We used to walk the edge of the jungle looking for fallen pronged tree branches. The idea was that it must have enough prongs for us to hang the ang pows (red packets). This was back in my hometown where greenery was abundant.
Now that I live in the concrete city, I find myself competing with DBKL for these branches. Hell bent on getting one, I scoured the neighbourhood for tree trimming exercises - this was a couple of years back.
Today, this will do:
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| Plastic branch also ok-lar |
With increasing reports of house break-ins, many neighbourhoods are now guarded and it is no longer friendly to strangers. I am reluctant to go round for fear of being marked as someone behaving suspiciously. Too conscious, perhaps.
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