Back in 1980-81, by a series of flukes, I found myself working as a programmer on financial applications at the HQ of Aramco at Dhahran. It was at a time when oil was selling for $33 - like $150 today. I knew from my work that the oil was costing 65 cents to produce. Multiply that by 9mbd to get an idea of the profit. Unimaginable.

I would occasionally share a lift ride with Sheikh Yamani. A few months later, we were on the same dance floor at a luxury night club in Monte Carlo. He looked at me with bewilderment. His British bodyguards lining the walls got tense. I was with my beautiful Iranian girlfriend and Yamani was with his wife. We were guests of an Iranian ex-prince (pre-Pahlavi). The builder and owner of the famous Villa Ispahan in Monaco. The ex-prince was being threatened by the gangsters of the region. A bit later, he sold the villa and moved to California.

At Aramco, I was desperately trying to get out of my contract. The original deal was that I was to head a new "Arab airlines data centre" at Bahrain. But the Iraq Iran war broke out. My Swiss company asked me to "temporarily" work for Aramco. I invited a pretty TWA flight attendant to dinner at our hotel. Later, I invited her to my room. The Indian staff at the hotel must have reported me. A day or two later, the American IT manager at Aramco told me that I had 24 hours to leave the country. I was terminated "without prejudice". After some hassles, I managed to get the Swiss company to pay me what was owed.

I found myself jobless in London just when Charles and Diana got married. I avoided the parade. I moved to Nice for the summer.

Those were exciting days. I nearly drowned at Aramco's Half-Moon Bay when my faulty windsurfer was blown out into the Gulf. A Dutch guy showed up on the empty beach. He saw me in trouble and rescued me.