An ambition realised

Like most people I have a list of things I would like to do and places I’d like to see; I’ll not list them all, why would you care? Anyway, I’ve been lucky enough to have completed some of them; the Grand Canyon, the Taj Mahal to name just two. Very high on my list was to visit the great pyramids of Giza and in May 2005 I realised this ambition….

His nibs and I were in need of a well deserved rest so took a week’s holiday in Egypt. There we spent a couple of days in Giza before heading to the Red Sea for some diving; you can read about our diving in the King One post. Being independent souls we booked flights, hotel etc online, so no airport transfers were included. Once we’d landed at Cairo we followed the signs for taxis; his nibs nearly fainted when he saw them. What a pile of old rust-buckets and that’s being polite! None of them looked very safe, but we had no choice so in we got. That’s when the fun started; the roads are not very good and the driving standards are dreadful. Accelerate hard, sway from lane to lane without indicating, brake even harder, and swerve erratically to avoid traffic from side streets as they don’t give way and never look to see if the road is clear. Now the driving in Dubai is scary, but this was something else; I thought Alain was about to have a stroke – his blood pressure was so high. I on the other-hand was relatively relaxed; you see I’d lived in India for a while, so this was nothing new to me. Alain kept saying “shway, shway” to the driver, which is Arabic for slower, slower. However, this did nothing but elicit a hearty laugh from our kamikaze driver. The 50 minute drive from the airport to our hotel the Mena House in Giza felt like a life-time and with much relief we exited the death-trap cab and checked in.

The Mena House Hotel is right at the base of the great pyramids and we had the most amazing view from your room. The hotel has an illustrious and infamous past, dating back to 1869. It was originally a hunting lodge that has since played host to kings and emperors, heads of state and celebrities. During the First World War it was used as a base for Australian troops and was even a hospital. Again in use during the Second World War in 1943, the Mena House saw one of its most exciting years. Plans for Overlord, the invasion of Europe, had to be discussed by Churchill and Roosevelt and operations in Southeast Asia needed consultation with General Chiang Kai-Shek. It was decided that the Big Three conference should take place at the Mena House Hotel. No famous people were there when we arrived, but it is a wonderful hotel and has been beautifully restored. Sitting for lunch by the pool bar with a cold and surprisingly tasty Egyptian beer with the great Pyramid of Giza as the backdrop is one of those moments I will never forget. We booked a tour of the pyramids for the next day and enjoyed an amazing dinner in the Moghul Room after drinks in the Al Rubayat bar. It was like stepping back in time.

The view from the hotel pool....

The view from our balcony.....





The back in time theme would continue the following day, though much further back, around 4500 years back! Our guide met us with a driver, this time in a clean, new and safe looking vehicle and much the Alains’ delight he did not drive like he was blindfolded. The short drive to the Pyramids entrance took no more than 5 minutes making us think “we could have walked” but hey it was part of the package. Our guide was exceptionally knowledgeable and very enthusiastic about his subject; an Egyptian very proud of his heritage. We spent a couple of hours in awe exploring these amazing feats of engineering, our guide always telling us to look down at the blocks so we could admire the nonexistent gaps between blocks of stone that were in most cases taller than me! How did they cut them so precisely and move them, I was thinking. Our guide knew all the answers. The Sphinx concluded our tour and we headed off to view some local handicrafts, and of course buy them! It was an amazing day – one I will never forget, even though it’s a tourist trap our guide knew all the quiet spots where we could sit and take in the sheer magnitude of the site and its history. One of the ancient Greeks’ Seven Wonders of the World, if you ever have the opportunity to visit - you must.















An finaly.... Eqypts finest snoozing on patrol....

Destiny calling

You’d be forgiven for mistaking this blog as a concert review site right now; I promise I’ll get onto other things again soon. I’m really trying to keep things in order, and the next big thing to arrive in Dubai was Destiny’s Child - so tough! In May 2005 they played at DMC, this is same venue as the Blue concert and as it’s outdoor let me tell you in May is bloody hot! How Beyonce, Kelly and Michelle coped under the heat of the stage lights I’ll never know, we were roasting without them; they certainly gained my respect for that. I’m not a huge fan of the girls I have to say, but I recognise their talent and think their harmonies are delightful to hear. So whilst I wasn’t really excited about the gig I was looking forward to hearing them sing live. Imagine how disappointed I was that they were more interested in costume changes and energetic dance routines than singing. I don’t care how fit you are, bouncing up and down in that heat means you breath heavy; this is not conducive to blow your mind vocals! Their performance quite honestly was poor, the fact that there was no band and they sang along to a PA system just added insult to injury.

The night was enjoyable though, I went with Pam and as usual we danced, so in spite of the poor show I had fun. Dubai is a small town and these big events appear to attract the entire expat population, so it’s unusual for me not to meet someone I know, this time it was Dean and Alastair. Dean worked in my team, a young International Manager (IM) who was very smart, very eager to learn and a cracking bloke to boot. His friend Alastair another IM has a wicked sense of humour and they are good company. We bumped into them on our way out of the gig; they were heading to the Barasti bar, so we went along. The Barasti is another Dubai institution; set by the beach at the Mina Seyahi hotel it’s popular with expats. Right next door to a sailing club, it is popular with the water sports crowd also. It’s always busy and this night was no exception. We managed to find a table sat, had a few drinks and a good laugh. Pam and Pam were very very drunk, I was comparably sober, though still a bit tidily; I had a plane to catch early the next morning so left them to it and headed home.

Dur da, dur da, dur da da da da....

You’ve met my mate Fintan in previous posts, he’s a frequent visitor. In April 2005 he came to Dubai with his partner Rob. I’d not met Rob before so was looking forward to meeting the man I’d heard so much about. Fintan was stopping here on yet another flight home from India and was arriving the day before Rob, who was flying from the UK. This gave Fintan and I a day to catch up, and as usual this meant several hours in the bar gossiping and drinking to excess! Rob and I finally met a couple of days later at Traders where along with his nibs, we sat outside, ate and generally had a good laugh. Rob and I got on like a house on fire, and his nibs and Fintan traded insults in their usual comic manner!

Their visit coincided with a most eagerly awaited concert in Dubai; Sister Sledge and Gloria Gaynor at the Aviation Club on April 26th and I’d got tickets for the four of us. The Aviation Club is a large complex originally built for the Emirates staff; it has a sports club, a tennis stadium and several bars and eateries. The Irish Village is probably the most well known and the biggest. In the winter it’s a great place for drinks and food as they have an enormous beer garden. One of the joys of living here is sitting in a beer garden at 10pm in December wearing a tee-shirt and jeans! That’s were we headed for a quick one before the concert. The atmosphere was great, the clientele most of whom were going to the concert were in good spirits and looking forward to the evenings entertainment.

