Happy Christmas

See you in 2016 in the mean time have a very happy time over Christmas. Love Syb

Mike's memories - Wine making Saudi style

As they say Christmas is coming and I was contemplating various past Christmases which lead me to think of booze and so my thoughts went on to drinking in the UK expatriate community in Saudi Arabia. Funny how the mind wanders over to the less tasty moments of our lives, at least if you have ever tasted the stuff we used to brew out there you will know what I mean.

If you were of the patient sort of expatriate you would acquire a five gallon plastic container and a length of plastic gas pipe, then put I think it was about five pounds of sugar in the container fill it with as many bottles of grape juice as you could conveniently get in followed by a packet of yeast arrange the gas pipe so it was in a leak proof hole through the cap of the container. Coil the gas pipe so it formed a loop drop a little water in to form a seal so that gases could escape but no air could enter. If you really were patient sort you would leave it for six months or so until it had stopped breathing, but if you were normal you would kill the fermentation process in a couple of weeks and drink it. You could make a reasonable sherry with sultans and in fact it was a process ripe for experimentation if you had the stomach for it.

If you were prudent you would put five gallons down every month and drink somebody else’s for the first six.

Mike's memories - Mum and cricket

My mother was greatly influenced by Victorian standards and morals and it was these virtues that were drilled into me from an early age. As part of this regime I was taught and had to learn by heart Kipling’s “If” and another poem that she told me her father had written. He had died when I was about six so I never really had the opportunity to ask him, as I remember him he was a pretty insular type anyway. I have no idea if it had a title but here it is my mother’s mantra for raising her boy.

Life is a test, give of your best,

Fight with your back to the wall,

Never say die, laugh and don’t cry,

Get up again if you fall,

Help where you can woman or man,

Stranger, lame dog or friend

Don’t stop to whine, never repine,

The longest lane turns in the end,

Hang on to that, keep a straight bat,

Grin if you’re bowled all the same,

Smile and stick it, remember it’s cricket,

Whatever you do play the game.

For my American readers cricket is an English game played with eleven a side, a bat and a ball over five days, vaguely like base ball but much, much longer!

Mike's memories - Gentlemen beware!

Whilst we’re on the subject of poetry I thought might add a couple now and next week. Today’s is a poem that I learnt along the way without knowing where it came from but I seem to have known it from a different age perhaps it doesn’t apply any more but I haven’t had the opportunity to find out for some time. Here it is:-

Time was when poets would bewail

The false of all female hearts,

But now it is a different tale

The fault has spread to other parts,

And for a man who tries conclusions,

Finds he suffers sad delusions,

The figure he thought so stunning,

Is owed to Mr. Dunlop’s cunning,

A plague upon the lofty dome,

That first invented latex foam.

Elegy in a church yard again

There is a famous poem called if my memory serves me well 

“Elegy in a Church Yard” written by Grey in Stoke Poges church 

yard, the picture is of that place. The first verse goes something like this:-

The church bell tolls the knell of parting day,

A line of cows winds slowly o’re the lea,

The plowman plods his weary way,

And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

It was brought up to date in Punch magazine:-

The church bell tolls the knell of parting day,

A line of cars winds slowly of the lea,

Pedestrians plod their weary way.

And leave this world quite unexpectedly.

How things change!!

A pig poem for you

I came across an old Irish poem the other day which as I’m short of time this week I thought I’d share with you, here it is:-

A year ago September,

A day I well remember,

I was walking up and down in pride,

When my legs began to flutter,

And I fell down in the gutter,

And a pig came up and lay down by my side,

As I lay there in the gutter,

Thinking things I couldn’t utter,

I heard a passing lady say,

“You can tell a man who boozes

By the company he chooses,

And with that the pig got up and slowly walked away.

Enjoy catch you next week.

Mike's memories - Young and foolish

At the time we were young and foolish with a great desire to elevate ourselves to a higher social level, later we were to learn just how foolish we were, it took about forty years. However in those early days we joined a very posh country club. I think the entry fee was about three week’s wages and it catapulted into a local society we could not really keep pace with financially. But the main core of the members knew I was a corporal in the RAF and treated Syb and I with kindness and understanding. We were only allowed to buy one round of drinks a night. Naturally the members apart from us were well heeled members of the local set and had no concept of how low a corporal’s wages really were. So a round of drinks was about equivalent to a week’s groceries in fact we almost starved ourselves to keep up our membership.

One night after I had bought my round, get in before the place filled up, we got on to bottles of Champaign. Syb had gone home before we really started my benefactor was buying and could drink them fairly rapidly, and I was keeping up with the rest of him. I don’t know how much I had to drink but when I left with a friend we were ready to marvel at the plainest things. “Come over here Mike and look in this window it’s beautiful”. In front of the window was a coal shute to the boiler and as I wandered over to the window I suddenly disappeared. Somehow I went head first down the shute landing on a pile of coke which buried itself into my head. When I came round high above me I could see the flame of a cigarette lighter and this plaintive voice “Where are you Mike? Mike where are you?” I cannot remember how I got home but when I walked into our bedroom with blood running down my face Syb had a fit but I was still anesthetized and found it terribly funny.

