Arabian Knights

Befriended today by three Saudi nationals whom we shall call Abdulrahman, Abdulaziz and Ibrahim, for these are indeed their names. All three work at the King Fahd airport, Dammam, in Saudi. One is in charge of Business Development, one is a pilot and the oldest, wisest and drunkest is in charge of Safety, Quality Assurance and Fire and Rescue Services.

They like to relax after work by travelling across the King Fahd Causeway to have a few beers and enjoy the many delights of this island before returning to their wives and children. Truly the followers of the Prophet are lucky that their laws refer only unto the Infidel. They invite me to join them in a December trip to Casablanca, where they will be able to escape the true drudgery of family life for a blissful heartbeat. I demur, with good grace, which is accepted in the same spirit.

Their normal practice is to return late evening to their homes with a supper of meat and rice from a roadside cafe set apart from the checkpoints. A cafe that Abdulrahman informs me has been recently closed due to its reliance upon donkey as the main ingredient of its mutton curry. I tell them of our traditional cat curry which ably resembles chicken. Abdul shows me how Aziz has grown ass's ears and how his feet have become cloven due to his diet in the last few months. Surely the spirit of Scheherazade is alive in these people.

Once we have prised ourselves from the splendid carpeting my new friend tells me of his time in Europe, particularly Sweden, and of his passion for Harry and his Hotspurs of Tottenham. Apparently the name Redknapp is of Viking origin and refers to the burgeoning bud of a red flower. These people do not cease to amaze and delight me.

Sherberts all round.