YOU HAVE AN UMBRELLA

Home early enough for tea. Which, as you know, is properly between three thirty and five o'clock. Ideally at exactly four o'clock. That's immutable, and given in the old testament. Although in Hong Kong, where they're somewhat skeptical of that old time religion, 下午茶時間 ('haa ng chaa si kan'; afternoon tea time) is usually assumed to be from two thirty till five thirty (下午二時半至五時半 'haa ng yi si pun ji ng si pun'), which isn't really orthodox.
In continental Europe the heathens do not observe it at all.

Normally I have my afternoon tea in Chinatown. But I was expecting rain.
By the time I had dawdled over a hot cuppa, it was coming down.
So I went out to face the elements with my pipe.

My apartment mate is a non-smoker, you understand, with some allergies/sensitivities that inflame her eczema. And her Teddy Bear should above all not smell like smoke.

Even if it is a somewhat tooty frooty tobacco like Robert McConnell's Glen Piper. Which is very Autumnal, a fine old reek. And a viable alternative for Martin N. and Tad G. when their tins of Erinmore Flake go missing.

[Pipe: a no-name bent bulldog. Tobacco tin: Robert McConnell Glen Piper. Book: Indian Tales Of The Raj.]


Today's C'town jaunt was mainly to pick up refills and have a quick lunch. People there are a bit more rushed when there is the prospect of weather, Cantonese people HATE getting wet. Which I can understand, but umbrellas are widely available, and quite easy to find.
Prospective precipitation related panic is surprisingly infectious.


The old Hang Seng Meat Market (恒生肉舖) opposite the hospital pharmacy, long shuttered, is now for rent, and the building is being painted. The New Asia Restaurant (新亞洲大酒樓) on Pacific has, in the past few days, changed into a supermarket (新亞洲超市), with noodles and stacks of bottled sauces, frozen foods, packs of snacks. Ball room dancing in the evenings is still on the banner over the entrance, but probably no longer an attraction four days a week.

The familiar chandeliers hanging from the ceiling add a nice festive air.


Tea: a strong brew, with milk and sugar. A cherry pastry, and some cookies.
Fortification for going out into the blustering gale.
Which was not particularly fierce.



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