Although I write commissioned articles at times, the nice thing about a blog is that I have total control over what I write. Sometimes I write with others in mind, sometimes I write about matters of which I feel strongly but I always write what I want. I'd like to think I can read this in years to come and be reminded of what I did, what I thought and who I was. Today I am in the mood to indulge myself so I'm going to talk about friendship. Friends come in many degrees: some are transient, some strong, some burn out quickly after a brief but spectacular blossoming but, just occasionally, a special person comes along who is a true friend. The particular friendship that I have in mind started over 10 years ago.
Someone had made an appointment to see me to discuss mortgages and this chap was shown into my office. He was Hong Kong Chinese, by birth, although his father had started the first Chinese restaurant in the town some 25 years before. He came in about expatriate mortgages and I promised that I would get some information and get back to him. He was about my age, a bit forbidding and I just thought it was another of those queries that wouldn't really go anywhere. When he returned the next week and the business was completed he suddenly asked me "What time do you finish?" I told him and he said, fairly abruptly, "Come round to the restaurant for coffee.".
I was a bit intrigued and not a little concerned. I'd only been in there once before, to deliver a letter (it was literally 25 yards from my office). That first time, I walked in and there were several Chinese guys sitting there in the bar area chatting. "Mr Tang?" I asked, holding the letter aloft. One of them stood up and, grinning broadly, went round the room pointing....."He's Mr Tang, He's Mr Tang, He's Mr Tang and I'm Mr Tang" !! I put the envelope on the bar, smiled politely and fled.
As I walked round there that second time, I recollected this and was more than a little nervous. I needn't have bothered as they all made me most welcome and I sat and chatted for a couple of hours
They were, indeed, all brothers: working together for long hours providing an excellent dining experience for their clientele and I was privileged to get to know all of them very well. The restaurant became my second office and I would spend many happy times in there, sitting out the back, drinking coffee and being brought delicious plates of food. It was some time later that I realised that they had a name for me: Sing an loh, which literally translates as 4 Eyed Man !!
Jimmy, for indeed it was he who invited me, was Head Chef. He'd bought the restaurant from his Dad, along with his brother-in-law, Bill, with the others as employees. Ironically, I saw the least of him because he was the busiest but when we sat down together we found that we held the same ideas, philosophies and crazy sense of humour. As I got to know him more, we found more in common; both of us had a son and daughter of similar ages, we both enjoyed similar sports, we both loved discussing food but, most importantly, we were totally relaxed in each other's company. I remember asking him once why he invited me round? His reply was that he liked the fact that I was "different". I didn't sit there formally behind my desk but put my feet up on the drawer and talked to him as an equal rather than a Building Society Manager. An odd compliment but one that I treasure as, to me, that's the way I worked.
Jimmy has a very successful takeaway now. He was tired of spending 14 hours a day, 6 days a week away from his family so decided to start again from scratch. I was asked for advice about the menu and, several times, he would turn up at the door with a bag of food, wanting to know my opinion on this or that creation. This was an inconvenience I bore manfully! I've always loved Chinese food and I have to say, Jimmy's is better than any other. He takes amazing care in everything he does and makes all his own sauces to his own recipes. Once the takeaway was open, I'd pop in there for a natter and even help out behind the counter on busy nights. His favourite trick was to make me cook my own food. At home, with my little woks, I'm fine but, faced with woks the size of radio telescope dishes and gas burners that cooked in seconds, my culinary aplomb would always go to pieces. Jim would, of course, just stand there with a sardonic smile on his face, glorying in my discomfort. If ever you're in Eastbourne, head for The Dragon Boat, mention my name and he'll charge you double (!).....................believe me though, it's food from Heaven
He has a strange sense of humour. One Tuesday night, his night off, I was invited over to the takeaway for an evening of cooking and chat along with another friend of ours. This other friend, Marcus, is completely off his trolley. He's a German dentist who has visited (I think) 62 different countries and has very strong opinions on most things. We spent a happy evening, drinking beer and cooking whilst taking turns to take the mickey out of each other's respective nationalities. The conversation flowed between slitty eyes, don't mention ze var and lazy Brits who colonised (and ruined) the free world. We'd cook a bit, chat a bit, cook a bit etc etc. I mentioned that, recently, I had discovered an allergy to prawns and that they caused redness and swelling to my arms and chest. Marcus explained to me that this was not just an external reaction but could also have dire results to internal places like my throat etc. Whilst he was expounding on this, Jimmy was busy cooking and duly presented me with a large plate of prawns, explaining that it was a medical experiment. I sat there and ate them whilst being minutely observed by my two so-called friends, gaily betting just where they thought the first reaction would appear and just how many prawns would it take before i became comatose?! As you can see, I survived
Jimmy's helped me enormously over the years. We might not see or talk to each other for weeks but then just take up where we left off. He's always been there at bad times. Not all over me, sympathising, but being practical and pushing me, if necessary. He always remains totally calm and gives the appearance of shyness but he is the most appreciative audience for anecdotes and the sight of him, giggling hysterically, always acts like a tonic for me. He knows I would do anything for him, with no questions asked, as he would for me. His wife makes the best steamed buns this side of Beijing and the kids are (almost) as lovely as mine. Perhaps, though, the greatest thing he's ever done for me, apart from being my friend, is encouraging me to write. He first planted the germ in my head and has been my greatest fan and fiercest critic ever since
I know he'll read this and I just want to say: Fat Boy, you are as much a brother as I could ever wish for. Keep being you, keeping my feet on the ground, my head in the clouds and making me ask questions of myself. Thanks for everything and, one day................... we will do that South American trip
Photo courtesy of News of the World
Someone had made an appointment to see me to discuss mortgages and this chap was shown into my office. He was Hong Kong Chinese, by birth, although his father had started the first Chinese restaurant in the town some 25 years before. He came in about expatriate mortgages and I promised that I would get some information and get back to him. He was about my age, a bit forbidding and I just thought it was another of those queries that wouldn't really go anywhere. When he returned the next week and the business was completed he suddenly asked me "What time do you finish?" I told him and he said, fairly abruptly, "Come round to the restaurant for coffee.".
