Avoid

For one reason or another I attended two birthday parties of the same person within five days.

I shall not elaborate further on the other happenings during the two evenings. Nonetheless, a list of criteria for bad restaurants that I'll try my best to avoid came through my mind.

Here you go:

• aggressive air conditioning
• too many options on the menu
• waiters keep selling expensive dishes
• fixed gigantic dish portions
• restaurants that newly open its first branch store
• generous use of gold, truffles, and so forth
• emphasize on healthy food
• eat-all-you-can places
• famous for salmon sushi
• famous for its secrete recipe 

No, I'm not against shark fin - although I am not fond of it either.

Changed

I shall not elaborate what happened during the birthday party - apart from the very fact that the story of stone-hat (石頭帽) in Doraemon keep flashing through my mind.

(For the reason of my fancy idea, you may like to read http://ccszeto.blogspot.hk/2010/06/blog-post_18.html)

**********************
The only remarkable happening to me in the party was, I was sitting next to S, the wife of KL - our star teacher. Although we know each other for some years, it was the first time we were engaged in some conversation.

And, in the middle of the evening, she asked a somewhat unexpected question, "Are you bored after staying in the same place for over 20 years, from a student to now a professor?"

She had obviously asked the same question to KL previously.

I was evasive with my answer. On a second thought, I have a slightly funny feeling: My office now used to be the on-call room when I was a house officer. Since we moved to the new block, many of the wards in the old days are now deserted.

The place has changed, and so are we.

Birthday

Recently, Vivian and I were invited to the birthday party of a renowned senior physician.

The obvious difficulty to us was: What present should we prepare? Our godfather is certainly very well off and has everything he needs.

Fortunately, to save our trouble, our host asked us to forget about any birthday gift but, rather, make a small donation to support medical research.

Of course I duly followed.

Nonetheless, my wife found a CD collection of all hit songs in 1932 - the year when our host was born. I considered it an excellent idea - and it was not at all expensive. We add a birthday card on the top of the CD.

Here is what I wrote in the birthday card:

重闈顯吉曜兮箕福九疇，
鶴籌頻添算兮奉藥一丸。

PS. For those who could understand traditional Chinese, I do not hallucinate myself to be the fairy guest who presented the long-living pill as the gift. If anything, I would have to be Jizi (箕子).

Quadraat

Although my recent decision of changing the default font of my documents to Calibri may have been affected by Microsoft, I have been looking for a better font to replace Times New Roman for quite some time.

And, in 2004, I was at one time very close to settle myself with one.

It is Quadraat – a Dutch newspaper font designed by Fred Smeijers. It is shown by some psychometric experiments to be able to increase the speed of reading. (It looks remotely similar to Book Antiqua – another serifs type of font which I have also considered and is often used for printing by accounting and business firms.)

Once again, my preference is easily explained: The New England Journal of Medicine began using Quadraat for its body text since early 2003, and I really find it comforting to read.

PS. Why didn’t I end up using Quadraat?

Simple: In those days Microsoft Words did not regularly support Quadraat, and I didn’t want to pay!

Brainwash

My reason of having a new font sounds logical, eh?

As a matter of fact, from Microsoft Office 2007 onward, Calibri replaced Times New Roman as the default typeface in Words because of its superior readability on screen.

My decision is, therefore, another example of Baruch Spinoza's falling stone: The stone believes that it is falling by its own will without knowing that all it does is under the influence of gravity. I was convinced that my decision was an educated scientific well-informed balance of opinions, but, it turns out to have been controlled by a seemingly distant billionaire.

To go one step further, the stone is not only unaware of the fact that its motion is the result of gravity, on the stone you actually cannot detect gravity – but merely a distortion of mass and space. (Visitors with some understanding on Albert Einstein’s’ theory of general relativity would know this point well.)

This is really brainwashing.

Calibri

The more pressing reason for my change is, we are becoming more virtual and electronic than ever. Fewer documents are really printed on paper, while most are read on screen. Contrary to the former, reading sentences from computer screen or LCD projector is a different task for the eyeball. There is good experimental evidence showing that sans-serifs type (sans mean without in French) of fonts are more soothing to be read on the screen and have superior clarity than their serifs counterparts. This is at least in part because interlaced displays may show twittering on the fine details of the horizontal serifs.

(For this reason I actually changed to Arial some years ago for my PowerPoint slides.)

I end up using Calibri 11 as the default font of my Microsoft Words.

