I'm just a cosmic girl

Whilst embarking on yet more dusting in my kitchen I reach up on tiptoes to the top shelf and as I move I hear a slight yet very distinct SNAP! Instantly I know that it is the beautiful purple orchid which I have waited with baited breath to behold. I could cry with desperation and am reminded of the fragile world we live in.  The troubles in Syria, in particular come to mind.

I have treated myself to a lovely handmade ring with a moonstone gem, sourced in Sri Lanka. The gem is set in a chunky silver base and looks see through until it catches the sun when it illuminates moonlike. I discovered that this gem is a symbol of fertility which unnerves me somewhat as I was contemplating having my Mirena removed. Three years to the day of insertion I recently blew up even more in the belly department, as though I was about to self combust, belly button first. I realise now this whole belly issue is partly due to my contraceptive device and no amount of Shape Your Abs, Boot Camp classes at the gym, swimming and regular sit ups plus a healthy diet will do much good. Unless of course, this alien hormonal device is plucked out with special tweezers like the Bread Basket piece in the child's game Operation.
Would this make the buzzer go off and red light come on? Certainly! Would the consequences of removal bring another mini Hoyle into this world? Possibly. You know we had to leave Formby solely because we didn't want Eleanor to develop a scouse accent.

I consulted the stars and to my delight saw the planets Jupiter, Venus and Mars with my naked eye. Awesome. I think common sense tells me to take my moonstone ring off in future when I'm feeling romantic.

Speaking of once a month events we are involved in a sing- a -long session (Scaremongers beware: http://www.thescaremongers.com/) at the Water Sports Club. Nigel with his guitar and folder of songs, me nervously waiting in the wings for my one hit wonders. It's an open mic session and suits us down to the ground. The acoustics in the designated room happen to be fantasic which helps a lot. The audience of ten or so new friends and colleagues appear to enjoy themselves and politely clap as and when appropriate. I'm learning Martha's Harbour by All About Eve for the next "show off" session.

I will sign off for now with some cosmic lyrics, name these tunes/artists if you can.

"look at the stars, look how they shine for you"
"sends me into hyper space when I see her pretty face"
"underneath the stars I'll meet you, underneath the stars I'll greet you"

Bloggers block

Does bloggers block exist? Probably. Or is it that I have again been too busy to blog. To blog or not to blog, that is the question?
I am eagerly anticipating two buds blossoming on one of my second hand plants. This is an amazing confirmation of life here in the desert. I'm not too green fingered and managed to administer euthanasia to a 70 year old Bonsai tree I once won at a school fair in Formby. So this remarkable act of growth is very exciting when I hardly water the thing and it has limited sunlight through the darkened glass of our flat windows. I am also chuffed at being able to bake again with success. I am putting it down to a new Bosch fan oven, sourcing some self-raising flour (all-purpose and chapatti don't work for me) and  using my second hand bake ware.  I imagine this has been used many times to lovingly bake endless cakes and muffins for family and friends which instills me with confidence and hope.
Our half term this February was not as adventurous as last October. We have spent six months here now so some mundane jobs have to be done. Such as dusting more layers of sand off every surface blown in through the air-conditioning after continuing high winds and sandstorms.

 A low point of half term was queueing for three hours in a car graveyard to have our new number plates put on the fire engine. It took us ten minutes to find the end of the snake like queue with tensions already  mounting. Nigel left me in the drivers seat and went to join the human queue. An hour later he returned with the new plates, I had progressed 100 metres or so along the scrapyard. I had been amused to notice many cars and vans ahead of me over taking a Toyota truck. The driver had decided upon a nap.
We were close to the comings and goings of the wholesale market and a large pen of camels to look at. This kept the kids amused for about 2 minutes.
As per usual my need of a public convenience began to grow during the second hour, magnified by the truck I noticed carrying toilet pans of different designs. It is quite amazing at what the human bladder can achieve when put to the test. I'm so glad I did practise many a pelvic floor exercise after both my pregnancies.
We eventually reached the number plate swopping site and cheered for pure joy and relief. It took about three minutes to do the job and then we were off, leaving the other poor souls to waste three hours of their day at this torturous task.

Nigel was asked to judge a painting competition at a local recreation club. We all went along and in a room of approximately 200 people we were the only Westerners there. It was very humbling and daunting at the same time. We were treated like royalty and constantly offered drinks and snacks. The judging began and became even harder as the age bracket rose. There were some wonderful pictures of homes, villages and Mosques. Mr Hoyle judged accordingly and when time for the presentation arrived he was set upon the stage like Prince William on his wedding day. I remained hiding at the back of the hall, coyly confident like Kate Middleton amongst the many multi-coloured saris, in my bright blue and pink lucky top. The one I had on when I met Morten Harket from a-ha. It was lovely to see so much excitement on all the children's faces eagerly waiting to see who had won a prize for their talents. There was lots of cheering and clapping and then food afterwards. It was a special occasion for us to share in.

