The Sunday Spinster Sermon: Part 15: Dancing

Hello there. How are you? I hope you're going to have, are having, have had a great day. But you know what, even if it's heinous to the mind, body and spirit, the live performance I welcome you with is enough to turn even the most tragic into beautiful.

Today, I've been thinking a lot about one of my old adages... sometimes you're dancing and sometimes you're holding the umbrella. This makes no sense whatsoever of course, unless you used to send the card with that picture on. I've now learned it's named The Singing Butler and by an artist called Jack Vettriano. See, I don't only wang on about old masters and pre-raphaelites.

my world view

This painting sums it all up for me. Sometimes I'm that maid battling with the inclement weather and looking after someone else. Othertimes, I'm the lady in red. waltzing through it all, completely oblivious to what's going on around me. Life offers you different roles and you get to see the picture differently depending upon which role you are given.

Today. I am the lady in red.

I type this from here.

I just Pretty Woman bubble bathed in here.

I'm going here.

I saw this.

I visited this.

And I knew that my heart would go on...

At no time during proceedings did anyone ask me to hold an umbrella.

I then saw some Russians doing ridiculously athletic things in the snow.

This has all been in the name of business. The only money I have parted hands with is for minibar beer and L'Occitane Verbena bubble bath.

Yet when I think of this time last year... Well... it was quite constrasty... the snow was much colder... and the suite was somewhat more treacherous. I was definitely holding the umbrella.

Today's business trip has been rather smashing. The highlight was not the moving Titanic exhibition where I got overly misty hearing tales of romantic daring do, nor the lights show outside the Venetian where the facade was transformed through the seasons, but through the athletic bladey rendering of Swan Lake. I'm familiar with the tale not through the ballet but through the Natalie Portman movie. Watching the white swan and the black swan dance together on the stage made me think of the virgin/whore dichotomy. In classical literature or any art form there is the virginal white swan and the whoreish black swan. In reality we all fall somewhere inbetween.

My return to Hong Kong has been a bamboozlement. A wondrous one. But bamboozley nevertheless. I began a new job last Monday. The team are great. We've had work drinks already and seem to work in surprisingly harmonious conditions. Home life continues to be great. We have large family dinners and invite guests over. My social life is decadent. Last Friday began in Boujis and had a Drop session somewhere inbetween. It looked a bit like this...

Similarly to last Friday, I met another gentleman from the land down under. This scenario did not result in stolen possessions but high hopes for what may follow. I had received his number and promised to call. Alas, after checking his name and company online, his profile revealed how he MOST enjoyed spending his time was with his wife. Quite the disappointment. I wonder what he shall say when I bump into him next in this very tiny town? Thank you were his main comments over the weekend. I doubt he'll be so grateful next time. The twists and turns of fate! :)

OK. I must to bed. The clock has just struck midnight and we all know what happens to pumpkins then.

Peace be with you whether you're in charge of the umbrella, or simply dancing.

xxx

The Sunday Spinster Sermons: Part 14: Fantasy adventure

Hello, good morning, good afternoon and good evening to all of you lovely ladies and gentlemen. Part 14 sees me two weeks into the wonderful world of Hong Kong living and it's living alright. As the fabulous Edna St. Vincent Millay wrote in the swinging twenties, 'My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends, it gives a lovely light!'

I'm typing this in my best friend's flat, sitting on the couch I currently call home absentmindly watching So You Think You Can Dance on the TV. My boys are strangely grown up now and rather than party non-stop seem to work then gym then watch TV. There are lots of vegetables in the fridge. Last night was the first night I didn't go out and they did. I woke up to Andrius staggering around at 8am not having been to bed yet. I asked if Janis was at work and having been assured he was heard another young man shuffling about in the bedroom. I decided I wasn't ready to commence a morning party so feigned sleep. Then the new houseguest began making coffee and smoothies... which I thought was awfully forward. I peeked out from under my couch duvet to see it was non other than Janis. The boys really have become a regular married couple.