Once again, my choice is rather natural. Calibri is a variant of the sans-serif group. It is suitable for electronic reading and appears less boring than the standard Gothic or Arial. 

Font

A major change of mine recently is I am using a new default font for my Microsoft Words documents.

It goes like this: Ever since I started using personal computers, I set the default font to Times New Roman 11. The choice is, in a sense, rather natural. When we first install Words, the font is usually set to Times New Roman. This time honoured style is widely used because it appears professional when printed out. The conventional wisdom actually holds that the small projecting features called serifs at the end of strokes of the typeface help guide the eye along the lines in large blocks of text.

I chose size 11 because the original 10 is slightly trying for reading by old consultants and journal editors – two major groups of people who are going to study what I write. Font size 12 is actually preferred by many government organizations (presumably because they are occupied by even more senile people), but I prefer a slightly smaller font size so that my writings appear compact and informative.

You may ask: In that case, why do I want to change? Well, to begin with, it is slightly monotonous to stick to the same font for nearly twenty years. But, there is a more scientific reason.

Let me explain tomorrow.

Shit

"Em... I am not sure how you prepare the pig colon in your restaurant?" The girl hesitated to explain, "May I say it may have been washed too vigorously?"

"No, you mean there may be ... some shit ..." The waiter stuttered.

The girl nodded.

"That's not fair. You should trust our profession and we will try our best to remove all trace of that ... er... digestive remnant!" The waiter protested.

"May be, or may be not. I'm not sure, but I don't want to take any risk because I can only take my lunch once. After all, the reputation of your restaurant is somewhat wanting." The girl explained politely.

"No, you shouldn't have prejudice against us and must give us a chance," the waiter raised his voice a bit.

"But, what if there is really some sh... er... your digestive remnant in the dish?" The girl asked.

"I promise to have you and I working together and monitor for such a happening." The waiter insisted.

"And, what if my worry comes true?"

"In that case I shall spoon away that piece of ... whatever ... from your bowel!" The young man laughed.

The girl collapsed and had a seizure.

Spoil

“What do you mean?” The girl was alarmed.

“You see, eighty percent of this dish are things that you like – the noodle, fish balls, turnip, and so forth. The pig colon occupies just twenty percent. A minor insignificant component, right?” The waiter tried to be persuasive.

All of a sudden, an old sayings of George Crabbe flashed through the girl’s mind: That was all wrong because not all was right.

“A tiny bit of colon would spoil the taste of the entire bowel,” she said.

"Pig colon is quite tasteless, and, since you like the skin and blood of the same livestock, I suppose you should be happy with that trace of porcine grease in your bowel?" The waiter was insistent.

"Alas, I must say I am not against eating pig colon. My mum cooks it as our dinner every now and then. The whole point is, I have no confidence of eating this very internal organ in your restaurant!" 

"Why on earth?" It became the waiter's turn to yell.

哪渣

The waiter seemed incredulous to the reaction of the girl, “But, for sure you like the noodles?”

“Yes…”

“Do you like fish ball – with curry flavour?” The young man did not allow the girl to finish with her comment.

“Yes, but…”

“And I suppose you agree to have turnip, pig skin, and pig blood?”

“Yes, I love all these, but…”

“In that case I declare you support the idea of our naja noodle.” The waiter finished with a triumphant smile.

“But, no, I don’t want to have any pig colon!” The unfortunate customer finally found an opportunity to finish with her own sentence.

"Madam, I must say your opinion on our naja noodle is biased." The young waiter seemed becoming slightly more arrogant.

Colon

The girl considered for a while and, since time was pressing, has to concede.

“Alright, one bowel of your assorted noodle, please.” She said – while having very little idea what her lunch was all about.

The waiter nodded with a smile and dived back to the kitchen. A few seconds later, he returned with a steaming bowel, which he quickly put down in front of the girl.

“It is the signature dish of our chef,” he added.

“But he does not want to take it as his own lunch – or give it to his own children?” The girl said to herself – but, by now, she did not want to hurt the feeling of this waiter. Instead, she took up a pair of chopstick to explore what’s there for her lunch.

Beneath the noodles, she found fish balls, turnip, pig skin, pig blood – and a piece of pig colon.

 “Oh my god!” She gasped and turned to the waiter.

The young man put up a poker face, “For sure there is pig colon in the assorted noodle – don’t you see it is the traditional naja noodle (哪渣麵)?”

“Em... but I do not want to eat pig colon!” The girl yelled.

Noodle

The girl pushes opened the door of a well decorated restaurant.

