Broken cake

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?

New on the menu...

A man is installing my pc. Right now! Another is building my desk whilst yet another is bolting my chair together. Good times!! None of them are in the least bit attractive, so watching their labours isn't at all entertaining. Bad times.

The outcome of such industry is that I will soon be properly connected to the world. I shall post again. I'll have access to iTunes. The joy!

I'm giddy. No really. Totally giddy. I need a lie down before I hurt myself...

Christmas Cracker

I know, I know. It's been a long time since my last post. I'm struggling with doing it lately. I'm busy at work, I'm busy still settling in, I'm busy putting on ever so much weight. I don't know where the time goes. Maybe I could get some extra time in a special box for Christmas that I can plug in when I'm feeling short...?

Right then. Haven't got a clue what to post about as there's been tons of random, mainly uninteresting stuff going on. I could ramble on about it but it would be a waste of eye-energy for you all and would suck up time that you could be using to panic about not having got a present for Aunt Maude or worrying that your experimental stuffing recipe may be received badly.

So. Why don't you tell me what you'd like me to write about? I did this ages and ages ago and it gave me stuff to write about for loads of posts.

Let's face it, from recent performance, it's unlikely I'll get another post in before Christmas so Merry Christmas to anyone who happens to be passing by my blog and a Happy New Year.

*just realised... I could have done a post about my trip to India. Bugger! I've gone and worn myself out now! I'll do a post about it soon.

Peanut Butter & Jam Sandwich

Hmmm... Just had one. A peanut butter & jam sandwich, that is. The shops here have all sorts of weird and wonderful things in them from all corners of the globe (apart from nice tea - Liptons is about it... bleeearrgghh...) and whilst meandering the aisles seeking inspiration my gaze settled on a jar of... peanut butter AND jam. In one jar. Who knew!? I was intrigued. I bought a jar. I took to it with a spoon in the kitchen on arrival back at the apartment, frozen food left defrosting and puddling all over the tiles. I was concerned that the jam would be in lumps or blobs at random locations throughout the jar. Not so. There was an even swirl of jam - all the way to the bottom of the jar. I know this because I dug quite a way down. All in the sake of culinary discovery, you understand. Now then. The jar has lasted for about 3 weeks. The past weekend I popped to the local shop (read, Aladdin's cave of assorted spices, dusty boxes of cereal, bizarre brands of aftershave, razors and hilariously branded Indian and Arabic condoms) for some bread. All that was left was milk loaf. I hadn't had milk loaf for years. For those not in the know, milk loaf is very white, uber soft, squashy bread with hardly any crusts. Kids always love it. I threw some peanut butter & jam on it. I nearly exploded with pleasure. The jar is empty, the bread is gone (quite possibly soon followed by my teeth)

sigh....

Other news in brief

• I have a cold. Typical. I come all the way to the desert and get a cold. It's 30 bloody degrees outside


• Work is pants, causing me to feel like I'm on some kind of sickening rollercoaster. One minute everything's on the up and I feel like laughing my tits off, the next minute it's vile, and I feel like flinging myself from a moving carriage rather than carry on with the journey


• It turned out sunny here again


• I'm off on holiday next week! I'm going to Kerala in India for some R & R. A bit of a hippy trip will hopefully brighten me up and have me feeling sprightly


• It's nearly Christmas and I haven't seen a single bauble yet. It's not really an official holiday here (I'm working Christmas Day) and there is no jolly festive music jingling anywhere. I'm missing yuletide spirit. Harrumph!


• I have discovered a new love for potato smiley faces. Is that wrong?

Fruit Salad

… it’s what I’ve just had for lunch. My experiments in self-restraint and portion control have been aided today by my fruit salad containing about half a kilo of papaya. Cue retching noises and curled lip expression. I don’t get it, why would anyone like papaya? Then again, I feel pretty much the same about mango. I now have a tin hat on to take the flak from aghast and outraged Australians. Anyone would they they invented the bloody things the way they clank on about them… Hello Australia. You know I think you're lovely.

