Oh Canada – the in-laws part two

Having met his nibs’ dad it was only fair that I met his mum, so we headed back to Montreal to see her. Louise cares for a holocaust survivor in a nursing home so we picked her up there. After meeting a few of the residents we headed for Quebec City. Louise entertained me with stories of his nibs’ childhood on the drive there, much to his embarrassment and my delight! It was dark when we arrived, though I could make out the huge cliffs and the Châteaux perched on top; it looked like a fairytale castle. After a lovely meal we found a hotel for the night and hit the hay.

The Château Frontenac

A few of my favourite things….

I'm currently suffering with insomnia; it's not a regular occurrence so please don't send me your cures, but it's been going on now for over two weeks. Last night whilst laying in bed willing sleep to take me, his nibs soundly snoring at my side, as usual my mind starts racing, and the strangest things pop into it at 3am. Why is that I wonder? Anyway one of the many oddities that popped in there last night was the song 'My favourite things' from the film 'The Sound of Music'. I know why that came to me last night but I'll not bore you with the tale, H knows though! So I got to thinking about my favourite things (not places or people - just things) and decided to blog them. In no particular order this is what I though of last night....…

Really light Ribena
In Blighty this is known as 'Toothkind Ribena' it's the one with the green label and no added sugar. I used to drink it by the gallon in the UK, but when I moved to Dubai they only had normal and light, both of which were too sweet for my taste. Just recently, like in the last month they've started to sell 'Really Light' which pleases me no end. I've pilled weight on and I know that's because I've been drinking too much Coke, ironically I don't like Diet Coke only the fat version.... I'm strange at times...…



Sleep
This may appear obvious as I'm struggling with it at the moment but even when I'm not I love it. You know that tugging sensation you get when you're just about to sink into the oblivion of sleep? Well that's what I love, those last few moments of consciousness before sleep takes you, mmmmm heaven. I also like the other side too, when you wake at 5am it's still dark and you know you can snuggle back into sleep for a while. I'm an eight hours a night girl and I really don't like getting up, once I'm up though I'm instantly awake; it's quite annoying really, ask his nibs or H.

HP Sauce
Simply great with beans on toast, cheese on toast, cheese and beans on toast, boiled egg on toast; all my kitchen specialities really. When I lived in India it was only to be found in the Oberoi hotel and I have to admit to stealing a bottle as I missed it sooo much....…



My mums stew and dumplings
I slaver at the thought of my mums stew and dumplings; it's the only thing I ask for when I visit. The other night I was talking to mum, she told she was making it for the kids' tea, I would have been on the next flight out had his nibs not stopped me. I want it now actually, the keyboard will get wet, I must stop thinking about it...

Lazy mornings in bed
Friday mornings in Dubai are like a Sunday morning in the rest of the world, a chance of a lie in. I love snuggling up to his nibs for an hour or so, just chatting and cuddling and chatting...

My blog
This may sound egotistical, but I've really enjoyed writing my blog. As I've been playing catch up it's made me think about the things I've done here. I've been amazed at the things I'd forgotten about, the great times I've had and the wonderful people I've met. It's definitely made me appreciate things a bit more; I've kinda stopped to smell the roses so to speak. And as anyone who knows me will tell you I love to tell a story and that's basically what my blog is, me story telling.

And finaly...well of course.....

The Sound of Music
Raindrops on roses
And whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles
And warm woollen mittens
La la la la la.....

Oh Canada – Sandbanks, ferries and Waupoos

After a hearty breakfast we headed out for the day to Quinte. Nestled on the north shore of Lake Ontario it’s a ferry ride to a very pretty town. We headed into the hills to the Waupoos winery for a lovely lunch and a very nice bottle of the local wine. Though it rained a bit it did not spoil the beauty of the place. We then headed to Sandbanks for a nice long walk. I was amazed at the size of the waves, we were on the shore of a lake not the ocean! Once back in Kingston we had a great meal at a tiny Chinese restaurant and after the fresh air was ready for an early night.

The ferry over, Werner, Joan and his nibs....











Sandbanks....

