Forgot to mention an incident yesterday. Coming out of Jenin in the service taxi, we came to a checkpoint. As usual, there wasn’t a barrier across the road, but the soldier lounging on the bonnet of a parked van pulled us over, and called the driver out. After he had talked for a few minutes, he got back in and drove off, telling us (in Arabic) what had happened, and there were general noises of shock and sympathy. The doctor translated: the soldier had see the woman in the back seat with a  2 year old on her lap, accused the driver of exceeding his passenger limit and fined him 750 shekels (£150). He refused to pay, and will get a court summons. The law is a bit shaky, I’m not sure if there is a specified maximum age for a minor in a vehicle, but the sheer bloody mindedness. Overtaking a Lada with 5 sheep looking out of the back windscreen relieved the tension.

Slept well – cool, mosquito free. Um Musa was sitting in the yard bent over a bowl kneading dough (very wet actually, but not sticky). Abu and Musa got up shortly (Abu used to have factory jobs in Israel, but nothing now – still, he left his wife to feed the animals), woke Jamal and we ate breakfast. This is my first Arab breakfast other than milk tea in Rum. With khoubz, boiled eggs, sheep’s cheese (blocks, soft), a bowl of olive oil, zahatar, tea, and a glass of hot sheep’s milk (not that I could tell).

Looked in the mosque with Jamal. The courtyard shows the remnants of a church structure, and in a room on the wall were defaced stucco crosses. I asked about a mosaic, but it was either gone or buried under rubble. Jamal also showed me a Roman tomb sunk into the ground round the corner, with sarcophagi lying among the greenery and litter.

Just walking around the centre of the village one sees bits of column half buried, even a column base. Hitched down the hill, said goodbye, and crossed over to the Shave Shomeron settlement gates. They didn’t seem surprised to see me, so I just sat down by the sentry post. The guard was a big, blonde falafel restaurant owner doing miluim, originally from Paris, and he became quite talkative. He complained about the army, the heavy taxes, but said “enfin, c’est ton pays”. He understood the settlers, but didn’t sympathise with them, and said you can’t have war and peace at the same time. But on the other hand, they did win the war…

I was expecting a bullet proof bus, such as the armoured monster that brought some soldiers, but it was standard Eged. We then made a tour of the settlements, west of the Nablus road. The hillscape again was beautifully neat, and the rows of flats cut into them generally monstrous. But some places were pretty (detached houses, more like chalets, lots of trees) and the views always lovely. And we went to the infamous Ariel, an enormous place with its own bus service, at least 2 busy shopping centres, and mile upon mile of black hose snaking across the ground between the flower beds, oleander bushes and lawns. We rejoined the main road south of Nablus, where I think I could see a settlement on each of its hills, Ebal and Gezirim, right above the city. The road dropped into a large valley, ploued and won, then climbed hairpins out again. Ramallah was a longpalm tree boulevard with enormous villas off the road, solidly urban (excedpt for a quarry) until we reached the Neve Yaakov junction. Lovely feeling of satisfaction.

Fell asleep on the bus out to Gush Etzion. Efrata, facing Moshaw Elazar, was still spreading across the hillside, but the tip of a minaret was still visible in the middle. At the Wetherhorn’s, a 16yr old Australian boy was moving in, and Sabbah preparations seemed to have been completed, except fo showers (not allowed after 7pm). The men went off to schule, and I nattered with Mrs W and her friend Suzanne from West Hampstead via Haifa.  Started with the wine, then people filed out to wash hands (ritually, from a cup, 3 splashes on each hand), from which point they were not allowed to speak until they had received a chunk of blessed bread. The blessing was sung (family tradition) and the chunks thrown by Mr W to each person (Eastern tradition to symbolize it coming from God rather than man). First course was matzo balls in thin chicken soup, then chicken with roast potatoes and aubergine salad. Dessert was chocolate and walnut pie. At the end, prayer books were handed out, and part sung, part privately read – “bench” (=grace).

All sorts of stories. The seniors are all very intelligent, knowledgeable. Piano playing is forbidden (but not singing) because it’s a painful reminder of music in the Temple. We went for a walk with the dogs – I felt absolutely stuffed – and of course there were many families out, and despite the street lights you could see the Milky Way overhead.