Whole Roast Chicken

OK. I'm here. It's seriously hot, it's seriously humid. My back has been sweaty for 2 days and my ass has been totally drenched for much of the same time! Smoking Loon advised that, in Seoul, he has a similar curse and I thought that, as I'd be living in the desert, I'd just feel a bit flushed. Alas not. Mr Smoking Loon, I feel your (extremely damp) pain!

However, it's only been 2 days, I haven't started work yet, but I think I already really kinda like it. Last night we had a whole roasted chicken for dinner. It was delivered to the door. With chips. And a fab salad (with pomegranite). And falafel. And flatbread. And pickles. It cost us buttons. It was delicious.

This evening we went out for dinner and ate outside. Again I was soaked to the skin with sweat but loved being outdoors in the evening without chattering teeth and the need for some kind of knitwear.

This afternoon we went to the Emirates Palace, an vast 1 billion star hotel (£16,000 per night for a suite). There was a Picasso exhibition, we popped in and it was enormous. The amazing things about it (besides the art itself) were that it was completely free and completely empty! There were about 8 other people there. It was like having a private gallery. Brilliant! I was so thrilled and pleased with the whole afternoon that I had to have a sit down in the luxurious surroundings of the hangar-sized lobby and have a pot of date tea - another cheeky surprise. Who knew that tea made from dates could be so good?!

Tomorrow we're off for brunch at an huge revolving restaurant for as much as we can eat, with champagne included. Something tells me that this place is all about eating and drinking. Good news for a lardy, gluttonous porker like me, bad news for my waistline and health regime. Two things may save me.

1. Yesterday we perused the huge variety of beach/health clubs on offer. I've decided on my favourite. TOH has a different favourite so we're going to have to sit down and think hard. Whichever we choose, it means I'm going to have to go to the gym and get a personal trainer to haul me into shape. Terror!
2. I need so many passport-sized photos as everyone requires at least two for everything - work, driving licence, liquor licence, beach club membership... I went to a photo store today (they don't seem to have machines here). The man took a few snaps, asked me how many copies I needed and then set to on photo shop smoothing out my wrinkles, removing dark circles and evening out my skin tone. Even though I say so myself, I look fantastic - I was close to asking him to give me back my hair! The man is a magician! I'm now on a quest to find a surgeon to do what my photographer has done!

I'm full, sleepy and enjoying the glorious feeling of aircon on my skin. I'm off to bed.

Apologies for the lack of pics. I'm using someone else's laptop - my stuff is going to take 7-9 weeks to arrive, including my PC.

Night all.

The cupboards are bare...

...and so is my house.

Everything is packed up. There are boxes everywhere. My fabulous holiday to Ibiza is now a week old memory and my tan is fading the same way, I still have a tan line to peek at now and again to remind me though.

In 3 days we'll be closing our front door in London for the last time and heading to the airport, never to return to this house. I'm not normally a sentimental person but I've found myself doing odd things this last week. Yesterday whilst drinking a glass of water at the sink I stood watching the trees outside and the wind buffeting the leaves about and then how the resulting shadows played around our kitchen. I'm going to miss trees and the varieties of green that I see all of the time here in the UK - it rains a lot so green is definitely a UK colour. There are only palm trees where I'm going and the colours that dominate are sandy brown, sky blue and the retina-sizzling turquoise of the ocean - not a huge palette but a totally different one to what I'm used to, so I'm looking forward to it.

I've had my last Friday night out here in London.

I've said "au revoir" to most of my friends and yesterday, to my parents which was much sadder than I expected it would be.

I've been in my last tube delay (hopefully) and had to recalculate the resulting circuitous route through the London underground network to get home.

I've thrown most of my coats and jumpers away but I've dithered and still remain undecided about my compact umbrella.

I've been massively stressed that I'll forget to do something important.

I'm ready. I want to go. I'd like to go now. I still have to wait 3 more days. I don't like camels which could be a bit of an issue...

Au Revoir Jambon et Fromage... Ola Jamon y Queso!!

Erm... at the risk of further incredulous condemnation... I'm going on holiday this evening.