Next time I went to the there I told the owner what had happened just because he had not covered the coal shute properly. From then on I never paid for another meal at the club.

Mike's memories Last Christmas in Germany

When my daughter was a little girl we lived in Germany, at the time it seemed then far away from our families. As Christmas approached we were devastated to think that she would be short of presents and set out to put it right. It had also occurred to NAAFI shop as well and they put on a great display of toys. The Germans made more of New Year than Christmas so there were fewer toys for purchase though we did find a working telephone set (no mobiles in those days) which we bought for Karen. In addition we did spend a few weeks wages on toys for her at the NAAFI, as Christmas drew nearer  parcels started arriving from our families it seemed that everyone had had the same thought and over bought on the toy front so she wouldn’t be left out. In fact by Christmas day Karen had so many toys that they practically filled the lounge. Naturally she was delighted and somewhat overcome by amount of riches Father Christmas had left for her.

On New Year’s Eve  the boys on I worked with, without prior notice arrived with drinks, eats, record player and records. It was obvious that they had started rather earlier in fact one of them parked his car between two trees in the front garden and was unable to get it out when time came for them to leave. We set up the bar, buffet and music. The party got going when suddenly the telephone rang, it was Karen, I’d fixed it up for her on Boxing Day. “Can I come down?” Of course she did by a unanimous vote in favor and was the star of the party from then on dancing, with all the boys. That year she started school.

The tapestry

I am often asked what I do when I’m not writing. Well I haven’t had any dogs for a long time and when I lost Hogan my last one I started a tapestry that’s about 10years ago and last week I finished it! Yes it does sound a long time but then the tapestry itself measured 51X75 inches or one and a half by two metres if you prefer but I did it as a relaxation between writing and the usual domestic chores.

To start with Mike adapted a frame on a floor stand to take it as there wasn’t anything on the market big enough. From there on it was a straight forward enjoyable employment for my spare time. Now having finished it and as it is embarrassingly large the challenge was how and where to hang it and even how to hang it!! We contacted the arts centre at the university for suggestions who were kind enough to put us in touch with their display team but they were out on a show. So by the time they returned our call we’d sussout how to do it, by fastening it to a batten and screwing it to the wall in the dining room the only room with a suitable wall, the rest are rough stone or not big enough.

As you can see from the picture it doesn’t look too bad, but now I have a problem, what to do when I’m not writing. However that is something for the future as I’ve just started my new book. It’s an interesting story and I’m enjoying its creation which I will share with you later.

Golf grows on me

After I finished my last book “The Daughter of Sandstone Manor” I decided to take a year off from writing. After all I’d been writing constantly for about 3 or 4 years and had seven books to my credit. But writing for me had become a way of life and after a little while I felt the need to create something. So for a change I thought maybe a short story about golf would be the answer. In the past I had played a little golf and as this was only a short story why not try it as a subject using the little knowledge I had.

Of course the best laid plans of mice and men etc the ideas kept coming and my short story has become the start of a book. I’d promised myself that my next book would be another historical novel having done so much research on the 18th century. It had seemed the way to go but once started I couldn’t forget golf and the tale of a lady champion. Naturally I don’t know enough about the professional game so I’m back on the research trail. It’s a far more fascinating the game than I first thought, now with sponsors, training, diet it has become so complicated even before you get to the course. Naturally professional golfer have a personal life too which can add a load of possibilities especially for a single lady golfer.

The seven books I’ve written cover so many aspects of life. In Saudi Arabia where I lived and wrote my fist book to the tales of intimate relationships in a factory, a highly successful woman in tourism and 18^th century lady; as well as a very personal book about my wonderful Newfoundland dogs. I love writing it is so life expanding.

Mike's memories Sliding home on my bottom

When we left Wellesbourne I was posted to Cosford a very busy base at the time and I was to teach at the School of Photography there. However there was no accommodation  for married families, so I eventually found a little cottage in the hills 34 miles away. Quite a commute, at the time I had no driving licence, so I bought a small motorbike (a BSA Bantam) to do the journey each day. It was of course second hand and had developed several idiosyncrasies before I got it.

The first problem to emerge was a tendency to blow the lights if the revs went up to what we might term normal travelling speed. It did not affect the commute when we first got there but as the winter drew on I took to waiting for one of the long distant coaches to come along and I would tuck in behind it and follow it lightless down a main trunk road till we came the junction where I turned off for home. If there was no moon I would wait for some other vehicle to follow, they were exciting days!

