Cuban heels.

I am truly buggered. Tied up. No freedom of movement, no laptop, a bunch of dubious characters and no idea what they do next. A proper writer, somebody like John Le Carre for instance, would know how to get out of this predicament. He would use some literary device or perhaps a distracting anecdote. But it’s all a bit too much for me at the moment. Mental laziness my old headmaster would say but he’s long dead.
This Nigel person is a real tit. He just keeps rabbiting on……

“You make me sick Headley. Totally selfish. You were in Haiti right after the hurricane. You could have donated your boat to help with disaster relief but did you? Oh no. You were on your way to Cuba selling mechanical cane-cutters to Castro.

There’s some truth in that actually. It’s funny how it came about. Oscar had got wind of some used cane-cutters in Dominica. I was in Havana staying at the Hotel Nacional when I got a phone call. I had left a message at the Ministry of Agriculture.
“Senor Branson? You are Richard Branson?”
“No. I’m Dick Headley.”
“But you know Senor Branson?”
“We’ve met.”
“A taxi will call for you at 7 o’clock this evening.”
That was it. No explanation.

​

​It wasn’t a taxi. It was a jeep. Fidel was driving.
“Welcome to Cuba Senor Ricardo,” he says,“today is my birthday.”
This is all very strange.
“Felicidades.” I say as we drive to his house in Vedado where I’m frisked for notebooks and tape recorders. (They missed one. Taking a bit of a chance I know but it was a historic moment and I needed some stuff for the blog.)
"Thank you Rico. Seventy-nine! Not bad eh? What brings you here?"
It was his idea for me to come but I keep my mouth shut.
“Something to do with Richard Branson and a new London/Havana route was it?”
"Ah yes," says Fidel, "the new Virgin route. What do you think of this Branson fellow Ricky?"
"Dick. Well Fidel," I say, "He's always been straight with me." I don't mention it looks like Sir Richard may be having second thoughts about hosting this year's Headley Convention. I'm having second thoughts about the thing myself tell the truth.
"Richard's a gambler," I say, "and he likes starting new things. Wouldn’t surprise me if he builds a spaceship one of these days."
“Amazing. The Russians were first into space of course. When Sputnik 1 was launched I was in the Sierra Madre. We used to watch it crossing the night sky. Regular as clockwork. That’s what socialism can do. Very enterprising fellow this Branson. How far can one trust these capitalist entrepreneur types Dick?"
"Well Fidel," I say, "I think Sir Richard is better than most. He has good connections. He even knows Tony Blair and between them I think they will tell George Bush to get stuffed. Privately of course."
"Blair is the one that worries me," Says Fidel, "there is something a bit flakey about him. He reminds me of a sort of manic boy-scout master. Or a sixth-form prefect in one of those strange English schools.”
Well I had to disagree there. I personally always find Tony very reasonable and convincing. Who doesn't? He exudes reasonableness and conviction, not to mention decency and commonsense. And it's not for me to comment on what Saddam Husein is up to is it? If Tone says they have WMD that's good enough for me. But Fidel has that Foxy look on his face so I keep my thoughts to myself. We're sitting on a verandah behind his house and he's got this bloody great cigar stuck in his gob. It's the size of a small fence post and he's puffing away and I'm waiting for it to explode. The good news is the mosquitoes are choking to death left and right. I consider asking Fidel about the missile crisis but decide against it.
"How's your friend Oscar doing?" Fidel asks.
"Oh he's fine. Still pissed off because he can't come here."
"Not my fault Dick. He should get an EU passport. Anyway it's good to see you. Do you have everything you need at the Hotel Nacional? OK for rum are you? Chicas?"
I tell Fidel I'm fine thank you. Plenty of chicas in the bar as usual. I also tell him I think the Virgin flights would certainly help the tourist business but he better keep the prices up or he'll be swamped with lager louts. Havana will be like Prague.
"Which reminds me Fidel" I say, "I have been hearing stories about changes in the Havana sex trade. Casas particulares in particular?"
"Es verdad Dick." says Fidel, "The girls along the Malecon are getting too saucy and we have to do something. Liberalization is all very well but you know how they are....give them an inch and they take a yard. As I said to my friend Oliver Stone, the famous film director, none of us are getting any younger."
"Oliver himself is on the verge of senility if you ask me." I said.
"Yes poor Oliver. It's the drugs I think. And that 'Alexander' thing bombed which didn't help. But don't forget Dick, Oliver is an artist. For him film-making is a bit like being God."
"Didn't know you believed in God Fidel?"
"Watch it Dick. Sounds like you’re taking the piss."
"Sorry Fidel. Just asking. Have a look at this by the way."
Before I left BVI I foolishly told Oscar about my trip. “Ah-hah,” says he,”off to see El Presidente is it. See if you can interest him in some mechanical cane-cutters.”
Thus it was during a lull in my conversation with Fidel I pulled out a few brochures for him to look at.

“What’s this then Dick?” he says.
“Mechanical cane-cutters Fidel. They will speed things up.”
Well I knew right away I’d made a mistake. There was a billow of smoke and I thought he was going to choke. “You must be fucking joking Dick!” he says. “Mechanical cane-cutters! You want to put half the population out of work? I’ll have a revolution on my hands!”
He's still sharp. I sense bodyguards lurking in the shrubbery and decide it might be time to go. It had been a pleasant evening there on the verandah of Fidel's Vedado mansion watching the bats flit through the banyan trees in pursuit of moths and listening to the croaking of the myriad frogs in the undergrowth. But I didn't want to push my luck. I didn't care much for the cigar smoke either tell the truth. If he wants to see another birthday he should give them up. I kept my thoughts to myself.