parents and what to buy for my mum's and brother's birthdays and how much I want to cook for my cousins and about my talk with my Auntie today - I've learnt that my great-grandmother was a professional gambler, who are the linguists in the family, where I got my bone structure from and that my late grandfather was even more than ever the most incredible man I have ever known.

I'm thinking about my year in Hong Kong and the people of met and the people I like who account for about 40% of the ones I have met and the people who I love who account for even fewer and about the people who have disappointed me and how to explain it to them, and I'm thinking about the old friends I will re-hash this summer and the hearts I should mend and how much I should forget myself and just bury the old hatchets and start being the person I would be if I hadn't met so many people who've run me over.

And finally I think of him, the great summer we'll have together and the reasons for the things we've said to each other and the reasons for our fears and how even if I disagree with some of his characteristics, and his words, I realise that everything about him appeals to me and I wouldn't want him to change a damn thing.

I seem to having an insatiable thirst these days for any kind of sport available. I've been ranting about not getting the chance to go wakeboarding but it is an expensive sport so I've gotten creative: yesterday Dionna and I made our way down to Shatin in the New Territories of Hong Kong to rent a bike (HK$15 an hour, about 1 british pound!) and ride around, taking in the scenery of a place at once so near to and so far from the bustling centre of Hong Kong island that people assume characterises the entire SAR. However, cycling around the little streets, going mad with my bicycle bell to warn off old people and young kids alike, I thoroughly enjoyed soaking up the atmosphere of the more relaxed, residential and friendly new territories. When we went to return our bikes, our bike rental guy kindly helped us take a picture, while his shy daughter ran away from my imposing camera lens. Strolling across to the fruit shop, I loaded up on fresh mangoes, durian and japanese grapes. It was a real treat!

Today, on the other hand, I threw myself into the unchartered world of street hockey with some of the other PCLL-ers and we had some interesting, tiring games of 3 on 3. After that, I took a sprint around the track with Ro, played an hour of tennis with jeremy and with the humidity, I think I'm about ready now to down a can of diet coke and crash out on my bed.

And seeing as it's Fri night, I still have to hit the alcohol! Time to get prepared. Peace x

It's REALLY pissing me off that my blog header picture has disappeared on me and the images on my site refuse to behave. I never professed to be an expert with these things and for the time being I can't be arsed, so I'll solve things the old-fashioned way: hope.

Days pass here happily but as far as my course goes, with a certain level of discomfort: I'm either doing sweet fuckall for my work and find myself bumming around for 4 days straight, or stressing in the library for 7 hours on end looking through [legal documents the details of which I won't even bore u with].

I watched Pan's Labyrinth yesterday which depressed me loads; ironically the older I get the more sensitised I get to sad, violent and tragic movies. In particular torture scenes just fucking kill me. Considering I come from a family of 4 doctors, my intolerance towards blood and pain is so laughable; I still remember running out of Passion of the Christ to sob my lungs out while my mercenary doctor brothers sat there without even flinching.

Not that Pan's Labyrinth is anywhere near that; in fact, the violence is mild relative to the horrible stuff these filmmakers seem to think we enjoy watching these days. I guess it's good to know that I'm not a total monster (maybe a wimp - still the lesser of two evils).

I've been throwing around promises of a grand July trip to London and NY to see everyone I love in those parts of the world and I really can't wait to make it happen. Some of the people who mean the most to me are there and dearly missed. I'm even being ambitious and entertaining stopovers at other locations - Paris, Belize, Bristol, Warwick, but clearly I won't have time for it all.

I can't wait to see everyone, but aside from that I think I miss Europe, MY Europe.

I miss Bristol cobblestones shiny with rain. I miss Rue Mouffetard in Paris lined with fresh Pain au Chocolat and spit-roast chicken. I miss coming fresh out of a tube station in London to marvel anew at a city at once so old and so cosmopolitan. I miss Venice, particularly when we'd hit a small quiet street and the sounds of the tourists disappeared. I miss free Paella and sexy tap-dancers in Barcelona. I miss weed and museums (everyone forgets that there ARE museums, and good ones) in Amsterdam. I miss lakes and rivers and morning jogs up the hills of the lake district. I miss people who kissed me unabashedly on both cheeks, anytime, every time.

Got my exam results today...I PASSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It seems I haven't updated at all since Paul packed up his life in Beijing, arrived in HK airport and landed himself in my humble flat. The company was well-anticipated and is wonderful; aside from late nights out, cheap as well as fancy dinners and plentiful shisha, we are whiling away hours watching Prison Break and making a concerted effort to gym regularly. I have run 15km this week and will be running 10 more, and as a reward I went out and bought a new pair of sexy Pumas to replace my old dying Adidas', which hopefully will be great motivation for me to keep this up till I start to become thin for a change.

I have been bad with March birthdays...I wish I could celebrate your birthdays with you, my March babies. First up, my girl Julia (2 Mar), the crazy olive, I haven't celebrated either of our birthdays with you in years and years, happy birthday! To Jax (8 Mar), the birthday humbug, I do hope you find happiness in your heart this year; wish we could do a repeat of that fab night at the Park on the triangle, with the shisha and your gorgeous braids and all that glorious booty-shaking. To my dear friend Nick (5 Mar): sorry this is coming late, but I really wish I could be back home so we can have a proper chat over some red wine on Dempsey Road - u'd better not be working too hard!

In the library and gotta work now - peace.