I can already sense the huge dip in air pressure and oxygen levels as much air is sucked through teeth as regular visitors read this revelation. I guess to many it won't come as a surprise. But you all know I love holidays and travel.

I do have a small defence though. Once I start my new job, I won't be able to take any leave for 6 months - in my terms that's almost a holiday eternity.

Anyhoo... I'm catching a late flight from Gatwick tonight and I'll arrive in Ibiza just in time to throw something light and swishy on and hit a groovy bar. Alternatively, I could put something clingy and inappropriate on and hit a club. Mind you, there have been too many pies and too much beer in the last few weeks to be able to get away with 'clingy' so it'll have to be baggy and shapeless - Europe's uber-cool set will just have to poke it!

Apologies again for my useless, infrequent posting but once my life settles into something more controllable, normal service will resume.

I'll return with a tan, more beer belly and possibly, ears filled with party foam.

Actually, that last bit isn't going to happen.

Jambon et Fromage

OK. It's been a while hasn't it?! Apologies. I've been a busy chap.

Quick summary - I've done tons of stuff but not all of it's worth putting down here.
So...

1. I left my old job 4 weeks ago. My last day was really sad but also amazing. I was hauled to the company auditorium at the end of the day to be welcomed by loads of people I've worked with over the past 11 years. My boss had organised a video of everyone saying a goodbye message. The video included a montage of some of my work moments (many of which are embarrassing) set to music - it made me sob like a teenage girl! I was too choked to do a speech.
2. I've been on holiday to Provence - more of this in a bit
3. I've been planning stuff for my move to Abu Dhabi.
4. I'm packing, co-ordinating, editing my belongings and filling rubbish bags like there's no tomorrow.
5. I'm looking forward to my holiday in Ibiza.

Phew!



Provence was amazing. We stayed in a fantastic house and the neighbours were so friendly and welcoming. It was Bastille Day whilst we were there and the neighbours insisted we (all 7 of us) come over to their place for drinks before taking us to a nearby village restaurant for dinner and street celebrations. I deserved to have a hangover that could have wiped out western Europe but strangely I awoke the next morning, after 5 hours sleep, perky as ya like and ready for a dip in the pool followed by a hillock of croissants for breakfast.

Whilst 'en Provence', I think we drank a quarter of the French rose wine stocks - it's super popular there and everyone drinks it with ice! Bizarre, but it works. They also chill their red wine in the fridge. I can feel the tremors as thousands of wine buffs shudder at the thought but they're French, they don't care and they made it anyway. So there.

I'm beginning to feel slightly anxious about my move now. Not actually living in Abu Dhabi but about the move itself. Getting stuff packed and shipped across the world is a pain in the arse, quite frankly. Will it all get there in one piece? Will I ever see it again? Where the heck am I going to live? That's actually quite an important question, and one which can't be answered until I get there. We're staying in a hotel for the first few weeks until my company finds me an apartment. Hope it's by the beach....

!

Lawks!

It's been an age since I last posted. Huge apologies all. I've been busy leaving work, going on holiday, visiting my parents and beginning to organise my move to Abu Dhabi.

I promise I'll post something real soon!

Here today... Scone tomorrow

Ok. Tomorrow is my last day with my current employer. After 11 years of unbelievable fun, I'm leaving the world of Virgin Atlantic Airways for a new adventure in a new country, a new job and a new company.

Before I move on with a load of old jibberish, as per usual, I would like to explain what kind of time it's been for me here at Virgin. Think of all the good things you may have heard about Virgin. Times it by ten. Add stuff you probably wouldn't have thought of and then add fabulous travel and glamour. I've never worked in another place where everyone, literally everyone, is chic and trendy - even the company nerds in IT and finance are cutting edge cool. Tomorrow is going to be a really bad day. I'm going to hate it. I'd really like to sneak out and not have to say goodbye to everyone. It may seem mean but I don't think I'm up to it. I reckon I'll be a huge mess.

I have my start date and from 31st August my blog should change to "How Great is Sheikh?".

My new employer is very new, not just to me but to the world. Nearly 5 years old and growing fast, it's finding it's feet in a scary world. My job is going to be a huge challenge but I'll be required to travel extensively (how can I not love that?!) so look out blogging world as I may be appearing, in person, in a city near you.

