Skip to main content

Dubai doubts

I've had a while to think about going to Dubai - well, a month - and I'm not entirely sure what I feel about it. Half of me is excited about the potential opportunity and all the benefits (see below) while the other half feels like a wallflower at a school dance, decidedly out of my depth and worried about fitting in.

Here's the good stuff:
  • Daily sunshine and swimming
  • A live-in maid (Alpha's trump card when I initially baulked at the idea)
  • School fees paid for by Alpha's new employer (something we could never afford to pay for on our own)
  • The chance to learn a new language
  • The chance to meet lots of new people (hopefully nice ones)
  • The opportunity to take my career in a new direction (I'll be setting up a branch of my PR company over there - if all goes to plan)
  • Lots of new material for the blog!!

And the iffy stuff:

  • The heat and humidity during the summer months is unbearable
  • Dubai is a bit of a weird place, imagine Disneyland mixed with Milton Keynes...
  • What if we don't meet anyone nice? What if other Dubai ex-pats yada yada all the time about how much money they have and the gold trim they've had custom-fitted in the loos of their latest mega-yatch? Arggh.
  • You have to get a special permit to drink alcohol at home (eek)
  • The kids will probably end up with funny accents and start behaving like spoilt brats
  • What will I do without my monthly blitz at TK Maxx??
  • What if nobody comes out to visit us? (gloom)

Hmmmm.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Wow lady, I wish I had your problems...

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...)Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

Recommended & the Mahiki dance-off

My GFs and I went to Mahiki last night, great fun as usual but made me feel a bit old; it seems that Thursday night is the playground of the just-past-pubescent. Oh well. Good tunes though, so whatever.In between taking over the dancefloor - the youngsters may have youth on their side but frankly that shrinks to insignificance in the face of two decades of clubbing experience - one of my GFs and I got into a conversation about why so many people are full of bull.It appears that many people we come across are content to live their lives in a superficial way, skimming the surface of what life has to offer and equating the ownership of stuff (cars, houses, boats, jewelry, designer clothes) with happiness. They converse in terms of status, strut their possessions as a measure of their own self-worth, take themselves far too seriously, are quick to judge others, easily annoyed, complain a lot about very little and their worries seem to far outweigh their joys. Personally, I think all that…

Champix

Following on from the realisation that my lungs are filthy and if I don't give up the smokes soon I face a life of wheezing at best, off I trotted to see the charming Dr T.

Dr T, who's charming by virtue of the fact that he's less jaded than the other doctors in the surgery (in other words, he treats patients as if they're human beings with a right to NHS services rather than annoying fraudsters trying to gain sympathy for imaginary illnesses) promptly put me on potentially habit-forming drugs to get me off the evil weed. Something doesn't feel quite right about this but since I'm so pathetically grateful to have a doctor who's willing to give me more than two seconds of his precious time, I have acquiesced to his demands.

Anyway, this wonder drug is called Champix and promises to have me merrily chucking my smokes in the bin in no time. Or it will if I can get past the possible side effects, the highlights being abnormal dreams, nausea, flatulence, snoring, …