Home thoughts from abroad

FOOTBALL may well be the universal language but sometimes things can get lost in translation.

In Berlin during the World Cup this summer, I took a ride in a taxi driven by an Egyptian whose command of English was as threadbare as my fluency in Arabic or, for that matter, German.

Having established that football was our common ground (“World Cup, good?” “Yes, very good”), an awkward silence ensued, until I was suddenly struck by a shaft of inspiration and loudly exclaimed the name of his homeland’s most famous current export, Mido. The driver was delighted. “Mido, good,” he echoed giving me a big smile and a thumbs-up.