Well.Here it is, a brand-spanking, shiny new year. Hold on. Scratch that. It's already slightly tarnished by January.
I realise I haven't posted for near eternity and the cake of my blog is dry, crumbly and seriously undernourished. Bad me! I'd like to say that I shall start afresh and promise to be a much better blogger, but it would be a whopper of a fib and none of the stalwart readers who are still faithful enough to drop in from time to time would believe me. So. I promise that I'll try.
In my post before Christmas I asked for suggestions. I will get to them but thought an update would be a good idea.
I still live in Abu Dhabi. "So what?!" I hear. But since my arrival 5 months ago - can't believe it's been that long already - there have been many times when I have wanted to dump the whole thing and return to London where I felt safe, secure and understood. Now? I feel different. I've moved into a new apartment, I can unpack my things - my pc being one of them - I can feel that I'm at least slightly settled in my own 'home'. I have also realised that Dubai is so close that as soon as I require a weekend of sin and debauchery we just hop in to the car and head to the Vegas of the east (without casinos obviously!).
It's not perfect here. I don't love it, I don't think I ever will but now I guess it's manageable and in times of very crunchy credit I do realise I'm better off here than so many others elsewhere. I even have a man who washes my car every morning so it's super shiny when I whizz out from our parking garage into the dusty streets, getting it all dirty again to make tomorrow's wash worthwhile. I think I may have found my sense of humour, some enthusiasm and a ray of hope whilst digging through boxes of treasures to unpack. Phew.
Now that I have somewhere to live, have access to my stuff and I'm perkier about the place, I'll take some photos and post them soon.
What else...? Work. Hmmm... work is pants. Isn't it always?! This is bad pants though. Awful saggy arsed, chewing gum grey pants with frayed elastic. It's not panning out how I expected. I can't deny that I actually do hate it. But. I promised TOH that I wouldn't get upset about it or complain any more. Every day is so bad that it's just becoming the norm. The other day whilst driving to work I wondered if this is what it's like being bullied. Hating something so much that you just want to drive straight past and pretend it's something that never really existed - or not actually leave home at all. I'm not so delicate as all that though so I'm toughing it out. Fortunately, I'm as stubborn as a grumpy old donkey so I refuse to let it beat me - I hate to lose too.
My plan to lose about 14,000 kilos isn't actually going to plan either but I've eaten salad this week so that's a start! I just need to eat it every day. For about the next 20 years. The gym-on-the-roof is massive and incredibly well stocked with useful machinery and devices - so I'm reliably informed by a muscle-bound, health-freak Abu Dhabi friend. They all look kinda the same to me so I'll need a guided tour and a full orientation day - I'll take a packed lunch and some magazines in case it gets too upsetting. I need to motivate myself. I have one month to begin my transformation, as I shall be hitting a certain age very soon and at this weight I'm liable to take out a few city blocks when that impact occurs. If I trim down a bit I can minimise damage and possibly fit into my clothes to celebrate my life actually starting, as befits folk-lore, and I intend to continue the health plan for all my remaining days. I love a positive plan... pfft.
So. That's me. Is it time for beer?
