I have an Israeli friend and like most Israelis who are not ultra-orthodox, he is almost completely secular. His family gather for big meals when they have a day off work for the festivals but the idea of attending Synagogue or observing Shabbat is completely alien to her. He is Israeli before she is Jewish.
He once told me about a time when he had spent the summer in England and had picked apples with a group of other young travellers on a farm down in Kent. One night, their caravans were raided by the Immigration police and those without work permits were put into prison cells for a couple of nights before being sent back to their own countries.
When I heard this, I was fascinated to hear what it must be like in an English prison. I wanted to know everything! How big was the cell? What were the beds like? Were there bars on the windows? And finally, the most important question of all: What is British prison food like?
“Oh,” he said casually, “I don’t really know. It was Yom Kippur!”
