It was a charcoal tunnel but, like all tunnels, the tunnel itself wasn't exactly made of charcoal - it was empty Space. (The Channel Tunnel? Well, that's another story but it certainly makes the mind boggle.)

If I say so myself, I'm an expert on tunnels. And this was the first time I'd ever heard of a charcoal tunnel.

I'd been taken to see my friends den in the fields that were on the outskirts of the army range. The red flag was flying, but we felt immune from any stray bullets, being boys.

The den was positioned right over the end of the tunnel.

I admired his workmanship - not that I really believed he'd built the tunnel (IF tunnels can exactly be built). Its sides came off on the hands and face, making us look like Victorian chimney sweeps.

We only got down as far as we could go. Evidently, it went straight to the centre of the world and beyond. The sides became warmer the further we went down and stayed noticeably more than the air temperature on the way back.

When we got out, it was what Arabia looks like on the news. We didn't question it - there were no grown-ups to answer. The desert was covered in sand, so we made sandpies and looked for starfish amongst the rocks. A good time was had by us both.

By the time we went back down the tunnel to find our way home, the bullets flying overhead had become larger and larger.  (Down didn't seem the right word, nor did up for that matter.)

Are deserts exactly COVERED in sand? No point in questioning it, I suppose, now.

(published 'Purple Patch 1991)