A LOVELY WINTER SUNSET

Why does one go down to Chinatown the day after having done all one's grocery shopping? Why, to get a refill of a medication that treats deep vein thrombosis and pulmonary emboli and prevents blood clots in atrial fibrillation and following leg surgery, such as an angioplasty on the dextral lower extremity. Surely every one does that? I'm on the substance for a year. We're one quarter of the way through. It may cause bleeding, among other things, and it has not yet been determined whether it's safe to take this medication while pregnant or breastfeeding. Do not expect any startling news on that score.

One also goes down there for more teabags, because one is low at work, and to nosh on some dimsum. Which alerted me to the fact that very many American tourists are overweight, and they really need to shorten the tables so the wild buffalo can roam.
Maybe they're all from Texas.

The last reason is to smoke a lovely Loewe & Co. straight billiard in one's possession while wandering around remarking under one's breath that out of towners really are a pain in the gand, and bahut batsurat too. But that's neither here nor there, and must be taken for granted. As one always does anyway.

Then one catches the bus back home, and relights upon disembarking. Upon turning the corner one checks to see if the neighborhood street person is lurking at the far intersection, knowing that if he is he will see one from half a block away and come bounding up hill grinning for the two dollars one gives him nowadays. It used to be just one.
Consider inflation. And the current price of a cup of coffee.

Lunch was excellent. The weather has improved since earlier in the week. It is still light out. And the pipe filled with red Virginias and a touch of Perique proved a very enjoyable smoke. Preambular to a cup of tea.

You know, during the war, tea and tobacco kept the spirits of British people up. Still does. It's what makes life in England bearable. That and black pudding (kind of like haggis, same vile). Perhaps if those angry Magats in Texas had gone into the kitchen to fix a cuppa and a fry-up, instead of watching Bad Bunny and getting their panties in a bunch, or watching Kid Rock's crappy all American hootenany and getting their knickers in a twist, they'd be happier today. Even if they do have to smoke Marlboros instead of decent ciggies.

Only one of them is a pipesmoker that I know.
And he has a sense of humour.
Probably voted blue.

I'm guessing that they don't have street people in Texas.
Either they ate them all, or there are no streets there.


==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================