Icky thumb!

I'm writing this novel about Afghanistan. It's about the expat community out there and is based on the people I met in Kabul two years ago.

When I was out there, one man in particular was being rather celebrated in Kabul. I remember one night he came into the Mexican restaurant where we were all having dinner.

The usual mix of people was there: a sprinkling of Aid Workers, some freelance

torturers, a couple of journalists, the odd spy with a dodgy cover story (anyone for white-water rafting on the Oxus?)

When this man came in, a hush descended. He had his thumb in a dusty bandage. He'd just returned from Helmand Province where he'd been with our boys making a documentary. During some kind of onslaught, when he was on a satphone requesting back up or something, a crack-shot sniper had blasted the receiver clean out of his hand - causing a fragment of the satphone to embed in his thumb.

I clearly remember us