Oh Canada – the in-laws part one

We headed out of Quebec to Kingston to spend a couple of days with Alain’s dad Werner and his partner Joan. I’d met them briefly before as they were in Dubai at the beginning on January. Fortunately we’d got along really well and had a couple of nice days together before they left. This time I would also meet Werners parents who were both in their 90s and not so healthy, I’d heard much about them from his nibs. We had a home cooked lunch at Werner’s place and it was nice to see the smile on his grandmas’ face when she saw Alain. After lunch we had walk around Kingston and I received a history lesson about the place! It’s a pretty town with a huge university and quite an interesting history.

Alain and his dad

Oh Canada – back to his roots….

After the tour of Montreal, his nibs took me to see his old haunts. Le Plateau , Mount Royal his old school, previous homes etc. and we paid a visit to his old landlord Robert What a character he is, a lovely man who was about to get married, has a travel business and a wicked sense of humour. I could explain in detail the places we visited and give you a bit of the history, but honestly it would be too much. His nibs was determined to show me everything in the time we had to visit, so I suggest you see Montreal for yourself, you will not be disappointed; me I’ll stick to the highlights and the people, I hope you understand.

Pierre is a more recent addition to his nibs’ friends; they completed their MBA course together. A very quietly spoken, exceptionally intelligent man who has a lovely wife and two gorgeous girls. They’d invited us to their home for dinner. We headed out to St Bruno where they live, and wow what a house. The garden blended into the countryside and the small mountain behind so well you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. We had a lovely dinner and sat chatting for a few hours. Alain greatly respects and admires Pierre and it’s easy to understand why; he has a way about him that is gentle but firm and a mentor like quality. It was a wonderful and relaxing evening.

Oh Canada – Je ne comprends pas

After a day of sightseeing around the city, walking for miles and miles, taking in the Basilica and having a very nice lunch the evening was set for a big night out with more of his nibs friends. Now in Quebec it’s the norm for people to be bi-lingual, it’s law in fact for all signs, notices menus etc to be written in French and you even have to ‘Frenchize’ your business name, i.e. it must sound French so ‘Flannigan’s Irish Bar’ would need to be called ‘Le bar Irlandais de Flannigan’. I’m all for protecting the culture of the region I think it’s a great idea, but you can go a bit too far. There is a point I promise I’m getting to it. You know I don’t speak French as does his nibs, his mates soon realised this when they greeted Alain in French and he introduced me in English, for the first time in my life I was truly embarrassed at speaking only my mother tongue. As the night wore on and more alcohol was consumed the conversation slipped inevitably into French, I grew quieter and quieter as I couldn’t join in. As you can imagine for an insatiable chatterbox like me this was torture, made worse by the fact that I really wanted Alain’s friends to like me. Pretty hard to get to know someone when she sits in a corner like a wallflower!

His nibs has a great bunch of friends and I know they didn’t mean to exclude me, but there were 10 of us around the table and with so many conversations going on they didn’t even realise I wasn’t involved. Just as the evening was drawing to a close I was rescued by the waitress of all people. She happened to be the reason we were in this particular restaurant (though she didn’t know it), one of the blokes fancied her you see, and I can understand why. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever seen; of Moroccan decent she spoke fluent English, French and a passable amount of Arabic. She sat next to me and was asking about life in Dubai, when others joined in the conversation speaking French, she chastised them and reminded them I couldn’t understand. Not only was she beautiful she was smart and considerate to boot! During the walk back to Sebastiens I explained my predicament to his nibs, he was of course gutted and very apologetic. We both learned from the evening though, he to make sure when the conversation switched to French to always reply in English, amazingly most Quebecois do this all the time, and for me, to make bloody sure I learn to speak French!

Oh Canada - full up Philippe

After an exhausting flight via Toronto we arrived at Montreal. Sebastien, his nibs bestest and oldest buddy (as in years they’ve been friends not his age) picked us up at the airport. We were staying with him and his other-half Dina at their very cool flat in Old Montreal. It had been almost two years since they’d seen each other and of course the first time they’d met me, so I was a little nervous. I was made to feel very welcome though and fell in love with their new puppies. Once in Montreal, his nibs took me on a walk-about to show off his home town. I can understand why he’d want to, it is a beautiful city, with cobbled streets, great little eateries, small galleries and some lovely buildings. That evening the four of us had dinner at an amazing restaurant; don’t ask me the name as it had none, just a symbol outside and if you didn’t know it was there you’d never find it. The staff were great, and even recognised the non-French speaker without me opening my mouth, this would be a theme during my time in Quebec. I was therefore handed the English menu and here’s were the trouble started….