Thirst

I’m totally parched. I’m dry as old boards. I feel like I have a mouth full of grit. It’s my own fault for drinking on a school night.

One of my friends who attended the gay rugby in Ireland met someone who works for my new employer. This chap is visiting London on his way home to Sydney and my friend suggested we meet up so I could get some info on my new job/colleagues etc. I anticipated having a couple of drinks and then heading home.

I was soooo wrong. I lurched through the front door of my house in the wee small hours (2am ish) totally hammered after having a brilliant evening.

I’m paying for it today. I only have one week left in this job and I considered calling in sick. I rejected that as my colleagues are great people and I should really enjoy being with them whilst I can so I dragged myself to the tube station and then on the train for my 1.5 hour journey, then on to the bus from the station to my office. It hit me this morning that the journey certainly isn’t something I’ll miss.

Once at work my unbelievable thirst took hold and I’ve been sitting here with a tongue the size of a bath sponge for about 3 hours.

On the up side I used the work fax to send off my newly signed contract for my new career across the other side of the world. Yes readers… I’m leaving my beloved London for the desert (sadly not dessert!) sands of Abu Dhabi. I had no intentions of going to live there until I visited my friend earlier this year but during my visit I realised I quite liked it and that there is a lot of potential there. I applied for a job, without any actual hopes of getting it but, terrifyingly, they flew me back to Abu Dhabi for an interview and offered me the job.

I’ve handed in my notice and I’m having the summer off. I begin my new adventure on the last day of August.

I’m a bit scared. And still thirsty.

Magical, Musical iPod Meme

Muzbot was the first and then Monty and I hate the idea of being left behind so I've done it too.

Here we go...

Simple rules: Open iTunes, turn on shuffle, press forward for each question and use the song title as the answer.

What does next year have in store for me? “It Just Won’t Do” – Tim Deluxe

What’s my love life like? “Cruising for Bruising” - Basia

What do I say when life gets hard? “Your game” – Will Young

What do I think of on waking up? “2 Million Ways” - C-Mos

What song will I dance to at my wedding? “Let’s Do It Again” – Brand New Heavies

What do I want as a career? “Lil Star” - Kelis

My favorite saying? “I Will Follow You Into The Dark” – Death Cab For Cutie

Favorite place? “Waiting For Time” – Sam Sparro

What do I think of my parents? “Bright Sands” – John Hartley

What’s my porn star name? “Ai No Corrida” – Uniting Nations

Where would I go on a first date? “Why?” – Shiny Grey

Drug of choice? “David” – Gus Gus

Describe myself. “Celos” – Marc Anthony

What is the thing I like doing most? “What’s New Pussycat?” – Tom Jones

What is my state of mind like at the moment? “Glamour Girl” – Louie Austen

How will I die? “Night @ The Black” – Harry”Choo Choo” Romero

Bizarre. I think the thing that sums me up best here is the answer to "Where would I go on a first date?" TOH, my boss and friends all roll their eyes and howl in frustration as I, apparently, have a habit of answering questions with another question. I'm not sure what kind of effects a drug called "David" would have but I might be tempted to have a little lick...

Toast with Marmite

I love it. I like my marmite (vegemite to those down-under, but saltier) thick like tar.
I’ve just demolished a couple of slices and I’m hankering for more.

It’s been a wee while since I last posted and momentous things have happened. I’ll post about those soon, once I manage to organise my life around said ‘things’. It’s all good stuff though, so I’m rather perky about life at the moment.

Other reasons to be perky.

1. The sun has arrived in London and I’ve worn sunglasses on my way to work for two days running. No biggie to many of you but us Brits have to take our sunshine joy where/when we find it.

2. I was at a birthday party yesterday and met some of the Sydney gay rugby team that are playing in Dublin at the weekend. They were delicious. I’m keen to meet some of the Kings Cross Steelers now (the London team competing in Dublin).

3. I’m off to Rome at the weekend to do some sightseeing, shopping, drinking, eating and generally gawping at Italian people being fabulously Italian.

