Day Two

Tuesday 29th October 1991.

Up early, could have slept a lot longer. Last day before the peace conference actually starts, and security is heavier than ever. We have to take our passports everywhere. Not a great deal seems to be going on, it's looking like another fifteen hour lunch break.
It turns into a slow day with hectic intervals. Radio talkback on OBs is usually crap, but this is uber-chronic. Simon sounds like an imp talking to me from Greenland with a hanker-chief over his mouth. Dave the engineer wanted me to relay some info to Graham over talkback, but he talks in techno-speak, kind of like Clunk from Dastardly & Muttley so I just handed him my cans and shrugged at him. I swear, nobody except Graham understands a fucking word that guy says.

Some Jordanian big cheeses showed up amidst a press-bang that could rival a small war. Thought the walls were going to come down on us. There were camera men standing on each others heads trying to get a look into our room. After that it kind of went quiet again and the press centre looked like somebody had been chucking grenades around in it.

Met Estrella, the translator. Very Nice. But Dom T was hanging around her like a nasty rash with his tongue hanging down to his chest, so I moved on. She has nice eyes.

Got back to the hotel early, about twenty-three hundred, and proceeded to get smashed on Four Roses bourbon whilst swallowing ham and cheese toasties - the only available food.

Slept like somebody had killed me and buried me.