I met him on a dark night, no, I mean a sunny day. He was swarthy with a startling raven mane, no I’m mistaken he was pale with very short hair of indeterminate colour.
He was obviously some kind of Sheikh/ Oil rich Emirati, no that’s not right, he was English through and through (I could tell by his overly apologetic manner).
The mysterious stranger swept me off my feet and into the desert toward a Bedouin tent complete with manservants and trays laden with hummous, flatbreads, olives and choppy salads. Hang on, no, it was a café which served generous portions of carrot cake and creamy coffees and he wasn’t so much a stranger as he was someone with whom I am intimately acquainted.
Afterward he scooped me up onto his horse and we galloped along the desert road to Oman, or rather he guided me to Flight VS001 Dubai to London and we headed home together…