When we got into the venue, we located seats and stocked up on a few tinnies! The lights went down the music started and on stage bounced two of the sisters in Sister Sledge. Only three were touring and one of them had had her passport stolen in New York so was delayed! Not that that affected their performance, they were great and I danced the actions to “Frankie”, to much hilarity of his nibs et al. Once they were done, out came Gloria; what a powerful voice that woman has! She was so nice, chatting away to the audience then belting out disco classics. Of course she saved the best till last; “I will survive” had the entire audience on their feet singing and dancing. For the encore she sang “Can’t take my eyes off you” one of my all time cheesy faves, a great end to a really great night! Dur da, dur da, dur da da da da Dur da, dur da, durrrrrrrr…..I love you baby…….

Back to the 80s

Please don’t panic, I’m not telling you tale of my teenage years, this episode was sometime in 2005, unfortunately I can’t for the life of remember when it happened, but it doesn’t really matter. Ads appeared in the local press for “Living in the 80” this turned out to be a gig in Dubai. Now I loved the 80s, I grew up then, and I still enjoy listening to the music of the decade. The line up was Tony Hadley of Spandau Ballet, Go west and of Martin Fry of ABC fame. I’d seen Go West a few years earlier in The Chicago Rock Café in St Helens with my mate Helen. We’d had a fabulous night and they were very entertaining, so I was very keen to go to this gig. His nibs would rather eat his own tongue, so I went with Pam and some friends from work.

Around 10 of us arrived at Al Bustan Rotana Hotel, as you can imagine the majority of the clientele were in the 30s and 40s, so much booze was consumed. For once the organisation of a concert here was good, and as it’s indoors, the only sweating done was due to exuberant dancing rather than the humidity. We found ourselves a little camp in the cavernous hall and waited for the first act. On came Martin Fry in a hideous shiny, gold suit. I’d been struggling to remember any ABC tracks except ‘the look of love’, but was amazed that I knew so many from his set, ‘poison arrow’ ‘when smokey sings’ amongst others brought back memories and got the toe tapping started.

Go West were on next, and Peter Cox was looking much trimmer than he did at The Chicago Rock Café. Thankfully dropping the new romantic wardrobe he was dressed in a tight black tee-shirt and jeans; he looked very sexy. Boy can that man sing! He has the most fantastic voice and I danced my heart out to ‘don’t look down’ ‘we close our eyes’ and ‘king of wishful thinking’ etc. I thought they were the best of the 3 truth be told, and from the reaction of most of the crowd I think they agreed. I’m actually listening to them as I type, great memories.

Tony Hadley was headlining so he came on last, sadly back to the bad clothes in a purple suit! Still his set was great ‘through the baracades’ is my favourite Spandaux ballet tune and he did a great rendition. The finale was of course ‘gold’ and the crowd sang along, most with their eyes closed, well it was an 80 revival. All in all a great night, everyone enjoyed themselves, though one of our friends from Bahrain struggled to stand at the end of the evening!

The Age of Aquarius

When Alain and I first met, he told me that as we were both Aquarians we were well matched. I don’t believe in any of that claptrap, in fact I heard a report recently that as the Earth has moved slightly on its axis that the star-charts have also changed. So people born 28 January 50 years ago were born under a different star sign than those born 28 January this year! Anyway he was right about us being well matched regardless of our star-signs. Our birthdays are only two weeks apart so the end of January beginning of February means celebrations for us. For my 33rd birthday in 2005 Alain took me to Bateaux Dubai. It’s a food cruise up and down the Creek, the food is French (there’s a surprise with the boats name) and very good. We had a very romantic evening and even have a photo souvenir, though as it’s in storage I can’t show it to you sorry.

For Alain’s birthday I took him to a restaurant called The Mezzanine at the newly opened Grosvenor House Hotel. The hotel is amazing and the décor in Mezzanine is funky “fusing baroque style furniture with modern lighting elements” so the experts say! Now I’m not really a ‘foodie’ his nibs on the other hand is; whilst I am more difficult to feed, i.e. there’s an awful lot I don’t like or won’t eat, I tend to be happy with more or less whatever is placed in front of me. His nibs will eat almost anything but is more difficult to please, i.e. the food whatever it is has to be very good, if I’m making sense! Choosing a place he’s not been to in Dubai that serves excellent food is not easy. I’d mention a restaurant I love; he’d have been there and thought the food poor.

New restaurants are always opening in Dubai and the local press and magazines are quick to review. The Mezzanine had received a glowing report from Time Out, so I booked a table for his nibs’ birthday. For the first time my choice met with his approval 100%. He actually enthused about his meal, very unusual for my cool as a cucumber man. The food is English contemporary, and the head chef a Scotsman called Gary Robinson who used to cook for Prince Charles. We had a wonderful meal and a very good bottle of wine sat outside on the terrace. When our plates were collected I asked the waitress to tell chef that the meal was exquisite, she obviously passed the message on as 10 minutes later chef appears at our table. “I’ve come to address your complaints” he said with typical Scots humour. I was very surprised that this quite dishy and very young bloke was the chef, his nibs praised him on the fabulous food and we talked a bit about Dubai and its frustrations. After 15 minutes chatting he left us to check on the kitchen. Needless to say it made us feel very special that he’d bothered to come out and thank us for the complement; it was a fabulous evening and for once my great choice!

Blue, Rattlesnakes and the Girlies

I know I’m going back in-time and I said I’d keep these posts in order, but it’s not always possible; sorry! This post goes back to September 2004 and the first of many concerts I’ve attended here. I’d only been in Dubai a couple of months, I’d not met Alain yet, but I had made a few friends, most notably Jo and Pam. Joanna, known as Jo, was the first person I met on my arrival here, please picture the scene….

After a tearful parting from my parents, sister, niece and nephew at Manchester airport and a 6 hour flight, I arrived with my suitcase in Dubai at some ungodly hour. The plan was that I’d spend a couple of nights in a hotel before getting a car and moving into my new villa, so my employer had booked a hotel and arranged an airport pick-up. Expecting to be collected I looked in vain for my name on one of the hundreds of notices being held by the meeters and greeters! My flight had landed early so I sat in the café to wait and enjoyed a much needed coffee and cigarette. One hour later, there was still no sign of my driver. I was now getting a wee bit concerned, you see; I had no idea which hotel I was staying in so couldn’t just take a cab there, I had only one contact number belonging to the senior manager who had recruited me; what a fantastic way to start your new life, getting stuck at the airport with no clue where you’re staying – great first impression Bev, and as it was around 2am, I really didn’t want to call him. Unfortunately I had no choice; I left a chirpy voice message for him and had another cigarette.

A short while later I found my very apologetic driver, and we headed to the Mina Seyahi hotel. Whilst in the cab my new boss returned my call. Happy that all was ok and himself apologetic that I was left waiting, we arranged to meet face to face for the first time the next day. Once settled into my room I crawled into bed, exhausted but unable to sleep; too excited!

The next morning I met my first colleague; Jo. As planned she collected me at the hotel to take me to my new home. Though we’d spoken at the phone and bounced an email or too, we’d never met; in fact I’d not met anyone from Dubai and knew not a soul here! I knew I’d like Jo though; she was a friendly, chipper kinda gal, right up my street. We said our hellos outside the hotel and headed to the local supermarket to stock up on essentials. During our journey Jo filled me in on the basics of life in Dubai and gave many helpful hints and tips about navigation here. After driving through an enormous building site with partially completed roads and villas, and too many roundabouts to remember, we finally we arrived at my brand new villa. I was thrilled with it, a marble staircase, huge double front door, 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, office, loads of storage space and a maid’s room! The best bit for me though was the dressing room; wall to wall wardrobes, every woman’s dream! The garden was a nice size though still a sand box; don’t worry said Jo, the turf’s on its way. After showing me where I would be working she dropped me back at the hotel with a promise that if I needed anything all I had to do was call, and plans to go for a few beers later in the week.

