DEAR SIR!

Other than a table full of elderly men there was no one there when I walked in, though the scattered evidence showed that the lunch period had been relatively busy and long. Possibly the horrid weather had something to do with that emptiness. People were probably anxious to get home. It was raining a bit, more of a thick drizzle, but the wind was something awful. At times throughout the day the apartment building trembled because of it, and judging by the sirens lines and trees were down across the city. Things were going sideways.

The frightful weather has lasted longer this year, and been more extreme.
I feel like I should write an very angry letter to the editor.
Blaming the other party, and today's youth.

I'm sure that voters in Trumpland are blaming "them commies", as well as members of BLM, transgender people, and antifa. As well as windmill energy, which also causes cancer.
At least they're no longer obsessed with black helicopters and Fema camps.


This chachanteng's version of a club sandwich is not as good as the other Chinatown place where I have it, but it's still pretty darn enjoyable. Too many Hong Kong style restaurants barely toast the bread; it looks pale and anemic, though obviously a little crispier than cottonwool American loaf.

The key thing is a good combination of flavours and textures.
Plus decent fries, which are very important.
And Sriracha.

Naturally, a chachanteng must have good HK milk tea. I've grown slightly obsessive about having a cup of milk tea before going out into the howling gale with my pipe.
Especially if eating lunch late, as I usual do.


I rather like nearly empty restaurants, they seem so inviting!
And the people watching is better.



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