General Blog About Everything

In November 1974, I was racing to Dublin from Belfast at more than 100mph when I was stopped at a police checkpoint. Sorry about the speed, I told the Garda officer who stopped me. “I’m going to be late for the Childers funeral!” The Garda looked at me – this was long before speeding became a serious crime in the Republic, and replied: “You will be as dead as Childers if you drive at that speed.”

Five years on, and still we have not learnt. With each anniversary, the steps crumble beneath our feet, the stones ever more cracked, the sand ever finer. Five years of catastrophe in Iraq and I think of Churchill, who in the end called Palestine a “hell-disaster”.

It arrived for me in Beirut under plain cover, a brown envelope containing a small, glossy paperback in Arabic, accompanied by a note from an Egyptian friend. “Robert!” it began. “Did you really write this?”