I then settled to an afternoon of sunbathing by the pool and waited to hear from my new boss about our meeting. As would turn out to be the norm with my boss, he changed his mind; our meeting would have to wait. The next day I was collected at 7.30 and taken to my new office to finally meet the boss and my team; I’ll say no more about work!

Around 3 weeks later I met Pam, ours was a fortuitous meeting as though she worked for the same company, she was based in another part of the city and the likelihood of us meeting therefore, was very slim. She was new to Dubai so had come into the office where I worked to meet with human resources; we literally bumped into each other on the landing. Recognising the look of bewilderment I’d so very recently displayed myself, I said hello. Numbers were exchanged and a date was made to meet for drinks. The drinks turned into a night of non-stop chatting, (she can talk as much as me) only punctuated by shaking our booties on the dance floor at Rock Bottom! We both love to dance, so a great night was had and we’d discovered our Dubai dance floor soul-mates.

Now I notice I’ve digressed slightly; this is one of my features, my mate Fintan is constantly amazed by my ability to wonder off topic and come back full circle. What can I say it’s a gift ;-) It also means my stories tend to be on the long side, sorry… I’ll get on with it shall I? September 30th 2004 and along with Jo, Pam and some of Pam’s friends we headed to Dubai Media City (DMC) to watch the Blue concert. I’d not met Pam’s friends before; Pam (another one) and the 2 Emmas. Great for me I only have to remember 2 names, Pam and Emma! They were a great bunch. A fantastic evenings entertainment was had, Mis-Teeq in support were awesome. Pam and I danced the night away as usual and I had my photo taken by some local paper, this would come to haunt me later! After the concert was over, very hot, slightly sweaty (Dubai in September is still very hot and the gig was outdoors) and not so sober, we decided the night was still young, so hailed a cab and headed to one of Dubai’s legendary nightspots; The Rattlesnake!

The Rattlesnake is in one of Dubai’s older hotels; the Metropolitan on the famous Sheikh Zayed Road. It’s legendary for its loud ‘rock’ band, its cheesy music, its watered down booze and the clientele! How can I put this….in there you find an unusually large number of single women drinking alone who strike up conversations with men, preferably middle-aged western men. As a consequence you also find an unusually large number of lone male drinkers in their 40s and 50s; I say lone males rather than single, as they usually have a wedding ring! That said, as a place to go for 6 slightly dishevelled looking girlies for more booze and boogying, it’s a blast!

Arabic Lessons

I’m a typical Brit insomuch as I only speak the one language, English; though many may argue that as a Northerner I don’t even speak that! His nibs on the other-hand speaks fluent French as well as English, well he is French Canadian. Of course Arabic is the official language in Dubai, though at times you’d be forgiven for thinking it was English. Dubai is very multicultural; in fact only 20% of the population are Emirati. Indian, Pakistani, Filipino, Sri Lankan, South African and Brits amongst others, make up the majority of the populous, consequently English is the one language most people here can understand. Sad but true. Arabic is not an easy language to learn and if I’m honest I haven’t really tried, there are however some Arabic words and sayings that I do know. As some phrases don’t have a direct English translation it’s very common to hear a conversation in English, peppered with Arabic.

The first and most important phrase is Assalam’alaikoom, its direct translation is peace be with you, but it’s how you greet someone in Arabia. The reply is ‘alaikoom Assalam, and it’s considered quite rude not to reply this way. Al hamdu lillah means thank God and very widely used, as in Islam everything happens according to Allah’s will. It’s not uncommon to hear an Emirati claim al hamdu lillah for the simplest of things; e.g. if you ask how are you? The response is likely to be; I’m good al hamdu lillah. Probably the word used most regularly by expats is Inshaallah. In translation it means God willing; in reality it is a ready made excuse for everything. Let me explain; your fridge dies 2 months after the warranty runs out, it’s taken away for repair (that you must pay for) and when you ask how long it will take, they say “one week inshaallah”. Of course two weeks later it’s not ready and you are still without a fridge; it’s very difficult to argue when the excuse is that God didn’t will it! Maybe the best translation for inshaallah is hopefully.

My favourite Arabic work is Halas; it means done, and has a variety of uses, e.g. when you have enough food on your plate “halas” means no more, if you’ve reached the end of your tether with the fridge repair men “halas” means the end. A truly versatile word often accompanied with actions; you slide your palms against each other twice, almost like washing your hands of something. Another favourite is yallah, it means lets go; at the end of the night if offered another drink you could say, “Halas, yallah”; meaning I’m done, lets go. The obvious words for us Brits are; please: min fadhlik, thank you: shukran, and you're welcome: afwan. Finally the most important phrase especially when using the local taxi service is shway - shway, meaning slower, slower.

A westerner using these words in Dubai is not likely to raise any interest but when in other parts of the region any attempt at Arabic is very much appreciated. When we travelled to Egypt we found that a simple Assalam’alaikoom and shukran to waiters was enough to surround our table with the entire restaurant staff. They were quite honestly delighted that we knew several local phrases. This proved very useful; we never waited for food or for our glasses to be topped up, even though many other dinners did! See a little effort goes a long way. Here endeth the lesson….

Maverick and Goose

During my families’ visit in February 2005, the adults had several nights out. Don’t panic we didn’t leave the kids alone…. We took it in turns babysitting. Jaki and I went clubbing, the boys went to watch the football and the girls had a night out; in our glad-rags Mum, Jaki and I headed to Madinat Jumeira for a few cocktails. Our first and as it turned out only stop, was at Trader Vics. Traders as its known has a Polynesian theme and great cocktails, and as usual was busy. We stood by the bar; well it’s the thing to do in there, though we found a stool for mum. A pleasant hour or so passed, us chatting laughing and trying cocktails. By 10.30 the place was packed, mum was getting tired and Jaki and I were enjoying trolley-dolly spotting. One thing you must understand about Dubai is it’s full of airline cabin crew; half the population here (or so it seems) works for Emirates airline in some capacity. It’s also a lay-over for many other airlines, BA included. The local Time Out magazine advertises ‘Cabin Crew Nights’ in bars; the crew show their ID and get discounted booze. So you rarely go anywhere without finding trolley-dollies as their affectionately known. After a while in Dubai, you can tell the difference between Emirates and BA crew, even in their civvies! That’s when you can truly call yourself a Dubaiean!

