WELL I SWEAR

When I got back, a disgruntled froad (offspring of a frog and a toad - it's furry) was glaring at me from his perch atop the stack of books in the left side of my bed. Why, he asked, had I not brought back any beetles, and if it was wet outside, why didn't he have a doorkey to enjoy a fresh shower out on the steps?

These are both minor oversights, my friend, and you really don't want to be out there. It's cold, and there are loonies.

To be honest, I can't let him out on the street. He's a hamsap, and he might come back with a poodle or chihuahua. Saints preserve us. Randy little green flippery guy.

It wasn't raining when I left earlier.


For some reason, the ladies at the pharmacy seem to actually like me. Maybe it's because I'm cheerful and enjoy dropping by for my refills. And do not swear or grumble in Toishanese, unlike many of their visitors. Which is understandable. Unlike five years ago I am no longer dying, for one thing. For another, I don't even speak Toishanese. And while I can express myself pungently in Cantonese, English, and Dutch, I tend not to do so very much.
Especially not with the nice women who are giving me medicine.
Besides, I am not at death's doorway nowadays.
That helps the mood an awful lot.

One thing I do wonder about is if the slightly demented Hong Kong woman at the back of the chachanteng where I had lunch ever needs medication. For things other than her scrambled mind. Every other sentence was tiu nei lo mo or nei lo mei, ah. Sprinkled in among all those were a few pok gai etceteras, as well as once or twice ham kaa chaan. She's someone I've encountered before, distinctly unbalanced. She's not normally quite so loud.
Or cheerful; she laughs like a psychopath.

Despite her irritating non stop goobus noises, I enjoyed my lunch immensely.

I am so glad she can't recognise us kwailo from Adam.

Sometimes we all do look alike.

We planned it that way.


[Pok gai: 仆街。Ham gaa chaan: 冚家鏟。]

And yes, there must be hundreds of white dudes who smoke a pipe after lunch in Chinatown. Gracious. We're all over the place. All those handsome pieces of wood. And white guys who smoke pipes are all conversant in Cantonese and can read menus too. It's just like Hong Kong before the handover when the public school boys were still in charge.


After lighting up I strolled southward toward the bus stop a few blocks over, and noted that the sign that begged uncles not to smoke with sixteen feet of the doorway at one shop has been replaced with a standard boiler plate request, and that several other places have notices about job availability. Only two of them bilingual.

各位叔叔們， 門口16尺範圍， 不准吸煙 。

Aunties, of course, should feel free to smoke anywhere they damned well want outside. It's all about empowerment. Many of the most celebrated women of the past were smokers.
To maintain your girlish figure, reach for a Lucky instead of a sweet.
20,679 physicians say "Luckies are less irritating".



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