In 1997 I was 'invited' to a financial conference in Georgia, courtesy of an ex high level Shell oil Executive I had been working with in the U.S. of A. All of us stayed in a newly opened Swiss run hotel in Tbilisi. The Georgians are wonderfully welcoming people and very hospitable. The conference was dominated by U.S. oil interests and I quickly got tired of it. Instead of sticking to the prescribed programme, I travelled around and about, seeing what I wished to see. Saddest of all was the ex-Soviet film studios (second in it's time to Moscow Studios), Empty stages, empty 'lots', a few horses still grazing courtesy of 'Russian' ex-studio workers, who still looked after them. In the vast empty corridors we heard voices in the far distance. We followed the sound. In that whole, huge, empty complex one editing room was occupied, one young student film-maker was trying to 'do his thing'. His editor was Russian, not Georgian. She was abrasive, but she was wonderful. She bullied him - and he thanked her for it. My Russian was rusty, but I understood enough to realise that she was no longer employed there, and nor were the 'workers' who fed the horses everyday. They did it because they didn't, quite, know what else to do. It was their habit. Horses have to be fed; young film-makers need to be nurtured.

Back at the conference, it was more of the same old, same old. Maximise profits, tax regimes, WTO, IMF 'concessions', etc. But what stood out beyond all was the oil companies, particularly ESSO, and their drilling activities in the Caspian Sea. Sessions galore, talks galore - all extremely tedious. Instead, we travelled to a gold mine. Then run by an Australian company, probably the very same which poisoned the Danube. On the way we stopped at a shack at the side of the road. Ancient 'villagers' held up fresh cherries for sale - tied onto a stick. As 'visitors', they refused to let us pay for them. These were the best cherries I had tasted in years and years .... the gold mine was a rusted fiasco, the Australian 'cowboys' very cheeful. There is no protection around their acid bath, and no warning signs.

Back (yawn) again at the conference, there is a formal dinner. All the usual suspects are there. ESSO executives are high profile. The U.S. ambassador gives yet another speech about how "We can bring prosperity to your country. That is our aim, that is the American way. We wish to ..." The guy sitting next to me at this futile fiasco nudges me. He is rather short, bald, he is English. and ... "Don't listen! Have you tasted the tomatoes?" No - but I did and these too were delicious. Why had he asked? He preened. "They are mine! I'm a sugar importer, I've been travelling here for years and years and then one day, taking a taxi to the airport, I noticed all these empty greenhouses, so I've rented them and my partner and I are growing tomatoes." The U.S. Ambassador drones on, but I no longer care. My mind is on cherries and tomatoes, rusting gold mines, abandoned film studios - and then there is a flurry at the door. Khashoggi's (ex) wife breezes in. She is glamorous to behold and bold. She has, so she tells us, gone through hell and high water to get here. She has arrived by taxi from Chechnya, where, she says, she has been on behalf of the Chechnyan dispossed. Her arrival, thankfully, interrupts and silences the U.S. Ambassador. Executives from ESSO, W.T.O, and IMF cheer her.

So there you have it! The American oil companies are doing their best to rape the planet, supported by Tony Blair (British PM and Bush Envoy to the World). But somewhere out there is a diminutive English guy who imports sugar and grows tomatoes.