I usually ask taxi drivers where they come from. It often leads to an interesting journey. When a recent driver said Assyria, I was bowled over. I told him he was the first Assyrian I had met in my life and that I had learnt a poem about the Assyrians at school. I then launched into: The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold. I don’t think it made much sense to him, but we went on to discuss the place of Assyria in the world. A…
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