Another time I had left camp early as it was winter and the roads were icy. Naturally being young and inexperienced I had convinced myself that if you were confident you could ride at normal speed without mishap. This proved fine until I came across an unexpected sharp right hand turn, taken by surprise I applied my breaks. Next I was sliding along on my bottom following my bike as it went through a five bar gate making a hole for me to pass through shortly afterwards. Naturally the contretemps had bent the front forks but it was still ride able if you aimed off to the left, a technique I maintained for the rest of our stay. (Failing several driving test because of it). Next day on my way home there was a large notice reading “For the love of Mike turn right” my students had heard about it.

In the End

Sometimes I wonder what to write each week, life has treated me well really, like all things it’s had its up and down but then that’s what has provided a lot of the background to my books. Not just in Saudi Arabia a time which whose memories are very precious to me but life in general and the people I’ve met, even in passing, provide the prototypes for some of the characters in my stories.

The couple in Inshallah were based closely on several people, it would be most unlikely that anyone of them would react the way Jinya did but her family life was taken from actual situations I witnessed. As I was trying to draw parallels between the Islam and Christianity it was most important not to come to any conclusions about the developing story especially at the end. I had to create an ending that could be interpreted to be satisfactory by either faith. It however left things up in the air a bit and many people have asked me to write a sequel continuing the story on but to do so would mean that I would have to declare an interest. Much better I believe to leave it where the reader has to make up their own mind and interpret it in the faith they believe in or if they have no faith speculate on the outcome.

Mike's memories "After shave"

Syb writing last week about Scrumpy reminded me of one or two more drinking incidents when I was in Cyprus. Before I started writing to Syb I was a bit wild; well there wasn’t much to do as we were virtually confined to camp for the whole of the time we were there, so drinking became an important pastime. Phil was a drinking companion of mine at the time and on one occasion we ran out of both money and booze. In our search to find something to drink we came upon a bottle of orange squash and a bottle of after shave (alcohol) so we thought we’d give it a try. I’ve long forgotten the proportions we mixed but I still remember the taste.  Actually the taste wasn’t too bad but the smell was atrocious, orange squash and Old Spice, our breath must have smelt beautiful.

Phil was a bit of an odd ball when he was on a survival exercise where each member of the team had to create an individual shelter for the night he took a bottle of Scotch downed it in one and slept peacefully in a ditch while his compatriots were scrubbing round trying to make shelters. I never did find out how he felt the next morning or what his Oi/c said.

There are many more tales of drunkenness but not particularly amusing so instead I’ll leave you with a little poem I remember from that time, I’m not sure where I found it, it could have been in Esquire or some magazine like that.

Starkle. Starkle little twink

Who the hell you am I think

I’m not under the affluence of incerhol

I’m not as drunk as some tinkle peep I am

I’ve only had tee martoonies

And I’ve all day to Sunday up in

I’m so drunk I don’t know who’s me yet

But the drunker I sit here the longer I get.

The spell checker has just had a fit!!

Home is where your husband is!!

For those of you who have read the last blog you will know that when we were first married we lived in a small caravan in a field during a glorious summer that lasted from March to September. Fortunately before winter set in we moved to much better site with a bath house and toilet block, we also had running water and electricity you have no idea how we treasured these luxuries.

We had also changed our old home for a new caravan 36x7’6” with a double bedroom, a kitchen we could both get in, a lounge 16’x7’6” and we had a party of 21 people to celebrate. It was a very cosy situation every one sitting on everyone else’s laps and drinking scrumpy out of great bottles called little johns. There were no glasses or cups we just handed the little johns around; at the time we also had Andy a black Labrador (see earlier blog) who joined in.

For our first Christmas in this new van we invited my parents, Mike’s parents plus his Grandmother, and Pete an old friend of Mike’s from his Cyprus days. He was kind hearted bloke who picked up an Italian girl who had nowhere to go for the holiday and invited her along so there were nine of us and a dog. The new van only slept 4 people so our sleeping arrangements were somewhat odd too, all the females slept in the caravan some on the floor and the men slept in a billet on the RAF camp site. I had to cook the festive dinner for this lot and managed it in the small kitchen by stacking pans on the top of each other on the gas rings and cooking the turkey an end at a time in the little oven. It must have been a pretty atrocious meal but everyone seemed to enjoy it.

We devised a new game sitting round that time we blew balloons up until we had filled the room so no one could move, we then debated if we burst one of them would it start a chain reaction. Well we all survived so I guess you can tell the outcome.

On yer bike!

While I’m reminiscing in things long past I should perhaps tell you about our first vehicle. As I’ve mentioned we lived on the edge of a field in a caravan 22x7.5 feet behind a hedge with a hole in it as our front gate. Through the hedge was a corrugated iron sheet acting as a bridge over a deep ditch, beyond that was a lane that ran down the side of a disused airfield. Sorry about all the detail but it is relevant to the transport situation.