As I’ve mentioned I’m not easy to feed and this menu had only one thing on it I would eat; steak. Of course I like it well done, I cannot eat pink meat; I’m sorry but I don’t like the texture, so of course I’m not normally popular with chefs, they hate to overcook a good fillet! But hey, I’m the one eating and paying for it so if I want it cremated that’s my prerogative don’t you think? Anyway the food was great, his nibs raved about it (you know how he is with food and I think he’s just a bit biased when it comes to Montreal) and the service was excellent. I had an amusing conversation with the bar tender, he asked if I’d enjoyed my meal and I replied by saying “yes it was lovely I’m full up”. Now remember I’m a Northern bird and he’s Quebecois, so not that used to my Lancashire accent, to him “full up” sounded like the French pronunciation of the name Phillip. “Ow do you know my name?” he asked, “I don’t” I replied, “You just said it” he explained, “No I said full up”. This went on for several minutes before his nibs intervened and explained to the both of us, the whole restaurant staff were by this time in stitches laughing at my accent, then asked me to pronounce words for them to mimic. It certainly broke the ice and hopefully the chef forgave me for ruining his fillet!

Hello Blighty

One thing I’ve learned about French Canadians is they are very proud of their French heritage, and will correct you if you say they’re Canadian. Though I’d visited Canada as a child we’d only gone as far as Toronto and Niagara Falls. His nibs had told me much about his home-town Montreal and how Quebec is very different from its ‘English’ landlord. As he’d not been home for almost 2 years and I was eager to see Montreal and meet his friends and family, we booked a trip to Canada. You cannot fly direct from Dubai, so we flew via the UK, that way we could kill two birds with one stone; spend a few days in Blighty with my folks then head to Montreal.

On August 13 2005 we flew into Manchester. My little sis picked us up at the airport and we stayed with my parents for 4 days. My home town of St Helens is not the most happening of places; historically part of Lancashire, it now belongs to Merseyside, only 12 miles from Liverpool and 27 miles from Manchester; it’s not too far from the bright city lights! It covers an area of roughly 30 sq/km that is mainly soft rolling hills which primarily serve agricultural purposes, famous for its glass manufacturing, which is in serious decline, Beechams Pharmaceuticals, now closed and its rugby team The Saints, thankfully still flying high and very successful. It once had several coal-mines but like most of the UK, they’ve been consigned to the history books, our last pit closed in 1992. With a population of almost 103,000, 98.8% white, 87% Christian it has the unenviable title of ‘most Christian town in Britain’, and one of the lowest ethnic minorities. Not exactly a hotbed of culture eh? However it’s my home and I love it.

Knowsley Road, home of the Saints and Taylor Park where I spent much of time as a child. Both these places are 'in my backyard' so to speak....










Alain had visited Manchester before so I took him for a day to Liverpool. The Albert docks there were transformed during the 1980s into a plethora of museums art galleries and eateries, just up his nibs street. The Merseyside Maritime Museum, Customs and Excise National Museum and the Museum of Liverpool Life combine to give a fascinating look at the history of the region. With interesting displays about the work of Customs and Excise and how to spot a smuggler and a stark look at Liverpool’s involvement with the Transatlantic Slave trade. You can also follow the journey of the thousands of immigrants who left Liverpool for America and Canada. The Beatles museum is a must for any fan, but the entry price for his nibs and I, two non fans, was a bit steep, so we gave it a miss. We did head to the famous Blue Bar for lunch. In the evening it’s a great place to celebrity spot; if you’re into that kinda thing. The Albert docks is a very popular and trendy place for local celebrities to live, and nowhere follows trends and fashion more than Liverpool. We had a great day and on the journey back I pointed out the most important landmark in Liverpool; Goodison Park, home of Everton Football Club. I’m a blue and for several years had a season ticket, his nibs just doesn’t do football, so he was less than impressed at the home of the Toffees!











