Endgame

A thousand apologies, my friends, for the lack of updates from this fantastical land. In answer to a correspondent, the work has been being done! I have been busy, trying to put my fulsome training into practice. Miraculously, some of it seems to have stuck, and I hope to see treasure in my British coffers before Christmas. Inshallah!


Notwithstanding a number of meetings that have conspired to keep me away from my note-taking, I have made some new acquaintances. I am befriended by a group of urbane Bahrainis, all of whom seem to enjoy chauffeur-driven cars and joyful membership of The British Club (est. 1935). One of them is delighted by my broad range of Arabic nonsense, and delivers the full regalia as a present.


A note to my fashion correspondent: I am not sure what they wear underneath the thob, but I am not going to ask! They clearly favour a stout British shoe and sock, but above that I am not minded to go. Delicate matters are not discussed in this land of men, so for my London showings of the new range I shall opt for long johns and a thermal shirt.


The British Club is indubitably a haven for the weary expatriate. Here he can watch major sporting events on giant outdoor screens, such as the rugby match between England and the Springboks. A raucous chorus of South Africans clad in the colours failed to dim our spirits as our brave boys were humbled at the spiritual home, and we look forward to similar humiliating chants tonight from the Kiwis. The membership panel appears to use the term 'British' very loosely, for it seems just about anybody can get in. It would not have happened in the early days of the club, I trust. But, as I told my friends from the southern hemisphere, in those days we won everything anyway, and if we didn't we just invented a new game for them to learn. How they chuckled!


Our sporting heritage has not rubbed off too much on the Bahrainis. While they run the odd football team, they seem to enjoy more aristocratic pursuits. I have mentioned before their prowess on the long-distance horse. They also thoroughly enjoy hunting, although what can possibly survive in the desert is beyond me. The wild dogs that roam the streets of our burgeoning capital city apparently enjoy hunting cat. Maybe the Range-Rover-ensconced denizens fit bull bars and night lights and chase after the dogs?


''I caught this morning morning's minion'', wrote Hopkins, in one of my very favourite poems, and this morning I witnessed something similar. As I left my apartment I spied a commotion on the waste land across the way. Sorry, when I say wasteland I actually meant ''property development investment opportunity''. Tut tut, I shall be losing my role as special correspondent for the Bahraini Tourist Board!


The kerfuffle turned out to be a dead crow at the end of a tether, bait for a marvellous falcon. I crossed the investment opportunity to get a closer look, and the Arab father and boy who were training the bird were pleased to show me their skills. The bird was about a foot tall, standing on a gloved hand, hooded. They removed the hood, and the glitterering eyes sent a shiver down my spine. This was a killing machine, and the stuff of nightmares if was much bigger. Unfortunately I did not see it fly again, for they told me it was too noisy on this patch of ground, and the falcon was getting disturbed. They were removing to some more suitable pasture, and asked if I wished to accompany them in their opulent Land Cruiser. I declined, as I had been told by my mother some years ago, but I was dissappointed.

''My heart in hiding stirred for a bird - the achieve of, the mastery of the thing.''

Poetry homework: read The Windhover and you will get the picture. Hopkins was a deeply spiritual man, and on a spiritual theme, as per Twickenham, I am glad to divulge that I return to Her Majesty's shores on Monday morning. My spirituality relates more to grass and trees and rain, but it hasn't been all bad.

By the way, for those who cannot be bothered with Hopkins, re-visit Rowan Atkinson's schoolmaster sketch. Not everyone appreciates literature!