Friday 29th October, Istanbul

Dear Diary,

Khan’s bar is great. Although I can’t get used to the fact that some of the customers ask for lemonade but really want a beer in a lemonade bottle. I’m not stupid I know it is something to do with them being Muslims, but what worries me is how am I supposed to know the difference?

On Wednesday for instance I gave a man a beer and he was horrified. Mr Khan was not pleased and said if it happened again then we would have ‘words’. I have to confess I know what Mr Khan means by ‘words’.

I haven’t said much about Mr Khan yet, I have been way too busy with the bar, but he really is a nice man. The odd thing is he doesn’t drink at all and is very old fashioned. He is like the father a girl never. He is a large jolly man with a Father Christmas beard, although his is black. He has lots of sons and daughters, all of them now grown up. When I first started at his bar he came around to my room at the small nearby hotel and refused to let me live there and offered me a room above his bar. It is much nicer.

The only thing is that now he takes an interest in me that is not always welcome. We have already had words, as he puts it.

On Tuesday I blocked up the toilet. I won’t say how, but Mrs Khan was upset. At first Mr Khan said I was not to worry as these things do happen then he got a plumber to fix the problem. That’s when things got embarrassing.

The plumber found my make-up bag, which I could tell Mr Khan did not approve of to start with. Then he found a box of wet-wipes, I had wondered where they had gone. My hat was a real surprise.

When the plumber had gone Mr Khan ‘invited’ me to his storeroom.

He was much sorrier about what followed than I was. To start with anyway. He told me that he was going to smack my bottom for being so careless. Well it is what Aunt B would have done. But then I remembered that I was not wearing any underwear. I asked to be allowed to go to my room for a minute, but he seemed to think that I was trying to get out of it. He grabbed me and threw me over his lap.

It took him a while to get my long skirts up, but when he did he was far from happy. I would tell you what he said, but he broke into Turkish and began spanking my bare bottom like a maniac. I was still yelling my head off when Mrs Khan came in.

Ouch.

She grabbed a belt from somewhere and started whacking me even harder until an exhausted Mr Khan stood back and just watched. I don’t think she knows about exhaustion because by the time she was done my throat was almost as sore as my bottom from yelling my head off. Almost. I tell you was I red behind. Whew.

Mrs Khan made me stand in the corner of their kitchen for the rest of the afternoon.