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The girls, soon?!

Dubai is full of bright young things, throwing themselves around the city, getting jobs and positions they'd never get back home, and falling down drunk at Friday brunches.  Sometimes it seems like everyone in the city is in their twenties, displaying the vigour and lack of sense that you'd expect from ones so young.

Working as I do in a (sometimes) creative industry, I'm surrounded by whippersnappers like this, and luckily, they are, in the main, great fun and lovely people.  Last week it was the birthday of one of our newest interns, a lovely young man.  He was 22.

After I stopped gnashing my teeth at having to work with one so young, I tried to remember how I celebrated by 22nd birthday....I remember my 21st, in a very dodgy club in Sheffield which I took over with a variety of uni mates.  This being the 90's I had a boyfriend with decks who aspired to be an international superstar dj, so that was the music sorted.

I can remember my other significant birthday - 30 - as I jetted off to Marbella with the girls, as we did every year for a very long time.  We spent an entire week lounging on king sized beds at Nikki Beach and drinking champagne.

Hello 22 and I was living in Manchester, making my first forays into PR.  I honestly can't remember what I did.  Quite possibly hiked back over the Pennines to Sheffield.  Despite yearning for those hedonistic days when all we cared about was Fridays, podiums and corsets, I also remember living in a teeny tiny bedsit, being constantly overdrawn, and suffering from daily career and relationship angst.  Whilst I'd gladly embrace my 22 year old weight, the rest can stay firmly in the past.....and for those who don't know when my birthday is (shame on you!) you have plenty of time to start planning fabulous gifts and treats before June...

Hi Honey, I'm Home!

I'm back! Did you miss me?! Had an absolute blast back in the UK, but I have to say, I'm extremely happy to be home. I left with mixed feelings, which I'm sure most ex-pats will be familiar with: happiness to be heading home, guilt to be leaving friends and family behind. (Multiply that guilt by 3 when it comes to family what with me being the only child.) I got a bit emotional on the plane (perhaps partly due to watching Mary Poppins - I really don't remember it being that sad!) and had a boo hoo as we came in to land in Dubai. The nice young man in the seat next to me passed me a tissue without making any comment, bless him. Maybe women crying on planes are a common occurrence these days?
It was oh so easy to slip back into the old routines: dinner and cocktails at Harvey Nicks, tea round at Jayne's, and endless lunches, dinners and booze sessions with my favourite people, in my old favourite haunts. Not to mention the hours of shopping: UK economy, don't say I never do anything for you! Thankfully Emirates upped their weight limit to 30 kgs last year otherwise I would have been in real trouble. Who knew that 10 pairs of shoes, 16 dresses, 17 underwear sets, and many other miscellaneous clothing items and cosmetics would weigh so much!

Some topline observations:

Customer Service
I’d forgotten how truly terrible this is in Dubai until I was back in Manchester. Just an hour after landing I headed to House of Fraser for a strapless bra (as you do). The details of what happened in the changing room are worthy of another blog entry – suffice to say I’ve gone up THREE CUP SIZES since moving to Dubai. Put on half a stone and watch it go to my boobs! Things could be worse…anyway. My point was, after measuring me, the lovely sales girl told me to stay where I was, and then proceeded to bring me every single strapless bra they had in the shop (and they had a lot.) Merciless sales technique – maybe but she really wasn’t pushy at all. It was simply about making me, the customer, have as easy and pleasant an experience as possible. Dubai retailers: take note.

Driving
Since the January crash, I’ve never really been the same when travelling by car. I was actually reaching a point where I wondered if I had some deep-seated psychological problem (no laughing). Not so – as I discovered when travelling frequently by car in the UK. What, no-one drives at break-neck speeds? Or undertakes you? Or cuts you up? Or uses their mobile phone whilst driving? I was completely relaxed the entire time, which reassured me that it’s not me, it’s Dubai.

Weather
I know, I know, it’s the most boring topic in t he world and such a stereotype for me to even mention it. BUT. I hadn’t forgotten how much I hate rain and grey skies, but I had forgotten how day after day of gloomy weather makes me feel, well, gloomy. Down in the dumps. In a general slump. I’m so very happy to be back in perpetual sunshine, even if that does mean searing heat and suffocating humidity for many months of the year.

Cost of Living
I understand that I live in one of the world’s most expensive cities, which means that bargains are even more exciting than they used to be. It’s not often that you find one in a place where glasses of wine can cost you 10 quid…so you can imagine my excitement, nay hysteria, when being back in a place where you can buy a bottle of wine for that price. And don’t even get me started on 15 quid work dresses from Primarni. Suffice to say, I went wild in the aisles…of pretty much every shop you can think of.

There’s so much more I could say about the trip home, but exhaustion is over-taking me. Even the 10 am Ramadan start could not assuage the tiredness I felt after getting to bed at 2.30 am this morning. More to follow when my brain is back in gear!