We bought a tandem from Mum and Dad’s neighbour for £6, no it was a good one, things were cheaper then. This was our family transport though I did have my own bike when I wanted to be independent. When we went shopping in the village which was the other side of the airfield, we used to set the tandem on the main runway and if the wind was right I would sit bolt upright, hold my coat open and we would sail down the run way at a fair old speed. On the way back against the wind we would use the lane with high hedges.

In the field where we lived there were no facilities and as the first summer was really hot the farm who supplied us with water from a bore hole rationed us to one bucket a day, my how we must have smelt! To some extent we used to visit friend to use their baths and even if they weren’t friends and they had a bath they soon became friends. One couple we knew lived up a hill a little way along the lane and away from the airfield, of course they had a bath. Returning one evening from them Mike was on the front of the tandem and decided to let it go. We whistled along the lane until we came to the corrugated iron bridge which Mike completely missed, the tandem went into the ditch catapulting me over the hedge, Mike into it and completely wrote our machine off. From then on Mike walked!!

How it all started

As I wrote last week’s contribution my mind went back before our marriage to our first contact, I say contact because we were pen pals. Mike was in the RAF in Cyprus in the days of EOKA working as a photographer. I was a dental nurse in Eastbourne. One day a friend asked if I’d like to write to a poor lonely serviceman, I wasn’t particularly interested but she sent my address any way. Sometime later a letter arrived, I was so taken aback that I wasn’t sure what to say in my first letter back to him, so my Mum wrote it on my behalf!!

Mike told me later that he was quite taken by this first letter, liked my sense of humour and personality, it was ages before I could bring myself to tell him it was my mother he had been so impressed with. Things developed and I started to write for myself, before long we were writing everyday sometimes as much as 20 odd pages. Now I can’t think of what we wrote about but it did take most of my non working life. In order to get to know each better we took Vogue and Good House Keeping Magazines which we would discuss so our letters crossed one another. Finally after over nearly two years Mike proposed to me by letter, we still hadn’t met. Naturally I accepted, Mike wrote my Dad who was very suspicious but gave his blessing with certain conditions which we ignored and started to plan our wedding and life together. It was nearly time for Mike to come home so by now we didn’t have long to wait. Virtually all my family pronounced doom for us “It’ll never last, you’ll be divorced in a year” and yet here we are over fifty years later still together without writing a single letter since.

How things change

Back again, while I have been away I went to my Granddaughter wedding arranged in most unusual circumstances. A friend of a friend of theirs had booked a wedding at one of those hotel places where they do weddings as a speciality and paid a hefty non returnable deposit. All was well until his bride to be left him with a non wedding and a loss of £5000. His friend said why don’t you sell it, I know a couple who are always talking of getting married and so it was that my Granddaughter had a very sudden wedding. Naturally we went and were surprised at the grandeur of it all. It seems to me that weddings have increased out of all proportion with the meal alone reputedly costing £60 a head.

I remember when we got married the buffet cost 7/6 a head (37.5p) and we got married in a room above a pub as I remember it we seemed to have a lot more fun. We married in March so that we got maximum benefit from the tax rebate which was available at the time. If you married just before April 6^th you were classed as married for the whole of the previous year and so were paid a rebate, I thinks ours was £25 or something like it. We left our wedding by train for the Midlands and a 22’ caravan in a field near to where my husband worked. We took a taxi to our new home and caused the driver a little concern when we asked him to stop by a hole in a hedge which we passed through to start our new life together. To us it was more important to be together than wait to save for the fripperies of to-days weddings. Still the world has moved on but it’s fun to look back and enjoy our memories both long and short.

Holiday please read the earlier ones!!

      We’re off on holiday for a couple of weeks catch you in August, hope the sun shines!!

Many thanks

Well that was a satisfying start over a 1000 copies of my book out on the free promotion, all we need now is for people to read them, enjoy them and tell folks about them. But most of all thank you for your interest. It’s always a worry when a new book goes out, was it what people wanted and did it fill their expectations. Especially if it’s a new period for the tale, as The Daughter of Sandstone Manor is, delving into the 1700s a period I have always been interested in but never studied until now. I found it fascinating doing the research thank heavens for the web it saved me many trips to the library and of course being able to print the relevant pages out means now I have a huge reference file for my next book also to be about the same period, if this one proves acceptable that is. So we’ll see how it fares by Christmas and take a rain check then. Again thanks to all who have got a free copy I really hope you enjoy it.

Only 2 Free days to go

My seventh book “The Daughter of Sandstone Manor” was launched last Wednesday. I believe it’s my best book since I wrote Inshallah but you can see if you agree as it’s free till Sunday. Here’s the description -

The Daughter of Sandstone Manor is set in the 1700’s where smuggling and lewd behaviour was common practice.

