For the past 8 nights I have been in hospital getting treatment for my eczema.

(Actually I got out a few days ago and I am writing this up as if I had just got out. Unfortunately, English grammar does not have the means to write this way, hence this long note).

I had bandages on my arms and legs. I was taking industrial amounts of anti-histamines and lots of steroid creams. People have assumed that I was in a lot of pain – that is the natural reaction when one hears about someone being admitted into hospital. I was in mild pain and I could have stayed at home and convalesced there. But I was steadily getting worse over the past few months. I needed a break and my skin needed time to heal. So I was admitted.

I have been battling with eczema all my life. The main strategy is to control it so that it is tolerable and I can get on with life. The tactics are simple: don’t scratch. Unfortunately, it is harder than it sounds and there needs to be rigorous and disciplined regime of creams, moisturiser, anti-histamines, avoiding allergens and so on. Telling an eczema sufferer not to scratch is one of the worst things to say because it is so self-evident. It demeans the intelligence of the eczema sufferer. However, it is also one thing that must be done to heal the skin. I have been guilty of breaking my own advice.

In the end, my hospital stay was the best thing I have done during my holiday in England. My skin healed a lot. I had time to read, do the crossword and play computer games excessively. NHS food was quite good. The doctors and nurses were professionally compassionate and competent. My thanks to the former health secretary, Tessa Jowell.

I was privileged to be able to stay in Gonville and Caius College in Cambridge for a few days. I managed to attend some Christian Union events, a formal dinner and an Ecumenical Society meeting. I perfected my long-winded explanation of how I have nothing whatsoever to do with Cambridge.

Cambridge student: So James, which college are you from? James: Well, …

This has similarities with my explanation to the Chinese of why I can’t speak the language.

Local Chinese person: You don’t speak Chinese, where on Earth are you from?
James: Well, …)

I have gotten used to not fitting in anywhere.

Student clique-ness is taken to the next level in Cambridge. The students will admit that much. But that is not surprising when you consider that massive work-load, academic rigours and the tradition of the place.

I revisited Pembroke College, where I applied to read economics 5 years ago. It is still as beautiful as I remember. I considered what life would have been life if I had passed the interview.

In short, I would have really disliked studying here. I didn’t have the brain-power or will for it. I did immensely like living in Nottingham. I usually only studied for the scheduled 10-hours a week, so lots of time to do other things.

So I saw a few friends, enjoyed the view of Kings College, become grateful for my Nottingham University experience and realised that I never ever want to be a student again.

I’ve been planning my lessons this evening. I wanted to do a discussion about the differences between Western and Chinese culture with my students. Google did not provide a straightforward answer – I found a mixture of tourist web sites, angry message board posts and even an academic paper.  Finally, I found a blog post with simple diagrams of the differences between Westerners and Chinese here. According to the blog post the pictures were done by a Chinese student called Liu Young who was  born in China and educated in Germany.

Cultural differences have always affected my life. I was raised by thoroughly Chinese parents but hold strong British values. Now I am living in China: working in a school with Koreans; socialising with a predominantly-American English department; encountering confused Chinese locals (my Chinese is still not good); and living with a Polish house-mate. Where does it end?

For a long time I suffered from a perpetual Anglo-Sino identity crisis. Nowadays I am settled with who I am. But I still get annoyed at Chinese people jumping ahead of my in the queue at McDonald’s. Some things never change.