Lowaicue
英語在香港
A Rose by Any Name
Algernon Twygge had an unusual charm but little else to commend him. Born Alan Twig in a small Dorset village he had been a studious boy and had excelled in matters academic. His father had been an underwriter in the family firm of Twig, Alsop and Murchison, and it had been an accepted fact that Alan would follow in his father's safe and steady footsteps and the family had high expectations. So it came as something of a surprise when he announced that he had secured a position in Hong Kong and that, furthermore, his passage had been arranged for the following Tuesday.
On the Tuesday in question Alan Twig, insurance clerk, boarded the sleek, white liner and five weeks to the day when the SS Eastern Star berthed in Kowloon and one Algernon Twygge could be seen amongst the disembarking passengers. Alan Twig having been ceremoniously dispatched as the boat steamed the waters south of Capetown.
Twygge was a diligent young man and very soon, and by dint of having sat and passed several examinations, rose to the dizzy heights of underwriter and thence to manager of the Hong Kong firm. He learned to play golf, where he picked up the nickname Toothy Twygge, a reference to a considerable display of upper incisors which were permanently on show. The firm was a debentured member of the Fanling club which soon became Toothy Twygge's second home.
Algernon Twigge was accumulating all the trappings of a colonialist and much of it the result of his new name.
In a very short time Algernon had a spacious apartment in Mid Levels, a Daimler motor car and driver and the weekend use of the firm's boat.
The only thing that Algernon lacked was company. Of course he had office colleagues and there were several lucrative business relationships. He could always find a game at Fanling, though his inability to go round the old course in less than one hundred and sixteen might have had a bearing on that, and he always had people clamouring for a day on the firm' s boat.
But when Algernon slid his key into his front door lock at the end of the day, there was no one to ask him how his day had gone, no one to chide him about his adventures at Fanling. All in all Algernon was a pretty lonely chap and there were times, though he would never publicly admit it, that he yearned for the safety and simplicity of Dorset.
It was at about this time that Algernon entered our lives. He had met a young lady and had fallen madly in love with her. The young lady was Seraphina Chan and she was our next door neighbour on the Dragon's Back and completely oblivious to the existence of Twygge. Not stunning, but a personable girl whose English was near perfect having received both secondary and tertiary education in the greyness of the English midlands.
Seraphina was a teacher of small children and would take the mini bus down to the railway station at seven every morning. Watching her alight from the bus and cross to the station entrance was Algernon inside his copper brown Daimler motor car. When possible he would watch her return too. He had become, not to put too fine a point on it, totally besotted and rose early each morning to make the forty minute journey from Mid Levels. Frustration must have built to a point where he was forced to action and one evening he approached Seraphina at the station turnstile and introduced himself as a fellow resident of the Dragon's Back and could he be of service to her by giving her a lift home in his car which was waiting just out of sight.
In those halcyon days, dear reader, stalkers and other unpleasant examples of humanity had not been invented.
To Algernon's amazement the girl said she would accept his kind offer and, as is too often the case with young men, words left him and he mumbled something which hardly escaped his enormous front teeth save in a barely visible shower of saliva.
It was not long before the Daimler was a permanent fixture in our shared car park and a very small maid was employed to, amongst normal duties, polish the car so it gleamed as new.
And so it was that, when booking the caterers to come and set up a barbecue party under the Frangipani we added Algernon and Seraphina to the guest list, and because they lived next door they arrived before the other guests and, like us, were prohibited, by the caterers from pouring their own drinks as an elderly butler in bow tie and white jacket served us, uttering a reassuring, ‘ Don wully, sir. I find all. Got grasses and evvlyfin’.’
In return we were invited on board the company boat for the following Sunday with several other of Algernon’s friends and colleagues. We took with us a large bowl of pasta and pesto sauce, Seraphina had made delicious pork dumplings, a Japanese couple contributed tons of Sushi and an Australian couple brought a salad and a dozen or so lamb chops.
The girls stayed below as we nosed out of the marina and the swell increased slightly. Algernon invited the men up onto the sun deck to attack several bottles of Moet and to try our skill, at the behest of Ming, one of the two boat boys, at driving the boat.
We passed several unknown, to us, islands, and arrived, in time for lunch, at Dai Long Wan, (Big Wave Bay) an idyllic bay accessible either by way of a five mile hike across the mountains or, like us, by boat.
Before the girls served lunch we were diving from the stern and Ming had the speed boat and skis all ready to go.
Seraphina, in a Shanghai Tang creation, led the girls to the white sandy beach where there was a strange little café cum shop and the obligatory public toilet.
Tired, burned and slightly inebriated we finally arrived back at the Marina where the boat boys set to cleaning and polishing in readyness for the next jaunt.
Algernon slipped his key into the door lock and he and Seraphina disappeared within. It was the following Sunday morning that Algernon in a rattan arm chair in our garden whispered to me, across the sports pages of the Sunday Morning Post, the secret of how he had become Algernon Twygge.
I realise now, he confessed, that it was a little silly.
I agreed, threw him another cold beer and said, ‘It worked though, didn’t it?’
