WEP: CAFE TERRACE IN 1895 CAIRO

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(340 WORDS)

I sat on the terrace of Shepherd's. Shepherd's you ask?

Long before London’s Savoy or the Paris Ritz, Shepheard’s of Cairo was the epitome of glamour. 

I worked hard to keep it that way. 

It made Meilori, my wife, happy.

 It was a hotel from which explorers set off for Africa, where kings entertained mistresses, 

where socialites rubbed shoulders with officers on leave from the desert war, their uniforms still dusty with the sands of the Sudan— 

and spies hovered in the hope of minds being softened by the congenial atmosphere. 

Here daily thronged together some two to three hundred persons of all ranks, nationalities and pursuits – some legal, mostly illegal.

 Here were invalids in search of health; artists in search of subjects; sportsmen keen upon crocodiles; statesmen out for a holiday;

 special correspondents alert for gossip; collectors on the scent of papyri and mummies; men of science with only scientific ends in view.

Then, there was my "adopted" son, Samuel Clemens who hadn't noticed my mind wandering.

“Why I tell you, Captain Sam, we are on the verge of as grand and adventure as we enjoyed in the House of Life!” 

Oscar Wilde, our fellow fugitive from Egyptian law, sighed, 

“To quote Euripides: Sweet is the remembrance of troubles when you are in safety.”

 “Posh, Ostrich! We aren’t after buried alien star vessels this time but after the forgotten treasures of Pharaoh Two Tons of Almonds!” 

Oscar rolled his eyes. “That is Tutankhamun!” 

Sammy muttered, “My way of saying his name is easier.” 

Oscar scowled, 

“If that treasure map you bought from that ‘honest’ snake charmer is as accurate as your mangling of the Pharaoh’s name this expedition is doomed before it begins.”

Sammy chuckled, “My expedition will go down in history, Ostrich.”

I drawled, "The last time you said we would make history, we had to make bail instead."

Wilde shook his head“You Americans think that a cheque-book can solve every problem in life.” 

Sammy snorted, “Well, money may not buy happiness, but try being sick without it!”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00N758R96
Read the rest in THE STARS BLEED AT MIDNIGHT 
if you are curious.

Denise asked me to say a bit of what I've been doing all through my submitting to WEP.  

Besides hurricanes, being a rare blood courier, and assorted cancer surgeries ...

my sidebar says it all.

I never win these things, seldom get mentioned but as Sandra my best friend told me: 

"Roland, you write like Ray Bradbury ... but it is a Jacqueline Susann world. Don't expect to get far in it."

I reminded myself.  
'Ah, the wounds of a friend are faithful.'

 "Hello to all my friends, both new and old.  

Run for the thrill of the race not the prize and you'll have more fun."