Last weekend we had some Swedish friends come to stay which was brilliant fun. They are completely honest, open and forthright with their thoughts and opinions. This differs hilariously from the British approach and had me in stitches for much of the time. A conversation about them being in a sauna with naked parents had me crimson with laughter and utter, toe-curling embarrassment as I tried to imagine such things happening in the UK. Looking at London through their ABBA-tinted spectacles was quite refreshing. They were surprised and delighted by so many things here that I now take for granted. It made me feel slightly more proud of the huge, bustling metropolis in which I live.

Right. Need to crack on – much to do.

Cheese

Saturday night was one of immense cheese. We went to a Eurovision party at a private club in Soho. It was a hoot. Everyone had to represent one of the competing finalists. Names were drawn from a hat so that all was done fairly. I still felt sorry for the poor devils who had to find some way of dressing up to represent Bosnia & Herzegovina and Azerbaijan.

I drew Germany. Fairly easy - or so I thought. Sadly, the only things that I (or anyone else I asked) could come up with were

a) Hitler - not so great from a European diversity point of view
b) Lederhosen - not so great for travelling on the tube and who the hell owns them anyway?

I was a bit stumped really. Then we had the inspiration to see who was actually singing for Germany. They were a bunch of glammed up scrubbers who’d been runners-up in German Idol a few years back. They were called ‘No Angels’, which fitted me perfectly so I donned horns and some bat wings.

The event was brilliant and everyone really made an effort. Sadly, the spirit of true competition has gone out of Eurovision and it’s now just a huge eastern European love-fest with all of the old Soviet block countries voting for each other. However, Ukraine’s entry was absolutely fabulous – a well-sexy chick with a rocking bod and big hair. I’m stunned she didn’t do better. Russia romped home with the gongs and we’re all convinced it was because there was ice-skating involved on stage.

No-one felt like ending on such a dud note (UK came bottom!) so we partied on a little more and then some of us decided to continue, in celebration of the art form that is song. We went to the White Swan in east London. It’s er… well… a gay club for chavs. I’ve never danced so close to so much man-made fibre, the resulting static charge building up in the place was bordering on catastrophic. There was also the usual ‘gentlemens’ club reaction to the music of whipping shirts off and dancing like crazy. I kept fully clothed but marvelled at the full range of tattoos on offer whilst slugging back another few pints of Stella. Yikes…scary yet kinda sexy.

Sushi

OK. I’m not really a meme person – not because I don’t like them, but because I just don’t seem to get sent them very often. This one concerns a subject close to my heart – books.


1. Pick up the nearest book.

2. Open to page 123.

3. Locate the fifth sentence.

4. Post the next three sentences on your blog and in so doing...

5. Tag five people, and acknowledge who tagged me.


“In the afternoon of the day before I was scheduled to leave Switzerland, Karl came sneaking around, knowing that my father would be at the factory. He pressed his lips against mine in a long kiss, right there in my room with my teddy bears and dolls.
“I’m sad I won’t be able to see you any more, Yuriko. Won’t you stay? For me?” Karl’s eyes were burning – and also calm. There could be little doubt that my departure and my mother’s death freed him from any regret or guilt he may have felt.”

This is from Grotesque by Natsuo Kirino. It’s set in Japan and involves lots of death and subversion amongst Tokyo prostitutes. As you can probably imagine it’s a cheery and sunny novel… I’m only part way through it at the moment – it’s fairly grisly. Do I like it? Not sure yet. I'll let you all know.

Thanks to BuffaloVoid for this and I’m tagging the following:

::Monty::Matterdays::Scott In Iowa::Smoking Loon::Canberra Biker::

Achin’ for Bacon

In a random sidetrack ramble away from cake, I feel the need to discuss how I’ve neglected to mention a very important part of my life. Cake, we all know, is a joy to behold and should be indulged at every available opportunity. However, I’ve never discussed my extreme passion for bacon.

Why is it so good?

I’ve been spurred into this post by my Friday breakfast. After polishing off my bacon muffin with brown sauce, I sat in a blissed out trance for a few minutes until my pork-product high wore off. Colleagues commented on my glassy-eyed coma, finding it highly entertaining. Sometimes, like on hangover days, only bacon will do. It has some kind of magical properties and there’s nothing better than sitting back, fully satiated on bacon, your chin shining with grease, to slurp on a cup of strong tea and let the over-exertions of the night before ebb away.

