My Grandmother had a rice bowl bought back by my great Uncle Tom along with a Hamadan rug from the 14- 18 war – my mother remembers lying on the rug while the diamond patterns of light from the hall way window played a cross it’s red and yellow surface. In the summer the family often used to eat in the hallway, it was cooler. My Nan’s brother was in army with Lawrence and then he was captured. He lived out the rest of the war in a POW camp where he contracted TB. He bought back the pot and the rug as a gifts for his sister, both looked magical to me, as they had done to my mother before me, they came from Arabia. The Bowl was copper with tin inside and had holes around the rim so you could hang it over the fire and cook with it. There was writing, strange engraved script, it had to be magical incantations.