Behind the scenes, while I was busy with the training, the Lozenge and Rashimi went to stay with the Glammy, down the road from where I was working in Amman.
If there's ever anyone that works with love in her heart, it's the Glammy with our boys. But what they weren't to know was that she's just got divorced after her disastrous 5 month arranged liaison. Not sufficient that her ex-husband was vile to her for that time; she's also receiving concerned messages from an old boyfriend who believes she is casting spells on his life, and causing bad things to happen. This is no joke. It's the reality of many 'middle class' women in this region.
She went to see a recommended therapist who, rather than letting her talk through her problems, prescribed her a bag full of prozac and some other punchy looking pill. Rashimi discovered them in her drawer, and she explained all. She's never even consumed a paracetamol in her life, so you can imagine the effects the hard stuff had. So she stopped.
She's worried about her weight, so I suggested doing a bit of endorphin-raising exercise instead, and one night after I'd been to visit them all, she strode out of the bedroom decked in a sleek black running outfit, complete with red lipstick and red headphones. 'If I'm going to sweat, I'm still going to look good,' she giggled, and set off round the block at a slow jog.
One night she explained the boys wanted her to say prayers. Raised as a Muslim, she confessed she didn't really know about Christian prayers. 'All I knew was you say 'Amin' at the end' she laughed. 'So we prayed for all the people in your life, and then we said, 'Amin'. Is that okay?' Rashimi then swung the prayers around to a game of I spy with my little eye, which he must have associated with shutting his eyes.
J made an appearance for the weekend which was a good way to make the most of the weekend evenings, and we introduced my new Egyptian friend and her husband to the Duke, knowing they'd get on like a house on fire. We had a relaxed evening in the warm air on his balcony overlooking the Citadel, eating wild boar and aubergine, drinking all the wine we'd brought, the air filled with cigarette smoke and laughter. A new Ikea has opened near Amman, and the ladies just love it. But the men were complaining it's putting many of the local carpenters out of work due to the ease and relative low cost of a flat pack, assemble your self, set of bookshelves and the rest.
J took the boys home after a week. As he put it: 'It's a bit like getting the dogs from the kennels - they're always a little bit chubbier and come back smelling different'. In this case whiffing of stale fags thanks to the Glammy's Mum's sofa stasis with her packet of Winstons, watching the wrestling.
But they were cherished and loved, and in some ways took the Glammy's mind of her sadness, at least for a while.
If there's ever anyone that works with love in her heart, it's the Glammy with our boys. But what they weren't to know was that she's just got divorced after her disastrous 5 month arranged liaison. Not sufficient that her ex-husband was vile to her for that time; she's also receiving concerned messages from an old boyfriend who believes she is casting spells on his life, and causing bad things to happen. This is no joke. It's the reality of many 'middle class' women in this region.
She went to see a recommended therapist who, rather than letting her talk through her problems, prescribed her a bag full of prozac and some other punchy looking pill. Rashimi discovered them in her drawer, and she explained all. She's never even consumed a paracetamol in her life, so you can imagine the effects the hard stuff had. So she stopped.
She's worried about her weight, so I suggested doing a bit of endorphin-raising exercise instead, and one night after I'd been to visit them all, she strode out of the bedroom decked in a sleek black running outfit, complete with red lipstick and red headphones. 'If I'm going to sweat, I'm still going to look good,' she giggled, and set off round the block at a slow jog.
One night she explained the boys wanted her to say prayers. Raised as a Muslim, she confessed she didn't really know about Christian prayers. 'All I knew was you say 'Amin' at the end' she laughed. 'So we prayed for all the people in your life, and then we said, 'Amin'. Is that okay?' Rashimi then swung the prayers around to a game of I spy with my little eye, which he must have associated with shutting his eyes.
J made an appearance for the weekend which was a good way to make the most of the weekend evenings, and we introduced my new Egyptian friend and her husband to the Duke, knowing they'd get on like a house on fire. We had a relaxed evening in the warm air on his balcony overlooking the Citadel, eating wild boar and aubergine, drinking all the wine we'd brought, the air filled with cigarette smoke and laughter. A new Ikea has opened near Amman, and the ladies just love it. But the men were complaining it's putting many of the local carpenters out of work due to the ease and relative low cost of a flat pack, assemble your self, set of bookshelves and the rest.
J took the boys home after a week. As he put it: 'It's a bit like getting the dogs from the kennels - they're always a little bit chubbier and come back smelling different'. In this case whiffing of stale fags thanks to the Glammy's Mum's sofa stasis with her packet of Winstons, watching the wrestling.
But they were cherished and loved, and in some ways took the Glammy's mind of her sadness, at least for a while.
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