The Wrong Mosque

Recently mosques started opening their doors to the public in a perfectly reasonable PR-related attempt to show that not all of them carry explosive-laden rucksacks or AK-47s to bus stations to demonstrate the friendly nature of their chosen imaginary deity. In fact, of the 7,000 muslims in Pompey, only 6 have gone to Syria to fight for ISIS, which is hardly any.
But our Cub Scout group negotiated a visit to the local mosque as part of our Global Awareness badge.
Great, we thought. We can visit the giant mosque by the roundabout that used to be a bingo hall, all they had to do was install a crescent moon on the roof, a few lines from the koran on the front and take down the posters of grinning grannies winning half a crown on the bingo because they had 2 fat ladies 88. We saw it and yes, a stonking great building with a large internal space and a foreign exchange parlour and taxi company on the side.
But no, the other side of the railway is the real central mosque, in an old converted community centre in the shadow of Venture Towers/Victory Business Centre, an office block with integral car workshop and the Portsmouth Progressive Spiritualist Church, must be something about the area.
We arrived early and were joined by many of my Cub Scout friends.  You have to take your shoes off past the door and there are little foot-showers but it was still quite feety in aroma, like Limburger.
First we went upstairs to the prayer room and there was a 40-minute prayer session but the imam did let us ask questions. One of our number asked why all the girls had to sit at the back with teatowels on and the head bloke said that's just the way we do things, and looked discomfited when we asked why. Independently, I drew a parallel with my current schoolwork which is about ancient Greece, very progressive and all that, but the Spartan womenfolk were basically furniture with jewellery on and couldn't vote, own things or decide anything for themselves without their owner's permission.
Overall, I enjoyed my visit to the local mosque but they wouldn't let me take pictures inside. It doesn't look like the big flash ones in Saudi or the intricate old ones in Morocco but they were nice and friendly.