Andrius sleeps now while Janis works. Today marks one of the first days without a hangover. This does follow a disgraceful incident on Friday night which saw me curled up on the mat outside the boys' door from 3am til 6am as they wouldn't wake up and my bag had been removed from my possession in the delightul Lan Kwai Fong bar district. My eyes had been on another prize alas. That of a ridiculously handsome Australian hunk with the look of Chris Hemsworth in Thor and the voice of Russell Crowe in Gladiator. I was already undone. Then he began plying me with champagne? What was a girl to do but lose her head... and her daybag containing wallet, HK ID, bank cards, HSBC security devices, camera, make up, jewellery and housekeys. The lovely lady who lives nextdoor began to open her door at 6am to walk the lovely dog I've taken out a couple of times. I hurtled onto the stairwell and pretended to have forgotten my keys so she wasn't exposed to a homeless person napping outside.

I spent a joyful 3 hours asleep on the couch and then proceeded to the wonderful Ocean Park to celebrate my friend's son's birthday. This was something I had been long eager to do... but with a code red hangover, no sunglasses or possessions it was somewhat of a dizzying struggle. I have sunburn.

I was asleep by 9pm last night. Police reports have been made. Cards have been cancelled. HKID replacement schemes are afoot. At least admin is quite easy in HK...

Friday had been a bit of an accidental celebration following four job offers on the same day... for any of you who have read previous blog entries you would know this is somewhat contrasting to my experience in the UK. I was a little overcome. Oh and four offers for housing too. Two in the city, one on an island and another by the beach in the New Territories of North East Hong Kong.

There is a lot going on.

So since I last wrote there was Halloween. Which was a suitable return to Hong Kong. I leather corseted up and made quite the entrance. The issue with dressing like a dom however... is that whenever you are approached by handsome young things you have to tell them to leave you alone.. it doesn't cross your mind for one second to say thank you. You just sneer a bit. Having looked at photos I see there were some rather handsome admirers, most of them gay.. but still.

Trick or treat

There are more men in Hong Kong than the Shire. 

I had actually planned to meet a gentleman in Hong Kong on arrival. We'd been talking for a month. Making plans. Sharing photos. Gmailing. Whatsapping. Texting. Sexting. You know. All that modern aged romance stuff. I'd seen pictures of his son, his house, his view, his friends and other more personal artefacts. As soon as I arrived in Hong Kong it all went quiet. Quite peculiar after all the plans made. You'd think he'd have at least wanted to get laid?

The life of the spinster is often baffling.

But never dull :)

After the wildness of Halloween an altogether different celebration took place last Saturday. A wonderful man named Greg Derham passed away just before I landed. He was synonymous with Hong Kong. He held court over all of the best events here and Hong Kong is strangely vacant without him. I was lucky enough to call him a friend and help with one of his Aids Concern Events. His memorial ceremony was held at the Peak in a garden with a giant screen showcasing his wonderful photos and playing torch songs. The great and the good of Hong Kong were present. It was so beautiful, the reality of the situation only hit me when I returned home.

His friend quoted Romeo and Juliet to say this,

“When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.”

We released 44 red balloons to represent each year he shone here.

Bye bye Madame Madame

And as we walked down from the Peak it truly felt like an enchanted evening...

In his remembrance booklet another friend said these magical words,

'You coaxed, coerced, chastised and encouraged each and every one of us, whose lives you touched, to reach beyond the boundaries of our humdrum worlds, to believe in the impossible, to discover the child in ourselves once more, and to know that fantasy is not just the stuff of dreams... and as a result, each of our lives is a more sparkling example, a richer and more exciting version than it ever could have been without you... and although we can never hope to fill the void you have left behind, if nothing else we have learnt that life is what you make of it, and that the seed of wonder is ours to grow. Thanks from us all.'

Cheers darling.

Life is certainly larger in Hong Kong. More heart filling. More create your own adventure. They were always my favourite stories. Ones where you'd go to page 12 to fight the dragon, or page 52 to stay at home and wash your hair. I'd always have my fingers in all the various pages and didn't want only one option. HK suits me. Amongst the madness there have been wonderful relaxing moments. Sitting by the beach with an old friend drinking a beer as the sun goes down. Visiting old friends and hugging babies and playing with toddlers. And of course the sunshine. The warmth. The soaring kites. 

