The Saints' Go Marching On !

The Nav has so many fond memories of his 8 years in HK living close, sometime too close, to the hippy, happy, many times on hops Saint Family of HK. He shares some of those memories with you now

His first day of arrival, landing at Chep Lap Kok, little money, few friends, limited experience. And collected by Mother Saint in her banana yellow, convertible, often coughing Saab sports car – with 4 cylinders, a dodgy air con, and black bumpers so big they were a risk to local giraffe. The Nav was whisked home by Mother in the sunshine, ignorant of traffic and road regulations and rear view mirrors, to the then Stubbs Road ‘Castle’, over-looking the massive Happy Valley cemetery, the ‘Castle’s’ Fung Shui so bad that few people of note risked living there. But Father Saint proud about the controlled rent situation afforded by the local dead, and The Nav commenting with some alacrity that the local children’s playground at the steps below the ‘Castle’ seemed to be constantly devoid of children. Possibly again because of the local dead

Then there was The Nav’s initial sleeping arrangements. Father Saint kindly put The Nav up in the spare room, by the front door with the dodgy lift just outside, within shouting distance of the kitchen, and in direct line of site of ducklings one and two’s bedrooms – and extruded a goodly rent for the best part of 6 months - with The Nav keen to escape to ‘Bachelor’s Quarters’ in Happy Valley. But Mother Saint having nothing of it, demanding her portion of company in the form of nightly SAS training jogs along Black’s Link, meandering Sunday ‘Walkies’ to the South Side with ducklings in tow, with all these energy sapping activities fuelled only by salad, black tea no salt, and singing

Many a morning The Nav - busy recovering from a 4am sojourn finish with Father Saint - would be in his room of penance, Stanley Boxers and Cathay Pacific airline eye shades on, reeking of beer, food, and fags; gaseous emissions so bad his little abode would be bursting to bloom. And yet despite the ‘Lan Kwai Fong Toxic Zone’ notices posted to his door, the little Saint ducklings were still set on their suffering Uncle – always early. His door flung open, their initially smiling faces then blinking, dumbfounded, as they took in an apparition more akin to the now long-extinct Dodo than what had said good night to them just hours previously; the ducklings' standing for long seconds and mentally processing how could evolution have gone into reverse – before they screamed, jumped, and pillow hit the poor, suffering, sad Nav before he was further assailed with the choir voice of Mother as she uttered that one word so dreaded by a tired, sore, hung-over Wanchai warrior of the night – “Walkies !!!”

And what holidays were had. Probably the funniest was the ‘guaranteed great time’ at the Thousand Islands budget resort many miles across open ocean north of Jakarta. Upon arrival greeted by the staff pointing out proudly the large swimming pool – broken – on this a waterless coral atoll. Four days, 40 degree heat, three adults, two infants, no helper, a beach so full of deadly inhabitants you needed gumboots – and a swimming pool more useful as a tennis court. Days of observing fruit bats, stray cats, and monitor lizards, interspersed with the same buffet food, Mother Saint developing a nervous tick in her left eye, forced to travel again by boat in open ocean with her brood to seek a working swimming pool and a fresh lunch buffet. After the holiday, the trip back to Jakarta at speed in a covered long boat, her brood sewn to her, the boat broke-down. Open ocean again, a deep swell, night approaching, The Nav nonchalantly explaining the various types of large and unlit Jakarta port traffic trundling by our now human pontoon. Mother Saint drawing her brood closer, staring at The Nav with a look that would have stopped Napoleon at Austerlitz

And the many, many, many meals enjoyed by The Nav – or perhaps better described as being monitored by Mother – with the Saints'. The HK Cricket Club, Hebe Haven Yacht Club, Jaspers in Sai Kung, and the American Peking Restaurant in Wanchai to name but a few. Father Saint tucking into his French Onion soup and/or Minestrone soup and/or Club Sandwich and/or Full English Breakfast and/or Chilli con Carne and/or Sirloin Steak with the regularity of a musical metronome; all under the oft-approving gaze of Mother, big glass of cold Sauvignon in hand, seeking to best nourish and make better her brood. The Nav always though sitting close by, nervously pointing the waiter to the lettuce sandwich in pita bread, no sour cream, hold the onions. Mother making points about excessive kilojoules and calories, health benefits of “Walkies”, at once putting the pepper and specifically the salt shakers in her purse – out of reach

