Countdown begins

In the end, it was kitchen towels that hit home to me that we were really leaving Beijing. I’d parked the pram in front of the shampoos, given baby a packet of tofu to play with, tottered over to the back corner of the shop and reached for our usual jumbo pack of four rolls … More Countdown begins

A little poem to Beijing, as we’re leaving soon-ish

Three and a half years ago when we first arrived, I hated the change and drowned in self-pity, But now that we’re leaving, my mind keeps turning To all that I’ll remember about this funny old city:   Spitting men and honking cars, The smell of burning coal baked into my hair, Taxi fare scams and … More A little poem to Beijing, as we’re leaving soon-ish

Meeting Mr Goldilocks

Much of the time, Beijingers strut the streets in an out-for-themselves, survival-of-the-fittest manner, swinging doors in faces, jumping queues, nudging each other off pavements, photo-bombing tourists and generally assuming other people are invisible until they need to ask for directions. In this respect, Beijing is the same as any other city in the world; but … More Meeting Mr Goldilocks