In honour of all the ballet I have been watching, I have finally succumed – one year late, I know – to the trend and bought ballet slippers. Also because I have finally realised that closed shoes, heels and stalking around town does not make for a good combination. Actually neither does open toes, heels and stalking around town but closed shoes somehow are worse because there’s more leather for your toes to rub on and blister. If I seem to be obsessed with my feet, you would be too if you went through what I did on Friday. I am buying (gasp) flats and closed toes aren’t I?

If you’re wondering what constitutes ALL the ballet I have been watching, went for Swan Lake on Ice yesterday. Okay so it was skating not ballet but the music was written for ballet and skating can be very ballet-esque. They even, inexplicably, had a bit of ballet in between which I thought was totally unnecessary because why freeze off the poor girl’s feet – they were pointy-toeing on ice – just to remind us that Swan Lake was indeed originally a ballet. That said, the music is incredible. I’ve heard – and probably could even play – the famous swan bit but even the other parts are amazing, actually more amazing that the swan bit, which can get a bit tiresome to be honest. The plot of these ballets are so filmy – this is a good thing because otherwise unless you read the story beforehand you’d have no clue what is going on. To help us along though, they had the swan princess in white with blonde hair and the evil temptress in black with black hair and the evil villian also in black and at one point they drew a circle around him in fire, just in case we hadn’t got that he was evil. A cliche but a very cool way of spelling it out. The fire, I mean, not the black costumes.

We followed that up with masal dosa and pav bhaji at a nearby Indian restaurant. Really, I should get out more. That pav bhaji was pretty good.

All in all was a very arty weekend. On Saturday went to a motor show – in a desperate attempt to get stories – where I got to sit in a car which Chairman Mao had used and managed to bump my head on the way out. Then went to an art gallery opening, where pets were invited. Luckily it was just dogs. Lucky because the dogs were driving each other nuts. I am always happy when I see badly behaved dogs – unlike children – because I can assure myself that Zo is not the worst.

Instead of going home like good children after that we went out drinking on ‘the dark side’. That’s the snobby HK island reference to Kowloon. I think it’s awful but I can’t resist using it even though I quite like Kowloon and wouldn’t be averse to living there. Actually maybe not. Ironically, we ended up in Bulldogs which has a branch in Lan Kwai Fong also. But, as we tried to tell our English friend who kept grumbling that there were too many Englishmen (and too few lissome young things) in the pub, there were stunning views of the harbour to enjoy. Except for him they were slightly obscured by my head and a rash of trees they had planted in the middle of the road.

On the way back to HK, we got ripped off by a taxi. This is what happens when you try to jump the queue. There has got to be a catch, and the catch is that the cabbie tries to rip you off. That is, he draws near the closest tunnel and says “very busy very busy” (even though it was 12 am as pointed out by English friend who we promptly ignored on groundes of intoxication) and then proceeds to the next tunnel which is halfway to the airport and has a higher toll. And I thought this only happens in India.