Christmas in the Desert

It's never to early to think about Christmas when you're an ex-pat, as it inevitably involves a discussion about where you're going to be.  Thankfully this discussion has always been very short since I moved to Dubai: I want to be in the sunshine, thanks very much!  The first year I was here I did nip back to Manchester in the December, which was all very lovely: fur hat, fur boots, fur stole....oh and the mulled wine at the German markets.  But apart from the fashion and the festive beverages, I really don't find much to commend about the UK in wintertime - wanting to escape the sleet, snow, hail, and freezing fog is one of the prime reasons that I left in the first place.

Thankfully my gorgeous mini-family are just as in love with Dubai as I am, and whilst I know my dad would love a cheeky pint in a down and dirty Manchester pub over Christmas, he manages to somehow kick back with the bottled designer beers and numerous stylish bars in my home city.  So today I gleefully booked their flights; no mean feat considering the Jersey - London combo and timings.  Without wishing to bore you, there are no flights from Jersey to Heathrow, only Jersey to Gatwick, meaning that I was faced with a choice of schlepping them across London in a taxi to Heathrow, or biting the bullet and paying for the pricier tickets.  Without quoting figures - the flights are daylight robbery.  In the end I decided that they have enough of an incredible journey ahead of them, which they wouldn't have to endure if I hadn't decided to move out here, so I took the pricier path of least resistance.  They're worth it. 

The inevitable itinerary is being worked on as we speak....the authorities are on full alert...I've booked my place at the Betty Ford clinic for the day that they leave....can't wait.