Lady Isobel was witness to her father’s murder and was threatened by the culprit, an event which led her to leave her family home and take a post as a servant in a hostelry under the assumed name of Jess Newman. The story is a tale of events in her young life from when the she arrives at the Inn and her father’s murderer Edward Grant finds her. Edward Grant wants her for his mistress but the information she has gathered on his future plans, he decides to rape and kill her. Her one saviour is Charles Blake a senior figure in the Riding Officers (later to become Coast Guards) a mystery man to all who frequented the Inn. Charles was a handsome young man and at first she held him in suspicion until gradually he proved himself to be a friend.

The book gives some insight to the life, romance, rape, murder and smuggling that went on in the 1700’s.

The people who have read the manuscript seem to be captivated by the story and you can now try it too as it’s FREE on Kindle till 5th July

Link:- amazon.com/dp/B010IC0T2S

The Daughter of Sandstone Manor it's out and it's free on Kindle

Well the blog is early this week, why? To celebrate the launch of the book “The Daughter of Sandstone Manor” here’s the description

'The Daughter of Sandstone Manor is set in the 1700’s where smuggling and lewd behaviour was common practice.

Lady Isobel was witness to her father’s murder and threatened by the culprit, an event which led her to leave her family home and take a post as a servant in a hostelry under the assumed name of Jess Newman. The story is a tale of events in her young life from when the she arrives at the Inn and her father’s murderer Edward Grant finds her. Edward Grant wants her for his mistress but the information she has gathered on his future plans, he decides to rape and kill her. Her one saviour is Charles Blake a senior figure in the Riding Officers (later to become Coast Guards) a mystery man to all who frequented the Inn. Charles was a handsome young man and at first she held him in suspicion until gradually he proved himself to be a friend.

The book gives some insight to the life, romance, rape, murder and smuggling that went on in the 1700’s.'

The people who have read the manuscript seem to be captivated by the story and you can now try it too as it’s FREE on Kindle 1-5 July

You were right, how about this for the cover?

Those people who wrote in to tell me the picture I’d chosen for the cover of my new book “The Daughter of Sandstone Manor” seen on last week’s blog was an American scene. You’re right of course but it just seemed to have the impact I was looking for however I guess for a book about a Lady living in the south of England in the 18^th century it was a bit misleading.

Now hopefully the one heading this week will prove more appropriate and just as appealing, it is certainly in line with the story. So hoping for your approval I intend to use it. Currently the book is in its final proof reading and should be published in the next ten days, because it is set in the 1700s it has taken a little longer than usual as the facts have to be right as well as everything else. It is surprising how much research I’ve had to do into customs, language, dress, life style and manners, I have now amassed so much information on these I’m thinking of writing more books set in the same period.

The Daughter of Sandstone Manor

Whilst Mike has been recalling our memories of Saudi I have been hard at work on a new book set in the South of England in the 1700s. It has been a fastinating challenge learning the speech and idioms of the age as well as the dress and habits that were current at that time. In the novel the heroine experiences life all levels from Lady to skivvy my researches have had to be widely spread, in fact I learned so much about the age that I am tempted to look to that era as the setting for my next book. But that is jumping ahead I have to publish this one first.

I found it very heartening that my beta reader became so involved in the story that she missed some areas of needed correction towards the end of the book, but I always read a new manuscript many times refining it so they did not escape the needed alterations. The story covers a lot of the trauma experienced by the heroine including rape, threats, kindness and finally love, she experienced life in exalted circles and at the lowest as a servant.

I really enjoyed writing this book which I feel is amongst my best, as a taster I am including the cover picture for your approval.

Mike's Saudi (45) The end

Life was pretty good now, the boss and I became friends and we seem to work well together for about a year then disaster came from an unexpected source. As part of my job I had had a telephone installed in the villa so that I was on call. Naturally we gave the number to our family in the UK. You may recall that Karen my daughter had been repatriated when she was 18 (Saudi law) and had settled down with Syb’s parents in Eastbourne.

However she was having a rough time so much so that I was afraid that she might take her own life. She would phone us maybe once a week in tears her troubles seemed to be growing, Syb and I believed she needed our support permanently. There was nothing to do but go home and help her, so with regret I handed my notice in. First I told my boss who came up with all sorts of alternatives including a 6 month sabbatical, very tempting but I knew if we were to support Karen it had to be permanent or we would be going through the same scenario on our return. So just before Christmas 1983 we came home to our little house in the Lake District. Now it is 2015 now and we still talk about our time in Saudi as though it was yesterday.

Mike's Saudi (44) My last job

My area of operation was the Base Training Office which had mainly offices, meeting rooms and a coffee bar. The other area I frequented was the Audio Visual Section a large building containing a TV studio, a photographic studio, darkrooms, digital manipulation facilities and offices. I also attended many meetings with the boss there was one I particularly remember at the conference room in the Maintance building. The boss like many service personnel in all countries was always planning for his release and retirement. At the meeting he was working out what his pension would be at various departure dates while the meeting was in progress; it had turned to a bid by the senior maintance officer for control of the AV Section. The boss was so busy with his pension that I said to him “Sir you’re about to lose the TV Studios if you’re not careful”. He lifted his head as though he’d been following the meeting “I’m sorry gentlemen but I’ll have to leave the meeting now as I have another appointment” Craftily he knew that without him nothing could be done and the maintenance case would fail. But it was why I went with him, we seem to work well together. It is doubtful that the AV Section would ever be controlled by maintenance as it was dedicated to producing training aids and therefore in the contract it was part of training.

