STATIC

As I took the Old Lady's hand in my own I felt what I can only describe as a surge of power passing from her to me ... it felt a little bit like static electricity ... only this wasn't unpleasant ... unlike static electricity I didn't want to pull my hand away, I wanted to hold on, I wanted to enjoy it ... I wanted it to last.

I looked down at the tiny hand encased in my own and suddenly felt myself pull back ... I wasn't sure what was going on but this wasn't a social visit ... a friendly ... this old woman had made some fairly distrubing statements about me and I wanted to know why.

I let go of her hand and looked down at her. In my flat shoes I stand at 5'9" tall ... this little Chinese lady would barely hit 4'10".

She looked ancient, her hair was grey and her face and hands a network of lines revealing a very long life - strange how things like this happen but as I looked at her one of my own Grandmother's favourite sayings popped into my head - 'what is the point in living your life with the intention of leaving it in a pristine, unlined carriage?' - a sentiment that I had always endorsed myself.

'Who are you ....?' the words fell from my lips as I stared at the other woman.

'My name is Madame Zhou', her voice was calm, quiet ... yet held authority.

Well Madame Zhou, what can I do for you?

'Please let us sit, can we take a table? What I have to tell may take some time and I need to make you listen, need to make you understand.'

There was something about her, something that I couldn't ignore, something inside me that knew I needed to listen to what she had to say.

'You've got half an hour'

. I turned and led her to the breakfast room. It was empty apart from a handsome young waiter who looked like one of the stars from some American drama that I couldn't quite recall.

'Half an hour Madame Zhou ... and it had better be good.'