After a night and morning of sleep depravation, Saint SAS training, and now enough food energy to fuel a salamander, The Nav habitually became desperate for further sustenance. Spying left-over chicken nuggets and/or a childrens hamburger and/or a hotdog and/or macaroni cheese and/or chips – all slippery in a slick of ketchup sauce – The Nav would surreptitiously seek to steal these soggy morsels straight from the newly hatched teeth of the Saint ducklings' with a sly “D’ya want that ?” On most occasions though Mother Saint would be one step ahead of the game – Mother Saint is always one step ahead of the game – constantly monitoring food ordered vs food delivered vs food consumed by her brood; calculating calory burn rates, optimum muscle building food ingredients, and protein to carbohydrate mixes. Mother would always have one eye on the fare for her family – and one eye on The Nav’s fingers. Constantly ready to verbally lash out like a feline leopard, cornering a poor starving little mongoose back into his corner, while her family fed on the huge Koodoo carcass – big enough to feed an Ethiopian refugee camp

And what tasks over the years The Nav has been commissioned to complete for the Saint Castle

A fully 3 car load delivery of duckling Oli’s birthday gifts from the HK Cricket Club to the Stubbs Road Castle – The Nav commenting “Why don’t you just re-wrap them and give them back at the next duckling birthday?”. Mother Saint's nervous tick returning

The family SAS ‘Walkies’, with Father Saint pushing stroller, Mother Saint holding her hot Starbucks – black, no sugar, added caffeine – and The Nav managing the 3 ducklings', 3 dogs', 3 leashes, 3 childrens leashes, a backpack, and drinks. All with his pen, clipboard, and whistle in hand – usually on a Sunday

The boating tasks. With the small but lethal Saint and Susa sport craft designed to carry four, but commissioned on occasion to deliver to the beaches of Sai Kung's Millionaires Island 7 adults, 5 children, 3 dogs, a chilli bin eski the size of Rhode Island, and enough ‘Dee’ handbags to fill Saks 5th Avenue – the HK police launch always close, monitoring, watching. Waiting for the little craft to make a break for China - at its maximum 6 knots speed when overloaded - to sell said handbags to Canton’s Triad wives. The Nav as boat ‘bowman’, nervously preparing ropes, and buoys, and flares - searching for any anchor - as the storm washed South China Sea surged over the gunwales. Fathers’ Saint and Susa, faces glistening and eyes ablaze, laughing at the sea Goddess ‘Tin Hau’ and yelling “You call this a storm !!!”

And so the Saints' Go Marching on to Singapore. Life will somehow go on in HK. Less beer will be drunk. Per capita consumption of Sauvignon will drop precipitously. Less container traffic of nappies will be needed. Nights will get shorter as all the Saints' friends get more sleep. The friends of the Saints' ducklings will now be able to get their 4 years of over-due homework done. And in Singapore ? Quite the opposite. Already The Nav has learned that the ruling Lee Family has commissioned a new Minister – with portfolio – as ‘Saint Social Secretary’ to handle the hordes of additional parties and lunches and outings – carefully camouflaged as “Walkies” - that this new brood will bring to that sometimes colourless island of concrete, surrounded by a sea of cultural colour

And can The Nav now wind down his life in HK ? No chance. Mother Saint is always watching, monitoring, waiting. The Nav on his next visit to Sing to be thrown into garden chair, bright light bulb brought to bear, cross-examined about day to day activities. Claims checked, cross-referenced with quick calls to HK gal pals, and re-checked for authenticity. A glass of Singapore Metro water at hand – no ice – and another lettuce sandwich in pita bread at hand, no sour cream, hold the onions. With the now Saint Singapore brood tucking into char kway teow and fresh curried crab and chicken satay and seafood laksa and beef rendang - all oozingly tantalisingly close on the side server just metres from The Nav – the sensory overload calculated to kill him should he not tell the truth. Because very very soon the world will realise what the two best things are about Singapore. The food. And the Saints'. Not necessarily in that order

This is The Nav. Sad but marching on too. Out