The beauty.

I'd forgotten how beautiful Hong Kong is. Green, lush, verdant, birdsong filled. My favourite white crested bulbuls, the scent of HK$10 ginger lilies, the sea, the sea, the sea. And the dragonflies. Everywhere. Hovering around. Dancing. Reminding you it's all an illusion after all so smile and be happy.

What home looks like

Peace be with you everyone.

May you find your Shangri-La and chose your own adventure.

Big love

xxx

The Samhain Spinster Sermon - Part 13 - Magic

Hello and welcome to today's special Samhain edition of our spinster sermon. A time when the veil between here and there gets decidedly thin. I adore Halloween. Or Slutoween as it has been dubbed due to the slutty cat, slutty vampire, slutty nurse, slutty witch that nice girls get to be at this time of year. This year I'm going as Queen of the Damned. Beyond slutty. Well, what's a spinster to do?

I'm in HK. The air smells of incense and taxis and bubbling pots. It's all a rather smoky affair. I've walked puppies in the Peak in the rain. Networked at charity fundraisers. Manicured. Pedicured. Massaged. Air kissed. Bought a new phone. Drank like a fish. Hugged people a lot. Barely eaten other than the odd catch up lunch. Laughed a lot. Smiled more. It feels so good to be home. 

Back to the witching hour. Halloween fascinates me. It draws such strong opinion. From the age of 11 until the age of 16 when I accidentally dropped out of my A Levels, I attended All Hallows Catholic High School. Here, we learnt how to rip pages out of books that showed photographs of contraception, we only had this privilege once in sixth form however, as younger minds could not be exposed to such filth. Every sperm is sacred. We were also warned of the evils of The Life of Brian. Certainly NOT the messiah. I was hauled up infront of class by a particularly pernicious Miss Trunchull type teacher when I was in first or second year for being a slut... outside slutoween, which is clearly not allowed. I'd been copying my friends so had put little silver hoop earrings in and tied my pink gingham school shirt at the front like Sandy in Grease. I may have even applied a little pink lipgloss. The rather rotund history teacher decided to make an example of me and informed the rest of the class that I could destroy my own reputation but not the schools. Sweet Christian compassion. I wonder why I left?

To share happier tales though, and get back to Halloween, it is a little odd with such a strict Catholic school, that celebrated All Hallows Day, or all Saints Day, dated 1st November by Pope Gregory III in the 8th Century, a kind of mop up day to celebrate all the saints that didn't have their own special day, like Anthony, who was going to be my confirmation name, I was a contrary young thing but it states nowhere that confirmation saints names must be same sex. I digress. So here we are, at a terribly Catholic school and I am editing the new school magazine on behalf of 1T, but for the whole school. And what could the topic of this first magazine I am editing be? Why Halloween of course! Not the hallowed version you understand. The naughty Irish one. The wiccan one. The devilly one. The slutty one!

MEGGA - 10p - First Year Mag - I made the lovely wordsearch :)

I even wrote a poem. Angela the cool girl did the fashion.

Here's my handiwork:

A Witches Brew by AD - IT

Turn your cauldron to gas mark four,
And if you like it singed, then turn it up some more.
The first cooking item, I am sad to say,
Is the last ounce of breath in an ancient jay.
A pair of eyeballs from a newt new born,
A leg of a spider, battered and torn.
Then to make the potion bubble and water,
Add the contents of a dinnerlady and a quarter,
The taste of this really way-out drink,
Makes a good cuppa tea with a sprinkling of zinc.

Heresy! Although to be completely honest, I much prefer Angela's counsel... and I quote... 'Pastel colours are in fashion for the lads. We're in for a hard winter, so wear a snood.'

So there it was, All Hallows publishing a Halloween magazine. When teaching in Hong Kong, I sometimes had children removed from class at this time of year, as I would create lessons around Harry Potter, and parents would state they didn't believe in Halloween or witchcraft.