Cats and Dogs

"Rain showers.  Scattered showers.  Heavy rain.  Fog."  Yep, that's about the M.O for a trip to Manchester.  It rained during the entire week that I was there last July too, so I don't know why I'd hoped there might be a bit of the alleged 'fabulous summer' left over when I arrived. 

Anyway, the weather won't stop one bit of planned activity - to be fair, much of it centres around licensed premises, my favourite retail outlets (has the Harvey Nicks sale started yet, people?!) and one Big Gay Wedding.  To say I'm in a frenzy of excitement is an understatement.  If I'm in control of my faculties enough I'll try to blog at some point.  Otherwise I'll see you later this month, desert family.....

Make. It. Stop.

I'm drowning...the best way I can describe it is 'the washing-machine feeling'. Pulled in too many directions, too much to do, not enough time, unreasonable deadlines, demands...flying to Qatar at 6 a.m to pitch...more pitches...the list goes on. My indefatigable good spirits will not be quashed..but this is just to say: don’t expect too much blogging this week.  If I get the chance I will share some of the weekends hilarious escapades and tales, I promise.


All I will say is: people of Manchester: 16 days until I’m home. 16 days…16 days….I may crawl off the plane on my hands and knees, but at least I’ll be home. Please be prepared to scoop me up off the (probably rain soaked) runway!

There's No Place Like....

I’m homesick. Which isn’t something that you hear me say very often.  You might have gathered that I love living in Dubai and throw myself into life here with all the enthusiasm that you’d expect from, well, me. But now, like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, I have an overwhelming and uncontrollable urge to get myself home. There’s been a few factors that have contributed….V left Dubai for Manchester, S arrived back in Manchester after travelling, my mum hasn’t been very well, neither has M’s brother..oh and a certain someone is pregnant. Which is all conspiring to make me feel like I need to be home. Pronto.

Thankfully my e-ticket for my next trip home just hit my in-box, so the countdown has begun. The usual ridiculous itinerary is being crafted (what do you mean, am, pm and evening slots, for each day, are too controlling?!) and I have a little bit more time than usual to catch up with everyone. In a move very untypical of me, I’ve lost my UK SIM card – but obviously don’t leave it until I touch down to get in touch. People, you know what to do…..

Home Sweet Home?

Manchester: you can’t beat it. I always marvel when I return (which isn’t nearly as often as I’d like) at how much everything still feels so familiar, and as if I’ve never left. It’s a city with a palpable heartbeat and swagger, and I’m always so happy to be home. Even if it’s only for 48 hours.

And talking of things that are the same…..our favourite waiter at the Lowry still works there – and greeted me with a huge hug and a kiss. Gorgeous. The same girls still work in Superdrug and some of the bars…..bizarre but strangely comforting.

The people have a sense of humour and personality: case in point. I walked into HSBC and the girl in front of me drooped her purse, and money everywhere. As I stopped to help her, she thanked me, adding, in a very broad Northern accent: “I don’t know what happened, me purse has gone BONKERS!” This really tickled me. Anyway. Thanks to Manchester’s most eligible bachelor for putting me up, and to the gorgeous girls and boys who made sure that our usual bases were covered off: champagne, cocktails and catch ups. Love you all.

An unexpected bonus: I managed to pick up a couple of bikinis (not to mention piles and piles of work clothes and cosmetics – par for the course really.) I cannot wait to give them an airing next weekend on a Dubai beach. Manchester: I love you. But you can keep your weather!

Broadening the Mind

I love travel. Who doesn't? It was one of my major reasons for wanting to move to Dubai, so that I could see more of 'this side' of the world. And I've managed to get to a fair few places - not nearly as many as I'd like due to the Nazi approach to attempting to take any holiday at all by my employer, but that's another story.

I've also done a lot of travelling for work, and I'm in the throes of one such trip now. A client conference in Amsterdam..which prompted a lot of excitement in the office. I did point out that when you're British a) Amsterdam is a cheap/close/ hedonistic weekend and as such, I've been there, done that numerous times and b) I'm working. So hedonism isn't high on the agenda...

Anyway, the one thing that I've decided that I don't like about travelling is being alone. When you're delayed. Normally I like nothing more than my own company, and revel in the fact that for a few hours I'm uncontactable by work and can lose myself in a good book or three. But this weekend saw me delayed at Dubai airport until 4.30am. yes, 4.30 am. Not a treat. When you're on your own you really have to watch how much you drink (too much and you're in danger of missing your flight) and you have no-one to go and check on flight schedules etc whilst you're nursing aforesaid drink. It's a bind.

Added to that I had no one to gossip with on the plane about the hideous flight attendants on KLM - rottweilers in uniforms would have been more friendly...

Anyway, that said I'm thrilled to be here (not happy about the cold) as it means I'm getting to tag a couple of days in the UK onto the end of my trip. That's right: Manchester, I'm coming home...