Chronicles of a Trailing Spouse...

Deep in old Dubai, across from Za'abeel park and far from the shining spires and glistening domes of Jumeirah, lies the crumbling and malodorous district of Karama. But don't be put off by the smells and the broken pavements, because deep in the heart of this district lies an Aladdin's cave of decadence and desire; a cornucopia of treasures.  In short, a one-stop area of knock-off shops selling -- specifically -- replica designer handbags.  I love handbags. And designer bags are even more loveable... I'm not acquainted with the copyright laws here in the UAE, but I'm pretty sure there aren't any.  I know this because the Fairy liquid I bought recently only lasted a week.  And the Ben 10 figures purchased the other day -- so beloved by my three boys -- cost ten times more in Ireland.  ' Ireland is a rip-off, look how cheap these are here ' I told DH, until they fell apart and the paint peeled off. However, when it comes to creating perfectly rep...

Two years ago I had no friends. Today I have 87. It’s true, just go and look on my Facebook page if you don't believe me. Well, when I say 'no' friends, it’s not strictly true, DH is obviously my friend (in a sort of manacled together fashion), but that doesn’t count anyway. I have a couple of friends from school with whom I keep in touch. By ‘in touch’ I mean the odd email and the occasional drink at Christmas. Mind you, it’s only in recent years that we really had anything in common (well, not since we all had a crush on McGyver and thought Morrissey was deep). Through our late twenties and early thirties, as they surged ahead in their chosen fields, I spent my time watching CBeebies and cleaning bottoms. ‘ My life is meaningless ’ I would wail down the phone, in one of my late night drunken monologues. ‘ I’m rubbish at housework, I want to go to parties and I’m pretty sure that Jake from the Tweenies is gay’. We’re now back on an equal footing as they have si...

I must briefly return to the matter of customer service as it’s a topic so rich in material I could probably revisit it on a weekly basis. The other day I went into a well known shoe shop with 7 year old boy to buy him a pair of school shoes. On finding the desired shoe, I held it up to the eager shop assistant who asked me what size his foot was. -‘Actually, could you measure him please, I’m not sure what size he is’ -‘what age is he ma’am?’ he asked -‘ well, he’s almost 7 ….. but what has that got to do with it?’ The man was already studying a chart pulled from behind the desk. -‘ Can you just measure him please’ I urged him. -‘ Ma’am, this is his size’ he told me, pointing to a number on the chart. -‘ Err, how can you tell from that ?’ I shot back ‘ He might be big or small for his age…please measure him’. Ignoring me, he disappeared into the back and emerged a minute later with a shoe. Simultaneously irritated and resigned, I hoped desperately that he wasn’t rig...

I need a hobby. Having moved just over a month ago, I've still not figured out what is going to engage and amuse me here yet. Obviously 4 children do a pretty good job of that, but I’ve always been a keen advocate of ‘ me time ’ and besides, I like to counteract my unhealthy lifestyle with a couple of hours self-improvement each week. Before arriving in the UAE, when the plan was to live in Abu Dhabi (pah! in a bedsit maybe), I had done all my research and had identified many classes and courses to interest me. Unfortunately, all this research went to waste when we ended up in Al Ain where I realised there was very little on offer other than trawling the mall or going to the gym. I pride myself on never having been to the gym. The idea of exercise being an end in itself horrifies me. I'd rather do something pleasant that may hopefully result in my becoming toned, slimmer with an adrenalin buzz. The thought of pounding away on a machine with no objective other than gett...

Almost 3 year old is finally flirting with the idea of using a toilet. He first showed an interest a year ago but is now starting to get serious and moving the relationship on to the next stage. First thing in the morning he comes downstairs, removes his nappy with a flourish, and takes himself off to the toilet to have a pee. Unlike his brothers, who at his age happily sat on the toilet to have a pee, he insists on standing ‘like daddy’, which is tricky given his short stature and means he needs to slightly elevate himself onto his tiptoes. On completion of this morning ritual, we dutifully applaud and hug him and he happily basks in the praise. So far so good. The problem is, roughly three hours later, he'll wander off into a corner, again remove nappy and take a dump on the floor. If I'm not in the room, he will go and fetch toilet roll and anti bacterial spray and go to work on the mess. Usually, by the time I realise what's happening, he looks like he's...

I need a cleaner. What had been the selling point of my new house has now become the bane of my life. Prior to moving in I had been heard airily proclaiming - ‘ oh, it’s lovely, all open-plan downstairs, lovely and bright! And since it’s smaller it will be sooo much easier to keep clean’ . WRONG! It’s a bloody nightmare because whereas in my last place there were a labyrinth of rooms to chuck things into, in this place there is nowhere to hide. The lovely open spaces are filled with piles of washing, school bags and paperwork. Open-plan is the kiss of death unless you have enough storage to match the size of the room or you are uber organised. Having a cleaner has a good effect on me, it keeps me on the straight and narrow. In my previous house I had one and on the days that she visited I would spend the morning tidying up, cleaning toilets, generally making her job a little less difficult. And mysteriously, what might take me days to get through she would have finished i...

