Well, I had a planned a quiet night in with Ernest Hemingway (apparently, the bridge does it) when 25 drunk young Kampalans kidnapped me and took me to a bar.... again.
Stockholm Syndrome being what it is, I soon adopted their philosophy - Tigunye!
After a lot of beers and a rambling discussion on gynaecology (they are a forthright people), I was told that I couldn't leave Uganda without having a Rolex. This is a chapatti / omelette ensemble and the perfect end of evening street food for drunks.
I probably won't drink on the flight home today.
Thank you Uganda, you've been great company.
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