Welcome to Shanghai, chorused the three hotel representatives who travelled 30 kilometers to meet us at the airport this afternoon. Now that wouldn't happen in the UK. I've been here for two hours and have been looked after like a king, which is a good thing after silly amounts of time in planes and airports. I think I like it here, though, but can sympathise with Bill Murray's character in Lost in Translation; at the moment I can't decide whether to go to sleep (feel as though I could pass out) or go to the gym and stare out of the 30th floor windows at the city of 12 million people going about their business... or at least I would do if it weren't for the terrible smog.

Just the one humourous language mistake so far (more to come, I hope). At the airport two of my colleagues were slightly shocked to hear their names read out as "Mr Hairy" and "Mr Pen*s" (apologies for crudeness) instead of the more conventional "Mr Hurley" and "Mr Phoenix." It took a while to realise that it was just the local accent and its vagaries. My ears were already tuned in, having watched A Christmas Story with Steph on Thursday.

"Fa ra ra ra ra....."

I think the sleep option is best.

On a different note, Steph starts work tomorrow. True to form, she's not sitting around worrying about it today or ironing her suit. Nope - she's off to town with Beka to do some shopping, and quite right too. Take your mind off it my darling; I'm only sorry that I'm such a crap husband that I'm in China on your first day. I couldn't be more proud, though, and I just know you'll do brilliantly and they'll all love you.