During the war and when he returned to HK in the 1950s, Dad had a Chinese interpreter to help him communicate with his local troops. This afternoon I met with the interpreter’s daughter, Jenny, who met me at the hotel. We did a bit of shopping, took the Star Ferry for a sunset ride to the Island and then went for a wander round Soho.


There followed a very long walk in search of a bus stop, a very short bus ride and then another wait for a taxi to take us to a place dear to Jenny’s heart – a karaoke bar. I had, until that moment, spent a lifetime successfully avoiding amateur singers (except drunk ones, obviously) but it seemed my luck had turned. There were several performers, a couple quite good but one who apparently sang Danny Boy, in English, but sounded more like badly oiled brakes being applied. Jenny sang several songs. I think I’ll stop there.

Me and Jenny

Me and Jenny

I pleaded jetlag and sped home on the good old MTR. It was wonderful to meet someone who has such a long connection with our family and I am only sad that the interpreter himself is no longer with us.

2 thoughts on “Jenny

  1. Hi Mary, just read all your entries and you really are a talented writer, well you make me want to read more. It’s great and I’m transported. Really glad you are enjoying it so far. Keep well. Jo x

  2. Really enjoying reading about your travels so far, but disappointed you didn’t join the singing – especially after that extraordinary coloured drink in the photo. Take care. June

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