With fortunate weather for a change we headed over the boarder to Welsh Wales for a day with my mum, niece Megan and nephew Macaulay. Only a 90 minute drive and you’re in the green hills of North West Wales, where I spent many a happy childhood holiday. We headed to the beach at Rhos-on-Sea and after a very typical British sea-side lunch walked along the promenade, the kids and my mum running on the beach! We then went to Llandudno; now the largest seaside resort in Wales, it lies on a flat land between the Welsh mainland and the Great Orme peninsula. Llandudno was specifically built as a mid-Victorian era holiday destination and is very picturesque. As we’d ‘done’ the beach, we headed straight to the top of the Great Orme which is a prominent limestone headland 679 ft high. The views from the top are fantastic and as they have a dry-ski slope and toboggan run its great entertainment for the kids. We purchased our tickets for the toboggan run and as Megan was over 8 years old she had to go down alone, his nibs therefore took Macaulay. Whilst waiting in the hour long queue (not good this as his nibs is not renowned for his patience) it was entertaining to watch Megan’s increasing unease at having to go solo. Macaulay in typical little brother style, told her she was being a ‘wuss’ and he’d go down alone if he was allowed. Though I’m convinced this was all bravado! Mum and I watched them speed down the slope which of course Megan loved, as did Macca and his nibs. Though the kids begged to go again, another hour in the queue was too much for his nibs so we went exploring. We climbed to the very top of the Orme, not a gentle path and the swarms of flying ants made it more uncomfortable, but the views were worth the effort. That done we moved to our final destination, Conwy.











Set by the river Conwy it is one of Europe's finest examples of a medieval walled town. Conwy Castle built by Edward I between 1283 and 1289 is the biggest lure and, together with the castles and walls of Harlech, Caernarfon, and Beaumaris, is a World Heritage Site. The castle is a fascinating place to visit, but unfortunately by the time we arrived it was closing for the day. His nibs was gutted, he’d have enjoyed this far more than the toboggan run. Disappointed, we headed to a local pub for a beer before returning home.

During our short stay we caught up with family and friends at various lunches, dinners, and the of course the local pub. Fintan and Rob came up from Birmingham for the night, as did Helen from London, and we had a great evening in a surprisingly nice restaurant called Le Frog. All too quickly our trip came to an end and very excited (well I was) we headed back to the airport for our flight to Montreal…..

Bye Bye HSBC

Just a quickie…. After 15 years, 1 month and 2 days, August 11 2005, was my last day with HSBC. I’ve never cried when I’ve left a job, and this was no exception. My team bought me some lovely gifts, gave the normal speeches, and ate cake. I was presented with a huge bouquet of flowers from another team I’d worked with and was very touched by the gesture. My boss said nothing which pleased me no end and I left.

The Corporate Wife

July 2005 - As I was soon to become a kept woman, I figured I should learn how to become a corporate wife. The first step was to host a dinner party, one slight tiny snag here though; I just don’t do cooking. Ironically my mum is a cook; me on the other hand could never be considered one. I have no problems cleaning up afterwards, I’m a very accomplished ‘scrubber’, and as his nibs is a very good cook this works well. However, as Alain would soon be the sole bread-winner, I thought I ought to start baking it. I had made his nibs a few meals, I have a vague recollection of a slightly burnt hot-pot, but my speciality; beans on toast, would definitely not make the grade for a corporate wife. I had to start sooner or later and where better to start than on his nibs’ big boss, Stuart?

Stuart was in Dubai for a few days and Alain had for some crazy reason decided to invite him to our house for dinner so he could meet the new missus. Fortunately Stuart is a typical down to earth South African, so I made sure the fridge was well stocked with beer. My thinking was I ply the poor man with Corona and he won’t notice how bad my chicken fajitas were. I cheated a bit by going to Maria Bonita’s (the best Mexican restaurant in town) for the tortillas, but the chicken fajitas I swear I made myself. My plan worked and Stuart thought my dinner was lovely, his nibs was very happy with the evening and loved my cooking. Though he’d have said that even he didn’t, you see he knew that anything other than praise would mean I’d never cook for him again!