The place was almost full. She sat down at the only remaining table, picked up the menu, and started to read.

In no time, a waiter approached her, and said, "Madam, may I take your order?"

"Fish and chips, please." The girl replied while still thumbing through the menu.

"Excuse me, madam, that's been sold out. After all, the old English recipes is just too unhealthy for a young lady like you," the waiter remained his impeccable manner, "Em... I would recommend our assorted noodle for you. After all, that's the only thing we have."

"Do you mean I have no choice?" The girl was slightly annoyed, "In that case why's there a menu at all?"

"Madam, the menu is part of our decoration," the waiter smiled with a trace of contemn, "As to choices, yes, there are. Our boss never chooses to dine here - and neither is our chef."

(To be continued.)

Now

I must say it was such a long time since I was last here that I almost lost my way.

To my surprise, I met the same man - and this twelve years did not seem to have left even a trace on his face.

“Thesis for binding?” He asked the old question.

I nodded, and added, "Red cover with golden words engraved on the top."

He smiled - seeing that I knew perfectly well what I needed, "Is it urgent?"

"Yes, if possible," I murmured.

"In that case come get it tomorrow."

We made no contract. In fact, I didn't even have a receipt for me to claim back what I left - because I had not yet paid. The whole discussion took no more than two minutes, and everything was fixed. I suddenly realize how good old Hong Kong people did business.

If there is a core value of our city, it is the attitude of this very man that I just met.

Thesis

I still have a vivid memory of what happened twelve years ago when I prepared for my doctoral thesis.

After I had all the content printed and ready, I went to a store recommended by a previous colleague of mine. It was a small place at the western side of the island.

As soon as I opened the door, I was met with a serious-looking middle-age man – on the forehead of whom had the word owner clearly written.

He looked at me, adjusted his pair of glasses, and asked, “Thesis for binding?”

I nodded.

“Which university?”

I replied.

“What degree?”

“MD.”

“OK. You need a red cover like this,” he showed me a sample on his shelf, “Four copies, right?”

I was completely amazed and was forced to nod again.

PS. You may ask: Where are these four copies now? According to our university’s regulation, the formal one is kept in the University Library, and another in the medical library. I gave one copy to PW – my internal examiner and our Emeritus Professor of Physiology – as a souvenir, and the last one to another friend of mine (as a sample) when she was preparing her own MD thesis.

Binding

For some unexplainable reasons I was asked to arrange the binding of a (so-called) thesis recently.

Yes, the kind of mass that our PhD students submit after their oral defense, with a hard cover and golden words engraved on the top.

Don’t laugh. It’s not as simple as you believe. To begin with, there aren’t very many places that offer this service nowadays. With the development of virtual reality, many theses are submitted electronically. (I shouldn’t comment whether some of the content of these submissions are equally virtual.) Even if some hard copies are needed, you can easily get it fixed in some exotic place north to the Shenzhen River – probably with a 50% discount.

Believe it or not, I ended up going back to the shop that bind my MD thesis some twelve years ago – not because I am nostalgic (yes, I am), but because it is the only one that is still in business!

Momotaro

My friend AL summoned me to her office shortly after she returned from Kyoto.

As a souvenir, she gave me a tiny box of something that looked like candies. She said with a curious smile, “I hope your girls would like it.”

When I return home and open the box for my princess, I broke into laughter for the sense of humor of my friend – it was a box of gelatinous rice cake with the logo of Momotaro (桃太郎)!

**************************

For those who are not familiar with the story, the legend of Momotaro could be dated back to the Edo period. The boy came to the Earth inside a giant peach (momo means peach in Japanese) and was adopted by an old couple. A few years later, Momotaro left his parents to fight a band of marauding ogres on a distant island.

On his way he met a monkey, a rooster, and a dog. To begin with, these animals were really a delinquent lot, but Momotaro gave them some magical sweet cakes made of gelatinous rice. After enjoying the special treat, the three of them turned obedient and made good friend with Momotaro. They followed the boy to the island.

And the rest is plain sailing. At the ogres’ island, Momotaro and his three friends defeated the band of demons and he returned home with a huge treasure from the island.

PS. You may ask: Why a monkey, a rooster, and a dog? By traditional oriental teaching, these animals represent three of the twelve directions on earth; in the aggregate they imply a gang from the west.

They are 申，酉，戍。

Cont'd

Once I come to realize the critical question is who has the means to get hold of all those incriminating information, I am more than ever convinced that it must be the power from the west.