Pope Gregory I sent a letter to Bishop Mellitus in the 6th century, in which he suggested that existing places of non-Christian worship be adopted and consecrated to serve a Christian purpose. The Encyclopaedia Britannica states that this date may have been chosen "in an effort to supplant the Pagan holiday with a Christian observance". The Oxford Dictionary of World Religions also states that Hallowe'en "absorbed and adopted the Celtic new year festival, the eve and day of Samhain".

You know what, this is life, it changes, it swirls, it becomes things it was not. We recreate ourselves. Non more so however than at Halloween. Whether you connect with your inner slut or simply enjoy an evening of disguise. It is a night of magic. Of apple bobbing. Of spells.

I wish you all a wonderful Halloween with all the tricks and treats you deserve.

Traditional Irish turnip lantern from the early 20th century - damn we were poor

I also consider it a really romantic time. But I blame that on Tim Burton.  I leave you with clips from two of my favourite films. There's little sexier than gothic doomed love. Edward Scissorhands and The Corpse Bride both destroy me. So utterly tragic and wonderfully beautiful.

And I know it's not a Sunday, so no Sunday Worship, but a seasonal object of desire seems fair.

love hurts

I leave you with the soundtrack to one of the finest gothic novels ever written.

May you find your heart's desire tonight. Or otherwise enjoy a good apple bobbing. :)

Peace be with you

xxx

The Sunday Spinster Sermons: Part 12: Love

Hello and greetings. This is the last Sunday Spinster Sermon to be penned in the UK for a while. This time next week I will be rubbing the previous night's halloween make up off whilst lay strewn on my best friends' couches cackling and drinking more wine in a flat in Sheung Wan, Hong Kong. I'll be reunited with the Escapades crew, or Sexcapades as it become known. The boys I spent my first 3 years in Hong Kong living with ten years ago. There is a nice symmetry or pattern about this. I left for Hong Kong in the autumn of 2002. I do the same thing 10 years on. Much changes yet much stays the same.

Take flame haired backwoodsmen. Today, we have Chet Baker, talking about what he'd like to do with his lady friend. Back in the day, there was Howard Keel, in Seven Brides for Seven brothers discussing the very same thing.

Them a woman was sobbin', sobbin', sobbin'
Fit to be tied.
Ev'ry muscle was throbbin', throbbin'
From that riotous ride.

Good old Greek mythology - the perfect drama for exciting marble nudity

The sobbin' women come from Plutarch's tale of The Rape of the Sabine women in 750BC. Sabine ladies of ancient Rome whom Romulus and Remus types abducted to found the city. Luckily rape meant abduct then, so not as bad as it sounds. Who wouldn't enjoy a spot of abduction by a backwoodsman from time to time?

This brings us to our first reading of the day. I was incredibly lucky to stumble across a magnificent book in the library last weekend. If anyone loves myth or history or romance or excellent writing. Get on it. The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. One of my favourite novelists, Donna Tartt praises it on the front cover, as does Bettany Hughes, classics professor and broadcaster, who states, 'sexy, dangerous, mystical.'

The writer, a classicist herself, took ten years to write this masterpiece. It is the retelling of Homer's Illiad. It imagines why Achilles would have been so heartbroken by the death of his friend Patroclus?

I'll jog your memory with the imagery from the 2004 Troy blockbuster.

what hollywood went with

what patroclus looked like

an altogether more greek approach to love

At night, in bed, images come. They begin as dreams, trailing caresses in my sleep from which I start, trembling. I lie awake, and still they come, the flicker of firelight on a neck, the curve of a hipbone, drawing downwards. Hands, smooth and strong, reaching to touch me. I know these hands. But even here, behind the darkness of my eyelids, I cannot name the thing I hope for. During the day, I grow restless, fidgety. But all my pacing, singing, running, does not keep them at bay. They come, and will not be stopped.

Sigh, Now I know it's Achilles fangay stuff. Oscar Wilde meets Barbara Cartland but to add love and passion and feeling into a text consumed by war and death is quite brilliant. I'm only a few chapters in... I imagine there'll be more exciting developments soon.

