The sizzle, popping, spitting, sent pillars of smoke from under the cooking meat, and as each drop from the marinade fell onto the burning coals, the scent grew with intensity.

Mouths salivated with the anticipation, and the Saxoned, dreadlocked, childbearing mother walked to the table carrying the bowl of lettice drenched with olive oil and garlic.

The smile turned down as an item of news was mentioned, mouth twisting at the magnitude of the chaotic violence in the local news, and with a reassuring hand and look, placed on the shoulder, composure was regained.