Barney was the head of training on one of the American contracts and had an office in the Section, he was an Irish American and used to wear a bright green suit on St. Patrick’s Day. He was a big guy very friendly in a brash sort of way he was a keen amateur photographer so we got along fine. It was one of my duties to write the minutes of the weekly training meeting and to help I used to record the meeting as so much was said in a short space of time and I have no shorthand. Also there were one or two section heads who used to attend the meetings who used to say things to impress without thinking about the implications. I would write their comments in the minutes verbatim and read them out at the next meeting, they of course would swear they had never said it and that’s where the tape recorder came in. Soon we had a more truthful report and I used the tape recorder less. Sometimes I would have a word with Barney to save some ones face, in the end it all worked pretty well.

Mike's Saudi (43) Back to work in Saudi

Our holiday over it was back to work and get to know my new boss. In my new post I had a new large office and two Pakistanis to work with, they were great lads once we got to know each other we worked well as a team. In fact at one time three of us talked about setting up a secretarial agency in Karachi when we left Saudi. Apparently much of the official documentation in Pakistan was in English and most of the population needed well written letters in English, we thought it would be quite a good market and pretty close to what we were doing for the boss. The way things have worked out over there I’m pleased it got no further than talking about it.

Our job was to support the boss in whatever way he wanted, his written English wasn’t so good at the time so I would compose his letters for him and the boys would type them. Then I’d explain the content to him and he would alter it to say precisely what he wanted to say as time went by I got to know him so well that there were fewer and fewer alterations but I always checked with him. This new job of mine was not a BAC contractually recognized position but we called me an advisor which in fact I was and the actual work developed as his trust grew.

One day quite unannounced a couple of large cabinets with keyboards and TV screens built into them. These were word processors of a very early type. Soon we got down to learning how to use them, they were ingenious contraptions that would work in English or Arabic which when you think about it is very clever as English reads left to right and Arabic right to left. Of course they did not translate it was one or the other at the flick of a switch. One day two Saudi girls showed up and offered the boss 10,000 riyals for one of the machines to help them with their school homework. However they believed that the word processors translated, but it just shows what country of contrasts Saudi was at the time when school girls could stump up 10,000 riyal for a machine to help them with their schooling. (Riyals were 7=£1 or $2)

Mike's Saudi (42) The end of the holiday

We took Mansour and Fateeha up on the South Downs, a rolling set of hill ending in cliffs falling to the sea. It is common land covered with short grass and now a national park popular with holiday makers and locals alike. Naturally there was the ice cream van selling that soft ice cream they squeeze out of a machine and stick a chocolate flake bar into it. Fateeha had never come across this sort before and fell in love with it, this entailed us visiting the area on several more occasions. Mansour asked if there were any pubs like the one we visited in the Lakes, there was one we knew of in a little village at the back of the downs. It had a history of smugglers and ship wreckers and was off the beaten track. We were mistaken it might have been off the beaten track but it was heaving with people Mansour and I went in to get the drinks while Syb ad Fateeha sat outside where it was still crowded but less so. In side we had to fight to get to the bar with the crowd unavoidably pushing us from all sides, Mansour looked distressed and I can’t say I was particularly happy, we looked at each other and left. It was not what we had in mind and in marked contrast to that wonderful evening in the Lakes.

Syb’s Mum lived in a semidetached house in a typical suburban street. It had a long narrow garden as had the neighbours with low fences and plants of various sorts dividing them. The sun was shining so we went out on to the lawn at the back, as soon as the neighbours saw Mansour and Fateeha they lifted their noses and went inside. It was an unfriendly action typical of suburban families at that time, it was also something that Syb’s Mum was to berate them for later. She had really fallen for these gentle Arabs on their side neither Mansour nor Fateeha could reconcile the way Syb’s Mum and elderly people in general lived on their own, it was totally against their belief. The elderly members of the family should be looked after and their experiences learned from, they were treasures to be valued. We could only say that she liked her independence and we could not be in Saudi if we had to stay in England to look after her. Fortunately Karen called in to see her nearly every day now she as she lived close by. It did however trouble us for some time and Mansour often referred to it when we were back in Saudi.

As I remember it we seem to spend our time with Karen, visiting cafes, walking on the Downs, generally relaxing and avoiding her boyfriend. But soon the time had come for our friends to move on to France so we took them to Heathrow and wished them a safe holiday, saying we would see them back a Dahran. The rest of our holiday we spent with our daughter.