Anyway as I said mum was starting to fade, so we agreed to one for the road; mum turns to the bar for service, Jaki and I continue spotting. 10 minutes later we were still without our drinks, the reason why? Mum was gabbing to her neighbour at the bar. “Ey mum, where’s our drinks?” we demand. “What! These are you daughters?” the gentleman by her asks, “Of course!” answers mum. Jaki and I roll our eyes, though to be honest if you saw mum you would be surprised that she had two 30-something daughters. Introductions were made, “don’t you think he looks like Tom Cruise?” mum says, Jaki and I were thinking well erm…. No! “You know, in the white uniform”. “Oh Top Gun, you mean - Maverick and Goose” says I. “Yes!” says mum. As it turned out, mum actually meant Richard Gere in and Officer and a Gentleman, but she’d had a few cocktails. The spooky thing was, although he looked nothing like Tom Cruise, he was a real-life Maverick, a fighter-pilot with the US Navy. Before we knew what had hit us, his navigator Goose arrived as did several ‘kids’ - the trainee pilots and navigators Maverick and Goose were responsible for.

One for the road turned into several, as mum was showered with affection from the trainees; you see they’d been in the Gulf for several months, spent Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year onboard ship. They were all very homesick and really missing their mums, so they borrowed ours for the evening.

Dont have a photo of that night, so thought I'd show you the three of us in Tiger Tiger, Manchester just a few months earlier.

More Spoiling

After a great Christmas 2004 at home with my folks, I returned to Dubai with the holiday blues. His nibs in typical fashion thought the best thing for me was a weekend away. This time we stayed in Dubai, in fact only an hours drive inland to Al Maha Desert Resort & Spa. This bedouin styled resort is set in 225 square kilometers of pristine desert landscape, with just 37 individual suites, each surrounded by a wooden deck and with their own private temperature-controlled infinity pool, handcrafted furnishings, antiques and artifacts, custom-made super king-size bed and a walk-in shower; it’s a desert paradise with an appropriate price tag! It’s an eco-friendly place, inside a conservation area. There indigenous desert wildlife has a safe and natural home and the conservation of the once endangered Oryx is a priority. It really must be seen to be believed, the beauty of the desert is quite astounding. Go to http://www.al-maha.com/ for a better look. This was the view from our suite before the early morning mist was burned away by the sun, quite stunning....

His nibs and I in the meantime, arrived during a downpour. Once settled into our suite we had lunch and relaxed inside – still chucking it down! Thankfully the evening brought drier weather and after dinner we had a dip in our private pool, before an early night. Now, now, don’t be rude…. We had an early start the next morning. Al Maha offers different activities to it’s guests including camel treks, archery, horse riding etc. We stumped for falconry and it starts early! It was amazing to see these birds in flight and to hear about them from the very knowledgeable staff. Then we headed back to our suite for breakfast on the deck and a few hours sun bathing. The local wildlife was very interested in the leftovers, as you can see. It was a lovely relaxing couple of days and definitely the only place I would recommend in Dubai.

Lost Weekend

I’m conscious that reading this blog alcohol consumption is frequently mentioned; I would not like you to think I have a drink problem, so please remember that these stories are about specific events, not a normal week. That said this story is about a weekend lost in booze! The Dubai rugby sevens tournament is held annually over the first weekend of December. A huge event on the social calendar it tempts teams from all over the world. Several trophies are up for grabs including the IRB Sevens Emirates International Trophy. Around 40 thousand people attended over 3 days in 2004 and for business in the region it’s a big spend on sponsorship and corporate hospitality. Being a St Helens lass, rugby is in my blood, though rugby league; unions’ far more entertaining cousin, in my opinion anyway. I must admit that thanks to my Welsh mate Gareth I have acquired an appreciation of the 15 a-side game over recent years. The sevens is something else though, it’s faster than the 15 a-side version and to me, much more interesting to watch. I was quite keen therefore to attend the 2004 Dubai Sevens. His nibs had been invited to corporate hospitality so we went along to the second days play with the promise of free booze, and large thighs to ogle.



Coincidently my league home team St Helens RLFC, AKA the Saints were playing in the invitation cup; even more for me to cheer for. His nibs didn’t have a clue about rugby back then, and was keen to learn, so I gave him increasingly slurred information about the game and its rules. A great day was had, with lots of free beer flowing, funny how it tastes much better when you’ve not had to pay! The rugby was entertaining, but as the corporate box we were in was less than half full the atmosphere could have been better. The Saints won all their games, much to my delight and once the on pitch entertainment had finished, his nibs and I headed to the Heineken tent for yet more beer, and to meet some of his friends. There we had a great evening; I danced my bootie off to Motown and northern soul with the wife of one of his nibs’ mates. Exhausted and very drunk, we staggered to the taxi rank around midnight and headed home.

I had plans to go to the final day with my girlfriends but with a stinging hangover the last thing I wanted was more beer. As I recovered on my couch, I received a call from the COO of the company I worked for. “Get your arse to our corp. box” I was instructed “there’s someone here I want you to meet”. Though I was very surprised at the request I got my act together and after a very long cool shower headed back to the country club. Once there my lack of corporate ticket became evident, however, in typical northern bird style I pulled my shoulders back and walked in like I owned the place. Amazingly this tactic worked and I climbed the steps to our corp. stand. No sooner had I arrived than the COO collared me, thrust a can of cold beer into my hand and took to meet his special guest. The guest was none other than the Saints chairman Eamonn McManus. He’d heard quite a lot about me as when introduced to other company managers their intellectual response was “I know someone from St Helens, her names Bev”. He was very pleased to hear another ‘wollyback’ accent and we sat down to chat and watch the rugby. When Saints scored we jumped up, screamed and hugged each other as any real fans would, much to the disgust of the other corporate guests! You can imagine our delight when we progressed all the way to the final, not bad for a team that plays league with a completely different set of rules. Though we were beaten in the final, both Eamonn and I were very proud of our teams’ performance, and he was keen to go give the lads a pat on the back and congratulate the coach, so headed down to the players tunnel, and insisted on dragging me along! He introduced me to the coaching staff and some of the players, who were bitterly disappointed to have lost. That’s my team!

We headed back to the stand to watch the last of the games and of course the final. A great end to the day’s rugby as England beat Fiji, 26 – 21 for the top trophy! The finale of the 3 day event is the ‘Rugby Rock’ concert; a loud and not that bad band belts out cover versions of pop and rock floor fillers keeping the by now very drunk revelers in the party mood. I’d had more than enough by this stage so headed home for a much needed rest and a week’s detox!

Wadi Bashing

My friend gave me some feedback about my blog; he suggested I tried to keep it in chorological order to make it easier to follow. I admit that I’ve just been telling stories as they’ve popped into my head, or when I’ve found a photo that has jogged my memory. Not one to poo-poo, others opinions, I’ll take his feedback onboard and try to post entries in order from now on.

This story dates back to December 2004, I’ve just bought my brand new Jeep, Alain and I are not yet engaged and I’m still living in the Springs. A day out had been planned by his nibs office wadi bashing. In case you don’t know; a wadi is a dry riverbed that contains water only during times of heavy rain. They can be quite dangerous places to be, as even though it may be dry where you are, rains in the mountains can cause flash floods. The power of the water rushing down the wadi washes away everything in its path, including not so wise humans who decide to camp in one. Wadi Bashing is driving through the wadi for fun. Like dune bashing this is NOT something you should attempt alone, we had a convoy of 5 4X4s for our day trip. Some of the terrain can be very steep, it’s all very rocky and none of it is flat and even! The water pulls enormous boulders from the mountain and deposits them further down stream; meaning that the ‘road’ constantly changes, and what may have been passable previously is not necessarily so now.