But, it doesn’t really make sense. Isn’t it their decision to support the wolf?

Then, as Hercule Poirot said, I see light. It must be people who are closed enough to the west – from which the information is obtained second-hand. They were silent earlier on because they believed that their support would be rewarded.

And, there is none.

Finally, therefore, the question becomes who is generally expected to be the right-hand man but turn out all effort goes in vain?

I shall not think any further.

As Sherlock Holmes said, when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

Deduction

I must say I was lost in some entirely unrelated deduction while reading Tokuya's book.

Who know so much secret information of the new Secretaries and other officials?

No, not from Henry of course - otherwise they should have passed them to the media a few months earlier, and the situation would be completely different.

Not from the Pigeons or the Mad Dog group either. After all, they have no means to collect those information - unless you believe the mad dog is an undercover agent of whoever.

Once you come to think of who could get hold of the information, the answer seems obvious. It must be the party that must not be named!

But, the problem is, the party would not release the information - because it does no good to them.

Then, who?

Detective

My recent bedtime reading is Hokago Wa Misuteri To Tomoni (放學後再推理) by Tokuya Higashigawa (東川篤哉).

Once again, I borrow this little paperback from AL - a collection of short stories, which is supposed to be the traditional form of detective fiction since Edgar Allan Poe. In the late 19th century, crime and detective fictions were considered an inferior type of literature and was therefore used largely for filling up of the space in magazines and newspapers. For that reason, short stories were generally favored.

The best collection of short detective stories is generally considered to be The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. My personal favorite is, of course, Poirot's Early Cases of Agatha Christie. The latter is a one course meal - simple but usually brilliantly prepared. In contrast, the former is a formal three course dinner, usually with an excellent appetizer - but the main dish may not always meet your expectation. 

Well, after all, many people mistake Entrée as the main course.

PS. How do I find Tokuya's book? As the man who used to have a moustache said: If you do not know by now, we are not talking in the same frequency.

Leisure

The English examination took close to two hours, and, for obvious reasons, parents were not allowed to stay.

You may ask: How did I spend the time?

I must say if it was not a hot and misty Sunday afternoon, I would go for a walk in the Hong Kong Park, which is just next to the British Council.

But, given that the weather was so unforgiving, I just went to a convenient store nearby, bought a can of ice coffee and another bottle of Coke Zero, dived back to the Pacific Place, settled myself on a comfy chair, took out the Kindle from my bag, and began reading jurnal articles that I downloaded in the past month.

Believe it or not, I consider that one-and-a-half hour the most relaxed and enjoyable moment for me in the entire month.

既自以心為營役，兮惆悵而獨悲？

Change

While thinking of the open English examination of my daughter, the following phenomenon suddenly comes through my mind:

(Good old days)

Primary school

Teacher (to her class): Does anyone know how to calculate 3 times 2?

All students shook their heads.

Teacher: Right, that’s what you are going to learn today.

Medical school

Professor (to the tutorial group): Who doesn’t know about the treatment of heart attack?

One student amongst the whole group raise his hand.

Professor: OK. You have to go back and read it up.

************************

(Now)

Medical school

Professor (to the tutorial group): Does anyone know something about the treatment of heart attack?

All students shook their heads.

Professor: Right, that’s what you are going to learn today.

Primary school

Teacher (to her class): Who doesn’t know how to do multiplication?

One student amongst the whole class raise his hand.

Teacher: OK. You have to go back and ask you mother.

Crowd

Shortly after I took my princesses to watch the latest movie of Doraemon, Euterpe sat for – believe it or not – an open English examination in the British Council.

Yes, it was the day when many parents had a walk with their children for the National Education business. Vivian had a bad flu and had to stay home, although she was actually very keen to join the parade. For me, I was slightly ambivalent, and, as a traditional Chinese, I prefer expressing my opinion by action.

I brought my daughter to pursue for some better form of education.

And, the Council was exceptionally crowded. I later learnt that there were close to 200 children who took examination of the same grade with my daughter – not to say there were other grades and other English examinations taking place simultaneously at the same place.

Whoever responsible for counting the number of people in the parade, please add the ones I met at the Supreme Court Road.

Doraemon

Shortly after my luncheon discussion with J, I took a day off to do nothing with my daughters.

Well, it's not entirely doing nothing. Vivian and I took our daughters to watch the movie Doraemon: Nobita and The Island of Miracle.

