WARMTH, PASSION, AND THE DODO

One of the all-time best lines I ever wrote on this blog was "there is no rampant perversion here, I need to stress that". Friends and neighbors all agree; I am not rampantly perverse. Though sometimes it is subtly suggested, much like Prince Herbert's musical talent in Monty Python's Holy Grail. I am probably the only person that you know with thick woolen boxer shorts on under my kilt. Warmth, modesty, and plain common sense.

Which will come in handy this weekend, when it promises to be very cold and wet.
Woolen boxers will be good then. A bit scratchy, but it's a trade off.

I am really not looking forward to that.

The storm, that is.

Yes, I know that being a descendant of generations of Netherlanders and New Amsterdam Dutch means I should thrive in those conditions -- we tromped through the frozen swamps of Nova Zembla hunting the dodo to extinction wearing nothing but greasy whaleskin gloves or something like that, you've seen the paintings -- but I'm a delicate hothouse flower, Californian, and I want sixty two or sixty three degrees.

This weather, I am not a fan of. I would rather be wearing silken undies and lounging on a beach, or something similar. Well, not a beach; that's too public. Maybe a private island. The key thing is that I have a pipe in my mouth and there is an opened tin of aged red Virginia flake nearby, as well as a nice cup of tea. And a reference library. Wikipedia.

Like everyone I thrive on too many details.
In-depth data is my life.
Wikipedia.



My tasks today are picking up refills from the pharmacy at Chinese Hospital, and, assuming they might need a bit more time, heading over to a chachanteng for lunch, and a hot cup of milk tea. What can probably be taken for granted, because of the weather, is that the sniffy bunch of elderly Toishanese will be fewer than the last time I had a snack there.
They're loud, and I think they dislike me.


Must be that faint personal perfume of raw herring and whale blubber.
And that my ancestors were brigands and incendiarists.
We Dutch are surrounded by bad auras.
Adventure and romance.
Dodos.



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