I cannot believe that Eleanor is going to Dubai for three days on a school trip. She has been selected to represent the school in a sports tournament for British Schools in the Middle East. She is so much more travelled already than I have been and at such young age, so fortunate. Joshua is an Emperor penguin in his first assembly here next week. He has to say "Oi cheeky who are you calling fat?" Which I can't wait to watch.
It is with astounding disappointment that I have to report my husband has laboured through Simon Armitage's Gig. I was hoping to hear many chuckles and guffaws whilst he was reading it in bed. I really do want him to have fun in the sack. Instead he has remarked on it being a chore to get through and he thinks Simon may be a bit smug. Ha! I think he is a bit jealous of my adoration for the author and may be scared that he is no longer Top of my Pops. How ridiculous of course, Nige still remains my main man with his cricket, football, golf, singing, guitar playing, pot making, painting and water-skiing prowess.
He is enjoying Dan Brown again.
Whilst waiting for my first ever full body massage at our local gym I read the Gulf Times. For fun I glanced at my Stars, something I never normally bother to read. Here's what they said:

If you've been under stress and worrying about older members of the family, it's time to come to terms with the situation. Be sure to organise events that will keep the children busy. Be cautious while travelling, minor accidents are evident.

OK I've got to accept now that we're here the parents and in-laws are going to want to come and visit. There is no escape. I never thought I should keep the kids busy, I thought that came naturally. What about just playing? If anything kids are too organised and busied these days. Yes, thanks for reminding me about the bumper car accident, I had put that behind me because it was a month or two ago.

I did manage to drive safely to Doha and back with the children recently. I followed another family in  convoy to go to a bigger Church service where the Bishop (of Cyprus and the Gulf) attended to confirm some people and license two readers. It was brilliant. We sat in a school hall full of people from many other nations all singing and saying the same words. I found it very emotional and a taste of what I imagine Heaven to be like. Eleanor could not believe everyone was Christian because some were of African or Indian origin. It's funny to think she defines religion by colour, like painting by numbers.
What colour are you?

Ups and Downs

I've just hoovered the sand and dust off the computer which is blowing in through the beloved air conditioning unit during our sandstorms of late. I can taste dust in the air and feel the fine stuff on my fingertips as I tap away. We have had a series of events happen which begin with our tenants in Shepley giving their notice followed by a burst water pipe here in the flat. The drama unfolds with me announcing,
"Tea's ready."
Ding dong doorbell.
I answer the door to sign a piece of paper acknowledging the leak on the roof has been mended. Meanwhile Nigel is putting some washing in our brand new Samsung 7kg all singing and dancing washer /dryer.
"Tea is ready!!"
 The Kids have appeared at the table and are tucking in when we hear Nigel shrieking like a girl being kiss chased by an ugly boy she just doesn't fancy. We rush to the laundry where water is bursting out of a pipe behind the singing and dancing machine like a frenzied fountain. Nigel is immediately soaked to the skin and attempts to stem the flow with his thumbs over the pipe as I laugh my head off.  The kids are unsure what to do.
Nigel still shrieking says, "Don't just stand there, get some help quick!"
I run to the window and lean out to call the workmen back in whose paper I signed 5 minutes before. They come into the chaos, quickly find the stopcock and turn the fountain off. I am still laughing and I think they want to join in but just allow broad smiles to spread across their faces instead. With a flambouyant flourish Nigel shakes his head free of the water sprayed all over him.  As he stands in an inch or two of water, his T.shirt sticks to his manly curves while his shorts are dripping wet,  I think of a new advertising campaign for a brand new scent by Davidoff called "Laundered Waters."
Eventually we sit down to eat and the children decide to erupt into an argument at which point Nigel explodes after the stress of his unplanned shower. Suddenly the TV turns itself on and distracts us before turning itself off again. We all calm down and eat. Strange but true.

