Our little flat in old Amman may not have 47 stars but it is a real place with stunning views over the nearby hills. Old Amman (once known as Philadelphia and also, in 'Biblical times' Ammon) was built on 7 hills-New Amman must cover about 40 of them. It is at about 2700 feet asl ( actually higher than that from our nearest sea, the Dead, 4000 feet above which is the lowest point on earth at -1300 feet) I say real as new Amman has a sense of virtual reality with its shiny gleaming futuristic buildings some of which, with a certain built in impermenance give the impression of never actually going to make the future at all. Here in the old city we can sit on our shaded verandah where sun birds flit and sip amongst exotic pot plants and we are woken by the Bulbuls (well we were first disturbeb by abour 5 pre dawn call to prayers from too adjacent mosques) with their dawn chorus. Out of the direct rays of the sun the temperature is perfect with pullovers needed when a cool breeze springs up.

On arrival we were greeted by an old friend, the local small store owner who always tells us how much he loves the English (British is not really a commonly used term amongst the older generation of Arabs) and then immediately launched into the familiar diatribe of treaties long broken, promises dishonoured and old friends left to the mercies of the Jewish state=expelled from their neighbourhoods, properties sequestered and with no hope of return to that part of Palestine which now forms the State ofIsrael At least unlike some Irish people I used to know he will only start at Balfour in 1917 and not Cromwell in the 17th century as in the case of Ireland. For that relief much thanks. And although he knows of Huttonian's diplomatic past he bears no personal grudge just an air of weary sadness at the perfidy of the English in general and over Palestine in particular

After this rather one sided exchange of views(sympathetic noises are called for rather than an attempt to counter a somewhat distorted interpretation of History). Then it is up to the balcony, a cold drink and the serene contemplation of scene not much like Hutton-or even Paxton for that matter.

I saw Abu Khaalid, the shopkeeper, shortly afterwards when desperate for an essential ingredient for a pre prandial tincture . He heavily overcharged for a lemon thus belatedly settling a small part of an ancient grievance. Perhaps he felt a little bit better.

And the Gin and Tonic was greatly improved.  ¶ 8:40 AM