I’m struggling with the healthy eating thing here but I’m not giving up. Yesterday I signed up to a health club at one of the fancy local hotels, so that I can use the gym. Of course I made full use of my membership immediately by flinging myself on to a sunbed and launching into my book for an afternoon’s seaside reading with my toes dug into the sand. Turned out that the desert had separate ideas and decided to whip up a sandstorm. I was ok on the beach but a little inland, everything was being bullied by super strong, unpleasantly gritty winds. My car was covered in sand and I was filled with gloom at the prospect of having to stop off and have it tickled with dusters for a small eternity before having it washed – prevents the paintwork from being scratched y’see.

Nature had other plans about my car’s well-being, in a good way. I woke up this morning and it was still dark. “strange” thinks I, whilst nibbling at some low fat porridge oats. I looked out of the window (only wearing pants – it was still dark, I felt like dallying with danger) to ponder when the sun would rise and discovered that a heavy bank of cloud had descended over the city. Weird! When I left the building to go to my car a fine mist was drifting about. Weirder! By the time I got to my car, big fat, extremely wet drops of rain were splashing all over the place and I was soaked.

The concept of drainage here is one that hasn’t ever really occurred to anyone so the rain water that was pelting down for an hour lay in enormous lakes all over the roads and made driving treacherous. Drivers here don’t have the first idea of road safety anyway so no-one slowed down to less then 140kph, hence the 4 serious accidents I saw on my journey. It made me feel extremely edgy, attempting to drive safely whilst everyone else threw caution to the wind (and rain) and ended up in ditches, through concrete barriers or rolled onto their sides in smoking, twisted metal disasters – all of which I saw today.

On the up side. On arrival at work, my car was absolutely sparkling!

Irritatingly, my shiny wet car was then exposed to sandy gusts of wind, and by home time had turned from glossy black to dusty beige. Pah!

BUT. My journey home was lifted by “Beat Surrender” by The Jam on the radio and an absolutely corking sunset. I felt positively smiley.

small snack

A haiku

Rose gold winter sky.

Desert sunset lifts my heart

and lights a new smile.

Dietary Requirements

Right. It's been a while (again) and I promised in my last post that I'd try and highlight some of the positives of living in UAE.

First though, I'll give an update for anyone who's still out there and reading, after the months of misery and moan I've been slamming up here.

1. The weather has turned out nice again.


2. Looks like the weather will be turning out nice for the foreseeable future. Well, at least until April time, when it will start to get really hot again but I'll be ready for it then.


3. Work has taken a surprisingly quirky turn and, for the moment anyway, is slightly enjoyable. I'm not sure how long that'll last but at least I don't feel like I'm fighting every day and failing at every attempt. Someone is finally listening.


4. I'm adapting. I'm getting used to not having all of my friends around and focusing on the friends I do have here and also on making new ones - and I'm pretty good at that so instead of bleating on about it I'm getting off my arse and actually trying to work something out.
   

Things have been happening behind the scenes of my UAE life which have made me really think about what I'm doing. It's been a long time since I've taken a lead from my parents and learned something really new about them but they have been able to surprise and inspire me again. I was at home in the UK for a very short weekend last week. The trip was unplanned but necessary and my mum & dad helped me see things in a totally new way. They don't even know they've done anything but the way they've handled a situation that's happening at home has made me proud and given me cause to realise that I can deal with anything that's happening here. I've managed worse and even enjoyed things after. This is no problem.

I feel better now I've given myself a stern talking to. Abu Dhabi needs to step back a bit or I'm going to trample it.

I'm also considering moving to Dubai. The drive to work would take less time - strange, considering I work in Abu Dhabi but city traffic is shocking. The accommodation is cheaper and Dubai has much more choice for a social life as it's a much bigger city with thriving nightlife. Abu Dhabi is only just beginning to establish that aspect of it's new plans for global domination.

The move to Dubai, if it happens, will take a wee while as TOH needs to get to grips with his new job and get himself established before we go charging about the country looking for a new home.

