Alcohol

It is a truth universally acknowledged (by my friends) that this young man, in possession of a few hundred HK$, must be in want of a cocktail. Which is why I find myself pecking this out very carefully and quietly, in the dark, nursing a hangover.

I am not, generally, a very big drinker. Until, that is, I get off the plane at HKIA, when I appear to be possessed by the spirit of a functional alcoholic for the duration of my stay. Which is not normally a problem - the city has many fine bars, containing many fine waiters and barmen, who are only too happy to help me. And, while alcohol has led me to wear flashing horns, dance on bar-tops and talk to random strangers (all at once), it's never led me into any actual trouble and I've never regretted it.

Until last night, that is. Last night, to celebrate M's birthday, we went for cocktails at the Mo Bar and then H treated us to dinner at the Mandarin Grill. I'm not normally given to hyperbole (oh, okay - sometimes) but it was probably the best meal I've eaten and I just wish I'd had a few fewer Hemingway daiquiris so that I could have enjoyed it more. And so that my head wouldn't hurt so much this morning.