I DON’T know it yet, but we are going out for dinner. It’s just as well I made an effort with my outfit as it is Christmas.
I don’t wear my daily uniforms very often any more as the Amira complained to my princess that my uniforms are terrible and don’t look professional. How I love the Amira!
The dinner venue is only about seven blocks away from our palace. Once again, I accompany my princess in her car. The four cars carrying everyone from our palace arrive at the host’s gate simultaneously. The gate looks as if it is made of 24-carat gold. It shimmers in the sun, blinding to look at. The gates slip open, a wonderland behind them. Lush vegetation fills the gardens with splashes of colour from real flowers.
We drive past several buildings that make up the entertainment area; each massive hall has its own colour scheme. As we reach the main palace, Sultan opens the door for the princess and I take her abaya and handbag. She joins her family and disappears inside. Mona and I are ushered into the waiting area, a cluster of gold and red couches that are positioned halfway beneath the majestic staircase leading to the first floor.
For a moment I am quiet as I take in the furnishings, artworks, exquisite rugs and chandeliers the size of small swimming pools. The effect is out of this world. The many staff members that scuttle around quietly are dressed in a similar fashion to Air Emirates cabin attendants, except their outfits are gold, with scarves of the lightest cream silk. They look exceptionally well groomed. My own uniforms come to mind.
After two hours of sitting under the staircase with two Lebanese women, PAs from another palace, we are called into one of the many dining halls, a building that stands on its own on the vast palace grounds. Mona and I are both quiet as we take in the splendour.
The dining hall is the size of a rugby field. I feel as if I have walked into a fairytale. The colour scheme is blue and cream, with crystal. A large swimming pool dominates the centre of the room, tiled in nautical patterns in gold and shades of blue. Around the pool are ten 12-seater dining room tables, each different. One that stands out is clear Perspex. Gold candles placed on every surface create a mystical effect.
We are directed towards the buffet, to a cluster of 10 smaller round tables for the staff. Each table has a metre-high vase holding an explosion of colours of flowers. I am fascinating to see that each vase doubles as a fish bowl, in which exotic fish swim in circles.
We are offered a choice of fruit juices by the palace staff while the royals dish up for themselves. Once again, a buffet table about 20 metres long groans with the weight of every imaginable dish. When it is our turn, I fill my plate with prawns. Even though we are in the middle of a desert, these prawns are the best I have ever eaten.
After dessert, we are served Arabian coffee. I have seen ice blocks with little lights in them before, but these brightly lit sugar cubes are new to me. I am not sure if they are edible, so I gently sip my way around them. I ask Mona what would happen if we swallowed them. “Light would shine out of your arse,” she says, and we dissolve into giggles. Even Mona has her moments.
Feeding the cats has become a nightly routine and they slowly allow me to get closer to them. Mr Grey goes wild when he sees me and I now spend time sitting on the grass playing with him. He cannot get enough affection. Something black comes hurtling out of the tree; it’s a small kitten, just skin and bone, watching the bigger toms warily, after being put in its place once too often.
I gather up some pellets that are still scattered around and slowly fling them towards the black kitten. It lunges forward, grabs a pellet and runs off to eat it. We repeat this a couple of times. What a life these poor animals live. They stand no chance.
Lea has told me, to my horror, that many in Saudi, her palace included, take cats and kittens into the desert, fling them out of the van and drive off, leaving them to die. I feel this cruelty as a physical pain. The desert heat is unbearable, the hot sand blisters bare feet instantly. All I can hope is that they die quickly.