我是林盛博.

been mucking about with the settings this is a test soz

It happens to me several times a year and I never know how to deal with it but the last time I was invited to a fancy dress party I left my costume arrangements to someone else and am not about to do that again in a hurry. The last time I was so little involved in the preparation that I arrived fresh off an aeroplane, the party was already underway and I was presented with what was in fact a fabulous costume but perhaps was a little to much (or too little) for my sensibilities, perhaps that is symptomatic of �rocky horror� themed Halloween parties. No photographic evidence exists before you ask. The theme on this occasion, however, was Masquerade (stretched to make it easier to be anything 18th century) now perhaps we were stretching the point still further but my cohort on this occasion came up with an idea that would gain all the points of being in the category of those who had made an effort which preserving our ability to show our faces around town the next day. We went to the party as Ninjas. Now as it turns out it�s actually quite easy to go dressed as a ninja. Place a black T-shirt on your head but don�t pull your head through the neck-hole. Instead use this as the eye hole of your ninja mask and tie the arms behind your head, don�t believe me, try it� The rest of the outfit needs only black clothes of which we all had plenty. Being busy people we had not had all the time we would have like to prepare in advance, when it came to it the sun was setting when we dashed into the super market to supplement our black t-shirt collection which some cheap additions. We gathered in the apartment donned our garb and prepared to slip quietly into the night. We were of course missing the most important thing, the item that would turn us from crazy laowai dressed in black with T-shirts tied around our heads into stealthy masters of a forgotten art. We needed swords. By happy coincidence there is a sword shop practically across the road from the venue so off we went. We arrived at the sword shop, a sparse place selling a selection low quality mock weapons to tourists. After some discussion in English we decided on a set of three swords on a stand that we could share, each of us taking a weapon that denoted our stature if not status. At this point, by tacit agreement, the baton passed to the indigenous member of our party to enter into negotiations, not simply because she can communicate in Chinese and we can�t but at least as much because she is just better at haggling, we are British after all. The price above which we were not prepared to go had been stated. I could see it, I�d seen it before but the luckless shop assistant hadn�t noticed yet. Nor had she noticed that our ninja barterer was still holding the smallest and most nimble of the three blades. Numbers were rattled off in Chinese either side drawing their battle line with the figure they were prepared to defend. Time slowed, our ninja buddy dropped almost imperceptibly as she bent her knees and balanced her weight, the forgotten weapon was unsheathed in a deft movement that brought the glinting blade smoothly to striking position above her head. The price above which we were not prepared to go was stated again. Seeing that we were about to move from a situation where we were 15 yards from my next beer to a situation where we were 10-15 years from our next beer I felt compelled to intervene but the die had been cast. The price had been agreed.