This is, in fact, the first time we brought Adler to the cinema. My younger daughter is just about two, and I always wonder if she could sit still in front of the screen for one-and-a-half hour. However, everything turns out fine. Yes, our little princess did struggle for a while in the middle of the film, but it didn't take long to cheer her up and catch her attention again. (The choice of movie is certainly important here - Doraemon is the first cartoon character that Adler could name.)

******************

When Fujiko F. Fujio (藤子・F・不二雄) died in 1996, there were rumors that he wrote the final chapter of Doraemon, in which Nobita Nobi (野比大雄) turns out to be an autistic child, and the robotic cat - as well as the adventures - are all his delusions.

I consider that the most malicious rumor in the 20th century - what is worse than ruining the dream of children?

Bureaucrat

"You know, in a huge organization like the university, most of the things - including the fate of many so-called important people - are hold in the hands of bureaucrats." J continued after a moment of silence.

"I can understand that," I nodded.

"The irony is, unfortunately, all these bureaucrats who run the entire institute are junior staffs and have neither a trace of common sense nor the necessary knowledge of the field. They keep making silly decisions that turn out to be tragedies," my friend went on.

I know exactly what he means. Not too long ago I personally encountered a lovely creature who planned to put up student rota so that they attach to a different ward each day - and sometimes one ward in the morning, a second in the afternoon, then a third the next day. Our provident funds are possibly under the care of some mollusks that have never read Graham and Dodd's Security Analysis. As my friend MF used to say, bureaucrats are the neck of our organization: It governs the information going to the top, and, by all probability, control the movement of the head.

They are the bottleneck.

Office

(My discussion with J continued.)

“There are actually two folds of the problem,” my friend explained, “Of course we need to save sufficient sum money. But I consider it less critical a problem – after all, it doesn’t cost that much to satisfy our basic needs. The real challenge is, as I far as I could see, how we spend that 20 or, fortunately or unfortunately, even 30 years of retired life. It doesn’t take that long to finish with a PhD.”

“I shall spread it out and do a part-time one,” I murmured, “So, what is your approach?”

“I think I need an office – as an address for correspondence and a place to kill time, probably by seeing a few patients. Since renting an office means a continuous outflow of cash, I shall buy an office in the near future – before the price becomes unaffordable. Are you interested in going for the same direction?”

“I understand your argument, but, oh, no, thank you. I believe I have seen quite enough patients in my life and I shall not see more by the time I am sixty.” I smiled. After all, besides medicine, there are a whole lot of possible things to do – and, to me, a whole lot of worthwhile books to read.

Happiness is not only could be simple; it should be simple.

Dream

Shortly after the family gathering, I had the rare privilege of lunching with my friend J.

Our discussion, as you would expect, was around the plan of retirement.

“Szeto, do you still have a dream of teaching our pre-clinical students physiology after you retired?” J asked.

“Well, yes, or anatomy,” I nodded – I suppose my dream is quite well known.

“In my opinion, you shouldn’t really put too much hope on the university – or the government – to secure a retirement plan of that kind,” my friend looked serious, “Yes, your plan is noble, but, you know, the faculty may not need your service.”

Following the recent farewell party of EL, I knew exactly what my friend meant. “Thank goodness my scope of interest is wide. Maybe I should really do a part-time PhD on history.” I made a bitter smile – and then strike back, “What are you going to do?”

續昨

再上是香橙玫瑰雞和蜜梅京燒骨。前者以原雞去骨，炸透後再用橙汁及玫瑰花煨之。香滑而不油膩，酸甜恰當，較之尋常炸子雞，多了一番心機，是出乎意料的好吃。

蜜梅骨的作法則無異於傳統生炒骨，以半肥瘦腩排醮粉先炸，然甜酸獻則換成蜜糖酸梅，再灑以芝麻，效果極為理想。

素菜二品，為欖菜玉珠和口袋豆腐。前者乃冬瓜削成徑寸圓球，中間淘空，釀之以欖菜。工夫仔細，食味清鮮，不愧此店名物。而口袋豆腐者，實為大豆卜釀以雜菇馬蹄等素菜，以甘荀條封口，蒸熟後再加琉璃獻，工序繁複。余素懼獻汁濃重之食制，然此味郤又不錯，清而不淡，筵席中實不可多得。

