“It’s 1 a.m. on Tuesday 14 March 1961, and I’m writing on board the Ferry Boat ‘Fat Shan,’ which plies daily between the Colony of Hong Kong and the Portuguese Province of Macau. I’d been led to believe there are two classes of passenger: Steerage and Rabble. Also, there would be no opportunity to get food or drink. What a load of rubbish. I’ve just finished a 1½” thick steak, onions, mushrooms, tomatoes and chips, and slurped my way through two litre bottles of San Miguel Pilsner. The lot cost less than 10 shillings. Maybe the accommodation isn’t much to shout about but I’m quite happy stretched out on my settee by the window, thanks! I went out on deck a short while ago and saw Hong Kong in the distance. All the lights are blazing and it looked really beautiful. There’s a low cloud and the lights reflecting off it give the Island and Kowloon a Christmas Card effect. Out of this world. Did I really say I wanted to leave this place?

“To get back to the Fat Shan, she’s largish, white painted and unmissable, with a huge Union Jack on either side of the hull. I’m waiting for a fellow (American) passenger (there are quite a few) to come up and ask me whose flag it is. This happened in Korea once but that’s a different tale. I see off to starboard the island of Lan Tao. Although much larger than Hong Kong Island and part of the Colony, the only people living there are some fisher-folk and a handful of Trappist monks. I’ve always intended to visit it (the monks allegedly give you bed and board for practically nothing) but have somehow never got around to it - so much to do and so little time...!

“It is now 10 p.m. on 14 March and, after an eventful day seeing the sights, I’m off to bed. I’m writing in my room in the Central Hotel, which is situated on Macau’s main street, Avenida D’Almeida. The room cost HK$7 (just under ten shillings) per night but, although there’s a sink, there’s no bath/shower/toilet, neither is there a wardrobe, and breakfast is extra. Also the walls end three feet short of the ceiling and are joined to it by a sort of ornamental grille. The one consolation is the ‘Floor Boy’ keeps flitting in and out, asking if I want some more Chinese Tea. This, at least, is free. (Wonder how much door locks cost...?)

“This morning, after disembarking, I walked half way round the Province and then tri-shawed (bicycle driven rickshaw) the other half. The whole took about two hours. The only information I’ve got so far about the place is from picture postcards of monuments, statues and notable buildings. Such as population, military garrison etc are still unknown. Cantonese appears the main language, and the Hong Kong Dollar is widely accepted. There’s a local currency, the Pataca, which people don’t seem too bothered about. Food is very good and cheap, beer about the same as Hong Kong, whisky is a fabulous price but Portuguese wine costs HK$3.50 a bottle (4/4½d) and I’m told it’s good - pity I haven’t a taste for it.

“It’s now 5.30 pm on 15 March. Today I did an extensive tour of the inside of the Province. Yesterday, I went round only the coastline, so to speak. My Guide and Driver of the Pedacab (as I’ve discovered the Tri-Shaw is called) told me a lot about Macau. There are 300,000 Chinese, 7,000 Portuguese civilians, 1,000 Portuguese Army and about the same number of Portuguese West African troops living here. From what I’ve seen there’s no room for any more, either. The Foreign Community consists of a few Sikhs and British, and (exactly) seven Japanese.

“Macau’s industry is based almost entirely on making Chinese Fireworks and Matches. The latter have the usual sulphur head but a tiny wood stick and you have to hold three or four together to strike, otherwise they break. Dogs and chickens trot about over pavements and roads and get on together fine, as they do with the crowds of half naked toddlers at play there too. I was amazed to see a cat (the only one I’ve seen here - reminiscent of Korea where rat poison the Americans put down by the ton killed the cats but was harmless to rodents) actually in a pen with half a dozen birds. Surely our cats and dogs were never this friendly with our chickens? Another thing that never ceases to amaze me is the lack of traffic. It’s quite common to see only two or three motor vehicles pass along the main street every five minutes. There is, however, an abundance of Pedacabs, bicycles and rickshaws.

“Unlike Hong Kong, with its islands and the New Territories, Macau is it’s only possession. There are many islands, large ones too, surrounding Macau, some very close and knowing they all belong to Communist China isn’t reassuring. Harking back to vehicles, the majority of cars and vans seen are British, a small minority German and American. Come to think of it, almost everything comes from GB - bikes, buses, locks, fire extinguishers, soldiers’ web equipment, lavatories...! I’ve now discovered Macauians are in fact quite particular as regards currency. The Post Office, to which I took a stack of post cards, refused to accept Hong Kong Dollars but I was able to change some Hong Kong money at the next shop.

“It’s shortly after 3 pm on Thursday 16 March and the Ferry Boat Fat Shan and us passengers have just left Macau, suitably escorted by, to port, a Portuguese gunboat, to starboard, a Red Chinese gunboat. Well, well! You’d think that having done so much ‘Saying Goodbye’ in the last four years, to you, to the family, to Aldershot, to Rheindahlen, to Korea, I’d have got used to it by now. That’s not the case as even after such a short visit, two nights and three days, I’m leaving quiet little Macau with a distinct pang of regret. Macau is now a fair way behind us, although there are still many of the outlying islands around. Sheltering close to most of these are thousands of junks and sampans. A large sampan has just drifted by and on it I counted 40 persons and there will quite possibly be half as many again below deck. I wonder if it’s all one family? And who does the cooking and washing! It’s only now I realise I didn’t buy a couple of bottles of Portuguese wine - I’ll probably never see such a bargain again. That, I think, is a suitable subject with which to close the wee saga of my journey to Macau and back.”

On Saturday 11 March 1995, the Scottish newspaper, The Daily Record, carried a short article under the headline - “Babies on menu A FAR EAST hotel bought and fattened up babies to be cooked for dinner during the Second World War. Historian Monsignor Manuel Teixeira of Macao, near Hong Kong, said: ‘The Hotel Central bought babies. After fattening them they were cooked and served as meat to customers.’ Macao was home to 500,000 refugees during WW2 and 100 people died on the streets every day.”