Ketchup

After the headiness of yesterday I thought I'd treat myself to a day void of religion or politics. So I went to the Post Office to pay Mike's parking fine (£50). The exchange rate here is even better than the Souk. Ho hum.

A soldier hears my English accent and stops me. He's a volunteer from London, his co-soldier is also a volunteer from Manchester. They spend 14months for which they get their ticket home and should they ever choose to move here properly then they'll have better housing rights and financial help with a degree course and, of course, they won't then have to do the compulsory service.

By Jaffa gate a happy newlywed Jewish couple are caught up in their own world oblivious to all but each other and their photographer. Beside them, a dreadlocked westerner is saying No to a policewoman who would like to see his passport. Its the wrong answer, they sit him down and go through his rucksack, teddybear and all.

My main aim for today was to get to the supermarket, Bettina asked me to buy some basil, an aubergine and broccoli. At least I know what broccoli is. By the ketchup, stands a man explaining to his friend how Jesus is the culmination of the ages and that English translations are so much better for writing songs from than a Hebrew bible.