單尾為鴛鴦糯米飯。長碟而上，一客四件，各有兩層。上為芋茸裹糯米而炸，內有豆茸餡，甜而有酒香。下為煎糯米飯，外脆而內有嚼勁。只是先甜後咸，次序略怪而已。

甜品是奶皇春卷和蛋白杏仁茶。春卷皮炸得香脆，奶皇餡亦軟滑香甜，配以杏仁之香，蛋白之滑，益覺相得益彰。

最後，尚有芒果拿破侖作生曰蛋糕。平心而論，此品卻甚失望。大抵雪藏太久，餅皮甚硬，然夾料綿滑，倒是不錯。

總的來説，此餐吃得甚為滿意。店家服務，固無可置喙，飯後歸家，亦無口渴之感，而食物水準之高，以區區所見，與福臨門、新同樂，粵菜可稱鼎足而三矣。

海景軒

次曰，於海景軒家庭聚會。地點為內人選擇，菜式乃區區所訂。

前菜為燻肘子及蝦多士。肘子用醬油醃料蒸熟，再以茶葉木糠薰香，較之傳統廣府燻蹄，賣相彷彿，然煙燻食味，俱遠為濃重。可幸肉塊片得甚薄，皮下脂肪也是適可而止。作為前菜，倒也恰如其份。

蝦多士自鳳城以降，而今粵菜食肆，在所多有。平心而論，此處蝦肉，鮮味質感，俱平平無奇，反而墊底麵包炸得香脆卻不油膩，掌廚者油溫火侯控制倒甚到家。

再上湯品元肚燉竹絲雞亦此店名物。用原個豬肚，內放入整隻竹絲雞，雞腔內再釀入糯米等其他作料，慢火燉之。其湯濃鮮而不膩，湯渣醮以豉油，亦頗美味。

接踵而上是萬壽果牛肋肉，即木瓜炆牛腩也。究其原理，木瓜清而糖份高，既可減卻牛肋肥膩，復能助組織分解，使腩肉易腍，與尋常廣府作法，加入冰糖同理。細嚐之，此處肉炆得極細嫩，萬壽果香氣卻不甚了了，與年前初試此味相比，似有所退步矣。

Memoirs

For those who do not know our duet of internist, EL and RK both used to be physician of the same ward. Two particular stories between them are worth mentioning:

*********************
(EL met RK at the nursing station. The latter had just finished seeing a patient who was referred by the professor of rheumatology for a neurologist's opinion.)

EL: What's wrong with my patient?
RK: I'm not sure. I need some time to sort it out.
EL: What are you going to do for her now?
RK: I don't know. I need to think it over before making a decision.
EL: The condition is critical. You've got to make the decision now.
RK: Em... OK, I decide... to make the decision tomorrow.

*********************
(Same scenario. Nursing station again. RK just finished seeing another patient referred by the rheumatologist.)

EL: What's wrong with my patient?
RK: I'm not sure. I need some time to sort it out.
EL: What are you going to do for her now?
RK: Let's do a CT brain.
EL: CT brain is quite useless in this situation.
RK: Let's do an MRI.
EL: MRI is equally useless.
RK: Let's do lumbar puncture and EEG.
EL: These are also useless.
RK: Yes, but, if we put all useless things together, they may become useful.

This is what I call intelligence.

Farewell

Our discussion on the future of clinical professor could not continue further. In no time we found ourselves in an exotic place of the island as we were about to say farewell to EL.

I shall not elaborate on that sensational evening. My conclusion is our retiring professor of rheumatology is an excellent demonstration of what good old tradition means: Something that may not be impressive when it is around, but you would certainly miss it very much when you realize it is about to expire.

Same for everything from the colonial era?

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Contrary to most farewell parties, EL was the host himself and he fixed the guest list. I was amazed to find RK – our previous professor of neurology – around.

This duet of adorable internists certainly brings much good old memory.

Clinical

(Our discussion continued.)

“Alas, may I ask how are you – I mean the Dean – going to assess the performance of these clinical professors and decide who could be promoted?” I asked, “By definition, the quality of patient care or teaching could not be quantified.”

“We certainly need to work that out, but it is not a major issue,” KL appeared confident, “After all, by patient care, I mean the care for private patients. Look here. If clinical professors are supported by their own private patient income, then the faculty does not have to worry about government budget cut,  our clinical professors could spare their effort in writing grant applications, and, actually, their income would speak for themselves who are more successful and should be promoted!”

“It all sounds great. But, if a senior doctor could have a decent income by spending, say, 70% of their time in private practice, while leaving 30% for teaching, why shouldn’t they join the private market altogether in order to earn more?” I was puzzled.

“That’s silly. We – I mean the faculty – give them the title! Money is not the only thing that people are after,” my friend smiled.