I was 17 and you were 16 when we were first in 1966 London together at the Dorchester Hotel after we left Bahrain in September on separate planes, both of us returning to school. I went back to Washington for a few months and then, a few days after my 18th birthday in Seattle, you cabled me that a ticket for my return to London had been arranged.
I was tonight watching a movie about a writer named Colette, thinking about my early writing, about the gold dress I'd brought from Beirut and wore one evening when you and I and Danny O'Leary and your cousins went to Annabel's for dinner and disco dancing.
I was upset about Christine, a blonde German floozy who sat at our table and made googly eyes at you as we ate avocado pears with a piquant dressing. Later you danced with her on the tiny tiled floor and told me that it was a social necessity.
Now I'm thinking again and this came to me while I washed my hands in the kitchen:
You were fucking her when I was away.
Of course you were, clear as night and day.
I was 18 and unaware.
She was in her 30s and couldn't care
That you were a child
Running amok, thinking you were wild.
Then there would be a war
And Uncle, Shaikh Khalifa showed me the door.
Honestly, I need to find my diaries from those early days and link them to the wars which always happened in the years between our visits. We need to get together again to stop the wars. It's a bit Vonnegut. When will we next meet?
#Bahrain #HamadBinIsaAlKhalifa #CrownPrinceHamad #Annabels #DannyOLeary #TheDorchester #London #Seattle #ShaikhKhalifaBinSalmanAlKhalifa #LongestServingUnelectedPrimeMinister