Algernon Twygge had an unusual charm but little else to commend him. Born Alan Twig in a small Dorset village he had been a studious boy and had excelled in matters academic. His father had been an underwriter in the family firm of Twig, Alsop and Murchison, and it had been an accepted fact that Alan would follow in his father's safe and steady footsteps and the family had high expectations. So it came as something of a surprise when he announced that he had secured a position in Hong Kong and that, furthermore, his passage had been arranged for the following Tuesday.
On the Tuesday in question Alan Twig, insurance clerk, boarded the sleek, white liner and five weeks to the day when the SS Eastern Star berthed in Kowloon and one Algernon Twygge could be seen amongst the disembarking passengers. Alan Twig having been ceremoniously dispatched as the boat steamed the waters south of Capetown.
Twygge was a diligent young man and very soon, and by dint of having sat and passed several examinations, rose to the dizzy heights of underwriter and thence to manager of the Hong Kong firm. He learned to play golf, where he picked up the nickname Toothy Twygge, a reference to a considerable display of upper incisors which were permanently on show. The firm was a debentured member of the Fanling club which soon became Toothy Twygge's second home.
Algernon Twigge was accumulating all the trappings of a colonialist and much of it the result of his new name.
In a very short time Algernon had a spacious apartment in Mid Levels, a Daimler motor car and driver and the weekend use of the firm's boat.
The only thing that Algernon lacked was company. Of course he had office colleagues and there were several lucrative business relationships. He could always find a game at Fanling, though his inability to go round the old course in less than one hundred and sixteen might have had a bearing on that, and he always had people clamouring for a day on the firm' s boat.
But when Algernon slid his key into his front door lock at the end of the day, there was no one to ask him how his day had gone, no one to chide him about his adventures at Fanling. All in all Algernon was a pretty lonely chap and there were times, though he would never publicly admit it, that he yearned for the safety and simplicity of Dorset.
It was at about this time that Algernon entered our lives. He had met a young lady and had fallen madly in love with her. The young lady was Seraphina Chan and she was our next door neighbour on the Dragon's Back and completely oblivious to the existence of Twygge. Not stunning, but a personable girl whose English was near perfect having received both secondary and tertiary education in the greyness of the English midlands.
Seraphina was a teacher of small children and would take the mini bus down to the railway station at seven every morning. Watching her alight from the bus and cross to the station entrance was Algernon inside his copper brown Daimler motor car. When possible he would watch her return too. He had become, not to put too fine a point on it, totally besotted and rose early each morning to make the forty minute journey from Mid Levels. Frustration must have built to a point where he was forced to action and one evening he approached Seraphina at the station turnstile and introduced himself as a fellow resident of the Dragon's Back and could he be of service to her by giving her a lift home in his car which was waiting just out of sight.
In those halcyon days, dear reader, stalkers and other unpleasant examples of humanity had not been invented.
To Algernon's amazement the girl said she would accept his kind offer and, as is too often the case with young men, words left him and he mumbled something which hardly escaped his enormous front teeth save in a barely visible shower of saliva.
It was not long before the Daimler was a permanent fixture in our shared car park and a very small maid was employed to, amongst normal duties, polish the car so it gleamed as new.
And so it was that, when booking the caterers to come and set up a barbecue party under the Frangipani we added Algernon and Seraphina to the guest list, and because they lived next door they arrived before the other guests and, like us, were prohibited, by the caterers from pouring their own drinks as an elderly butler in bow tie and white jacket served us, uttering a reassuring, ‘ Don wully, sir. I find all. Got grasses and evvlyfin’.’
In return we were invited on board the company boat for the following Sunday with several other of Algernon’s friends and colleagues. We took with us a large bowl of pasta and pesto sauce, Seraphina had made delicious pork dumplings, a Japanese couple contributed tons of Sushi and an Australian couple brought a salad and a dozen or so lamb chops.
The girls stayed below as we nosed out of the marina and the swell increased slightly. Algernon invited the men up onto the sun deck to attack several bottles of Moet and to try our skill, at the behest of Ming, one of the two boat boys, at driving the boat.
We passed several unknown, to us, islands, and arrived, in time for lunch, at Dai Long Wan, (Big Wave Bay) an idyllic bay accessible either by way of a five mile hike across the mountains or, like us, by boat.
Before the girls served lunch we were diving from the stern and Ming had the speed boat and skis all ready to go.
Seraphina, in a Shanghai Tang creation, led the girls to the white sandy beach where there was a strange little café cum shop and the obligatory public toilet.
Tired, burned and slightly inebriated we finally arrived back at the Marina where the boat boys set to cleaning and polishing in readyness for the next jaunt.
Algernon slipped his key into the door lock and he and Seraphina disappeared within. It was the following Sunday morning that Algernon in a rattan arm chair in our garden whispered to me, across the sports pages of the Sunday Morning Post, the secret of how he had become Algernon Twygge.
I realise now, he confessed, that it was a little silly.
I agreed, threw him another cold beer and said, ‘It worked though, didn’t it?’