It makes for an exciting, eventful and fun day out. What I didn’t realise is how much teamwork is required. You can drive very slowly for a few hundred meters then have to stop to move the mountain, so to speak. Rocks that are just too large to be driven over must be moved, and we spent more time out of the cars than we did in them! If the rock was too big to move a ramp needed to be built on either side so we could drive over. Needless to say, I was a bit nervous about this bashin, having never done it before, so his nibs drove my brand new motor. After the first half hour and my wincing every time a rock scraped the undercarriage of my shiny new car, he’d had enough, and I was forced to take over the wheel. Being the only female driving I was very conscious of letting the side down (the female side that is), so was determined not to make a fool of myself (or womankind) and be just as good as the blokes. And would you know it; I was! With the first tricky obstacles I needed a lot of help, and all the blokes were keen to give direction. That done, my confidence grew and I began to stop shaking like a leaf and enjoy myself. Though I was congratulated and given hefty slaps on the back from the man-folk for my driving skills, my lovely shiny new Jeep was not! Though it’s “Trail-rated” and marketed as a real off-roader, the ground clearance was very low, as a consequence where others could go I could not. Most of the mountain moving was to enable my car to get through, rather than all of them. Very shameful!

Once out of the wadi we headed to a local beach; driving very slowly is what’s required through the wadi, but once on the soft sand its revs that count. “Stick it in first and floor it” were my instructions, so I did. Driving with your foot to the floor and almost no steering control is a bit unnerving. Your instinct is to ease off the gas, do that and your beached; so with his nibs hollering “give it more gas, give it more” I ignored my gut and kept the pedal to the metal as they say! Once we’d stopped we had a BBQ lunch and a few braver souls drove up and over the enormous sand dune, me included; I couldn’t let the side down now could I?

My First Wheels

When I first arrived in Dubai I hired a car to get from A – B. A car is a must have here as public transport as almost nonexistent. Yes there are busses, but they didn’t go from the Springs where I lived to DIC (Dubai Internet City) where I worked. There are no trains, tubes or trams here at all, and to be honest, I’m not a public transport person anyway. On my 17th birthday, I couldn’t wait to get my licence and the freedom it would bring. If you could see how busses are driven here, you’d understand why any sane person would think twice before using them. It’s not unusual to see them take roundabouts and corners at such speed they’re on two wheels! So I started the hunt for my perfect set of wheels. Large 4X4s are a very popular choice, as the roads are notoriously dangerous, the additional height and protection of a sturdy SUV are very tempting. After a couple of months looking, not in showrooms I hasten to add, but on the roads, I decided I wanted a Jeep Cherokee. It’s a 4X4 and looks more like an off-roader than a people carrier, I thought and still do think they look funky. And that is of course a woman’s primary criteria when car hunting; aesthetic pleasure!

So with the help of my new boyfriend (who worked in the car trade) I went car shopping. This was educational for me; his nibs being in the trade and in sales was more interested in the salesman’s performance than that of the car. Here was me hoping he would translate the car spiel so I could understand! So I find a car, get a great deal (thanks to his nibs) and arrange finance. A few days later and very excited I go to pick up my shiny new car. I’m delighted and love it; his nibs does not! It was not presented in the correct way, and had not been cleaned properly. Let me explain a bit; cars are not manufactured in the UAE, they are all imported mostly on huge container ships. Sea travel and brand new cars don’t really mesh, so the cars are wrapped for their journey. Seats are covered in plastic, the bodywork protected by wrap guard etc. Basically your brand new car needs to be unwrapped, buffed and polished before delivery. Well for most they are unwrapped, some nationalities here like to keep the plastic seat covers; why I’ll never know, you must get an awful sweaty bottom! Anyway, my motor had not been properly unwrapped, buffed and polished! Whilst his nibs chastised the salesman I stood by thinking I don’t care, just give me my bleeding keys, I want to go driving!

A Family Welcome

In February 2005 the kinfolk landed on my doorstep; mum, dad, our Jaki and her 2 kids Megan and Macaulay. Our meeting at the airport (after my wait there for an hour!) was tearful, you’d have thought we’d not seen each other for years, though it was just 2 months. We piled into the 12 seater van I’d hired for the duration of their stay and with me pointing out the landmarks, drove back to my place. The 10 days of their stay was action packed. The kids’ favourite place was the local pool; we literally had to drag them out as the sun was setting. We visited the Sharjah Natural History Museum, where we saw some of the UAEs national wildlife.

Jumeira Beach Park was a hit with everyone; though Jaki and I were a bit cold on the beach! The weather during their holiday was a bit unpredictable.









Diner at Hard Rock café, my folks at Dubai Creek....










In order to give the folks a feel for ‘old Dubai’ we visited Dubai Museum, and took a trip up the Creek on an Abra.

A wonderful evening was spent at the Global Village with my friend Jo and her family. The village is an enormous park south east of the creek, part of the annual shopping festival it contains pavilions from different countries. Each pavilion showcases that country’s heritage and merchandise, though you’ll probably find most of it manufactured in China or India! It’s a big draw for families as they also have a funfair. After an hour or so of searching, we finally found Jo, Dave and their kids, Tom and Helen, and headed to the funfair. Much fun was had by the 4 kids, not just on the rides but also watching traditional Arabic bread being cooked on a hotplate. Meg, Macca and Tom on the slide under the watchful eyes of my dad. Pink lady, Helen on the merry-go-round

Probably the highlight of the trip was the desert safari. At 4 pm we were collected from home in a 4X4 and taken into the desert. There our expert driver took us on a rollercoaster ride of the desert dunes. This is not for the fainthearted, driving on sand is an art and barreling up one side of a 100 ft dune and sliding sideways down the other should not be tried at home. On the back seat the kids squealed with delight or fright, and shouted “jaldi jaldi” (Indian for faster faster) and “yallah yallah” (Arabic for let’s go) to the driver. He of course found this hilarious and did as instructed by his young passengers, much to mum’s distaste! We stopped to watch the sun set with our buddy car; only the exceptionally foolish drive in the desert alone, you never know when you may need someone to tow you out. A Brucie bonus was the driver of our buddy car had a falcon. Falconry is a traditional sport in these parts and these amazing birds are always a delight to see.

After sunset we were driven to the Bedouin camp; okay this is a bit touristy, but it’s included in the price and there’s food n booze! There, along with the passengers of around 20 other 4X4s we enjoyed remarkably good food, very reasonable priced beer and the mandatory belly dancer. The funniest thing by far was Megan and Macaulay dressed in the traditional UAE garb, see for your self….

View from the 31st floor

Photos from our balcony taken in February 2006 as clouds roll in from the sea…..