I was a bit intrigued and not a little concerned. I'd only been in there once before, to deliver a letter (it was literally 25 yards from my office). That first time, I walked in and there were several Chinese guys sitting there in the bar area chatting. "Mr Tang?" I asked, holding the letter aloft. One of them stood up and, grinning broadly, went round the room pointing....."He's Mr Tang, He's Mr Tang, He's Mr Tang and I'm Mr Tang" !! I put the envelope on the bar, smiled politely and fled.
As I walked round there that second time, I recollected this and was more than a little nervous. I needn't have bothered as they all made me most welcome and I sat and chatted for a couple of hours
They were, indeed, all brothers: working together for long hours providing an excellent dining experience for their clientele and I was privileged to get to know all of them very well. The restaurant became my second office and I would spend many happy times in there, sitting out the back, drinking coffee and being brought delicious plates of food. It was some time later that I realised that they had a name for me: Sing an loh, which literally translates as 4 Eyed Man !!
Jimmy, for indeed it was he who invited me, was Head Chef. He'd bought the restaurant from his Dad, along with his brother-in-law, Bill, with the others as employees. Ironically, I saw the least of him because he was the busiest but when we sat down together we found that we held the same ideas, philosophies and crazy sense of humour. As I got to know him more, we found more in common; both of us had a son and daughter of similar ages, we both enjoyed similar sports, we both loved discussing food but, most importantly, we were totally relaxed in each other's company. I remember asking him once why he invited me round? His reply was that he liked the fact that I was "different". I didn't sit there formally behind my desk but put my feet up on the drawer and talked to him as an equal rather than a Building Society Manager. An odd compliment but one that I treasure as, to me, that's the way I worked.
Jimmy has a very successful takeaway now. He was tired of spending 14 hours a day, 6 days a week away from his family so decided to start again from scratch. I was asked for advice about the menu and, several times, he would turn up at the door with a bag of food, wanting to know my opinion on this or that creation. This was an inconvenience I bore manfully! I've always loved Chinese food and I have to say, Jimmy's is better than any other. He takes amazing care in everything he does and makes all his own sauces to his own recipes. Once the takeaway was open, I'd pop in there for a natter and even help out behind the counter on busy nights. His favourite trick was to make me cook my own food. At home, with my little woks, I'm fine but, faced with woks the size of radio telescope dishes and gas burners that cooked in seconds, my culinary aplomb would always go to pieces. Jim would, of course, just stand there with a sardonic smile on his face, glorying in my discomfort. If ever you're in Eastbourne, head for The Dragon Boat, mention my name and he'll charge you double (!).....................believe me though, it's food from Heaven
He has a strange sense of humour. One Tuesday night, his night off, I was invited over to the takeaway for an evening of cooking and chat along with another friend of ours. This other friend, Marcus, is completely off his trolley. He's a German dentist who has visited (I think) 62 different countries and has very strong opinions on most things. We spent a happy evening, drinking beer and cooking whilst taking turns to take the mickey out of each other's respective nationalities. The conversation flowed between slitty eyes, don't mention ze var and lazy Brits who colonised (and ruined) the free world. We'd cook a bit, chat a bit, cook a bit etc etc. I mentioned that, recently, I had discovered an allergy to prawns and that they caused redness and swelling to my arms and chest. Marcus explained to me that this was not just an external reaction but could also have dire results to internal places like my throat etc. Whilst he was expounding on this, Jimmy was busy cooking and duly presented me with a large plate of prawns, explaining that it was a medical experiment. I sat there and ate them whilst being minutely observed by my two so-called friends, gaily betting just where they thought the first reaction would appear and just how many prawns would it take before i became comatose?! As you can see, I survived
Jimmy's helped me enormously over the years. We might not see or talk to each other for weeks but then just take up where we left off. He's always been there at bad times. Not all over me, sympathising, but being practical and pushing me, if necessary. He always remains totally calm and gives the appearance of shyness but he is the most appreciative audience for anecdotes and the sight of him, giggling hysterically, always acts like a tonic for me. He knows I would do anything for him, with no questions asked, as he would for me. His wife makes the best steamed buns this side of Beijing and the kids are (almost) as lovely as mine. Perhaps, though, the greatest thing he's ever done for me, apart from being my friend, is encouraging me to write. He first planted the germ in my head and has been my greatest fan and fiercest critic ever since
I know he'll read this and I just want to say: Fat Boy, you are as much a brother as I could ever wish for. Keep being you, keeping my feet on the ground, my head in the clouds and making me ask questions of myself. Thanks for everything and, one day................... we will do that South American trip
Photo courtesy of News of the World
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