After four years away from Asia, a day of lasts. Last day of the shiny toes reflecting a Hong Kong horizon first thing in the morning. Last snuggly cuddles in the morning.
And the last delicious snuffles of a sleepy baby.
But other lasts are not of the flesh and blood type. Last good coffee before 26 hours of airports and aeroplanes.
Last Star Ferry ride, on the Rainbow one.
And after 10 days of fabulous art exhibitions we topped off with Joan Miro at the new West Cultural Centre in Hong Kong Harbour.
Lasts are all well and good but goodbyes get harder. Covid did some dreadful things to the world but isolating us from our close loved ones and our far ones has stripped me of my British stiff upper lip, and mine was never the stiffest. Bits of me ache thinking of how far we are all spread. Other bits will join those emotional aches as we hop from Asia to Europe. But aches are the price we pay for love.
One more last, surely the funkiest image of the new King of England. One week on and he is a blushing teacup.
Funny image to end a blog so I’ve wheeled out some junk. The last Junk