Back to school and cracking sport with the elders

Awoke at nearly 8am after four hours' kip as the kids were due to go back to school. Bleary-eyed, I got up pronto and sorted out the kids' spare clothes, got them on the bike and five minutes later we were finding out which classrooms to go to. Although the school is officially on summer holiday they open up for preparation classes for kids who will be starting school in September. Also they have classes for kids with working parents. I think that there are four weeks of this, and it cost 300 kuai per child for this time. Surprisingly they let both kids be in the same class "Xiao Wu Ban". There were a few other kids there but not as many as a normal school day. Both Leilei and Xixi ate most of their breakfast zhou, and as they were sitting on the table, neither cried when I left them to get their bedding.

Before that I had breakfast at the local breakfast place as you do. I had a savoury pancake that they cut into pieces with a pair of scissors, and a rather nice dumpling, with a glass of water. It filled me up and only cost 2 kuai. Magic. I then found some pillows and covers and beakers for the kids and took them back and put them in the dormitory they will be sleeping in. Again, when they saw me they were happy and rushed to me in the middle of class, but neither cried when I left again.

A Hua came around with Tan and A Ni and A Wu at 4.30pm. A Hua had been to Nanning and had brought back 7kg of duck cooked with lemon and chilli. But before we were to eat I had to pick up the kids and also was asked to get some "qing cai" (greens). The highlight of the journey to school was thinking I wasn't a million miles away from having a goosepimple or two on my arm as I drove at top speed of 42kph (that's what it said - could have been a lot slower for all I know). The low clouds were protecting Pingguo from the sun, and the temperature, though I have not seen a thermometer since I got here (not that I would trust it) must have dived to the mid-twenties.

Both the kids were ecstatic to see me and tremendously proud of the "hong qi" they had received for being good - pushing them into my face so I could see clearly what a red flag printed on white paper looked like. Red flag, gold star - same meaning, different culture. It's really funny to see the two of them interacting now; they do so nearly exclusively in Mandarin though they never do with me. I have made a resolution to go to classes for the first time when I get back as it won't be long before they start saying stuff I don't understand.... We drove to the local market and picked up one jin (pound) of some leafy qing cai, and one jin of flowery qing cai. Then just as we were about to leave the heavens cracked open dumped what they had been saving up for the past two weeks on a parched Pingguo. Rather than drench my kids, I decided to take a san lun che home, which they think is fun, but not as fun as the bike. Back home it was nearly time to eat and even though I'd been asked to buy the qing cai no-one cooked it. Also there was no rice, just zhou, which I can't eat, so I had to be satisfied with the duck - and that was not hard because it was blooming delicious, just the right amount of lemon and chilli. Plus everyone passed the breast to me as they know I like it and they don't!

It had been a long day working, broken by a little siesta enforced by the early start, and then the duck. As I have been semi-regularly going to play sport some evenings, if I haven't gone for a few days I start to really miss it. So at 8pm I decided to have a break and get on the bike with my bat and three bottles of water. A Hua's son, Nong Kaicheng, was the only other person in the house and he was playing some shoot'em up game on the computer so I decided he'd had enough and took him to his mum's shop before going to the old people's place. I had a quick practice with the experts in the upstairs room, but soon realised that it must be getting a little tiresome for them to play with someone of my quality. The elder of the group, who is definitely one of the best ping pang players in the establishment started doing his stretching exercises - not just touching his toes but putting palms on the floor with straight legs. He asked how old I was and I told him. He then said proudly that he was 57, and also does Kong Fu. I didn't doubt him but he preceded to show me how he would disarm me if I threatened him with a knife. He grabbed my arm and held it up and then kneed me in the balls. Except he didn't go as far as actually making contact, very thankfully. Then he laughed and said he was joking. I think he meant he was joking about how you disarm someone in Kong Fu, rather than him being a Kong Fu expert. He is a really good laugh, has the reactions of a house fly, is as strong as an ox and as fit as a fiddle. He really is an inspiration to me and I'd love to be so fit in 18 years' time. Except that as soon as he's finished demolishing someone at ping pang he sparks up a fag, and when he's not on the table nearly chain smokes. In the table tennis room as well, as most of them do. I guess the secret must be to take up smoking.

I left the creme de la creme to have a competition that it would not be worth me entering, and went downstairs to find some mortals to practise with. Unfortunately the mortals hadn't turned up and there were mostly demi-gods and goddesses in their 50s and 60s and 70s. I stood in awe for a few minutes before being ushered to play with a bloke I hadn't played before. Previously, upstairs, I had been given two more pieces of advice: relax more, and use the biceps when hitting forehands - apparently I'd been keeping my arm straight which was preventing my topspin from being as effective as it should be. I'd been concentrating on the latter at least and found I was getting better at smashing the ball...starting off a bit slower then with growing confidence dominating the ball and whacking it even from a few feet from the table. It is a great feeling when you have such a rally. When we started to play for points I only lost 11-5 11-9 and I was proud of the last game as I didn't get the impression that the bloke (who was only in his 50s) was giving me points. Then I got mashed by a woman in her 60s who has a very mean forehand, before playing the funny man that had beaten her before. This bloke is not much taller than five foot and very slender. But he hits the ball like a wildcat pouncing on a marsupial, never missing a returned ball. He's fascinating to watch and impossible to play. But I tried, and although he certainly gave me some easy shots at first, as I gained confidence he started hitting the ball harder and harder. A small audience of five or so people had started to watch this foreigner get pulverised but there was one rally where he nearly set the ball alight such was the speed and spin, yet for a split second I felt the Force and instinctively smashed back his smash right into his body in a way he could not fashion his bat to return. There were shrieks of delight and hand-clapping from the onlookers, and my opponent had a wide grin of appreciation, as I'd just hit the best shot of my life...and had witnesses!! I'd played for a good ten minutes so I thought I'd better let some others play and sit on my laurels for a bit, so I went to have a quick game of volleyball with mostly women to warm down. If this is what being old is in Pingguo I want to retire here.