My first Spring Festival in north China was a bit of a shock. Where was the spring? There was snow on the ground and ice on the Summer Palace Lake and a northwest wind was blowing. In England, where I come from, we think of the flowers that bloom in the spring: the crocuses and daffodils and the flowering trees – purple lilac, yellow laburnum, rosy horsechestnuts, pink and white hawthorn or may. In fact we say “cast not a clout till may is out”. That means don’t leave off any clothes until the may flower is in bloom. By then it’s warm, so you won’t catch cold if you shed a garment.

  Then I had another problem. In Beijing, despite the snow and ice it’s often sunny over the Spring Festival. So I liked to go out; to walk in the snow round the Summer Palace Lake or to skate on Kunming Lake. Then we’d come home and find that old friends has called on us while we were out. So gradually we learnt the laws of the Spring Festival. The first day ( chu yi ) is for feasting at home with the family and very clost friends; the second and third days are for paying and receiveing visits. So we changed our holiday life style and stayed at home or called on friends those days. Of course we could still go out on chu yi.

  These days we don’t always stay in Beijing for the Spring Festival: sometimes we go on a trip to some other parts of China. Last year we were lucky enough to go to Hainan Island. Instead of skating we went swimming. That was a treat. The sea-water in February was warmer than it is in the middle of the summer in England. That made up for those snowy, icy windy Beijing springs.

  1983 was another memorable festival for us. A friend of the Naxi national minority invited us to his home, in the mountains in northwest Yunnan, 2000 metres above sea-level. What a wonderful place and, what wonderful people, how hospitable despite being far from Wan Yuan Hu! They introduced us to their friends and relatives, as well as to their ancient culture. And it goes without saying that they wined and dined us with their fiery hot food. One very special meal was a picnic by the graves of the ancestors. This was no English style picnic with a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of beer. The Mongolian-style hotpot was carried up into the hills and there was a regular feast for all three generations. But the first cup of wine was placed by the grave of the clan ancestor. Why shouldn’t he join in the fun along with his descendants? Of course there was the usual exchange of gifts. The most precious one I received was a granddaughter – or at least a god-granddaughter nearly one-year-old. I had nothing of comparable value to offer in return.

  In 1981 we went to Jiangxi and Fujian. The high point was walking in the Wu Xi Mountains, on the border of the two provinces. These mountains are not high by Chinese standards, though they are higher than any in Britain. But they are ideal for hiking, even when it snows, as it did when we climbed them. The lower slopes are planted to tea bushes; above them tower spectacular crags, sheer precipices and massive rocks cleft by narrow paths. You can scarely squeeze through them – especially after the continuous banqueting which is hard to avoid during the Spring Festival.

  But the biggest banquets are not always the best. Years ago, I remember, as the festival approached, there would be a dance in the students’ dining hall, to which we teachers were invited. Then there was the finest feast of all: great buckets and cauldrons of steaming laba zhou, a thick, sweet porridge of glutinous rice of green beans, candied fruit, peanuts and lotus kernels. It was’t these ingredients alone which made the laba zhou delicious. It was the jolly atmosphere, with students, teachers, cooks and cadres all enjoying themselves together.

  In 1980 we spent the Spring Festival in Chengdu and there I got another shock. On the first day of the lunar new year, we visited a famous temple. The street outside the main gate was lined with sellers of incense. People were queuing up by the hundred to buy it and burn the incense and chant and bow, even to kowtow, as they made the rounds of the temple statues. At first I felt sad. Here we were, over 30 years after Liberation, in a socialist country, and people were still doing this! We discussed it and concluded that it had its good side. It takes time to create a scientific world outlook and these ancient practices and beliefs had evidently never been rooted out. They had simply gone underground, especially during the days of the Gang of Four. Now, four years after the gang’s overthrow, the people felt free and unafraid, to do in the open what had been hidden in their hearts and homes. In any case, these incense burners were not a cross-section of the people. They were mostly old ladies with little bound feet, who’d been deprived of education. But then with them were their grandchildren, some wearing red scarves. That seemed terrible. Young Pioneers worshipping idols! In the end I realized that, children didn’t believe the idols controlled their fate. They were looking after their grannies, helping them over the temple thresholds and showing them the way. So I thought, that’s what whey’ll do as they grow up. They’ll show their grannies the way into a modernized, socialist China.