When the fireworks of New Year cracked open the dragon's coat-tails, from which point the sky plumed with curling smoke and firecracking sparkles, with us warmed and fed in a beautiful apartment overlooking Hong Kong harbour, yes, okay, I was a little spoiled with the firecrackery show, watching the night that said hello to the Year of the Dragon.
Now, staring at Guy Fawke's end marked by bursting colours, over too soon, makes me feel a pang which tells me I miss friends; it hollows out a little bit of me, knowing time and life passing, and I can't jump over space and land to smile and hug hello, face to face.
But Tiger, she is not not sorry to be here. Not at all. She is delighted, jump for joy, for here is home and here are the fireworks of Smalltown.
