Jenga

It's the last practice test tomorrow, and spirits are high. We've been practising like mad, and all looks good as they focus on the 15th. They're a jolly crowd as you can see:

A great deal of preparation work has been carried out in the Staff Room - photocopying, talking, thinking, planning - and as if that wasn't enough, a student at the local university, studying for her Masters in Linquistics, has been asking for support and guidance...every day! So, a busy time. I shall look forward to seeing her completed dissertation. Perhaps I'll be able to refer to it when I do mine next year.

The sale of the car has gone through, mainly as a result of in-car advertising giving Mohamed's phone number as the primary contact, but I shall take the credit for writing the advert in my best Arabic. It says "For Sale", so not too complicated, but I was very pleased with my mastering of the keyboard.

There was considerable interest, even outside the bank, but in the end I sold it to one of my neighbours.

Payment was in cash, of course, and so that had to be converted into sterling. Mohamed and Rajab took me to the gold souk to see one of their friends there - he gave me a good rate of exchange. I've never seen so much gold in my life. In the course of the discussions, he told me that he expected the price of gold to go down if Obama is elected, and he should know. I think I'll hold back on converting my assets into metal for a day or so.

The teaching is becoming ever more demanding as we approach the final exam on the 15th. The students are coping very well, and we have frequent progress tests which are all showing positive progress. They also help me to identify the areas to focus on. The students' writing and listening skills in particular are very pleasing.

I shall be very sorry to leave, and frequently wonder whether I'm doing the right thing. I have been made to feel a valued member of not only the school community, but also the community as a whole. I couldn't have hoped for a more special country to teach in.

One of my students is very keen for me to become a Muslim - she doesn't want me to spend eternity burning in Hell. She has given me several CDs on Islam, and books, to help me see the errors of my ways. I was nearly in tears when she was explaining how much better off I would be as a person, now and in the afterlife, if I converted. Islam is not a proselytising faith - she is just trying to help me.

I'm in the process of selling my car, and am enjoying an embarrassment of interest. I put posters in the rear windows, in Arabic of course, giving a student's phone number to ring, and he has been inundated with calls. It's a choice now between selling to one of my neighbours, or one of his friends, so I suppose it'll have to be Kalashnikovs at dawn to determine the lucky winner. Having the car, and being able to drive the vast distances which I've managed whilst here, have given me such great opportunities to explore, on and off the beaten track.

There's been a bit of a leak through my bedroom ceiling (via the light fitting - a little worrying) over the past ten days or so, and sorting it out has not been straightforward. The water appears to be coming from the sixth floor; I live on the first.

Initially I spoke to the Egyptian concierge - it turns out he lives in a hut on the roof, just like in the Yakoubian Building, not under the stairs as I had thought - but he isn't really terribly influential, so nothing happened for a while. Eventually I called my estate agent friend who spoke to some of the other occupants, and a meeting was convened in my flat to discuss what was to be done. Ownership of the block seems to be a little grey - it's technically owned by the state - yes, it's a council flat - but people have sold their rights to live here to other people, so now nobody takes overall responsibility.

Nothing was firmly resolved at the meeting - many suggestions, but no acceptances of actions - and so now the owner of my flat has decided to sell - this'll be the second time I've been made homeless from the same place in six months! He says that the people who live here aren't very good people because they won't help each other, so he wants to find somewhere else. I've always found everyone here perfectly delightful, but then I expect I receive special treatment.

A number of people have suggested I open up my own language school here in Benghazi. With a native English speaker as principal, students would be queuing round the block, I'm told. Well, it's a thought, but I won't rush into it just yet, tempting though the money would certainly be.

I'm certainly back in the swing of things here, and it's great. I've got 16 students who are all very focused on their final exam, so they're very demanding and hungry. It's such fun teaching students in this frame of mind - I get a massive buzz every day, learning as much from them as I'm teaching. I love it.

In order to maintain a modicum of sanity in the class, I've brought the Snickers technique forward from my previous class - any minor misdemeanours are punished by a black mark in my Liber Miscreantis. These can range from turning up late, through talking Arabic, to allowing a mobile phone to ring. Last week I was the worst culprit (for my speaking too much Arabic so I don't feel too bad) so I had to fork out for a catering-size box of chocolate.

There was one moment where there was a danger of complete anarchy breaking out: we were talking about insurance, premiums, types, and so on, and one student told the class that we needed to discuss underwear. I asked him to repeat what he'd just said, so he did: underwear. I asked if he was sure that that was the right word. Yes, he was sure. By this time the class was in serious disarray. It turned out that he was talking about underwriters.

The weather's perfect here at this time of year - crisp mornings, sunny days, and balmy evenings. Just wonderful. I wish it was like this all the time!

The only cloud on the horizon is over the Isle of Man - where I've been salting all my savings from my work. Kaupthing went belly-up the day I flew out of the UK, and there's still no clear picture on what's going to happen. Ex-pats aren't allowed UK bank accounts, so are obliged to save off-shore. But the UK Govenment offers no protection to off-shore savers because these islands aren't part of the UK. However, UK banks can raid their off-shore subsidiaries to prop up their mainland operations - as they have done. Yes, I'm very cross about the situation.

