Another weekend in wintery and wet Hong Kong. Friday night we had dinner with some fellow Disneyland inmates. Saturday afternoon saw a few co-workers and myself casting around the bowels of Kowloon looking for a soccer field. For some reason we had decided it would be a good idea to join the intra-company 7-a-side soccer competition. Always a good idea in theory, but never in practice. After finally finding the place and arriving 15 minutes late, we joined the rest of the team. Looking at them instantly gave away the problems we were facing: our complete lack of fitness, the concerte field, and a group of opponents who decided soccer was a full-contact sport. We managed to only lose 1-0 which was a reputable result given most of our minds were on our last wills and testaments. What was more interesting is just how much of this city remains unexplored by myself. It may not be pretty but it is interesting - especially as we were the only 3 or 4 gweilos within 5 kilometres of the place. It really emphasises how much someone can stick out just because of the colour of their skin. There was no racism though - the referee's decisions were equally bad for us and the locals.

Saturday night Mrs M and I partook of that rare event: dinner and a movie. The movie was Love Actually, another British romantic comedy from the same team that brought you all the others like Four Weddings and Notting Hill. The forumla is simple: Hugh Grant, an amusing plot with several sub-plots to distract you from the emotional manipulation, cameos by various stars including Rowan Atkinson, and an ultimately uplifting ending after a few tear-jerker moments. The cinema was comfortable but small, and even though we booked our tickets at 10am, we were the second row from the front. Thankfully it was an English movie so we didn't need to follow subtitles as well.

Sunday was quiet given it was so wet. We had some people over in the morning and set a new record: the perfectly clean house turned into a pre-school demolition zone in 14 seconds, including play-dough mushed into carpet, spilt croissant and the inevitable tears.

JC has the week off school due to the approach of Chinese New Year. This morning we took her with us on our visit to the OG doctor (obsterician). All is well - we saw little Ubul on the ultrasound and the little heart is pumping away merrily. Ubul's due date is around 15th-19th August, maintaining the tradition in our family to group birthdays together. My brother and I are seperated by one day; Mrs M and JC by two. Now PB and Ubul at best will have a week. Obviously we've got to get out more.

Mrs M is still suffering from acute morning sickness. If ever a condition has been misnamed it is this one. She feels on the verge of throwing up at all times of the day and night, yet she carries on with hardly a complaint. Her answer to my inane question of what does it feel like was simple: it feels like you are on the verge of throwing up after a big night out. And I know what that's like. Sure I got her into this mess - the good news is around 7 months it will all be over. Then the delicate balance that is forming between JC and PB as they play and interact more and more will be rocked by the arrival of Ubul.

Typical. We get things going the right direction and go and mess it all up.