Chinese antiques come to mind when I recall the British commonwealth Games in my home city Victoria Canada. It was 1994 , and Victoria was hosting the commonwealth Games, as they are called. They are bigger that the Winter Olympics, are held every four years, two years apart from the Olympics. They are a huge success wherever they are held, as they were here. They begin and end much the same format at the Olympics: athletes from Australia through Canada and India to South Africa to Zanzibar.
The athletes at those later ceremonies paraded around in order to the foot stomping cheers of all, in joy of this impossible club of peoples who loved each other, and spoke other languages, but all also English. So it was a constant meeting of dancing blacks and browns and goldens and whites all singing and swaying to some Jamaican drums. And this was the last year for Hong Kong , being taken over by China the next year.
The Chinese antiques moment, for me, and moment from hell for my vigorous son in law, came next. My son in law Darren and I worked out with each other at the gym weekly. Darren aske