Another Dive Fix

It was now mid July 2005 and a couple of months had passed since our trip to Egypt, so his nibs needed another dive fix. Dubai is on the UAE’s west coast and there’s not a lot to see underwater, the east cost has only slightly more to offer so we decided on a weekend in Khasab, Musandam. The Musandam Peninsula is the northernmost part of Oman jutting out into the Strait of Hormuz at the entrance to the Persian Gulf. At its nearest point Musandam is just 55 km from Iran across the strait. The diving there is spectacular and compared to the Red Sea virgin territory, very few divers go there. The best and cheapest way to get there from Dubai is by road or boat, either way it’s a long journey and not one you can do in a day. So we booked 2 nights at the Golden Tulip Hotel in Khasab. Not the best hotel in the world, its Astroturf surrounded pool is an eyesore, but set in the Hajar Mountains it is prime real-estate. Musandam unlike most of the coastline has little or no beach, vertical cliffs literally plunge into the sea and it’s anything but straight. Dramatic twists and turns make for calm fjords that are home to thousands of fish and dolphins and it’s known as the Norway of Arabia. It really is a beautiful place. Oman unlike Dubai will not allow high-rise buildings and all construction must be in keeping with the surroundings, you will not find a replica of the Eiffel Tower being built here! The Sultan has placed a high priority on conservation – and I say good for him!

It was dark by the time we got to Musandam and the hairpin bends around the cliffs were a bit unnerving. His nibs was driving thankfully and though I’d not tell him, he’s a very good driver! We spotted the bright lights if the Golden Tulip hotel straight ahead and thought our journey was almost over – not so! The hotel stands on the edge of the straight literally jutting out into the sea, so as the crow flies it was very close, but the road follows the twisty contours of the coastline so we were still a good 30 minutes away! Finally we arrived, unloaded his nibs dive gear and checked in. This hotel is a far cry from the Chedi or Al Maha, but we were there for the diving and as one of only two hotels in Khasab we had little choice. It does have a small English pub were we headed for a nightcap and game of darts!

After breakfast the next morning we lugged his nibs dive gear to the dive centre. They kitted me out with the relevant equipment and after a 10 minute drive in their bus we arrived at the small fishing harbour. Unfortunately the dive centres normal boat was out of action so they’d hired a local boat in its place. This boat was not designed for dive gear so the tanks were tethered to the flat deck and we sat on top of them. Not very comfortable for the hour or so it would take us to get to the dive site, and no shelter from the hot sun, but it was worth the discomfort.

Getting our kit on at the first dive site Abusir was eventful as the boat was tossed about by the waves and its sides very low, we managed somehow and hit the water. The coral gardens were beautiful and we saw turtles swimming near the surface. This was my first time drift diving, which is when the currents are strong so you are literally blown along under the water. It was a strange sensation as you have little control over where you go, but it does make easy diving. We relied on the experience of our very nice dive guide and the boats captain to determine which way the currents were moving and the safest place for us to enter the water. It was an amazing dive though being the dozy wench I am I scratched my leg on the coral.



An hour later we were at our second dive site Falcon Rock, here the currents were much stronger and at one point I was swimming hard but going nowhere! We were blasted by a rush of very cold water then a rush of very warm water as the currents changed, it was a little scary at times. These currents mean more fish though, so there was lots to see including 3 huge lobsters! By mid afternoon we were back at the hotel for a much needed feed, we were starved after the exercise.

That evening we headed back to the pub for more darts, his nibs had never played before and I’m not very good so we took an age getting the final double! His nibs ever observant heard a familiar accent; Quebecois. It turned out that 3 of the pubs other patrons were fellow French Canadians. Any chance to speak his mother tongue is relished, as you know I only speak English, so we joined them. They also lived in Dubai and had come to Khasab to dive, well the 2 blokes had, the female in the party was a non-diver. This was how we met our dive boat companions for the next day.

