Show you have guts

February comes to an end, with the weather turning warm and the sky going blue. After the stress of last week, it was nice to relax.


Or it would have been, except I spent most of the day on the toilet, squirming in pain as my intestines rebelled. Perhaps it was something I ate. Or perhaps it was something I drank: with the first bottle of Asahi last night my stomach began to revolve, and it hasn't stopped all day.

Asahi is a difficult drink. Mainly because it seems impossible to pronounce correctly in a noisy bar. As-a-he? Ah-sah-he? As-a-high? Whatever it was, my guts started dancing around.

Perhaps there really is something wrong with booze in Hong Kong. I could happily put away pint after pint back in England, but a couple of bottles in Hong Kong and I'm sick as a dog. I reckon it's part of a complicated plan from Beijing, to increase sales of Tsing Dao. Or tea. Or make people more productive by making them foreswear alcohol?

Of course, that's a ludicrous idea. The thought that Beijing would in any way influence the running of Hong Kong is bizarre. After all, there's one country and two systems, completely separate.

I'm not being ironic, honest. It wouldn't do for a British person to say anything about the governing processes of Hong Kong, given our own record here.

But I might not be around for much longer: might be swapping the smoggy skies of Hong Kong for the something-or-other of somewhere else. Or perhaps not, depending on whether it's time to go. Or not.