TOH likes his bacon really crispy. When it’s cooked TOH-style it shatters into a billion piggy crumbs when you bite into it. I prefer mine to be lightly cooked, so it’s still super meaty.

I think I must have some kind of pork problem. I also love party food, which often contains porcine ingredients – sausage rolls for example. Pork pies are highly desirable objects at a party for me and I can cram handfuls of mini sausages into my face at every visit to the buffet.

I wish I liked healthy stuff. Things would be so much easier if I were addicted to cress.

Lick

..er .. ish.

Houstonmacbro asked if I like it. Whilst it’s not an emotion or a feeling, he’s quite right when he says you either like it or hate it.

It makes me gag. It’s kind of sweet and perfumey but harsh and sour at the same time. I don’t like aniseed either. Pernod, Ouzo and associated flavours really do have my tongue hanging out and begging for mercy. Weirdly, I can remember giving liquorice to our dog. He nearly bit my hand off and loved me intensely for ages after, well, for as long as my sticky, 12 year-old fingers stilled smelled of the stuff. Even now, sitting here merely considering the taste of it has made my mouth water unpleasantly and given me shudders. My mum loves the stuff though.

Now, on to Monty’s suggestion… love.

Love is a cupboard full of cake and a boyfriend that rubs my back until I fall asleep.
That’s pretty much it on the love front.

Ok. That probably seems like selling out. I’ll furnish with a bit more detail. TOH and I had our first date nearly 11 years ago. We met at Browns in Covent Garden for a drink. After about 2 drinks I remember excusing myself and dashing off to the gents’. Once there I looked in the mirror and gave myself a mental slap and a good talking to. I wanted to make sure not to ruin it all by acting like a buffoon because “I really like this one!”
We went to Pizza Express for dinner and nibbled daintily on thin crusts, avoiding all areas of garlic in private anticipation of potential action later on. He told me he liked my aftershave so from then on I gave him ample opportunity to breath me in (I was wearing Issey Miyake – can’t bear it now as I got hammered one night whilst wearing it and the smell still reminds me of room spin). From that night on we’ve been pretty much constantly together. We were wise to have avoided the garlic…

Now then! Enough girly old tat. What next? I’m out of suggestions from everyone. I’ll have to start thinking of my own ideas again.

Note to self… think hard for next post.

Feeling Fridayish

OK. Here we go with some more suggestions from you, my dear, valued reader(s).

Matterdays threw into the hat the feeling of “inadequacy”. Hmmm. Cheers for that.
Hopefully, Matterdays won’t be feeling the same way any more and his recent days have been filled with stellar, unparalleled success.

Right then. Inadequacy. Er.

It’s always nice to start with a little definition, so from YourDictionary.com…

inadequacy Definition

in·ad·equa·cy

noun pl. -·cies
quality, state, or instance of being inadequate

inadequacy Synonyms

inadequacy
n.
1. Inferiority
ineptitude, incompetence, insufficiency; see inability, lack 1.
2. A defect
flaw, drawback, shortcoming, deficiency; see defect 2, lack 2.

Gosh. Not sure I could live up to a post that would explain all of that…

Personally, I don’t think I feel inadequate that often. I’m usually pretty confident about most stuff and if I’m not confident I’ll bluff it or fly by the seat of my pants – actually, I’ve flown by the seat of my pants so often that I should have frequent flier miles.

One thing that I do think I suffer from though, in a very low wattage sense, is Impostor Syndrome. All of the roles I’ve had in my working career have been unplanned and I’ve simply been in the right place at the right time, and I’ve just kind of… well, fallen into them, really. I reckon I’m probably fairly good at what I do but when I think of where to go from here, I feel a bit trapped. I didn’t plan any of this at all. If I’d have stuck to my plan 21 years ago I’d have gone to art college and would either be enjoying a glorious life of celebrity weirdness or eeking out a living of deprived poverty and starvation instead.