By 9 am we were back on our little boat, now very crowded with 4 divers, 1 dive guide, the captain and our gear. The 2 hour journey to our first dive site was bumpy but the views were awesome; stunning cliffs, small islands and even a small pod of dolphins alleviated the boredom. Again the dives were amazing and I was far more comfortable with the currents now knowing what to expect. The trip wasn’t without injuries though, I was bashed by a rogue tank on the boat, it escaped its bindings and hit my ankle causing a small but bloody cut. The elder of our dive companions fell overboard when kitting up due to the waves. He unfortunately fell hard on the very sharp rocks though thankfully surfaced quickly, it was very frightening. Apart from a few nasty grazes he was unharmed and able to complete the dive. After the action we were all quite glad to get back to dry-land and fresh water showers!

It never rains; it pours….

May and June 2005 had been the most difficult months for me whilst in Dubai; work had hit an all time low, I had my little scare with the big C and my uncles’ death. Just 4 days after getting back from the funeral in the UK I was to receive more bad news. You know that I came here for my job, but as yet I’ve said very little about what I do and who I work for. This has been deliberate. There is only one place in my blog where I’ll talk about my job here and this post is it….

The week after my return I was working in Abu Dhabi, my line manager at the time was Jocelyn (she was the 3rd I’d had in 13 months here), she’s Malaysian very beautiful and very smart. I’d met her 12 months earlier when she was the branch manager in Abu Dhabi and liked her immediately. She told me we needed a chat and I had a sixth sense about what was coming. We left the office and went to the bar in the hotel where we were staying. After chatting in general about nothing particular, I asked her what she needed to tell me. In the nicest possible way she told me that I was being sent back to the UK.

My employer was HSBC Bank; I’d joined the then Midland Bank way back in 1990 and had climbed through the ranks to Manager. After working in the UK, India and Malaysia I was approached about a position in Dubai. My role here was to manage a team implementing re-engineering initiatives to improve productivity, customer service etc and streamline procedures. Even though the job I actually ended up doing differed from the one I was sold, it was more project management, my first 6 months were very successful and I received a great end of year report and rating. I was looking forward to developing the team and removing the unbelievable amount of red-tape and unnecessary work that was the norm in the Middle East. Unfortunately my boss had other plans. In my 15 years with HSBC I have met many people; the vast majority have been hard working, honest and effective. Some of my closest friends still work for HSBC, and I have worked with, and for, some truly fantastic managers. Of course there has been the odd one or two who were at best a complete waste of time and at the worst downright nasty. My boss here, a fellow Brit in his late 40s, with 30ish years service, fell into both these categories; I’ll call him Shrek as behind his back, that was how he was known (if you were to see him you’d understand). He had a reputation back in the UK, a not so pleasant reputation, but I choose to form my own opinion and took no heed to the warnings I was given.

Shrek, who wanted me because of my straightforward manner, my honest approach and my reputation for being unafraid to confront difficult issues, didn’t like me being that way with him. The simple fact was, he did not like me, that was no great loss as I detested the man, but it didn’t stop me from doing my job. I loved my team and was for a while at least passionate about what we were trying to achieve. Eventually Shrek wore me down, I could no longer deal with his moods, he had more than Diana Ross a senior manager here once told me, or his inconsistency, he would change his mind mid sentence. You’d start a conversation and he’d send you west, by the end of the same discussion you’d have gone north, east and south. I used to leave these meetings with absolutely no clue as to which direction he wanted me and the team to be moving in.

This not only affected me but the entire team, our motivation was at an all time low and as much as I tried to keep up spirits amongst the troops, it took its toll on my performance and morale. After his complete lack of professionalism, Shreks’ worst trait was his love of the ladies, me excluded of course; he had a gaggle of young staff who swooned over his every word. Now this was not because he was good looking, his nick-name was Shrek remember, this was because these young and easily influenced girls saw power. All I saw a sad, dirty old man who should know better! His favouritism towards his ladies was obvious to everyone and in all his teams’ morale was suffering. Comments like “I’ll never get promoted I’m the wrong sex” were common. Like most alpha males he had a favourite amongst his women, she unfortunately worked in my team; a pretty, slim Pakistani girl around 23 years old. She had an exceptionally high opinion of herself; (I wonder why) this opinion however, was not shared by me and the other managers in our team. Due to Shreks insistence that this girl was talented and should be promoted, or rated higher, conflicts between him and us ensued and he took every opportunity to tell me that regardless of rumours there was nothing other than friendship between him and this girl. He once told me that she’d had a difficult childhood and needed a father-figure and that was all he was to her; a father figure, a mentor and guide.

