I wander'd lonely, as no clouds, yet again, blocked out the burning orb.
A host of labouring Bangladeshis caught my eye, one each on a 24-storey scaffold, as they handed down planks from the top floor. At least each one had a hat, althought there didn't seem much else in the way of Health and Safety measures. The island is convinced that through reclaiming land from the sea it will increase its land mass by 20 percent, and once it has built hotels and apartments on the floating disaster area, it will attract hordes of tourists to replace an income loss that its lack of oil is creating.
It takes a degree of self-belief to imagine that tourism will ever be big business in a land that has absolutely no points of interest, and although claims a 3,000 year settlement history, appears to have built or saved nothing of worth.
My new Egyptian friend, Khaleed, at the local Irish-American Tavern - how do these theme places get everywhere and with such bad taste? - tells me that the island museum is not worth the entrance fee. He tells me that it contains a few pictures and some skulls. Given that he and I come from cultures significantly more rich in history I have decided to take his word, and have re-trousered the cash. By the way, the bad taste doesn't refer to Egyptians.
I ventured to the Remembrance Service at St Christopher's Cathedral last night, looking for friends and potential victims of my trade. An instructive evening, enlivened by the presence of three actual Chelsea Pensioners (Harris, Osgood and Hudson, I think they said). It turns out they were flown in especially and are here to gladhand expat organisations for the next few days. Why is it that people who move to another land feel they have to establish the old country in their new domicile?
Hypocritically, I am off to the re-opening of the Old Irish Country Club tomorrow night - bet that will be redolent of County Cork...ho ho.
As a footnote, I will be taking orders for villas and apartments in this burgeoning investment opportunity. It seems there is a healthy market of properties for sale, and prices just must go down as a new one is built every minute. Paraphrasing Mr Ford, you have any colour you like as it will soon be covered in sand.
2 comments:
How do "who" get everywhere? Irish-Americans? I wasn't aware that they WERE everywhere.
And dodgy use of "continual" there, old chap.
surely they'd really want to get everywhere by tube,no?
why have you not mentioned a tube?
there must be a tube
where is the tube?
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