Ok, so what do I like about it here?

• Now, the weather.


• Chicken and chips kebabs - they are amazing.


• I can have everything I could possibly ever need delivered to my door - including chicken and chips kebabs.


• It's a very safe place to live. A friend left his wallet on a table in a restaurant and when he realised and returned, the wallet was still there. Untouched.


• I really like the sound of call to prayer.


• It's tax free!!!!


• The TV is rubbish - I'm forced to read more, eat out more and talk more.

The problems with the above are that most of them lead, in some way, to the accumulation of far too much extra padding. I've gained 6k in 2 months. Clothes are tightening and flesh is beginning to spill over the tighter areas of cloth. It's far too upsetting to contemplate. The gym on the top floor is being ignored - if I had to pass it in some way I'd probably get a pang of guilt at the very least but I never go up there now. I've made an appointment to join a health club next week in order to rid myself of the extra pounds, plus a few more. I may also have to limit my kebab intake. That's gonna sting but I've brought this upon myself.

So. That's me. I feel better (but quite a bit fatter). To help improve both of these states I'm now going to the beach to get a bit of a tan. If I'm going to be a bucket of lard, it'll look better golden rather than corpse white.

Sun-dried

Hmmm...

Where to start. OK. The beginning. After my last post, things started to get better. The weather has started to cool down, I'm getting used to the place and TOH has returned.

I'm not new at work any more and I'm actually beginning to be able to answer questions without having to consult junior members of my team.

I've been to Dubai for a weekend. Dubai is enormous - not by London standards - but the scale of the place makes it seem like a cartoon. The buildings are unreal. We had a great time and I really thought that this part of the world could be a fun place to live. Sipping cocktails on the outdoor terrace at the top of the Jumeirah Beach hotel was fabulous. The hotel is really narrow at the top so it was like drinking booze on a knife edge but I was already a bit tipsy by then, so it wasn't scary, it felt kinda cool. Well, not cool exactly, it was 29 degrees at 12.30am!

Dubai is very different from Abu Dhabi, more sophisticated and more modern. However, it's also full of British and German holiday makers. In a way that's not a bad thing as the place has more of a holiday feel about it, but it also means that you see the worst drunken behaviour that your country-folk can inflict upon a nation. Abu Dhabi is much smaller and quieter and very few tourists come here. It's more of a business destination than a holiday one.

So. Things are getting better. Or, they were...

This last week has been a bad one. My boss has basically been sidelined and demoted, he was told that he has been replaced. I have been invited to a meeting to discuss the merits and value of my role and my team. 6 weeks in and I'm already having to fight for my job. I understand that business is business and decisions of this nature need to be made. But to do this without letting any of the concerned parties know until the day they are actually bumped out is pretty low. I guess that's the way it works here.

I was out walking the other evening - taxis were bustling about everywhere but for some reason, none were willing to stop and people were literally squabbling in the streets over the few that pulled in. The walk gave me time to think (I was walking to a bar, it took 45 minutes, so I felt I deserved the gallons of beer that I ended up guzzling). My conclusions were that no-one actually comes to this city because it's a place where they really want to live. People are here because of the potential to earn so much more than they could at home. Whilst walking I made a small, private plea to the new place where I live - "please just give me one thing to really, really love about living here". For the past six weeks I've been optimistically bullying myself into the belief that I do like living here but my resolve has started to crumble.

I know that almost everyone goes through similar thoughts and feelings in a new place but I'm feeling it quite keenly lately. I hope I'll learn to like and enjoy living here, I'm sure I will but I don't think I'll ever actually love it like I do London, New York, Sydney, Hong Kong... all places with a soul and a feeling of ... I don't know... something! This place doesn't feel like anything. It's just a concrete and glass grid, built where the desert meets the sea.

I'm a positive person. I'm usually optimistic and foolishly believe that things will always turn out right in the end. This is becoming a big test of the way I see things and how I view the world through my rose-tinted specs. Perhaps this is good. It may teach me a new way to see things and that could help me learn to enjoy this place and what it has to offer.

