Till last night I hadn’t been to Zouk since the time I was a good convent girl in the early nineties, agog at the nighttime goings-on. Last night, we were, rather, unimpressed with the nighttime goings-on, even after a couple of rounds of tasty lychee martinis and vodka gimlets. And then after the vodka and Ribenas. And then after the champagne. And then after the Martell and green teas. Even after all that, the music was too bloody loud and trancey, the elbows of the size-zero girls were still sharp, the boys were still bengs. Still, we danced, we lounged, we laughed. And outside in the December night air it was nice.