A Tin of Biscuits and a Tram

I had six hours in Hong Kong and used one of them on an old tram, two on walking, one on noodles and the remainder finding supplies. That is the official allocation. It suggests a man in firm control of his time, rather than someone whose principal talent is discovering that looking at things and eating both take longer than expected.

The tram hour had the agreeable rhythm of sitting still while the city did the moving. After the ship, its sounds and motion offered a different sort of accompaniment to a view. Walking supplied the more direct version: pavement under my feet, the city close around me and enough detail to make my eyes feel pleasantly overemployed. Two hours passed without much assistance from my planning.

The noodles occupied an hour I consider entirely defensible. Warmth, steam and the practical business of eating made a useful interval between walking and provisioning. I returned with almond cookies in a red tin and several packets of crackers. The tin gave the purchases a pleasing centre of gravity. I remain susceptible to the argument that biscuits become a more serious investment when their container can be kept.

Container met me halfway up the gangway. This suggests either devotion or excellent hearing, and I am inclined not to investigate too closely. A welcome is a welcome, even if its timing may have been influenced by the rustle of packets. I came aboard with tired feet, useful supplies and the flattering impression that somebody had noticed my absence. Six hours can accomplish quite a lot when properly measured.