And so

Progress

... we finally jumped on the Hong Kong real estate bandwagon and bought the tiniest little apartment in Kennedy Town. 


It was in rather poor condition as a family of 3 (+ maid) had somehow managed to squeeze themselves in there for the past 7 years.  That's 4 people in about 400 square feet.  


In fact, they were so tightly squeezed that when I went to first visit, I couldn't actually see anything, as the beds, cupboards and people were everywhere my eye fell.  The kitchen was the hardest to get a good look at, as I was only allowed to visit at 7pm, which meant the maid was always cooking up a storm surrounded by Snoopy-stickered walls and curtains - you know those curtains that people use instead of a door?  Sometimes beads are used.  Here we chose Snoopy curtains.  


Anyway, Snoopy has now been removed, and we are in the process of heavy renovations/gutting.  When I say "we", I really mean that t has rather lavishly employed someone to renovate as we're just sitting ducks to Hong Kong contractors.  Can you imagine me negotiating the price of wooden flooring?  I don't think so.


The problem, of course, with outsourcing the job, is that you're expected to "let go" and "relax" as you're in "good hands" and "that's what you're paying for" after all.  The problem is I can't.  I secretly visit my little gem every day at lunch and check to see how things are coming along, and then I micro-manage like mad.  


In my head.  

What's in a font

Borrowed from Pinterest

I've thrown myself into personalised correspondence cards in a big way.  Surely, now that I have a new married name, everyone will want to see it at the top of my letters? Or not.

Anyway, I've decided to get them done in Sheung Wan, in a tiny little outpost, where a man sits under a plastic tent with a computer.  He's just down the road from the snake poison shop amongst all the chop stands.

Publishing outpost

But the humbleness of this little stand is a little mis-leading.  Sitting under the plastic cover, my knees squeezed up again his tiny table, I asked him "do you have any samples?".  To which he climbed out from behind the stand and reached over me to a huge tupperware, which contained a full selection of paper (any colour, any thickness, any size) and envelopes. "Pick one!".  

So, paper and envelopes pretty much under control, the only thing I'm in charge of is the font.  Who would have thought that picking a font would be so darn difficult?  I've spent probably 10 hours mulling over Times, Copperplate, Engraved, Bodoni and Arial agonizing over what they say about me.  What does it mean if the G is too big, or round or thick or swirly?  Will it make me look too serious, ditsy, blonde, boring, weird? What if it's too big? Too bright? 

The hidden world of stationery (under plastic)

Anyway, tomorrow I'm going back to my man under the plastic and I'd better have a font picked out, because he's going to press print and then there's going to be no going back.  If you need me, I'll be on Google trying to carve out a personality.