The next exciting episode features myself and our second hand car. We have just bought a bright red Dodge Durango which feels huge compared to the hire cars we have had (we got rid of the Sunny and up-graded to a Nissan Altima for a couple of months which was a much smoother ride). Last weekend we went to sign the necessary documents in Doha and became the new owners of this monster truck. If you put a ladder on it, a siren and a water hose it could easily pass as a fire engine. Nigel was chuffed to bits no more hire car payments this is ours, with all of its seven seats to carry visitors and trek safely through the desert. We continued our day out in Doha doing a bit of shopping, having lunch and then calling at the main Post office to collect two long awaited parcels. The Post Office is opposite the Qatar Tennis Federation where I recently watched Tsonge, Federer and Nadal play in the Qatar open. I was feeling rather up-beat and confident and decided to drive us back to Dukhan in the new wheels. We had been in the car no more than 5 minutes, approaching a roundabout, when I misjudged the stopping distance in my fire engine and gently rolled into someones bumper, cracking their shiny silver paintwork like a nutcracker on a walnut. I was so upset and cross with myself. Nigel was surreally calm, the complete opposite to our burst pipe scenario. The man I bumper car hit was also very calm and gracious with excellent English, thankfully. We had to go to the Police Station to report my misdemeanor before Nigel drove us safely back home.
A piece of advice: Don't drive in flippin' flip flops in a foreign country in a fire engine.

The Golf Club has become our substitute Cricket Club and husband enjoys playing there as often as possible. He has paid for some lessons for me and I have played my first 9 holes this week. I strangely enjoy it and can appreciate how addictive it is. Last Saturday Nigel was playing golf in a competition, Eleanor was at a party and Josh and I were playing cricket near the main mosque. Three muslim families appeared in their big four wheel drives. The men went into the mosque, the women in black burkas wandered and sat around, three of their boys came over to us. They were about the same age as Josh. I gestured for them to join in and they played for half an hour or so, turn taking with the bat and ball, it was good fun. They chatted in Arabic and Josh and I in English, giving thumbs up for a good hit or catch. They left suddenly without a goodbye and then a few minutes later one of the boys with the smiley face came running over, prompted by his Dad. He shook first Joshua's hand and then mine. I waved acknowledgement to his Dad at his son's kind gesture, a custom they don't usually share as they greet more emphatically with kisses, hugs, backslapping and handshakes (cf Eyewitness Travel 15 minute Arabic). It felt a very special moment as the sun was setting and we stood united by sport in the shadow of the mosque, two worlds briefly connected yet miles apart.

I went to the free cinema by myself to see a film called Black Gold. It was filmed in part in Qatar and was a big highlight of their film festival last year. It was really interesting, about the rise of wealth due to the discovery of oil in the country. There was a love story interwoven alongside some graphic sword fighting scenes with men charging down sand dunes on camels. I thought it was a bit like an Arabian Braveheart. Antonio Banderas and Frieda Pinto are in it.

I have a request to all readers of my blog. Please read The Shack by William Paul Young
http://www.theshackbook.com/
I read it on a borrowed Kindle and it kindled something in me. Book club especially read it, come on honour this as my choice in my absence. It will make you grow fonder of me. x

Safety & Cycling

As Qatar send troops into Syria I gaily wander through the days here feeling as though I am in a huge bubble of bubble wrap, safe and sound. Occasionally I pinch myself really hard and remember I am in the middle of the Middle East living on a gas field. We are a protected peninsula, our neighbours troubled by their constant conflict. The Emergency Evacuation notice on the front door of our building instructs us to go to the security gate of the compound upon hearing the siren (which we did during a siren test in the holidays). Thinking of health and safety what noxious gases do I inhale whilst cycling around like Miss Hubbard in Greendale, whizzing past Postman Pat? As I slice through an invisible sulphur screen smelling of rotting eggs, it gags in my throat. I pass miles of bending white pipes carrying their precious product, blood pumps through my veins while I pedal. Let's have a race, blood versus gas.
I won't get to see the London Olympics live this year but every day I see the eternal flames of the gas burners, making the days even warmer and the nights brighter. Like gigantic candles on this dry and barren crumbled cake of a desert dessert. Note to new year dieters, stressed spelled backwards = desserts.
Only one steep hill to challenge me here, up to the jebel where the flag flies or lies depending on the wind. It is our landmark here as Emley Moor Mast is there. When the wind blows it does remind me of home, cycling my roller coaster hills, exhilarating and beautiful. In my mind I smell grass and manure, drink rain and hail, splatter through muddy puddles. Push pant, push pant, the labour of hard exercise. Breathing deeper to pass the whirring windmills, wave to the farmer, baa to the sheep, sing to myself on top of the world.
You could say I wear my heart on my sleeve but when I went for a recent interview I also wore it around my wrist in the form of a delicate silver bracelet. The tiny diamond in the heart sparkling confidence, a lovely gift from a dear friend. Who could not be dazzled by such a charm?  I proudly claim "the job is mine" as if I were Gollum from The Lord of the Rings. After a ten year career break I will be rewarded in Qatari Riyals for my services to the community here as a Teaching Assistant. I will endeavour to keep blogging but unfortunately will have to put the golf lessons on the back burner for a while!

