I was very fortunate to attend Hong Kong International School and King George V School, where my teachers did an amazing job opening my eyes and guiding me towards a life of study and interest in the world.
More than that, I learned to love Hong Kong with my heart and soul.
When I look back on school during the late 1960s and '70s, I see a miracle. I see a Hong Kong full of wonder and awe, where thousands upon thousands of people worked very hard to create a new world. I see hawkers on the street, students studying in buses and listening to late night radio call-in shows, a harbour full of vessels and junks setting off gently into the night and the sound of waves lapping along the harbour.
I also see Sha Tin, where we lived, when it was all farms and the only short interruption in every beautiful day was the train to the mainland slowly moving through the countryside at regular intervals.
I see long trips to Lai Chi Kok Amusement Park and slow trips to Stanley on the No6 bus before it was more than a very quiet fishing village where the fishermen dried fish by the small embankment in the morning sun.
And I see Sunday nights, when families came together playing mahjong and talking into the night before another day of hard work.