Because we lived on a island, all the roads occupied the narrow band mountain and sea, and there were two ways to get anywhere. Usually that meant a short way and a long way, except when one was unluckily enough to be as far away as possible from his or her destination. The way I took to the local primary school was the long way. That was even though the classes were always on Saturday mornings. I left home early, to catch an early bus to a busy station where I could catch an early train to a desolate station. We met at Meeting Point C of Chai Wan station, the last stop of the yellow line, which I never took except to get to HKUGA. I never learnt what the school’s name actually stood for, but that would never strike me as odd. In a place where in the local language each character is a word, a fondness for acronyms is universal. Even the country’s name did not escape that fondness: HK, SAR of PRC was infinitely more common than Hong Kong, Special Administrative Region of the People’s Republic of China.