Passenger To Frankfurt

Looking forward to a quiet night of Xbox, Lindt and minimal toil, the evening's schedule is dashed in an instant by a last minute invitation to Europe. No sooner is Knights Of The Old Republic fired up than an irritating mobile buzz interrupts. It is a PR associate. Chicken pox and unyielding embassies (some Egyptian hacks, needing ten days to get a visa, didn't apply in time) have left eleventh hour spaces on a German/French junket. Palefaces - requiring no such permit - are the obvious stand-in.

The plane leaves in six hours. Six hours to pack, shower, and complete the rest of the week's work in advance. Though Jedi timewarp powers might be welcome now, the Xbox is sadly switched back off and the quest for passports begun.

Setting off into the night, the appalling thievery of Dubai Airport's long-stay parking charges are neatly sidestepped by leaving the Silver Shadow in a shady lane opposite the Bustan, and taking a six dirham cab ride to Dubai International. Not only will this save several hundred dirhams over the five-day trip, it also saves the effort of lugging bags miles from the distant long-stay, as taxis drop off directly outside the terminal.

We arrive at Frankfurt in the early morning, dazed but relieved to be back in a land of decent, First World driving, schweinschaxe and Mon Cheri kirsch liqueur chocolates.