King One

From time to time my posts will return to one of our favourite pastimes; Scuba Diving. After becoming Open Water divers we were keen to get some more dives under our belts, and see something other than a sandy seabed. One of the best places in the world to dive is not far from us; Egypt’s Red Sea. So we book a week’s holiday there, after a couple of days at the Pyramids of Giza we fly to Hurghada. We’d booked 5 days in a hotel just north of Hurghada in El Gouna. El Gouna is a purpose built resort far from the real Egypt but we were there for the underwater sights not those on dry land. We were not to be disappointed…. Our hotel had a dive centre (well find one that doesn’t) and we booked in for several dives.

Our boat called King One was bigger than any we’d dived from before, it had a lovely sundeck, great for warming up after being in the cold water. There we were briefed by the dive guides on what we were likely to see and made friends with our fellow divers, most of whom were Brits. The dive guides were a great laugh and thoroughly enjoyed tormenting me; I was thrown from the boat several times, and deluged by buckets of water every time I dried off after a dive. Due to my sporting attitude towards this torture I was made an honorary Egyptian and was named Nathifa. His nibs found this all very amusing and not once came to my rescue; how I rued my independent woman status at times!



Our 6 dives over 3 days, were just spectacular. The coral reefs were so colourful, as were the fish that inhabited them. We saw turtles, blue spotted rays, clown fish, angel fish to name but a few, and from the boat we spotted dolphins. After returning to the dive centre and rinsing our gear, our routine was to head to bar for a couple of beers and a debrief of the dives with our new friends. Though after a day on the boat the bar swayed! His nibs and I were the least experienced divers there and it was great to hear stories and pick up tips. One of the couples we met there were well into their 50s and took a couple of diving holidays each year. All of them had been on ‘liveaboards’; diving holidays where you live aboard the boat for week, that sounded very interesting to us…..

A Girls Best Friend

Having arrived in Dubai an independent woman and contentedly single, it was a shock when I fell head over heals for this French Canadian bloke, to me as much as my family and friends back home. When you know you just know, and I knew Alain was right for me, ah…..getting a bit sloppy now. We’d talked about getting married, as it’s illegal to cohabit in the UAE it makes life much easier living here. We'd not talked about specifics and there’d been no proposal, we’d just accepted that it would happen; hardly romantic! We were discussing the subject one night sat on his nibs’ patio, when I said “you’ve not even asked me”. Instead of the expected response (a proposal) his nibs said “well you’ve not asked me” – we can be childish at times! So in the spirit of sexual equality, I was an independent woman after all, I got down on one knee and said “will you marry me?”. His nibs said yes and the conversation continued!

Of course like all women I love sparklies (diamonds) but I honestly was not interested in an engagement ring. I know you may find this hard to believe but it’s the truth. I did want a very nice wedding ring with sparklies though! His nibs unbeknownst to me had been conspiring with a friend of his, a diamond dealer here in Dubai. He was determined to buy a one carat rock for me. I was spoiling these plans insisting I didn’t want an engagement ring and searching for my perfect wedding ring. Eventually his nibs had to come clean and tell me what he’d been up to. So I reluctantly agreed to go see some of the diamond dealers wears. Now I’m sure you ladies reading this will be rolling your eyes thinking “yeah, right!” the men thinking “yet more female reverse psychology”. But I’ve been married before, I had the whole shebang and it didn’t work, so really had no desire for a repeat performance. Anyway she doth protest too much me thinks….

Off to the Gold Souk we go to find our sparkly. And find it we did, so now I have choose to a ring design I like. Now this was fun… searching the shops and net for my perfect ring was great. As it turns out I didn’t find it, his nibs did; see how well he knows me. So armed with a print of the design we go back to the gold souk, hand over his nibs’ hard earned dosh and take measurements. A few days later the rings are delivered, we had my wedding ring made at the same time. Alain finally got down on one knee and placed my enormous rock on third finger left hand…..

Rant Alert...Amazon.co.uk

I’ve just realised that blogs are a great place to get things of your chest. OK, nothing will ever be done about whatever you’re ranting about, but we Brits aren’t the best complainers in the world. We tend to moan about things to the wrong people, i.e. not the person who can sort out your problem. But the occasional rant does make you feel better. Now I’ve justified my moaning I’ll get on with it….

Amazon, you know the on-line store? Well I think it’s great, especially here in Dubai where the choice of DVDs can be limited, and the latest releases 2 years out of date! But Amazon.co.uk are a bloody rip off! Why can I go to Amazon.com and order a DVD for $9.99 approx. £5.41, yet the same DVD is £16.99 on Amazon.co.uk.? Please don’t tell me it’s VAT; that is three times more expensive! Now the film I’m talking about here was made by the BBC – it’s a BRITISH film and the *stards at Amazon want to charge the Brits three times what they do the Yanks. This is just not cricket….. Ah that feels better!

Under Canvas

There are some things I just don’t do, one of them is camping. I love nature and wildlife, but only if comes with ensuite bathrooms and a plug for my hairdryer. The only tent I know of where these come as standard was destroyed when being used by the Weasleys during the Quidditch World cup; bummer! So when his nibs suggested going camping in the desert with some friends I was less than enthusiastic. “Ah come on babe….it will be fun” he said, and with the help of our German friends’ persuasion techniques my resolve weakened. I insisted on just one night under canvas; I could cope without a shower for 24 hours. In his usual ‘gung-ho’ style his nibs made a trip to Carrefour for equipment; tent, camping shower, stove, bed, sleeping bags, rug, chairs etc… It would have been cheaper to go back to the Chedi… ah heaven… With our car an XC90 (I’m not bragging about the car; this information is very relevant as you’ll see later) loaded with our shiny new camping gear, food and of course the all important cooler-box of beer we headed out into the Empty Quarter.


Our camping party consisted of his nibs and I, and 2 other couples; the afore mentioned Germans and their Swedish friends. We travelled in 2 cars along the highway towards Abu Dhabi and then inland past the oil fields to Liwa Oasis and the Empty Quarter. The Empty Quarter, so named as except for sand there’s bugger all there, is not far from the Saudi boarder and has some of the largest sand dunes in the world. It’s teaming with desert life apparently, though we saw precious little! After driving down very straight, empty boring roads with nothing to look at but desert, for what felt like weeks but in fact was only 3 hours, we arrived at our destination. I was a bit confused at this point; our destination looked no different from the miles and miles of desert we’d just driven through; why didn’t we just stop and camp an hour ago??? Never mind Bev, as we’d finally got there we could open the cooler-box and have a beer – yeah! Our campsite decided it was time we erected the tents; well not just yet let’s have another beer.