Syb's Saudi the land I loved

I am now writing my seventh book but of all the books I have written the first means the most to me because it was written in Saudi. It is a tale about Saudi and its life style at the time (1974) based on many of the things we experienced as described in Mike’s Saudi.

At the time we felt there was a big divide in the understanding of the expatriate and the Saudi’s we were sent to teach. As we can see today Islam and Arabic culture is often badly portrayed and misunderstood in the West, no doubt helped by the more radical views of disinfected followers of the terrorist fringe. It was my experience that these do not represent the views of most Muslims who now seem to find it difficult to convince others of the true religion as written in the Koran. By selecting abbreviated passages from any religious text it is possible to support any view no matter how far from the true dedication of the text and often read in a context often means the opposite.

In Inshallah I tried to express in an unlikely love story of the normal family life of many Saudis and their acceptance of Islam, not always as strict as the Matawa (religious police) would like. However I tried to make it acceptable to the Western mind set as possible without deviating too far from the facts as actually experienced by myself. To me at that time they were friendly generous people who accepted me into their families during the time I stayed with them I wore purdah when we went out, and divided into separate rooms when none family members were present. Life of course was different to what I was used to but no worse for that.

I loved my time in Saudi, no doubt things have changed now after all it was forty years ago. But if as Christians or Muslims we stuck to the words of our Profits and didn’t infect them with our own agendas the world would have been a much nicer place.

Inshallah available from  amazon.com/dp/B007OIX3XM   

Mike's Saudi (41) Fateeha at the Supermarket

Fateeha had her moment too when Syb and Mum took her to the Supermarket, Of course in Dahran there was Safeway full of American products so she knew about them and used them when she was home. But Booths was a rather different type of prospect being a rural institution and of course the product range was totally strange to her. Not to allow the strangeness of the produce throw her and much to Syb and Mum’s dilemma she took the tops of the jars, dipped her finger in and tasted it. Syb rescued the opened jars from the shelf where Fateeha had returned them and put them in her trolley, explaining that it was not done here. Fateeha continued on her merry (but reformed) way filling a second trolley with everything she fancied. At the checkout she paid cash said something to Syb who turned to Mum and said “Fateeha says they are all for you”. I believe Mum still had some of things Fateeha bought for her when she died years later.

Pork is considered dirty in the Quran and no Muslim would touch it or anything made of it. However Mansour understood that we did not share this view and said we should not hold back knowing that we had not been able to enjoy bacon in Saudi. He suggested that we should have an English breakfast; next morning we took him up on it and had what to us was the usual fry up. We were sat at the table opposite the two of them and could see the discomfort on their faces as we tucked in, they were literally on the verge of being sick. We hurried our breakfast and never touched anything to do with pork in front of them again. It just made me realize how psychological indoctrination can really affect the human mind but it was a very low price to pay for our guest’s happiness.

Mike's Saudi (40) Mansour and Fateeha visit an English pub

On another occasion we took them to a typical Lakeland pub. It was a beautiful evening ideal to impress our guest with. A low sun across the field with cows grazing, in the distance the church bell ringers were practicing and all was quiet with not too many people about. I got us a round of drinks the girls had Pims and we had scotch, as we sat there enjoying the scene Mansour said “Seeing you don’t drink, how come you know so much about them?” In Saudi at this time I didn’t drink just to be on the safe side and had told him that I didn’t touch it. Fateeha loved the Pims and of course her husband wanted to know what it was. “When I was young we used to call it a leg opener” I told him. His eyes widened “Really get her another one.” I did but after sometime we left only having two rounds, the evening was so perfect it needed a clear head to enjoy it to the full.

One of the things that both of them were enchanted with were the acres of green grass, in fact Mansour used to enjoy rolling in it. Whilst the landscape in Saudi had its attraction for Syb and me we loved the desert and used to drive into it and stop out there where the silence made your ears hurt but to Mansour and Fateeha it was nothing. However the Lake District is one of the most beautiful areas in England, with its lakes, trees and everywhere the green grass and it truly impressed our guests. One day I had something to do so Dad looked after Mansour “I’ll show you our souk” he said meaning the local village market. Naturally Mansour loved it he came across some everlasting socks which intrigued him so Dad bought him a pair which proved to be his prize possession for the rest of the holiday.

Mike's Saudi (39) Masour and Fateeha visit Milnthorpe church.

 

 

At our home in the Lakes Fateeha was much happier and conversed with Syb in their own Arabic/English language, she was most interested in the way Mum ran the house. She was so naive about the west that she had even packed an iron to press their things because she wasn’t sure if we had them in the UK. I can’t remember much of our day to day holiday together but one or two high lights will do. Mansour wanted to see a Christian church and there was a nice old one in the village that we went to. In those days churches were left open for people to use.