Now That's What I Call a different Christmas 1

My first post of the new year and as I write the thick morning fog is disappearing as surely as the steam does from the bathroom mirror after a hot shower.  My eyes acclimatise to reveal a female version of Tom Hanks' character in the film Castaway. I suddenly realise I haven't had my hair cut in six months, my sun bleached eyebrows would provide excellent bedding for the nest of a small bird and I could have won the 'grow a moustache for charity event' open to the male staff way back last term.
I kicked off the new year by visiting the gym when the rest of the family went back to school. To my horror I had to be weighed and measured again as when I first enrolled. Each body part was tape measured and noted and each body part had got BIGGER. I dismissed the sincere concern of my lovely instructor with a giddy laugh and 'of course it's muscle' reply. I didn't even eat any Christmas pudding. Is it just paranoia or am I really Bridget Jones?

          Christmas

• We may no longer be members of the excellent Holmfirth Harriers but are now Qatar West Coast Hash House Harriers. The Hash is basically a kind of trail you follow in the desert, followed by drinks and sometimes food.  Hashmas was great fun with people dressing up in Santa hats and the like. We ran or walked the course, then round a blazing bonfire sang Christmas carols and songs to the accompaniment of guitars, trumpets, kazoos and a ukulele. There was lots of festive food to devour including mince pies. The bus load of Cubans who appeared certainly brought a party spirit to the scene. On another Hash we enjoyed a spit roast lamb in a spot called Ship's Canyon and in the same area yet another day, spied a small luminous green scorpion with it's black sting visible.

• Christmas Eve saw us carol singing en mass around the town. It was very festive and we stopped off at three houses for drinks, food and singing before finishing up at the Golf Club. An open truck with the band on it led the way. A great ex-pat effort was made to celebrate Christmas Eve, which surprised me but filled me with joy. There were approximately 50-60 adults and children of all ages and the singing was rousing and cheerful.

• Santa did steer his reindeer to a safe landing and after the presents were opened and enjoyed we set off to enjoy the warm sun on the beach. I challenged my father-in-law to a sea swim. I wore my swimming cossi and leggings (were they to provide me with psychological warmth or to cover the vein?) and Jimmy his rainbow speedos. It was freezing but great to swim on Christmas Day in the Arabian Gulf. We warmed up by eating chip butties and  playing beach cricket. The buffet tea was easily accessible to all on our lovely second hand table, with lazy Susan spinning around her delights at the touch of a finger. I may one day allow my husband to spin lazy Susie around on the lazy Susan and see what happens.

• Boxing Day for the Hoyles is usually spent at a friendly Lancashire cricket club, the men playing a match in all weathers women and children chatting and showing off gifts, eating more mince pies and drinking mulled wine. This year I managed to take the whole family to the Christingle service at church which was familiar to me and comforting. Not to mention the whole reason for the season. I'm not sure the rest of the family were as thrilled as I was. Afterwards we joined in a game of Texas Scramble on the golf course. It was great fun followed by lovely food, a great quiz and a white elephant raffle. Altogether a very different but very enjoyable Christmas free from commercialism but with full measures of peace and joy. Of course as author and editor I am choosing to exclude any mention of family fall outs and tensions. Could that be the start of the blog sequel, Susie's Arabian Nightmare.

We did go out to see the dolphins again over the holidays and spotted only a couple but they gave us a 'never before seen' spectacular show of frolics and leaps, twists and turns and very smiley faces. We laughed as the kids named them Splashy and Jeffrey.
Nigel got a great photo of one dolphin fully out of the water. It was only when he put the picture on the computer and we enlarged it that we could really see Jeffrey in all his glory. We will look out for some baby dolphins swimming in the sea soon.

For photos of our adventures find Nigel Hoyle on facebook and he may let you be his friend!

Dear Santa

                                                                                                                                    
Dear Santa,
I think I have been a reasonable citizen this year, but who am I to judge? All I want for Christmas is for the praying man to be a bit quieter at approximately 4.47am every morning. I am a tolerant person and respect the Muslim faith here but now it's winter (between 16 and 25 degrees, depending on the wind) and we have turned the air conditioning units off, I wake with the call to prayer resounding  in my ears and the necessary beauty sleep disrupted. This seems doubly unfair as we are on holiday now and the alarm doesn't go off at 5.30am, so we could in theory have a lie in. If a small voice or the loudspeaker system failing is too much to ask for then maybe some ear plugs will do. Thank you Santa.
I am also quite concerned about how your reindeer are going to land on the roof. