THE day was not particularly cold but, sitting in her Swire House office, Liu Yiu-chu felt chilly. Perhaps it was the air-conditioning, but it was more likely that the day's political climate had left her shivering.
It was the day after China gave its seal of approval to the 150 Preparatory Committee members named to oversee the handover of Hong Kong. The lawyer's name was not on the list. Splashed across the front page of the South China Morning Post that day was her picture, accompanied by the caption: 'Out in the cold.' Is the party over for the long-time pro-China lawyer turned staunch Beijing critic? Was 1995 annus horribilis for the most daring local deputy of the National People's Congress (NPC)? Her friends say Liu is a woman of surprises; she is certainly a maverick and almost always emotional. She made, in her words, a stunning entrance to the NPC by refusing to vote for most of its presidium candidates in 1988. Now, she says, if she is sacked from China's parliament, she can make a stunning exit.
Her enemies dismiss her as simply mad. Even the media has for some time portrayed her as an eccentric, if not crazed, woman. And Liu often lives up to that stereotype. Her nickname is Dotty. (Liu, being the fourth child in the family, was given the name Dorothy because it starts with D. For her father, a respected doctor, it was all alphabetical order when choosing English names for his six children.) Her favourite pastimes are writing poetry, playing the piano and 'trying to sing Phantom Of The Opera without getting too out of tune'.
Liu gained notoriety for her performance at the Hong Kong Journalists' Association ball, when she 'went absolutely bonkers' by grabbing the microphone and lambasting the guest-of-honour, Chris Patten. For a long time after that the solicitor was treated as a joke in political circles. Senior government officials passed light-hearted comment about how there would be a stampede to leave Lower Albert Road if she was made chief executive of the Special Administrative Region government.
There was also talk about how Xinhua officials had dubbed her an 'unguided missile in pink' because of her readiness to criticise Beijing policy.
But if she flipped out earlier, she is calm now. It is true that she still punctuates her rapid-fire, razor-sharp speech with squeaks and schoolgirlish giggles that sit oddly with a 62-year-old.
It is also true that TV news editors still need to take great care editing out badly-timed laughs when commenting on sombre topics, such as the sentencing of Wei Jingsheng. But they need her comment all the same.