[I wrote this whilst I was teaching English at the Shanghai Foreign Language Middle School 1999 to 2000 - the night before I had drunk a number of Martinis with a chap called Stephen Pang, a fellow expat with whom I had been to see the snooker the night before!]
Promptly slept straight through my alarm clock and awoke at 9:15 having missed two lessons. It wasn't one of those bolting sinking realisations of panic, instead it was more of a slow 'ah hah!' moment. I calmly considered my options. In the end I dressed and confessed as I am not in the habit of pulling sickies (besides I want to go out this evening and it would not be very convincing). Went to my students' classrooms and wrote an apology letter on the board. Scraping of chalk screaching in my ears whilst hundreds of kids crowded round offering commentary on what I was doing: 'he is writing something', 'an apology', 'oh!' etc. I remained silent in my suffering.
Seem to have got away with it, but the hangover still lingers. Ate a cheese and branston pickle sandwich for lunch as I have been avoiding going outside into the maelstrom of sunlight and hopscotch. Must somehow now muster my forces to prepare for my Chinese lesson in an hours time. Have run out of cigarettes, smoked most of them with the martini drinkers. As I gazed at my sunken features in the tarnished mirror I became aware of this black lump on the floor plumb between my legs. From 6 feet up without my glasses on it appeared like some kind of freakily large fluff ball from a particularly cosy jumper. Instead an upturned cockroach, all dead-like. Closer inspection followed by a prod. It wriggled and sent a shiver of disgust through my sensitive nervous system. Felt no pity as it waved its legs around trying to win back some advantage. Grabbed my shoe and crushed it. Crunching noise disgusted me further, so much that I had to return to bed.
Later I heard the maid rattling around swishing mop to and fro with sinister promise like some harbinger of hygiene intent on unlawful entry into my private realm. Grabbed a towel, pre-empted her with a door opening manoeuvre. What's the Chinese for taking a shower, go away come back on another washing day etc. Made some gesture of armpit scrubbing which seemed to do the trick and I could have learnt a new word, nay a talisman to protect me from the Grim Sweeper. Instead, back on my own. Hadn't in fact been planning a shower, but switched it on to maintain my deception whilst I emptied my bowels. Slowly the water warmed and steamed through the flimsy curtain and condensed on my shivering leg. The three sacred SSS's flashed through my mind. Perhaps they might provide a solution. Slipped into the scrub stream.
Maybe I will have a shave now.