Nicholas Quirke was exercising his itchy feet once more and in the company of his son Cole headed for foreign lands. It had been their intention to visit Nicholas’s nephew, Dominic; who was stationed in Israel for a year. Having booked their flights and accommodation it was then no surprise to discover as they were on their way to the Holy Land, Dominic was on his way back to the United Kingdom, so their paths in Jerusalem were never to cross. And in addition as hostilities between Israel and Palestine escalated over the weekend, it was desired that their paths never crossed with a missile. Inevitably there were delays on the M25 but having left Brighton with plenty of time to spare they got to Luton Airport and were able to enjoy a Wasabi curry for lunch. It was a 4.5 hour flight during which Nicholas taught Cole to play Rummy and was otherwise uneventful; though it was possibly one of the most chaotic flights either of them had endured. The collective of Hasidic Jews who populated the flight were a restless bunch and there was much praying and reading from the Torah culminating in a spontaneous burst of applause once they had landed on Holy Land soil. They contemplated getting a taxi to their Airbnb but were horrified to discover that they would be charged £50. A train ride and a taxi cost them £20 and prompted feelings of authenticity and self satisfaction. They were looking forward to reaching their accommodation and getting a late supper however, Tel Aviv was closed as it was a Day of Remembrance for Israeli Fallen Soldiers and Victims of Terrorism and the city was shut for mourning and preparing for their day of Independence on the morrow. With empty stomachs in riot they watched Game of Thrones and anticipated the delights of their first day.