I promise, whatever happens, that my next post will not be doom and gloom. I'll pick out the small things that have actually made me smile here. I have smiled, I'm never that full of woe!

Ramadan

It's Ramadan where I'm living now. I'm not finding it difficult to cope with (especially as I'm not a muslim and I'm not fasting!). I just need to make sure I don't eat/drink in public. However, the way I'm feeling this week is a kind of social/emotional Ramadan. It's hard for me to sum it up though. I moved here willingly, I actually like it here but I think that everything has finally caught up with me, now, after a month. What have I done?!

TOH is back in UK for a couple of weeks to sort out visa issues and I'm here, in a huge apartment. Alone. I'm finding it difficult. I'm used to having lots of friends around and going out often, socialising, meeting up with the people I like to be with. Now, I go to work, I come home, I eat, read then go to bed, without seeing anyone. I often nip out to the shops for milk or a phone card, just so I can speak to someone in between leaving work and returning to it the next day. The TV here is totally hopeless. I watched the whole of series one of "Heroes" in a few evenings on DVD. I loved it and now I'm whistfully imagining what super power I'd like to have and how I'd use it.

I'm an outgoing, sociable person but I'm finding it tough. The only places to meet others here are either filled with older, sturdier (dare I even say stodgier...?) people or brutish, knuckle dragging sports fans with sweat patches and unnaturally red faces. Neither my kind of scene at all. What to do?

I know that it's just a phase, that I'll adjust and eventually feel settled, but right now I just don't know where, or even if, I fit in.

Buffet

Ok. Just got back from another buffet brunch. This one was great although a bit unplanned as we'd popped out to the Iranian souk to get some plants, and felt a bit peckish on the way home. It's definitely my last buffet brunch for a while though. Really. I mean it.
The Iranian souk was a bit of a surprise. I was expecting crowded little market walkways with lots of bustle and noise. It was quite the opposite. It's on the edge of the port with sea views, all in one line and hardly anyone there. Admittedly it was 36 degrees C and it's ramadan, which means most stores don't open until after sunset. The Iranian souk (as opposed to a hundred other kinds of souk that there are here) mainly sells plants of the thick, shiny, rubbery leaved variety, with a few ferns and orchids here and there, pots, vases and there is a huge kitchen/tupperware section - who knew Iranians would be so keen on keeping the freshness in?!

I'm loving the sound of call to prayer here. This afternoon I was out on the street, on my way to put a down payment on an apartment, when the call started and the streets were filled with the sound of melodious prayer. It really makes me realise I'm living in a totally different place with a totally different culture.

The apartment I'm moving to has a small rooftop pool and a gym. This is a huge relief (and also cause for slight inner panic) as I need to start getting fit. The aforementioned brunches have led to the addage of quite a few pounds - something that's apparently quite common in new arrivals here. So. Off to the gym I go. I do have some inspiration though, as the trainer who works in the gym is a total hottie. This means I'll be popping upstairs frequently for a bit of eye candy. Just need to remember to actually do some exercise whilst I'm there...

My new job is fine but it's all unfamiliar and alien and I feel uncomfortable not knowing anything - especially as I'm the boss. Hopefully it'll feel better soon and I'll be confident in what I'm doing. Before any of that happens, I need to feel confident in driving to work. The driving and traffic here are absolutely shocking. My drive is out of the city and into the desert. Romantic notions of scenic dunes and mindblowing sunsets were soon shattered when I got out into the rock strewn, blasted landscape of flat desert stretching as far as the eye can see in every direction. Hmmm... The sunsets from the city and the beach are much lovelier.

I still don't have my own lap-top or pc and probably won't have until my stuff is shipped. The new apartment is only a temporary measure until we find somewhere with rent that isn't equal to the GDP of a South American nation. That could take a couple of months and then it'll take another couple of months for my stuff to arrive. Living out of a suitcase is only fun if you're on holiday. Sigh.

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.