I was born a month prematurely, and that was the last time I was early for anything. Even then, it was an elective cesarean so I wasn't even responsible for this uncommon punctuality. I am terminally late for everything: when it comes to time-keeping, I enter the realm of ‘magical thinking’ where an appointment for 12.30pm, 15 minutes drive away, means I leave the house at 12.25pm. This sounds like straightforward bad manners but it's more complicated than that and is rather a combination of a misplaced optimism, a tendency to blur uncomfortable facts, as well as a need to be in crisis mode at all times (I have the same philosophy with money). The result is that I’m permanently late, harassed and apologetic. I have cunningly set all my clocks 5 minutes fast which is a pointless exercise since I merely make a mental adjustment whenever I look at them. This tardiness is a common trait in my family where no holiday was complete without missing either a ferry or a plane. So...

I walked into a little shop today to buy water, and there was a man stretched out asleep on the freezer. I stopped in my tracks, uncertain as to whether I should advance into such a private moment, but the shopkeeper seemed totally at ease with the arrangement so I continued with my purchase while the man snoozed away. It got me thinking how odd some things are here, to my Western perspective. So many things leave me baffled at times. Like for example the way local people who need a pint of milk just drive up to the shop and blow their horn until someone comes out and serves them. Yesterday, I pulled up to a little grocery shop at the same time as a young local man. He started honking his horn while I got out of the car and went into the shop. When I emerged with my purchases a couple of minutes later he was still honking away impatiently. There is a culture of entitlement here in the UAE which leaves me both perplexed and cold at times.  A benevolent government, keen to ...

So we're moving....again. This time to the northern Emirate of Ras al Khaimah where we will inhabit a townhouse half the size of our villa for precisely half the rent. Since we arrived in the UAE we've been on a mission to cheat the outrageous rental costs here and in this latest move, we seem to have done that, albeit with the massive cost of DH commuting a couple of days a week to AD. Moving isn't a new phenomenon to us, we've moved so many times I've lost count. I have a suspicion there is some itinerant blood running through my veins as after a year in any house ennui sets in and I find myself dreaming of a different house, different town, new curtains and just plain wanting to start 'afresh'. In addition, it's an effective, albeit drastic way to spring clean and throw out all the crap, (as students we used to hold a dinner party every now and then for the same reason). This probably stems from a childhood which saw at least 8 moves (for me, for...

It's Ramadan, and that means platters of cakes and biscuits mysteriously appearing on our door step from kindly neighbours. Occasionally we'll throw open the front door to reveal a fast retreating maid or nanny scurrying down the drive but in general we don't know who leaves these gifts which makes thanking them or indeed returning the plate impossible. I'd like to return the favour and have been told that the appropriate response would be a traditional dish or gift from our own country. However, I'm not sure a bottle of Jameson or Baileys will be understood or gratefully accepted in the spirit (pardon the pun) it was given. Pity, they don't know what they're missing. Then I thought (in a rare burst of Nigella esque enthusiasm), perhaps I could rustle up something my mother used to make. However, this too is problematic, not least because a) my mothers' idea of rustling up something was baking scones which could double as missiles and b) my interpre...

I have a favourite dress, I bought it in an Italian store in Al Whada mall in Abu Dhabi. I visited this dress every week until it went into the sale whereupon I pounced on it and purchased it immediately. It's silk, empire line and very flattering. I don't know if it's just being in my thirties, but I find clothes shopping more and more difficult as I get older. In my twenties a trip to Grafton street meant agonising over every single shop where invariably I wanted EVERYTHING!! These days I wander into the high street stores and feel like there's a big secret that nobody's let me in on. I can't relate to fashion any more. It's all smock tops and ugly frocks. It seems to me that most of what is in the shops went out of the shops twenty years ago. Why anyone would want to revisit the fashion of the 80's is beyond me. Indeed, finding an outfit for my recent  80's themed party was easier than finding something nice to wear for a normal night out. I...

So it's Ramadan, I get it, wonderful. However, I fail to understand what that has to do with my morning take-out cappuccino from Coffee planet in my local ADNOC petrol station. I knew what was coming before the poor guy broke the news to me -- I could sense the bad news which hung in the air as he and his colleague shuffled around me silently debating who would deliver the crushing words  'sorry maam, but the machine is not working, it is Ramadan' as I jostled with the stacked cups and the 'cappuccino' button. Now, I realise that at this special time in the Islamic calendar Muslims all over the world are fasting, praying and generally being at one with God, but I'm afraid that at 8am this was irrelevant to me as I spluttered 'we're not ALL Muslim you know !!'. The poor guy was very apologetic but what could he say? I realise this doesn't signal armageddon, or even rain, but I do LIKE my morning take-out cappuccino on the way to work. I...

Ramadan started yesterday at sunset. I know this because we wanted to have a drink outside by the pool at the Hilton and the barman wouldn't let us. The kids were allowed to bring their Sprites outside, but not my glass of wine. I offered to disguise it but to no avail, the barman firmly told me, 'no madam, it is Ramadan'. There's a special moon sighting committee who decide when Ramadan starts, I'd love to hear that conversation - - 'yup, that's it there, that's the moon alright' -'where?' -'there, look, THERE!' -'oh yeah, I see it now' -'well, no drinks outside for a month' -'quick, go and tell everyone' I know, I know, I'm being flippant, but my flippancy is not reserved for just Islam; all organised religion leaves me feeling a bit baffled. Of course, I like the customs and rituals which accompany religion, and so I consider it a cultural rather than a spiritual thing in my life, and...

Welcome to the first post of this blog. I didn't even know hat a blog was until last week, but now that I do, I've decided that if people can blog about their cat, then I shall blog about my time in the Middle East, and whatever else I can think of. I hope it will prove interesting to you, dear reader, and I hope I learn something from it too. Keep reading!