Just before I left London for good in December 2000 and returned to the land that had nurtured my tender growth, Chris, a passionate refugee worker whom I had worked closely with in Stoke Newington - an area 'swarmed' by asylum seekers and rife with crimes - took me out for a meal in Chinatown. It was perhaps the bleakest day of the year, the wind blowing chilly and cold.

Over the sizzling hot set dinner and aromatic jasmine tea, I was telling Chris that the Labour government's proposal to make passing basic English test a prerequisite for acquiring British nationality was long overdue.

"I am all for it." My voice could not have been more firm.

"You must be joking." Chris' surprise at my 'Blairite' stance could hardly be concealed.

"Do you not foresee the inability to communicate adequately in English could in fact hinder national integration?" I asked him.

Chris shrugged off my question: "Tell me, have you come across any Chinese person being denied legal, financial or medical services here in the UK simply because the person has no knowledge of English, my own language by the way?"