What a lovely campsite we’d chosen, rolling hills in every direction; SAND hills mind and not a plant in sight! Living in the desert you expect a bit of sand here and there, it gets into the car, the house and on a windy day your eyes. Sand storms happen regularly in Dubai and in the built up city they cause few problems, here in the Empty Quarter with nothing to protect you and nothing BUT sand, they cause a few more. This wasn’t a real sand storm but it was blowing a gale; a bit of a problem when trying to put up tents. Our German friend knowledgably suggests we wait until the wind dies. “Zee vind alvays dies at 6pm” he announces, so we have another beer… 6pm comes and goes “Zee vind vill stop ven zee sun sets” so we have another beer…. Now pitch black, with an amazing sky I must admit, no light pollution here, we were still in a force 10 gale and slightly worse for wear. Too drunk to drive back to Liwa Oasis were there was a comfortable hotel with ensuite and plugs, we had no choice but to set up camp. Not to be beaten by the elements the Swedes and Germans struggled to erect their tents in the wind, his nibs and I were at a great disadvantage here; I’ve NEVER put a tent up in my life, it was a brand new tent, very dark and we were very drunk. This is were the XC90 came into play, with all the seats down in the back it can comfortably fit an inflatable camp bed; oh joy… no canvas for me!

Once camp was made, we set about cooking. In a valley were the wind was only at force 5, we lit the BBQ. Just what we needed; food to absorb some of the alcohol we’d consumed. Unfortunately in their drunken state the chefs dropped the food, and hungry as we were sand coated chicken kebabs were not appetising, so we made do with hummous Arabic bread and Pringles. It was about midnight when I hit the wall and in my drunken stupor collapsed into a sandy bed. Apart from some locals on quad bikes gate crashing at about 3 am, the night passed relatively quietly. The next morning I woke to find our German friends had like Alain and I slept in car. Puzzled….as they were insistent on staying and sleeping under canvas, I asked the Swedes why the Germans had capitulated. Apparently after his nibs and I had retired, one of the Swedes had dropped their wedding ring (don’t ask me why she was taking it off in the desert!) whilst searching she’d been brushing the sand with her hand. By doing this she disturbed a large scorpion who’d decided to camp with us. The scorpion was rather angry at being swatted by the Swede and took an aggressive stance. Needless to say our human campmates were even less happy and evasive action was taken. The scorpion was terminated and the Germans decided sleeping on the ground was a bad idea so moved to their car. The poor Swedes who’d travelled with the Germans had no choice but to sleep under canvas; they didn’t get a very restful night!

Several hours later we arrived home; there I spent an hour in the shower attempting to remove half the desert from my hair and every body orifice I could name and few I couldn’t. Needles to say the tent and all the camping gear is now languishing in the garage….

Spoilt Rotten

Most of my friends agree that I’m a down-to-earth kinda gal; I have my working class roots to thank for that. I do however enjoy the finer things in life, well some of them anyway; champagne and caviar are not to my taste. So when his nibs offered to whisk me away for a weekend at a boutique hotel in Oman, I jumped at the chance. The Chedi in Muscat is amazing; very clean lines, very design, very…..well just very! The drive to Muscat takes about 3 hours from Dubai, his nibs drove, I looked after music. We left after work Thursday and crossed the border at Hatta an hour later. Once in Oman we got onto the main highway to its capital city. Unbeknownst to us, it was a national holiday of some kind, and we saw fireworks up ahead. A little closer and the hard-shoulder of the highway was being used by the locals as a car park to stop and watch the display. Now in the UK the most dangerous part of the motorway is the hard-shoulder and you’d only stop there in an emergency – not so here. If you can’t beat em join em, so we pulled over and got out of the car to enjoy the spectacle ourselves. This was when I realised how Oman differs from its neighbour the UAE; we were the only white faces around. 30 minutes later with the display still in full swing, we moved on; we still had over an hour of driving and it was getting late.

We arrived at the Chedi around 930 and checked; much to our delight we were upgraded to a suite, and even though I was starving I had to explore it. We had our own little villa, with a water garden, the most amazing sunken granite bath I’d ever seen and a separate lounge with free booze! I was in heaven being spoilt. The hunger pangs got the better of me and we headed to the restaurant for dinner. We sat outside in the courtyard and ate a lovely meal with a very nice bottle of wine. The hotel looks fantastic at night, with its water gardens and clever lighting, and just as good in daylight. The next morning we headed to the adult pool; they have 2 pools one where kids are allowed and one for us grownups! The adults’ is an infinity pool that overlooks the sea, sun-loungers made for 2, very romantic and a bar to keep your thirst quenched. I have never felt so relaxed in my life, the only downside, we had just 2 nights there. Now the pressure’s on, this was our first weekend away; how’s he gonna top this?

Rain?.....in the desert?

The most frequent visitor I’ve had in Dubai is my mate Fintan, though the last couple of times he’s been here he stayed in a hotel. His reason for choosing a hotel will not be published here; use your imagination, answers on a postcard please…. His first visit was just a few weeks after our Jaki’s and coincided with the first rain I’d seen in Dubai, Eid (the end of Ramadan) and the sad death of Sheikh Zayed, ruler of the UAE. The whole country was in mourning and whilst that meant a few extra days holiday for the average expat, it also meant all partying was banned. The usual Eid celebrations were cancelled, and after the quiet of Ramadan we were all ready for a boogie, for most that would have to wait another 60 days. Back to the rain, I’d lived in Malaysia for a while so was used to daily torrential downpours and the wonderful light shows that accompany them. And I must admit to missing rain… WHAT? Yeah, I missed and still do miss rain – not the grey drizzle we get in Blighty, but the drenching of real tropical rains and their thunder and lighting. So when we were sat on the roof terrace at Wafi, having dinner and the wind hit, then a flash of lightening, I must admit I was a little excited. Fintan on the other hand was not, he was on his way back from Kuala Lumpur and it’s daily drenching, so was looking forward to the dry desert!

When the rain arrived we made a hasty retreat inside – it’s fun to watch from the dry. And man did it rain; it was just like a tropical downpour, thunder crashing, streaks of lightening across the sky, rain bouncing off the ground; just like….well…. erm….KL. This however, is where the similarity ends; KL is geared for these downpours, Dubai is not! They have no gutters, never mind storm drains, and construction here is less than watertight! The party at the restaurant next door had to be evacuated when the rain began pouring through the ceiling! Anyway, even though it was still raining we needed to go home, so we had to brave the storm. Outside the car park was flooded, and I’m not exaggerating when I say we had to wade through a foot of water to the car, a picture tells a thousand words……


Dubai’s infamous roads are dangerous at the best of times, but when it rains; suicide! Most of our Arab cousins are Looney tune drivers, and they have no concept of aquaplaning and the damage it can cause. The normally bone dry roads turn into ice rinks when wet, but that wont slow habibi down, oh no. The road home was littered with cars, taxis, busses and trucks that had crashed, flooded their engine, spun out etc… Even the ‘professional’ drivers took no heed of the dangerous conditions; it was some introduction to rain in the dessert!

