Having been on the wagon this past while I got to wondering why is it a wagon? Was it once the practice to round up sober people and cart them away on a wagon? Because we don't trust sober people; there like men in anoraks at a naturalists party unwilling to join in. And we get to thinking, behind the anorak what are they up to? 

I've had a steady, loving relationship with alcohol for many years and as I explained to my last bottle of beer it's not you it's me, I just need a break, maybe it's time we saw other people, tried other things, say nothing if you agree. Happily it was one of those nights when the beer did not talk back. 

And lo and behold, I still liked my friends. Ignore that strain of propaganda that says you won't like your friends sober, although admittedly you may not like them as much. You won't love them in a slobbering dog like fashion, but you'll still be awfully fond of them and forgive them even when they fondle your goldfish. I even enjoyed nights out with mates while they knocked back beers quicker than a woman with a brain reject offers from a man who claims writing columns is just something he does until his book is published. Granted there came a point in the evening when I was unable to slow my brain sufficiently to get the joke, but up until then it was a barrel of laughs.  

My plan is to stay not drinking the length of time it takes for three days to pass without me thinking about not drinking. It's the kind of mind warping concept that could only be conceived of sober and reminds me that one of the reasons I like drink is because it dilutes the sense. The worst thing any of us can do is make too much sense.

 When I think of getting off the wagon I imagine myself like an Olympic diver with a choice of boards and array of twists and summersaults at his disposal. I might go high, amble out, leap, pirouette, tuck, twist and with the finest of splashes sink into an expensive cocktail or a delicious red wine. But then there's the real me that wants to hit the springboard and belly-flop into a heap of beer. 

When I imagine going from the 10m platform and making an elegant splash I think of Q-Bar, 'This is clearly on my A-list of bars in Beijing. Not over the top, chill atmosphere and great drinks.' Jim. G. And if I just want to be seen in my Speedos, but not really all that keen on getting wet there's Centro, of which Stephanie S. says 'I love the loungy ambience and red velvet. It is kind of like being transported to New York, except the bar service was extremely slow.' And when diving is beyond me and all I'm good for is wading about in the shallow end, even though I probably should have dried off hours ago there's Room 101, 'Has real potential to be a favourite watering hole for patrons of the jiaodaokou/nanluoguxiang area, especially for those who don't know when to call it a night (R101 is open 24hrs).' Ivan C.