Wednesday night I had a Chinese test. The last time I was tested (for something other than sexually transmitted diseases) was way back in the misty past of 1999 when I was at university. I remember it like it was yesterday: TLC were informing us of their distaste for scrubs, the Backstreet Boys wanted it ‘that way’ and Ricky Martin was driving himself “Loca” trying to pass as a heterosexual.

Chinese is hard

Since then I’ve convinced myself that I’m really good at exams, suave and relaxed, like the Fonz in the bath- but even though this test was just me sitting at my dining table with a piece of paper, my sweat smelled like lamb in the sun. I got 80% which is good I suppose, but my teacher didn’t seem to care since she’s leaving and going back to Sichuan next week to study for an MSc (or because she realises she can never have my fine self- I report, you decide)