Rubbish at pretending (London)

Summer last year, three days before I was to go out to the French farm for seven weeks to help out, I discovered a 36-episode Chinese series set in the warlord years of China in the 1930s.  The nearest wifi to the French farm was at a neighbour’s 1km down the road, which I should only use for emergencies and for short intervals, even though they’d said I could go anytime and stay any length of time.  So, being someone who cannot sleep with an unsolved mystery, I had to finish watching the series in London to find out what happened at the end.  On the last day in London, I was watching more episodes in the students’ common room, wiping away the tears surreptitiously, with only one other person, a girl, a few sofas away from me.  Then, I had to go to the loo, and asked the girl to look after my laptop for me.  When I came back, she asked me, “Are you watching a Chinese film?”  I said, “Yes,” then wondered why she’d asked.  A few minutes later, the penny dropped:  she’d been wondering why I’d been crying at my computer.  So, I wasn’t so surreptitious after all.

This recalls an incident in 1985 when an old friend, Jin, came over from Singapore to do a short course at the London Business School.  He’d brought a gift—a cloisonné bowl, specially chosen by his mother.   Jin and I had known each other since our teens, and his mother had always been pleased to see me (more so than she had been about the girls who rang Jin up…).  The first thing he said to me was, “Don’t you dare use it as a pot for a house plant, because it is very expensive!” just as I was thinking the green and white of the spider plant (chlorophytum) would counter the busy and dark patterns of the cloisonné nicely.  I put on what I thought was my best happy response, making a big show of pleasure and gratitude, “Oh, Jin!  It is beautiful!!  Please say thank you to your mum for going to so much trouble.”  Jin and I had known each other since our teens, and his mother had always been pleased to see me.

When Jin’s course came to an end, his wife came over to join him for a tour of Europe.  I met her for a coffee, and the first thing she said was, “When Jin rang his mother the evening after he’d given you the bowl, he said to her, ‘Mom, she didn’t like the bowl.’”  So, I didn’t fool him after all with my big show of a happy response.

(London 2012, 1985)