Today, boys and girls, something inside me broke. I went to an ATM and withdrew as much cash as I've had to spend in the past two weeks (room rent excluded). I had ginger honey tea with my assorted cart noodles, bought a lemon muffin for lunch at Marks& Spencer's, put 100 HK on my transit card and rode the upper deck ferry back and forth across the harbor. I went to Swindon's and bought the only Jo Nesbo I haven't read--Harry goes to Bangkok--and read the first few chapters at the Holiday Inn wine bar over a glass of pinot noir. Living large, I tell you.
The rest of the time I dodged people with rolling suitcases that were undoubtedly filled with butter cookies and chocolates and made my way through clusters of Filipina maids on their day off. I took no pictures, did nothing eventful, and soon I'll be immersed in my Nesbo novel once again.
As I made my way past the block-long line of people waiting to get into Janny's (or Jenny's, I've seen two different spellings) Bakery for their ration of five cans of butter cookies, I suddenly had an exultant thought that still has me lighthearted. Next Sunday I won't be here!
Hello, Chokchai Ruammit. I've missed you, dear.