In Which We Do Not Observe Quiet Domesticity

This follows of from Domesticity and Business. It runs to 2,672 words.


We arrived home to find an unexpected piece of street theatre in play.  There were no fewer than four furniture vans in the street outside, two parked on each side of the road and, thankfully, pointing in the direction of traffic flow.  There was a rather ratty, dark brown Ming-goa sedan double-parked outside the house next door so that a late model silver foreign luxury car was hemmed in and a woman on the footpath, who I recognised by voice as Madam He, was berating a man in well-cut scholar’s robes for parking in her car space.  Outside our gate Mr Han was back to back with a taller middle-aged man in business-style blacks and a traditional cap quartered in blue and red, and the two of them surrounded by a group of people demanding entrance to the house.  Another group, labourers and drivers I thought, stood lounging beside the two trucks on our side of the road with the air of men who were being paid for their time whether they were able to work or not.

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This is now followed by Matters Do Not Become Less Complex.