How did this all happen? Pfft! Haven't a clue. I put it all down to chance (and a bit of luck that I found something that I can kinda do - who knew!) However, I do feel like a bit of a phoney when people seek my advice. It also freaks me out when people actually take my advice and act upon it.

Despite 5 years at university and quite a few years of experience, I still don’t understand why anyone would listen to what I have to say at work, let alone believe me.

I think it’s holding me back. I need to recalibrate somehow. I also need to decide what I want and aim for it rather than sitting here in dazed confusion. Stupidly, my job is to recruit and help others decide what they want – yet I can’t seem to apply my own know-how to myself.

Apparently, Impostor Syndrome is more common in successful women. Heck! Does this mean that I’m a bit of a girl? Don’t answer that.

But then... even if I were a bit of a girl, I wouldn't think of myself as successful anyway...

Waaah! Headache!

Feeling Emotional..? #2

Being the cheeky imp that he is, Muzbot suggested that I write about ‘lust’ when I requested ideas for posts.

The tricky thing about lust, is that it’s hard to twist the definition to avoid any discussion about sex.

Here are the definitions…

1. Pleasure.
2. Inclination; desire.
3. Licentious craving; sexual appetite.
4. To have an eager, passionate, and especially an inordinate or sinful desire, as for the gratification of the sexual appetite.

Er… My blog has never been about sex. I’ve never discussed it (apart from the odd thought about attractive gentlemen).
Clever you, Muzbot!

One thing that has always occurred to me about lust, is that when you’re feeling full to the brim with lust, it’s like being drunk. It seems to cloud your judgement and makes it nigh on impossible to stay rational and use any common sense.

I suppose that could be the reason that many people wake up the next morning next to someone who looks like they have been hastily sewn together, but don’t understand how it could have happened as they “only had one beer!”. Excess lust! That’s how!

It’s been a while since I’ve let my lust loose on the open market, but has anyone noticed that as an evening dwindles on, and the more time you take to find an object upon which to bestow your lust, the less choosy you get? For me, I think it was that all of the lookers snapped each other up early on, leaving the less desirables scratching around for left-overs. When there’s a very shallow pool of potential, you don’t need to put your snorkel on to see what’s left, but sometimes you just don’t want to go home with an empty net…

I’m enjoying the “sinful desire” part of the above definition. I have lots of those. I’m not discussing them here :¬)

I do have a lust for life. I have a lust for food. I also have a lust for booze – personal lustworthy favourites are vodka (with tonic), beer (cold) and wine (white, dry - but nothing that will make my gums curl up. Know what I mean?)

As most people who read my blog read Muzbot’s, I think we can also pretty much agree that he is an 'objet de luste' for us all too.

Another big lust for me is travel – I simply can’t get enough.
And finally, of course… TOH.

Food for Thought

OK. A couple of posts back, I asked for suggestions. I asked for an emotion or a feeling. I received a few responses. I'll tackle the first one today.

Here we go.

Mike had never left a comment on my blog before so it was a cheeky surprise. He naughtily suggested ‘schadenfreude’ and then more kindly changed to ‘eagerness’.
In a weird twist, Mike’s suggestion highlights an unsuggested emotion that I’m often tussling with. I’m competitive and hate being outdone. If anyone throws down a gauntlet, I’m usually tempted to pick it up (and then secretly try it on – a boy can’t have too many gloves…!)

My first instinct… No. Scratch that. My first actions upon reading ‘schadenfreude’, even though said in jest, were to seek a decent enough definition so that I could begin to write a response.

Here’s a definition “the enjoyment obtained from the troubles of others”. I don’t actually enjoy others’ troubles but I admit that I’ve often found it difficult to suppress a loud hoot of laughter when I’ve seen someone take a tumble on slippery ground after windmilling their arms about for a few seconds in helpless freefall. Yesterday I also realised that I experienced a small, very secret and cruel moment of glee whilst the bus I was on whizzed past a bus stop, leaving grumpy commuters huffing and gesturing as we sped on.

Another definition is “shameful pleasure”. Oh Lord! I’ve got billions of those…

Anyway. On to Mike’s other suggestion. “Eagerness”.