By July 2005 the time I was advised of my repatriation, my relationship with Shrek was at an all time low and it came as no surprise. In some ways it was a relief; I no longer had to make the decision to leave, it had been taken out of my hands. I was seconded to Dubai, on loan if you like, so being returned to the UK just meant I would go back to my previous job there. Officially I was an unfortunate victim of Emiritisation; the banks here must have a certain percentage of Emirati staff so they were offloading expatriate staff. I was easy to loose as I still had a job in the UK. Of course my personal circumstances made no difference, nor did the 11 months I still had remaining on my contract. He’d made the decision and no matter what the other senior managers said, I was leaving! I had therefore 2 choices; stay with HSBC, return to the UK and leave Alain, or leave HSBC and stay here with Alain. After 2 seconds of thought the decision was made and I prepared to leave my 15 year career with HSBC and to be a kept woman for the first time in my life!

Fast forward to the present, Shrek has now left Dubai and moved to India with his new bride; you guessed it… the young Pakistani girl he swore blind he was a father-figure to, only friends with! He still works for HSBC and was in fact recently promoted, it continues to astound me that he was allowed to get away with all he did here. That said, I don’t regret my decision to leave for a second, and am much happier these days.

Sad moments

Planned visits to Blighty are welcome, anticipated and a reason for great excitement. Unplanned visits mean only one thing; bad news. The dreaded early morning phone call to advise of a family death came at the end of June 2005 when his nibs was in Saudi Arabia, I started the search for a flight home that day. Of course there’s no good time to hear such sad news but trying to get a flight to Blighty at that time of year is almost impossible. The mass exodus of Brits to a more pleasant climate for the school summer holidays starts at that time, flight prices go through the roof and seats are hard to come by. After a long search I found a flight and with a sad heart flew home for 10 days.

The only positive from the visit was the chance to see my family and friends. My parents and sister were especially glad to see me; after my recent operation they’d been a bit concerned, and seeing is believing so they knew I was fine. I had to fly to London, so spent two great days there with Helen. I was able to forget, for a while at least, the reason for my trip and have an unexpected catch up with my best friend. It was just the tonic needed before heading north for the funeral of my uncle. Probably the worst thing about living abroad is that you’re not there when needed; be it a bereavement, a relationship break up, a house move, etc. not living close to my family and friends and therefore unable to offer any practical help or just a hug is difficult for me. I have a very close extended family and we have always pitched in to help whenever required. One of the great things about living abroad is being able to offer loved ones the chance to get away for a few days in a home from home with year round sun, so the pros do out-way the cons.

Goodbye Springs, hello summer…

Having decided that we were made for one another, it seemed only natural that I’d move in with his nibs. When I arrived in Dubai I was placed in staff accommodation, that is my employer provided me with a house, the furniture in it and they paid all the bills; not a bad deal eh? As an independent woman this suited me to the ground, I was happy with my own space and company, however having fallen head over heals I no longer wanted to be alone, I wanted to share my life with his nibs! He’d extended his contract to stay in Dubai a few months earlier and we were now officially engaged. As the anniversary of my arrival in Dubai approached, so did the renewal of the lease on my villa. I asked my company if I could take a housing allowance rather than staff accommodation, this would be cheaper for my employer as they’d have no bills to pay. They agreed and the date was set for me to move in.

June 24th 2005 I moved my stuff from my place in the Springs into his nibs villa in the far more central Umm Sequiem. Though I brought very little from the UK, I was amazed at how much stuff I’d managed to amass in the 12 months I’d been in Dubai. Fortunately my new home was huge, so space was not an issue, though the sitting tenant was. Just before his nibs and I met, he took in a tenant; Tolga a Brit of Turkish descent, is a larger life character and great fun. Of course he was a bit gutted to be leaving this amazing villa, but was great about it, and genuinely delighted for Alain and I. He agreed to move out at the end of July, after his holiday, so whilst I’d officially moved in it didn’t quite feel like home yet. It was nice having Tolga around though, in typical fashion as soon as I move in, his nibs buggers off on a whistle stop tour of the Middle East, his timing is impeccable!

