After that I'd go home to Shau Kei Wan where I'd prepare lunch for my grandfather and myself. Then I'd go off to school from 1pm to 5.30pm - first it was Tung Wah Hospital Primary School Number Two then later the YMCA Middle School in SoHo.

Honestly, I don't think we ever really thought about studying in the 1960s, not the way youngsters do today. I also think we were pretty naive.

When I was food and beverage manager of the Mandarin I once interviewed someone who wanted to know how long it'd be before he was promoted. I couldn't begin to answer that question; how did I know how hard he could work?

People today are more aggressive but also smarter, which can be good and bad. Forty years ago, we were motivated only by working hard and doing a good job.

After school I'd go back home and buy more food to make dinner for grandpa and myself, then we'd go out to our evening job. By the age of six I was singing Mandarin songs at what was a 'poor man's nightclub' in Sheung Wan. Grandpa, who'd been a musician, would play the erhu. It was open air, by the harbour, and you could eat noodles and soup and watch the performers. We'd perform until 10.30pm but if there was rain, we'd go home early.

My life was all about time management, trying to do homework in between doing these other things. The only thing I really enjoyed at school was Saturdays. After saying the Lord's Prayer, we'd perform - perhaps a play, some dancing and singing. There would even be a talent show. I loved all that and would sing folk songs in Mandarin. I also joined the choir.

Academically, school was a load of old rubbish. Yes, we learned our Chinese characters and a bit of English, but that was about it. I don't honestly think you can learn that much from books.

It was growing up on the streets where I gained my real knowledge. I'd know what people wanted by reading their facial expressions. However, at school you do learn to cope in the world by interacting with classmates. If you're ganged up on at school you learn how to handle it from experience.

I don't remember any of my teachers except the priest who was the principal. I admired him for his speaking ability. He could talk to the school without notes and to me that made him a genius. He also behaved like a gentleman, having impeccable manners.

I left school after Form Five because you had to earn your daily meal. You didn't ask for too much in those days. There was none of this having a big house and so on.

My first job paid $5 a day and I pressed gloves in a factory. I didn't know how to use the sewing machines. Then I worked for China Light and Power as an investigator, tracking down customers in the no-go area of the Walled City in Kowloon who'd hooked themselves up to the power supply illegally.

My third job was at the Mandarin, which was the right choice. I started as a part-time porter, became a baggage master, then worked on the inquiry desk. My most memorable guest was Queen Margrethe of Denmark. She came to open the Carlsberg brewery in the New Territories and gave me one of two pairs of cufflinks with the Danish royal crest on them. The other went to the then governor Sir Edward Youde, who's since died.

The world's changing but I still prefer the good old days, the tender loving care that machines cannot replicate.

I've written a memoir called Wooing the Customers about my life, the proceeds of which go to the Hong Kong Breast Cancer Foundation. Women need to learn to check themselves regularly so they can receive timely treatment.

I also emcee and sing at ceremonies to help raise funds to fight cancer. It took me nine months to conquer my illness and I did so because of my angels.

I really believe that if you look after your friends then they'll look after you, and in my job, my guests do become my friends. It's due to them that I didn't want to die and that I can continue to help others.

Danny Lai Ping-pui is the executive assistant manager of guest relations at the Mandarin Oriental, Hong Kong. He was talking to David Phair.