A day of rest for Bronwen on Wednesday as advised by the Doctor followed by a medicinal curry in the evening and she was back at work on Thursday.  The magical healing power of Indian food.  And a shedload of antibiotic cream.

The lump on the head has pretty much subsided but the huge bruise on the knee more than makes up for it.

As to why nobody showed any concern as Bronwen lay face down on the pavement, our Chinese friends and colleagues have re-emphasised the cultural differences and compensation culture that led to last year’s news story about the toddler being ignored having been run over twice by a van.  Not that they’re saying they think this is acceptable; their point being most people are so worried about being held responsible or made to pay medical bills that they daren’t intervene.  That and the language barrier that prevents a simple “Are you OK?”.  China’s a tough old place sometimes.  Ironic to think some people in the UK don’t value the NHS.

Tequila cocktail.  That’ll just be tequila then.

Normality resumes at the weekend; Friday night back at De Refter saw a free round of beers from the landlord (and a replacement meal) after playing spot the Mozzarella on Andrea’s “Mozzarella Salad”*.  I think each time we’ve been there, a small problem or other has been rectified graciously by Nick the landlord (technically, he’s the manager, and it’s a bar, not a pub; but “landlord” makes it sound more, well, pub-like).  Nick tells me the recent acquisition of a huge fridge in said establishment may result in extra capacity to stock a few “off-menu” beers (subject to his supplier’s range of stock) if I would agree to visit regularly enough.  I told him if he’s looking for a reference for this type of arrangement, The Bull in Olney would be happy to oblige.

After a bit of a late one in Closless (“What base would you like for your cocktail sir?”.  “Tequila”.  A shot of tequila is poured.  “That’s not a cocktail!”.  “OK sir, I’ll give you a double for the same price”.  More tequila is poured.), we just about made it to lunch on Saturday with Tim, Sarah and JB.   The plan being to go to a random park or visit a local cultural sight.  The reality being a gentle, relaxed walk through the northern Jing’An area, stopping off at a few bars (well, three in total).  Back home at around 7.30pm, we jumped at the chance of a quiet-night in.

A late Sunday brunch over at Masse (of “We can see our house from here” fame) with Isaac and a few of his co-workers; a rare opportunity to get a reasonable bit of bacon with (late) breakfast.

The Big Bamboo beckons this evening for Liverpool v Arsenal.  Hopefully we can end the weekend on a high.

Why can’t we get crisps-on-a-stick in the UK?

The picture, by the way, is of a Qingdao street-food delicacy; crisps on a stick.

* This, I think, is referred to by readers of The Guardian as a “1st World Problem”.