Scary Moments

Now many of you reading this may think the subject matter is inappropriate, but this blog is about my time living in Dubai, the good and the bad. So I’m publishing it! In February of 2005 I went for my regular smear test, and as had occurred every time before I expected a normal result; unfortunately that was not the case. When my gynaecologist called me and started talking in letters, C I N H P V, the only thing I understood was there’s a problem and I immediately thought the worst; oh shit I’ve got cancer!!!! She was smart enough to know that these things are best discussed face to face and told me come in and see her. This could not have come at worse time as my folks were here. Like most mums mine has a tendency to worry about her kids, it matters not that I’m 30 odd, had a successful career, owned my home etc. I’m still her first born baby! Because I live so far away it makes any health issue worse, so I was keen to keep this from her. No chance; the woman has psychic powers when it comes to these kind of things! Anyway after they’d left I visited the doc.

There she explained that I was CIN3, that’s the worst level, that I DID NOT have cancer but had pre-cancerous cells, and if left unchecked could (not definitely would) cause cervical cancer. She also explained that I had HPV and whilst she tried to explain all these things in detail I was dumbstruck, asked no questions and didn’t really take anything in. The treatment would be laser therapy and I needed to get my kit off and lie on the bed; she was doing it here and then! I nearly fell of my chair; having grown up in the UK with our NHS, I expected to be referred and wait a month (if I was lucky) for treatment. Not so in the world of private healthcare. I was also concerned that I’d gone to see her alone; I didn’t have anyone with me to hold my hand or drive me home. “It’s not that painful” she said “you’ll be fine, just lie down when you get home and take lots of Brufen”. So she lasered my cervix on the spot, so to speak! It bloody well did hurt, though not what I expected; it caused cramp like pains not the burning sensation I thought. Treatment done, appointment made for a months time, and on shaky legs I went home. His nibs was a star, came over to mine with flowers and lots of TLC.

Only after the treatment did I start to question what I’d had done, what was wrong and what the hell was HPV. Thank goodness for those clever bunnies who invented the internet. I spent hours pouring over various websites to learn more. The most informative site I found was http://www.cancerbackup.org/ they were a mine of information. I learnt that HPV is a group of more than 70 viruses, and some are classed as high risk, when it comes to cervical cancer anyway. Wouldn’t you just know it, I had the high risk HPV 18. Anyway, a month later I go back for a check up; “all looks well” doc says and I arrange another smear for 3 months.

As ordered I go back, have my smear and wait for the all clear. Again I was to be disappointed. I was still at CIN3 and more worrying the HPV had not gone; there is no cure for HPV your own immune system is the only thing that can fight it. Mine obviously was not, so more drastic treatment was required. All this I kept from my parents, I admit to telling the little white lie that my test was clear, for all the right reasons though. Mum would have freaked had she known I was going to hospital for a cone biopsy, a large loop excision of the transformation zone (LLETZ) and dilation and curettage (D&C). I would need to spend the day in hospital as all this would be carried out under a general anaesthetic. The date was set for June 19th, fathers’ day in Blighty.

On the day his nibs takes me to the American hospital, where I was placed in a very plush private room and given a pill to relax me. The nursing staff were so nice; to Alain as well as me, as he was waiting at the hospital the nurse said “just dial for room service if want something to eat”, none for me though I was about to have a general anaesthetic! It was more like a hotel than a hospital. Off I go to the OR and wake a couple of hours later back in my bed feeling very sleepy. Once the pain kicked in I was allowed drugs and once I could stand and…. ahem, go to the loo, was allowed home. Again his nibs was my knight in shining armour and looked after me at home for a couple of days. Only after the surgery was completed did I call Blighty to wish dad happy fathers day and spill the beans; they were not impressed! The whole episode was without being too dramatic very scary, and if one person who reads this makes sure their or their wives, lovers, sisters, smear test is up to date it’s worth posting! Oh yeah…my last smear was clear, thank you for asking.