7. Getting closer…

Back in ol' Blighty with my beloved for what was supposed to be a couple/three weeks but ended up a little longer, I set about trying to find suitable storage for the container-load of stuff that's now on its way back from the Gulf.  We live in a lovely little flat in Hampstead in north London.  It's in a quiet enclave and but a stone's throw from the Heath with its sweeping acres of managed and protected ancient woodland, grassland, ponds, wildlife and walkways.  It's known as the 'lungs of London' and is a fantastic resource to have on your doorstep while living in one of the world's busiest but most appealing capital cities. 

But our flat is small, what estate agents would euphemistically term 'bijou', with no room for all the stuff we've accumulated over the past period overseas.   Some of this we plan to keep, some will be re-distributed amongst family and friends and some is destined to be sold – over time.

Hence my hunt for some safe, but accessible storage facilities.  And they exist, but at a price.  I'd forgotten just how expensive anything to do with acquiring space in London is – well over £500 per month for the measly 300sq ft required.  That's like a mortgage for goodness sake!  I decide to cut my losses and let the shippers store the stuff till I get back, at considerably less than half the going rate.

I also pay a visit to the Saudi embassy in a vain attempt to secure the visa required to cross the Kingdom.  Having already learned that they demand to know where and when you intend to leave Saudi territory (like I would want to secretly stay…), I'd already acquired a visa for Jordan before leaving Kuwait, but this did not seem to be enough.  Perhaps something was lost in translation, but try as I might I could not seem to convince the visa clerk of what I needed, eventually giving up and leaving with an application form for a business visa he insisted I take.  This I could probably get through my company, but it would mean lots of hassle and calling in quite a few favours.  I know that bikers in Kuwait, not only Kuwait nationals, have made this trip on rides through to Jordan, Syria or Lebanon, so email the ever-helpful Salem at Tristar asking if he can put me in touch with any of them.  He replies that it's easily done in Kuwait and to get in touch when I'm back in country.  Can it really be that simple?  We'll see.

I also take advantage of being at home to spend a few days catching up with family in Scotland – enjoying the novelty of using the train to get there thanks to Iceland's revenge in the form of the ash cloud from the unpronounceable Eyjafjallajökull volcano closing all airports in the country and beyond.  I spend some time with my three beautiful daughters (yes, I'm biased but they really are), one in Edinburgh and two living just to the north of Aberdeen.  Between them, they have blessed me with four wonderful grandchildren, two boys and two girls, ranging in age from 11 years old to almost two.  They are all an absolute delight and it's great fun to be with them.  I also have two lovely sisters up there and their respective families and it's a real boost to see them all.  They all ask about my impending trip, but are too polite to say they think I'm nuts.

Home again and with aircraft back in the skies, it's time to pack up the last few bits and bobs for my trip, get back to Kuwait, complete the official business there and at last get on the road.  Excitement mounts…