It's been a long time since I last posted to the blog, but I'm back in Benghazi now so normal service will be resumed.

Three weeks in England was a special treat - initially it was only meant to be a fortnight, but the extra week was most welcome. It was good to see some rain, the green fields, the beginning of autumn; to smell the beautiful English air; and to see all my friends and family. I hadn't realised how much I missed them all. It was also good to go out in mixed company, to have a few (or more) drinks, and to drive at sedate speeds visiting all the people I miss so much.

But then it was good to get back to Libya too. I spent a few days in Tripoli seeing friends and revisiting old haunts, staying with an old colleague, and tasting food outdoors, in the sun, again.

Flying to Benghazi this morning was a delight - the plane was full, and there was incessant chatter throughout the journey. Conversation is a major characteristic of Libyan life, and is emblematic of the friendliness of the people here. On arriving back at my flat, I was welcomed like a missing brother - people were hanging out of their windows and running out of their houses to welcome me back. It was wonderful.

I'm in the middle of Stephen Fry's Moab is my Washpot. I was almost in tears, and not only from laughter, particularly in the parts relating to his time at prep school. For example: the apartheid evident in the colour of trunks being used to differentiate between swimmers and non-swimmers, and the humiliation handed out when an unknown rule was broken. He could almost be talking about Beech Hall. It brought back masses of forgotten memories, few of which were pleasant!

The next month is going to be very busy, leading up to the BEC in mid-November. It promises to be a very busy and exciting time.

Exams are over, and all marked. Unfortunately the results were not quite what I would have liked, and some students will not be proceeding to the next level at this point - which is probably just as well, because there are now going to be 17 students in the next class. Quite enough for a course of this intensity. The BEC (Cambridge University Business English Certificate - the external exam) is set for mid-November, so the pressure's really on. Judging from their faces, my class wasn't very happy once we reached this stage of the term; only Tawfik could manage a smile:

Once I'd completed all the paperwork, and passed it to Head Office, I found I had some free time, so, having my car back, I determined to make good use of it. The day started with a little issue to be resolved - a flat tyre. Fortunately it had enough air in it to get to a garage, so I hot wheeled it there at crack of dawn, and waited for two hours for the garage to open. It was a lovely morning, so I enjoyed the peace and quiet of the bird song whilst sunning myself. Somehow a piece of metal had pierced the sidewall of the tyre, and when I removed it, the tyre went completely flat. My man at the garage, when he arrived, smiled, jabbed a sharp implement into the hole, pulled it out again, and that was that - fixed! I was amazed! He refused payment, but I insisted - I was so happy.

So, off I went. Salem from the Institute had told me about a cave east of Sousa which had some Neolithic cave paintings, and I'd been planning to see them for some time. Today was the day. It was a fair drive - about four hours - but it was good to be on the open road again, and out of town as well. On passing through al Bayda (where they get snow in the winter) I was encouraged off the road by some blokes in a pickup. I thought I'd done something wrong, but in fact they wanted to buy my car! We did carry out some speculative negotiations, but couldn't agree a price - LD4000 for such a fine car as mine? I don't think so!

After Bayda, I headed towards Cyrene, and drove through the necropolis again. It really is an astonishing place. To the left as you go down the hill towards Apollonia is Cyrene, one of the largest Roman cities ever built, and to the right is this enormous city of the dead:

Eventually I reached Sousa, and then the cave. It's used as a goat holding pen now, and is surrounded by razor wire and camel thorn brush, so I couldn't get in close, but it is reputed to be the largest cave in North Africa:

I think this is my favourite area in Libya - almost verdant in a rather Spartan fashion, sparsely populated, with beautiful seascapes and historical sites going back thousands of years, yet with a sense of promise for the future as desalination plants and new/widened roads are established.

Driving back from Sousa to Cyrene, I passed this Italian war memorial, sadly stripped of its plaques. This is most unusual in this country - there is generally great reverence for past conflicts. Certainly the British are held in very high regard following the Second World War.

In front of the memorial, in a bus shelter (there are no buses, but the shelters are very useful) there was a stall selling prickly pear fruit. I'd never tasted them so 'bought' a few to take to England. The vendor spoke excellent English, and when I asked how much, he said: "No charge. They're on the house." People in Libya generally earn very little, but their generosity, as you will know from this blog, knows no bounds.

Getting back to Benghazi in time for Break Fast, I passed this signpost:

You can just make out the Roman script beneath the paint!

Breaking my fast, I made myself a delicious cheese and tomato roll. Biting into the soft bread, I suddenly felt something hard. Mmmm, that's not right, I thought - it was one of my teeth! Or, more accurately, a crown. Off I went to find a dentist. An hour later, everything was back to normal. Such efficiency. I've booked an appointment for a more thorough checkup when I get back.

I'm at the airport now, having slipped through all the formalities like a camel through the desert - effortlessly and no commotion. Oh how I wish Terminal 5 could be like this.