As Fate Would Have It

I have a little sister; Jaki who I really miss. These days we are very close, though that was not the case 5 years ago. And wouldn’t you just know it, all those years we lived in the same country we didn’t get on, a couple of years before I leave Blighty we become great friends. Anyway, Jaki was my second guest; I was feeling a bit homesick so bought her a ticket to Dubai as a birthday pressy. Towards the end of October 2004 I collected her from the airport; I’d been waiting there 90 minutes! She arrived during Ramadan so no booze was available until after sunset, not that that spoilt her trip! Yet more chatting and sun worshipping was done, and the normal tours of Dubai… At the time I was driving a hire-car and was rather proud of the fact that I’d only once driven on the wrong side of the road. On that occasion I was incensed at a driver coming towards me on my side of the road, I held my ground and made him move! Only when he passed me did I realise that it was in fact ME on the wrong side, not him. This is not a safe or clever thing to do in Dubai as the roads are perilous; I’ll post more about the roads and driving here on another day, it’s an epic! Where was I?... Oh yeah, so with Jaki in the car and me ‘bragging’ about being such a good driver, what do I do? I pull out onto the road and automatically go to the left (you drive on the right in Dubai). Jaki fortunately notices so no harm done, but I found it really odd that this occurred in the exact same place as my previous driving error. I now avoid that stretch of road.

It was Jaki’s last night in Dubai so we head to the only place to go during Ramadan, the Long Bar, so named as it has a really long bar! There we spend the evening propping up the really long bar, drinking gin & tonics and putting the world to rights. Happy hour comes and goes, and as the empty G&T glasses mount so does our hilarity. People watching in Dubai is great fun, and Jaki and I had ourselves jolly old time deciding what our fellow patrons did for a living etc. Though we had spoken to a few of the clientele, it was our last night together and we weren’t really in that sociable a mood. So when a kind gentleman beside us offered Jaki a light, she accepted, said thanks and turned her back on him. Not to be deterred, the gentleman pursued a conversation with us. So it was quite a surprise that 3 hours later we were still chatting with the bloke. Though by this time I was drinking coffee; no more booze could be had without me sliding off my stool into a heap. He told us his name; Alain, that he was French Canadian and lived in Dubai. Now that much I could remember, the rest of the conversation was a bit of a blur; but I know I gave up way too much information about myself, as did our Jaki! Alain was on the wagon as he was driving and kindly offered us a lift, which we accepted. The next day having been safely delivered and now nursing hangovers, Jaki and I discussed the previous night’s events. How 2 northern British birds a little worse for wear didn’t scare off a sober as a judge Canadian I’ll never know. The colonists must be hardier that I thought ;-) Anyway, Alain was alone here, as was I, so we agreed to meet for dinner; 15 months later we’re married! Thank you sis……

The only B&B in the Middle East

In my time here I’ve had many visitors; it’s not that I’m very popular or overly adored by friends and family back home; more that I live in a great climate. You know how the Brits are about the weather, well that’s because on the whole our climate sucks! If we get 2 weeks of sun the record books are checked and the water-board issues a hosepipe ban. So living in the Middle East, where if you get 14 days of rain in a year, they get the record books out; makes me popular by way of a cheap holiday in the sun. I wont bore you all to tears with details of every visitor I’ve had since July 2004, I’ll just give you highlights, a few photos, and if I can think of any; funny stories.

The first visitor I had was my best mate Helen, a Scouser by birthright; she currently resides in the ‘big smoke’ more commonly known as London. As real girlie friends you can imagine our exploits consisted of sun worshipping and chatting, drinking at home and chatting, eating out and chatting, and of course drinking in bars and chatting. As a consequence not very many photos were taken, and those we did take were slightly out of focus, so none can be shown here….sorry. By of compensation, this is a photo of us taken in Detroit’s; a classy bar in my hometown St Helens, just before I left the UK for Dubai. (I’m the blonde curly one by the way) As my first guest I was very excited about her arrival and therefore got to the airport at least an hour before her flight was due to land. My timing with airport pick-ups has not improved I’m sorry to say. Helen and I had holidayed in Dubai the previous year; we met here on my way back from a stint working in India. Then we stayed at the Royal Meridien Hotel, just as the Gulf war ended. To our delight this hotel was used by the US Marines for an R&R break after their tour; so much eye candy was to found in the hotel pool ;-) Hmmmmmm…. Alas, this time no Marines could be located; Helen left with a healthy tan and a not so healthy liver, and I looked forward to my next guest who was arriving just 2 weeks later….

Put Another Dollar In

Put Another Dollar In, or PADI is it's more widely known is the large diving organisation many of you will have seen on your travels. Last year bored at weekends Alain and I decided to learn how to Scuba Dive. I'd done a few try before you buy dives in the past, but this was virgin territory for his nibs. So in chilly February, armed with a fist full of dollars (now the alternative name makes sense eh?) and our cozzies, we headed to Al Boom diving. There in the very cold and not so clean pool, we completed our swim tests and the first of our dives. In the warmer classroom we watched the DVDs and completed the written tests. Then we were allowed into the big wide blue....

Off to the Russian beach here in Dubai, aptly named as it's full of Russians - not, where along with several of our fellow trainees we waded into the sea carrying the weight of a small man on our backs. Scuba gear is obviously necessary to breathe underwater and it's almost weightless when in the water, but it's bleeding heavy when on dry land! Not much to see on the seabed here either; Dubai's obsession with turning the sea into land by building the various palm and world islands has turned the sea into sand soup. Even if there are a few urchins and fish around you'd not notice one until it's inches away. Not a good idea to get so close to a sea-urchin, they have very long sharp spines - ouch!

Our next dive is over on the East Cost at Fujairah, much better "viz" here as we divers say ;-) This time we can actually see the fish and avoid spiky sea-urchins, and there's even a small coral reef. As I said I'd dived before, one of those dives was back 1996 in the Maldives. You can snorkel in 3 feet of water there and see the most amazing coral, so this reef was something of a letdown, well for me at any rate. His nibs being a virgin diver was much more impressed, but you'd never know it; he must maintain a cool persona at all times you see! Anyway as this was the final dive of our course all we had to do now was complete the written exam. Back to the classroom at Al Boom and 50 questions later we're both certified Open Water divers. Just for the record, and much to my relief, we both got one question wrong, and it was NOT the same question - no cheating here thank you very much! I dread to think how his nibs would've reacted if I'd scored more than him or vice-versa; he's soooooo competitive!

There's something you need to know about my man; his nibs is one of the most driven and determined people I've ever met. If he's says he'll do something, you'd better believe he will. A side effect of this drive is that he can be a bit 'gung-ho' as they say; no half measures for Alain, no siree. So the minute he has his diving certification, and not even the real one - just the temporary paper card, he wants all the dive gear. He's been in the water 5 times with Scuba and now he wants to spend a small fortune kitting himself (and me) out. Now I've seen this kinda thing before.... you know, man plays 2 rounds of golf then mortgages his home to buy a set of Pings. His shiny new toys get half a dozen outings being drooled over by his mates, before languishing at the back of the garage for 5 years, then sold for 50p at a car boot sale. Now I must admit - I'd not seen his nibs do that (he hates golf with a passion by the way) but it's my responsibility to be the voice on reason. So I managed to convince him, to wait and get some dives in his log book before splashing out (sorry for the pun!). This lasted until our trip to Egypt's red sea, there all our new dive friends had there own kit, and any sway I had left was promptly sleeping with the fishes.... Urgh, more puns ;-)

Upon our return to Dubai, his nibs researched the net until finally finding his dream kit; this I might add took several weeks. A week or so later a huge box was delivered from New York containing Alain's gear (mine would wait a few more months) and finally the cool persona was dropped.....