Monday, July 9, 2012
Rita’s husband, whose nickname was Fatty, was always charming and treated his mother-in-law most royally whenever she visited Libya. My Auntie May was a happy-go-lucky Cockney, politically unaware and blissfully ignorant of her son-in-law’s standing in the Libyan regime. When she went to Libya, she had a good time. She thought nothing of having first to fly to Switzerland to get a connecting flight to enter the rogue state, sprouting with terrorists. In her own words, Libyan holidays were not too bad at all. Nice and warm and lots and lots of sand.