The hammering club treated me to a dawn chorus of their collective talents, followed by fifteen minute instrumentals on the angle grinder to mark 8:30 and 9am. I’m awake now. As it’s my last full day in Hong Kong, I go for a walk around the city, buying last minute items that are considerably cheaper than home. I have dinner with Arthur and Rose again, a fantastic multinational buffet with curry, dim sum, pasta and sushi. Here I manage my greatest culinary gaffe of the trip. Having avoided using the wrong chopsticks and managed not to eat from the ashtray thus far, I spy bananas and custard and take a mansize serving. It transpires that the custard was pancake mix, which explains the odd look from the serving waiter who watched me from behind the counter.
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