AKA, or Alcoholics in Kuwait (Not So) Anonymous

Kuwait is a country that is supposedly completely dry. We all knew that. Aside from the quota of alcohol permitted to all diplomats. Aside from the black market (fuelled in part by the quota permitted to diplomats) where I’m told a standard bottle of whisky goes for £160. Aside from school children drinking a type of widely available cologne called Jacksons mixed with anything else for their kicks. Aside from all the “underground bars” or even “nightclubs” you can find in rented villas/flats. Oh, and aside from the fact that in the biggest supermarkets, a few months before Christmas you can see shelves and shelves not so subtly stacked full of different varieties of grape juice - read: Homemade Wine, Château Desperate Times, with a bouquet slightly better than vinegar (but only slightly) aged in whatever type of plastic container/petrol can you have at hand.
Oh yes, and aside from the constant supply from the airport staff. I am reminded how once when I tried to smuggle a bottle of wine in, when it was found (bad luck) they tutted and they tisked and they grandiously declared they would have to throw it away. At this point they carefully placed the bottle in a beautifully clean “bin”. So imagine my amusement on seeing everyday in the biggest local English language newspaper:
Alcoholics Anonymous: AA can help with drinking problems. You are no longer alone.
More shockingly though, there are now several versions of Narcotics Anonymous advertised in the paper.
Now, if I was the Kuwaiti government, I would forget about focusing all my energy on the alcohol prohibition, and focus on dealing with narcotics abuse. Reliable sources tell me the coast guard alone captures on average 2 tonnes of drugs – PER DAY. That is only the coast guard, and only what they manage to catch. It is a highly dangerous phenomenon on an astronomical rise in particular among Kuwaiti youth. And considering about 75% of the Kuwaiti population is under 25, I would hurry. Just a thought.

PS. I am no longer in Kuwait. I am back in London. It is raining. A lot.

Why Did The Chicken Enter The Garage?

There is a chicken living in my garage. Really. Perhaps a brief explanation is in order then perhaps you might assist in unravelling the mystery of the garage chicken. We live in a flat in a complex of four villas that have an underground garage, which is accessed through a card operated automatic garage door type thing. The only other possible access is from the pool, reached by going down approximately 20 steps and navigating through some spiky vegetation. The only other option is the chicken climbing up to the main entrances of the four separate villas and taking the elevator down to the garage. The area we live in is largely residential, with some schools. To my knowledge, none of the surrounding houses have chicken coups, and there are no chicken farms anywhere in the vicinity.
So although we are accustomed to garage cats, encountering the chicken in the garage was quite a surrealist and novel experience. Most puzzling is that this chicken has now been living in the garage for over three weeks (we think), without any obvious signs of anyone feeding it initially. At one point my adorable mother, a budding Dr. Doolittle who has a track record of converting our parking places in the garage into an animal shelter, decided the garage chicken has to be fed. She then proceeded to pull out a 3kg bag of millet or wheat grains from somewhere in the kitchen. (Why she had this in the first place is beyond me and on the list of other mysteries to be solved at some point.) Thus, though not knowing from whence this chicken came, what its purpose is, or how it has survived in the garage for so long, we have now adopted the garage chicken. The laying of any (toxic/carfumed) eggs shall be reported immediately. Watch this space.

Disclaimer: I am not hallucinating/seeing mirages in the desert/high/insane. No chickens have been harmed in the writing of this post.

Legal Eagle in Kuwait

Quick update. As you all know I am in Kuwait over the summer. Since my last inane post I have started working for a law firm in Kuwait (a genius idea of mine, if I do say so myself, to do something useful with my summer), whose Managing Partner is the reason I decided to become a lawyer –the man is übercool personified. So far I have learnt more in four weeks than I did the entire year at law school. Or at least, to be fair, practice is an entirely different kind of education. I must confess, I think I am going to like being a practising lawyer despite the tediousness and repetitiveness that law school entailed (and will no doubt entail again next year). Alas, the monstrous workload hasn’t left me as much time for being a beach bum as I had hoped, but I manage to squeeze in the odd hour of sun worship/power swim in my lunch break. It seems wise to stock up on sunshine for the endless months of near darkness that will no doubt commence the moment I step off the plane in London town. Over and out.