Hmmmm. I had to give this a bit of thought as I wasn’t sure if I’m an eager person or not. I’m always eager to go on holiday and each day, at work, I spend most of the minutes between 11.30am and 12.15pm eagerly looking forward to lunch. I usually have lunch at around about the same time each day, so my whole being is quivering in anticipation to scamper off to the staff restaurant once the morning draws to a close.

I guess I am an eager person. If it’s something I want or like then I look forward to it, I reckon that’s only natural. I am easily excited by stuff, though and if it seems like a fun idea, I’m very easily distracted. I think it’s because I get joy from small things, I often find little inconsequential moments highly entertaining or fascinating. My mind is full of lots of little details and memories of things I’ve seen and done – all tiny and unimportant to all but me. I remember about 3 years ago being so thrilled that I’d skimmed a stone across the shallow water on a beach in Cape Cod and it bounced about 6 or 7 times – it was like being 5 years old again. I was amazed and I can clearly remember so much of the detail, the light of the sun, the colour of the sand, the sound and smell of the sea. There was no-one nearby to tell, I kept it to myself, until now.

Actually, none of that is anything to do with eagerness. Er… it was all a bit of a ramble. Sorry. Anyway, thanks for throwing me into random pandemonium Mike. It’s a shame I didn’t know when you were in the UK on your travels, as I would have tried to steal your dog - I want him.

A Date with Arabian Coffee...

...is the first thing I was offered on taking my seat when I boarded my flight to Abu Dhabi. Did I mention I was going on a little holiday? Hmmm... maybe not. Regular readers would only have given me hard time anyway as, apparently, I'm always on vacation.

TOH and I are here to visit my super good friend Jane. We've known each other for years and she's living here so I thought it was time for a stop-over. I'm currently sitting in the living room of her flat, looking out over Lulu Island and on to the Arabian Sea, the sun is setting and we're preparing to go out for the evening to the Emirates Palace Hotel, which is ludicrously massive but supposedly amazing. I'm also using Jane's MacBook, which I'm finding a bit baffling but generally ok, although I can't see what the huge fuss is all about - it's like any other computer really. I feel I may come in for a huge deluge of criticism for my last comment but computers aren't at the top of my list for cool gadgetry. I love lots of techie stuff but lap-tops etc just don't push my buttons. Sorry Mac lovers - let me know how I can make it up to you all and I'll do my best.

Anyway, back to my flight. It was fine. TOH and I treated ourselves and used miles to fly in First Class. I'm lucky to have flown in Business Class lots of times as I work for an airline but it doesn't have a First Class Service, so this is a fun experience. Mind you, I think I'd still travel in the Business Class of my airline, as I think it's better than BA First and better value for money. Ok. Yesterday's flight (sorry). Sitting across the aisle from me was an attractive Arab guy, trendy clothes, kinda cool manner. The cabin crew from other cabins kept cruising through and then back beyond the curtain to get a good look at this guy. He was fairly hot but I have seen better. My conclusion was that he's some kind of Arab nobility, although they normally travel with a retinue of thousands and have flunkies to perform at a mere hand-clap. Maybe he was travelling incognito. I was fascinated by him for large parts of the flight - even when he was asleep, especially when his shirt rode up and displayed his particularly well toned and hairy stomach...

It's bloody hot here. 38 degrees today. I felt as if the sun were beating me into the pavement. It made me a little bad-tempered - poor TOH, he dealt with it (and me) in his usual calm and accepting way.

Thanks to those of you who took part in helping me with ideas for future posts. I'll use them all, I promise. Anyone reading that wants to offer an idea, please feel free.

Right. I need to nip off now, as I have considerable amounts of body husbandry to do before I'll be halfway acceptable at a swanky establishment. My turn for the shower.

Dry as a Bone

OK. I’m all out of stuff to write about at the moment – I’ve hit a blog desert and I’m hoping my reader(s) will lead me to a lush and tropical writing oasis. I’ve done this before and it seemed to work fairly well. I’m offering you the chance to decide what I should put digit to keyboard about.

Last time I asked for just one word. This time I’m asking for an emotion or a feeling.