OK. So back to the ten year relocate to Hong Kong thing.

There will be a lot the same and a lot different.

When I moved to Hong Kong in 2002, there was no Facebook or Twitter. Phones just made phone calls. I'd sing I'm With You by Avril Lavigne after too many shandies. I was leaving in part to leave old heartache behind but mainly for adventure. To go and find stories. I was armed with my Sony Discman to board my Emirates flight where I probably watched 40 days and 40 nights on the inflight entertainment. I'd never been to Hong Kong and only knew one girl there. She was away so her boyfriend was meant to meet me at the airport. He didn't. I took a cab, with my seven bags (I hadn't really got the handle of how to pack back then). I got dropped off in Lan Kwai Fong. Agog. And walked with all of my seven bags to Wo On Lane. Smiled at the concierge who said something completely unintelligible and took a lift up. The boyfriend had got the dates wrong. It was hot. It was humid. There were lanterns everywhere. And rabbits. It was Mid-Autumn Festival. 

And life began.

I met wonderful people. Held wonderful jobs. Fell in love. Broke my heart. Fell in love again. Broke my heart. Went on adventures. Studied Eastern mysticism. Explored Asia. Explored Africa. Detoxed. Retoxed. Detoxed. And repeat. Tragedy. Comedy. Tragicomedy.

So what now. Ten years on?

More of the same, please. I think I've tooled up with a few more life skills to handle the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. To find more calm within the eye of the storm. To fall in love slower. To heal my heart faster. To see more of the comedy than the tragedy. Will I still sing gay/teen pop when drunk? Very probable. Taylor Swift's new album's out on Monday...

So, a final peace be with you from England.

I wish you love and luck on your travels however near or far they may be.

Love, passion and adventures,

Alison

xxx

The Sunday Spinster Sermons: Part 11: Harvest Horn

Good morning, afternoon and evening dear sermon followers. Our welcoming song does begin with a Guinness ad, but it has the Edward Scissorhands music in the background so I fully recommend a listen. This middle aged spinster song is not terribly cool but has kept me uplifted driving through the Shire so I hope it perks your petals too.

Before I sermonise, I think we'll go straight into some good old fashioned Sunday worship. I was particularly enjoying medieval fellows last night. It's my castle connections, I can't help myself. Let's go back to the 12th Century and imagine them all at the castle as I wave goodbye.

An oath's just words Aliena, it's nothing compared to this, come away!

Knights of the round gratuitously naked in servitude table

The seeker and his wood

Winter is Coming

(P)IMP

King of the North

Your name lady, I still need to hear it...

Yes. That was what the last 18 months have been. Tireless. Knights. Castles. Chivalry. And lots of lots of smouldering...

Ha. Perhaps not. But what an incredible experience to have had. I'm truly grateful. My last day working at Powis Castle was on Tuesday. My mantlepiece groans with good luck and sorry you're leaving cards. I have flowers and chocolates and cakes and originals of Alice in Wonderland and posh tottie mugs and frogs that turn into princes when left in water for 72 hours... my colleagues know me well. :)

I look back at a time when I got to dress up a lot. In a castle. Which as a fairytale lover could not have been more perfect.

english rose

stuart wench

red menace

princess

protester

pimp

kitten

edwardian lady

wedding planner

50s pin up

cycling enthusiast

lady in waiting

indian wedding guest

and then I flew away - like the wizard of oz... waving goodbye to:

the parties

the beautiful gardens

and over 150 volunteers and staff

What a trip?

If you've read my previous posts, you'll know it looks like a fairytale, but has had all the requisite villains and adversities to overcome. I feel I'm in a glorious harvest season now. There have been many seeds sown and as I fly off to Hong Kong, I am looking forward to my harvest festival!

For those concerned I visit on a fool's errand, rest assured, I have many a meeting afore me and after leaving Once Upon a Time am ready to embrace a new dawn, a new day, a new life, for me and it feels good.

Peace be with you all.

I wish you all an excellent harvest horn :)

Dionysus - God of wine and definitely horn

xxx