At the door I had to stop the two of them taking their shoes off as they would at the mosque. Once inside the girls stayed by the door at the back of the building while Mansour and I went for a walk round as I explained how the service was conducted and the church used. Suddenly a middle aged lady appeared from nowhere and took Mansour on a guided tour pointing out all the features and dates of the church and its history. She really was knowledgeable and also made some kind remarks about the influence of the Arabs on the world. However she was one of those people who naturally have a loud commanding voice, poor Fateeha who understood little English stood at the back convinced that Mansour was getting the riot act read to him for entering a Christian church. When we left it took her husband a few minutes to convince her otherwise, in fact he had enjoyed the tour and learned a little about our history.

 

 

Mike's Saudi (38) Mansour and Fateeha in England.

Our next leave in the UK was due in a few weeks time when we visited Mansour and Fateeha. “We are going to have a holiday in England and France” he said, as it happened we would be in England at the same time and we hoped to meet. I gave him my parent’s phone number and asked him to call me while we were there. “Will £10,000 be enough to cover our stay in England?” he asked. I assured him it would be more than adequate, remember this was 1980 and he could have probably bought a small hotel for that much. Of course his plan was to stay in London for the whole time, as he had never been out of Saudi Arabia before it was probably the only place in the UK he knew.

Leave came and we were at home with my parents in the Lake District when the call came through from are rather inebriated Mansour, he sounded really unhappy and we could hear Fateeha crying in the background. “I’ll be down to see you tomorrow”. I would like to have made it the same day but it was a six hour trip and it was already three in the afternoon. Next day Syb and I set out for London and to find the hotel where they were staying and determined to look after them for the rest of their stay in England. Mansour in his ignorance had climbed into a taxi at Heathrow and asked the driver to find them a hotel. He certainly had; it was one of the grottiest hotels in central London and was charging him through the nose for his accommodation.

  At the time our car was a 2CV Citron a 600cc French utility car and not very big so we had to leave some of their luggage at the hotel to be called for the following day for which they charged full room rate. The hotel had depressed Mansour so much that as many Saudis do when visiting non Muslim countries he hit the bottle and not being used to it, its effects soon began to tell. This of course alarmed Fateeha as she had no control over the situation, no family to call on in England only us. In fact when we picked him up he was still the worse for wear, I removed his half empty bottle of whiskey to Fateeha’s relief. Throughout their holiday they wore western clothes and looked remarkably smart. Six or so hours later when we arrived at my parent’s house he wasn’t too bad though I did support him as he met them. My father a man of many hidden talents greeted him in Arabic much to my amazement and to Mansour’s surprise and delight.

Fateeha was much happier now and conversed with Syb in their own Arabic/English language, she was most interested in the way Mum ran the house. She was so naive about the west that she had even packed an iron to press their things because she wasn’t sure if we had them in the UK. I can’t remember much of our day to day holiday together but one or two high lights will do.

 

 

Mike's Saudi (37) Events that changed my working life

The report on the American contract that had done Mansour and myself so much good had been widely talked about. So when Abu and I visited the supply squadron their training control asked us if we could do a similar report for them, we checked with our captain who was enthusiastic and gave us the go ahead. Abu had only just started with me so it rested mainly on my shoulders but he was with me most of the time hopefully learning his trade.

We acted as Mansour and I had done previously, Abu talked to the Saudi trainees and I to the American contractors. There was no one missing from the contract this time but the discipline was appalling most of the work was being done by the contractors as the trainees were absent. The personnel in the training control were so frustrated that they had to let training slide or fabricate results, from the training point of view it was a very unhappy ship. Naturally when we eventually wrote our report we highlighted this failing which was from the top officer to the lowest recruit. In our office Khan our redoubtable Pakistani read the report which I felt was measured and fair. “Mr. Mike this will get you into big trouble. You may be right but it is criticizing the Saudis they will cause you trouble”. I felt it was right if we were ever going to get the stores personnel trained to work properly someone needed to do something about it. (How young and foolish was I and how old and wise was Khan)

Abu and I showed the report to the new boss and went through it with him in detail explaining my reasons for each criticism he was delighted and immediately circulated it to the contractors and his Head Quarters. He phoned for an appointment with the top officer in Supply, later on he, Abu and I went on to the meeting in the officer’s office. We watched as our new boss went through the report (giving credit to me) with the Prince who was the top officer in supply. The Prince gravely nodded at each point without comment, when the boss had finished, he thanked us for coming and we were dismissed.

Naturally the report was actually fair as seen from the American contractor’s point of view and they embraced it. At least it would allow them to do some training. Our next event in the chain that was to develop was we had a visit from members of the RSAF Riyadh Head Quarters together with their advisors and the report was white washed and the Supply Squadron continued as before. Next our new boss was replaced with a Major who was thought to be safe, Abu Garda was moved to another office where he was totally bored, the American contractors training manager was fired and I became in effect the new Majors secretary. I think I was lucky to have been saved if somewhat emasculated. As it turned out it was a job I grew to love.