As I got lost in a sea of green at a rowdy bash in a dimly lit pub in Lang Kwai Fong, I bumped into an old chum who was trying to impress the damsels with his knowledge of the world of beer.
While I stifled a yawn, the young ladies lapped it up as he waxed lyrical about what seem to me to be pointless attempts to create pizza flavoured beer. I’m sure the generous use of his credit card didn’t hurt either.
With my head spinning and my stomach acid rising – there’s a reason why I’m not a big fan of beer, it’s not very good at keeping the dreaded heartburn at bay after a good steak dinner – I thought I might call it a night and set off to find Taitai.
No luck there as, of course, Taitai would never dream of not dressing for the occasion. Finding her was like looking for a chameleon in a jungle.
However, my other beloved beckoned as I spied a nice quiet club with a hefty whisky cabinet. And although the Macallan wasn’t really in keeping with the Irish theme, I’m sure St Patrick would have approved. May the luck of the Irish be with you!