I've been invited to my boyfriend's parents for Chinese New Year this year. 'Nothing unusual in that' you say? Nothing apart from the fact that I'll be the only non-Chinese person there. Being the girlfriend of a BBC isn't without its issues. My grandmother continues to have a complete inability to say his surname (Ng, which she pronounces 'Nug', though I'm starting to suspect that she does it more to make me laugh than anything). People are forever telling me that I will have 'beautiful babies' (surely my babies will be beautiful whoever I have them with?) And there is the usual perception by other white people that I am adept with a pair of chopsticks, having private tuition from my boyfriend. It goes without saying that I am perhaps the world's worst user of chopsticks...

Speaking of chopsticks, eating is quite a big issue with Chinese people, or so I've observed. To the Chinese, food is good, and they like a lot of it. To a young, quietly brought up Northern lass the idea of facing delicacies such as chicken's feet is undoubtedly daunting. It's perhaps made worse by the fact that I am such a picky eater anyway, though having a Chinese boyfriend has certainly opened up my horizons in this respect. The problem with this particular meal at New Year is that I'm all too aware of how important an occasion it is. I know that his mum is making special efforts to make things that I'll eat, which relieves the chicken's feet qualms. But still there is the panic of not being able to pick things up with those two slippery skinny 'sticks', dropping them on an immaculate table cloth, and catching the pitying look of his parents as well as my boyfriend and his little brother's snigger of amusement.

Pressure seems intensified for this particular occasion, and not just in the food department, since I've received the message not to wash my hair beforehand. Why, I wondered, did I have to go with greasy locks? Richard has since sent me a web site which details the rituals and superstitions relating to Chinese New Year. It seems that if I wash my hair on New Year's Eve I wash away my luck. Heaven forbid that I should do that - I'd be spraying food all over the dining room. I've also been told to wear red, the lucky colour, which doesn't hide food stains well, but will hopefully mask my embarrassment. In order to assist in my culinary adventures over new year I've been doing some research on the internet into Chinese customs at this time (and even how to use chopsticks!) For those interested here are some interesting pages..

Ruth Neilson