Last night, my wife told me that our daughter, who in time-honoured blogging fashion I shall simply refer to as Natalie, would be going out with some friends to watch the New Year's Eve fireworks display from the top floor of some office building in Tsim Sha Tsui.
Now, putting aside the fact that New Year's Eve is the most tedious time of the year, and putting aside the fact that a fireworks display is the most mind-numbing form of so-called entertainment - Cantonese television always excepted - as a caring human being dedicated to the art of parenting, I was naturally concerned for my offspring's welfare.
"I'll ask her to call us before she sets off home," I said to my wife. "There are a lot of nutters out there."
"Oh, I didn't know you were going out," my wife responded quick as a flash - and that is really quick for her.
20 years married come July and it's come down to this, I thought. Whatever happened to that sweet person I first met all those years ago, and where on earth has she got this acid sense of humour from?
Some things, like dressing up in silly hats, blowing tuneless horns and singing dreadful Scotch dirges, are destined to remain beyond my ken forever.