I was looking after my 84-year-old ex-teacher one year as she was eating tinned food for the convenience. One of the things I’ve found from caring for old people is that they enjoy talking about their earlier days, so I encourage them to. She was born and brought up in Hong Kong, with a father who worked as a comprador. They had a big house, with an even bigger garden behind (big enough for horse-riding), beyond which was a hill.
During one of our reminiscences, I asked her if she’d been back to see that house since she came over to Britain in 1942, and she said, “Yes, I did go back once to look at the house. It was in 1975. The house was still there, but the hill was gone.”
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