My adopted father died in May (my adopted mother died in 1973)and the remainder of his belongings were delivered to me yesterday. It’s like a micro museum. The Victoria & Albert Museum in London would love it. My mother’s handbag was in there untouched since the day she died. As well as the usual compact and lipstick, there was also a cigarette case complete with 2 ciggies, a matching lighter and a box of matches.

One little gem was a plain bracelet, so tarnished I could hardly read it. It has the name Lam Ling Chi on it. For many years I thought that was my real name and my path back to my birth family. It wasn’t until recent contact with members of this group that I found out that the director of the children’s home I was in gave me that name. My parents had told me I was in Fanling but there’s nothing on the meagre records I’ve uncovered confirming this. My newly recovered birth certificate was signed by the matron of Po Leung Kuk. The beauty of this group is that when I go into the stratosphere in panic, not only does everyone understand how I feel, someone will come up with a rational explanation.

Needless to say, I don’t have to explain to any of you how it feels to have lost 2 sets of parents. Oscar Wilde described that as careless.

Regards to all,

Claire Ling Chi Martin (nee Chin)