A WORLD OF ONION EATERS

The bookseller mentioned getting slightly sunburned last Wednesday during his weekend, and seeing as he is near me in years I had to keep myself from asking whether he meant frostbitten instead. It being altogether too cold for comfort or poncing around with exposed skin. Unless you are a seal or a teenager.

He does not have tattoos, so I'm wondering why he exposed himself. Besides, all over the city there are very likely heavily tattooed people wearing fur coats, thermal underwear, and electric blankets, regretting their life choices. One of which absurdly is living in the nearest place you can come to Reykjavik in midwinter and still be in civilization.

At the time of this writing I myself am wearing an A shirt, a T shirt, a lumberjack shirt, and a sweater, and I am indoors. It feels cold. I don't even have tattoos to regret.

Also, the bank has boarded up the niche in which I used to smoke my pipe while waiting for the bookseller on the evenings when we crawl pub. Not because of me, but because of the street person who camped there. Which probably made them liable in case he caught ill.

This coldness at present is quite intolerable. Expect an angry letter to the editor about that.
I may write it in formal Dutch to show that I am serious and not to be trifled with.

That there are no late night cafes where a pipesmoker can shelter from the horrid climate and smoke his briar indoors is also an offense against civilized standards.
Quite objectionable! We live in beastly times.


Possibly the most delightful thing I've seen in a long while was three children, all under ten years old, two little girls and one boy, practising their violins together in Willie "Woo Woo" Wong playground around teatime today.

That will probably sweeten my outlook on modern society for at least the next week.
It more than makes up for being addressed as 'Ah Sook' (uncle).
Which, though respectful, makes me feel old.
That was on the bus later.
啊叔。


我唔係咁老！



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