As I left my apartment building, I said good morning to the widow Chang as she performed her morning ritual of Tai Chi. I checked her face for an expression of disapproval or even a knowing wink but there was nothing on her mind, except perhaps for the last episode of her favourite soap opera. Obviously, I needn worry about widow Chang demolishing my reputation. I hurried to the subway and took the Island Line to Charles apartment. I entered the apartment building when someone spoke to me in Cantonese:
"Where do you think you
e going. This apartment building is for British civil servants only."
In a tiny cubicle beside the door was a tiny, self-important looking old man. The bottom half of the door to his cubicle had a shelf that served as a desk and bore the word CONCIERGE. He put down his Chinese newspaper on the door shelf and peered over his reading glasses. Well, I had never been to the apartment of a British civil servant before so I wasn sure of the protocol, although I was sure that everyone would be civil and display good manners, no matter what they really thought. I was wrong as the tiny man barked at me again:
"Are you deaf young woman? I said that this building is only for the British civil servants. What is your business here?"
Really, Mei-Ling, sometimes Chinese treat Chinese worse than the English do. I decided that I would not be intimidated by this petty person, so I said in my most dignified and condescending manner:
"I am Doctor Wu Sui-Beng. Mr. Charles Burnhamthorpe is expecting me. Our business is none of your concern. Please announce to Mr. Burnhamthorpe that Dr. Wu has arrived."
With that, I flounced away and took the elevator to Charles floor. The little toad in the lobby must have followed my orders because Charles was at the elevator
tits and ass when I stepped out.
"My, My, Susan. Aren we much more professional-looking than last night? Please come to my apartment. I have taken the liberty of preparing an English breakfast."
I followed Charles to
tits and ass his apartment and was welcomed by the soft sounds of an er-hu playing on the sound system.
"Why Charles, I didn realize you liked Chinese music."
"When you don have much of a social life, you take up hobbies. Mine was studying classical Chinese music. I have every recording of er-hu masters I could find in the markets and music stores. Please sit down, Susan, and Ill bring breakfast."
While Charles made his final preparations in
tits and ass the kitchen, I sat at the breakfast table, and looked around at Charles apartment. His apartment was larger than mine but it didn seem that much bigger because Charles had more furniture. I was used to the clutter of furniture in Western homes and the decorative tastes of white people from my student days in Canada. Charles seemed to have different taste than other westerners I had met. His walls had pieces of good art, mostly western style although he had some nice Chinese pieces. The mostly European atmosphere seemed to be incongruous with the Chinese music that floated through the apartment at my first inspection. There were shelves of books, some of which appeared to be rare editions. I wanted to get up and examine Charles reading material and learn more about my new lover.
My curiosity was interrupted by Charles bringing
tits and ass two steaming bowls of porridge. I have nothing against porridge. I find it somewhat like thick congee. I just wish that porridge were made from rice, which is food for people, not oats, which is food for animals. I complimented Charles on his cooking and then he brought out another course of bangers, eggs, toast and jam. I like bread and English jam is quite palatable, even if its very sweet. Even the English cannot damage the humble egg. However, I have always wondered why the English bother calling the banger a sausage. There must me nothing on earth which is so greasy, filled with questionable parts of the pig and all tied up in a bag which, at one time, contained excrement.
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