So, I’m back. Sorry it’s taken so long. I’ve basically only just sobered up. Two-and-a-bit years in Hong Kong came to a fine finale in early May after a farewell party which ended in my apartment at midday. With a Glaswegian ‘small business’ owner and a random girl who looked like a woodland creature.
Clearing up I found a rolled up 20 dollar note filled with tarragon and a slice of cheese in a wok full of red wine. Standard. I’m not surprised the landlady took HK$800 off the bill, although that was technically to dispose of a £1,500 sofa because it was “dirty”. Gotta love landladies.
So here we are. London, bloody London. It’s just a bigger playground. And it’s all new and fresh and exciting. Like the first time I ever lived here 17 years ago. Except with more money. And no exams. Now, London may well be 
turning into a gentrified, airbrushed, oligarch’s paradise of chain restaurants, soulless bars and hipster twats, but I can’t get enough of it at the moment. You don’t know vested interests until you’ve seen a handful of property moguls and tai pans hold a city state of 7 million people hostage. London by contrast is a paragon of democratic accountability and multi-culturalism. And Edwardian beards.
The noise is everywhere. Of drunken sill people spilling out of pubs, laughing, joking. Or queuing to get into dingy cavernous basements where world class DJs have decided to play. The soundtrack is not endless car horns, and angry, shouty, humourless conversations. It’s not people running around making money with no time or inclination to enjoy it.
Yes I’m basking in a London honeymoon and I bloody love it. Everywhere the sky; bright and blue and pleased to see me. I swear there must be 200 words for “wet misery weather” in Cantonese. But the best thing about having London for a bride-to-be is that she’ll definitely go all the way.
Goodbye HK friends
Hello again gentlemen!
Death Noodle 