Just before Christmas 1978 the 30,000-tone bulk carrier Rupert arrived in Bandar Shahpour, Iran. She had come from Japan with a cargo of steel plates, destined one day to become gas pipelines. Most of the crew were due for relief so the company chartered a B Cal 727 to spirit us 25 shivering souls from a foggy Gatwick to humid Abadan. That was the last plane in or out of Abadan for many months, though no one suspected this at the time.
Hot, overfull minibuses rattled us across endless miles of muddy salt flats, decanting us after several hours at the end of a vintage wooden quay. We struggled, luggage laden, aboard the ship, and decimated the stock of cold beer whilst the leaving crowd melted smugly away.
Things were still almost normal in the port then, normal that is for an Iranian port. We discharging in desultory fashion onto flat rail cars, several shouting labourers tending each piece of steel out. The Shah was still on his.
