OK everyone, I owe all and sundry big apologies because it’s been nearly a month since I blogged. And my last post was a bit brief, the one before that my usual moany return to form.
So, while I am at my desk at work and have absolutely shedloads to be doing (it’s Thursday afternoon as well – the clock’s a’ tickin’ till the weekend baby!), I’m determined to post an update on what’s been going on – because the work that needs to be done will still need to be done and it always will – that’s the nature of work innit?
Anyway, as you can see, I am STILL at work and it’s partly because of the extremely unsettling and uncertain time I’ve endured here recently that I’ve been keeping schtum – as it turns out my job is safe. For now. That’s all anyone can say at the moment isn’t it?
Anyway, big news. I’ve given up smoking! Yes, that’s right – don’t faint from surprise or snort knowingly to yourself, “ahh she’ll be back, I know it, that girl loves a snout!”. Yes, me and fags are over. O V A H. (I mean of course the fags you smoke not the fags who are fabulous).
It’s been unsurprisingly difficult, and I won’t talk you through the usual soulbashing I went through to do it, but as you would imagine, withdrawal has been quite hellish. It seems that I have quite a few unresolved rage issues (who’d have thunk it?!) and I have been variously filled with almost uncontrollable venom, spite, bile and plain old teeth gnashing frustration over the smallest of irritations, issues and mishaps. I know you love a list (well I do, anyway), so here it comes. It’s a special list of some Dubai-specific things that have made me mad, cross and angry in the 13 days I have been smoke-free:
- Road rage. An oldie but a goodie. It seems that pretty much anyone in Dubai who owns a car and drives got their license from a special offer on the back of a Weeties packet (Weetabix to the Brits) . I was involved in an incident only a week ago involving a blonde in a Jeep who had man hands. Yes, you read that right. Man hands – I noticed them because the silly bint was effectively curb crawling in front and to the right of my vehicle at about minus 5 kmh. I leaned on my horn for about a minute but it appears that she was not only unable to drive, she also had issues with her hearing. This forced me to miss the traffic lights, bringing me to my next point -
- Traffic lights. A specific set of traffic lights (well, there’s a set of THREE in a row) on the relatively short Burj Boulevard near my house. I absolutely have to use this road on my way home from work to get to the apartment. There is no alternative. The RTA (who I have mentioned before) have inexplicably decided that there will be such a vast amount of cars coming in and out of the Dubai Mall at all times of the day (even 3 o’ clock in the morning when it’s closed) that each light cycle should take five minutes. Doesn’t seem like a long time does it? But it’s aeons for traffic lights, trust me. In addition, for this set of three lights on this road that is less than half a mile long, all of the lights are coordinated so if you miss one, you miss all three. Hence, it can take up to 15 minutes to go 500 yards. I could definitely get there faster walking on my hands and knees across broken glass
- Last minute changes to Bank Holidays. Yep, in DXB, someone can just suddenly decide that what would normally be a public holiday (in this case, the Prophet Mohammad’s birthday – Peace Be Upon Him). For as long as anyone can remember, this auspicious day has fallen on the 9th March. Not this year folks, apparently, it’s now going to be on Saturday the 7th March. A weekend! Thanks Ministry of Labour – that’s very generous of you!
- The lack of pavements for pedestrians. It’s no wonder people are obese, there’s nowhere to walk outside without risking your life. All the skinny people have been mown down by bad drivers. Getting out of the car in the morning and walking 20 metres my place of work brings a whole new and exciting dimension to my morning commute
- The lifts in my building. Why oh why, in a bank of three lifts, two of which are chillin’ their boots on the ground floor, do I have to wait for the third lift to descend from the penthouse on the 37th floor to come and get me from the basement – just two floors below the ground floor? Anyone know a lift engineer that can explain this to me?
Now, I think we all know these things would irritate me anyway, ciggies or not, but I have nearly burst blood vessels in my forehead this last fortnight over many petty irritations such as these. I guess it’s better than bursting arteries and having a heart attack though, right?
Send me good vibes to be strong, people – this sure is difficult.
Update: Sunday 8th March. Had a bit of a mishap at the weekend – I smoked two cigarettes at a very boozy brunch. I know – shame on me – weak person! They did taste horrible though, and I haven’t had any since then, does that count?