I’ll respond and blog about all suggestions – providing they’re appropriate for a clean-living chap like me!

The lines are now open but please remember to ask permission from whoever pays the bills. You’re also reminded that once the lines have closed, if you contribute you may still be charged…

Afternoon Tea

I’m having a bit of a hot drink quandary. I used to have a cheeky little latte of an afternoon to give me a jolt of caffeine perkiness, which would get me to the end of the day. Then, I got bored of coffee. I switched to tea. I love a nice drop of splosh, so I was fine for afternoon refreshment for a time.

Now? I’m bored of tea. What to do? I drink water all day so I want something different. I don’t like fizzy drinks and juice doesn’t hit the spot. What’s left? Hot chocolate? I prefer my chocolate all over a biscuit rather than in a drink. Hmmm.

I’m feeling odd today. It may be because I went drinking with fellow (now lapsed) bloggers, CuteCTguy and Guy In London. They are such a dreadful influence and encourage me to consume far too much booze and behave dreadfully. Normally I’m the very soul of abstinence and as I’m sure everyone’s aware, I hardly ever touch a drop but last night I think I may have fallen from grace. I don’t actually feel over-hung, just a little displaced. It’s like I’m looking through someone else’s eyes today and my thoughts feel like they are being processed a long way away and then transported on grumpy, stubborn donkey to my limbs, which then lumber slowly into action. It took forever to brush my teeth this morning but I was so dull-witted to realise that I’d been buzzing away at my gums for ages. It was only when I dribbled toothpaste foam (now extra frothy thanks to the extended attention to my teeth) down my chin and chest that I came to my senses and prompted myself into further morning activities.

The day has been a bit of a blur though. Lots of work done and lots of people seen. I’m ready for a big sit down and a cup of… oh. A cup of what though? Bugger!

Chicken Curry Soup and Sticky Digits

I know what you’re thinking… I thought the same.

I’m a game kind of chap so I thought I’d try this mysterious and unusual soup. It made my lips sting. The end.

I feel cheated by lunch today because I had this stupid soup. I don’t feel hungry but I do feel that I missed out on lunch, as I didn’t enjoy what I had.

I’ll get over it I guess.

OK. What’s new? Nothing really. Had a great weekend though. Had dinner with some friends in Brixton on Friday. Had a few beers with a few lovely friends on Saturday (they’re all Australian weirdly!). We met them at a bar in Islington and when TOH and I arrived, the door bitch (a new twist for this venue…) declared it was £3 entrance but the first drink would be free. She then thwacked a sticker with a number printed on it, across my chest and shunted me inside. I grilled Malcolm (my friend) who ummed and aahed a bit before blurting out that he didn’t realise it was a singles night. I insisted he wear my sticker so that he would have double the opportunity to score with the gent of his dreams. TOH swept off to the bar for our ‘free’ drinks which all turned out to be £3 anyway so the entrance fee was the same price as a drink. It was a fun night, which also turned out to be educational, although slightly sticky fingered. An American friend of Malcolm’s (can’t remember his name so from here on in he’ll be called Chip) explained that I was drinking my Corona all wrong. I was a bit perplexed, as I only know how to drink it orally and expressed this concern. Chip then demonstrated the Chicago method for ensuring that one’s Corona is fully limed. After stuffing my thumb in my bottle, gently tipping it upside down until the lime had floated to the top (or bottom) of my bottle and then back, I was instructed to very slowly remove my thumb. Obviously I was gasping of thirst by this point, it had been about 3 minutes since my last swig, so I was a bit over eager with disengaging my thumb, hence a sticky wrist which tasted of lime for pretty much the rest of the weekend.

Sunday TOH and I went to Wapping Food Project, a restaurant converted from a hydroelectric power station, to have lunch with a group of friends. It’s a seriously cool place. All of the tables have been placed in and around the machinery and it’s groovy in an industrial way. The food is amazing too. It's especially good at night as the lighting is amazing and there are candles all over the massive old machinery. There's also a brilliant art space attached which has some wierd and wonderful exhibitions.

So that’s me. Not much new to report. Still in the same place with the same thoughts about being elsewhere but I’m working on that.