Fresh Air

I had a fairly subdued birthday this year (it was on Monday - I'm 26 now).
I didn't finish work until about half past seven and I don't know enough people in Hong Kong for a party, which I didn't really fancy anyway, so... a bottle of wine and Blackadder on DVD it was. Mum phoned, and apparently will bring presents when she and James come to HK at the end of the month.

CK sent me a parcel containing chocolate cake/biscuit things, which were very nice, and a pair of sandals. Rather nice ones, actually, the sort of sporty kind with velcro straps and all that. They're also in the sort of Roman legionary pattern, with ankle straps, which I wanted rather than flip-flop type things, so that's good.

Now, sandals are somewhat de rigeur on Lamma, so I've been outside the trend a bit, mooching around the island in shorts but with trainers on. Thing is, the last time I wore sandals must have been... I don't know, when I was ten? I didn't get round to wearing my sandals in anger until last night, when I wore them out to buy some teabags from the shop on Main Street. It felt decidely unusual having my toes exposed to the elements like that.

They just don't get much play in England. It's not weird to own them, but unless you've got disposable income you really want to throw at shoes, you're not going to wear sandals often enough to buy them.

In an interesting contrast, things are apparently the other way around in Indonesia. When CK went back there last year, she only had her trainers with her - and people stared at her in the street because of her outlandish footgear.

Also, where we Westerners deride the sarong as a skirt for blokes, CK finds the idea of a girl wearing a sarong hilarious. Different strokes etc.

Don't knock sarongs, by the way. They're very comfortable in warm weather and have the added bonus of protecting your legs from mosquitoes. Thanks to mother-in-law gifts, I have two of them.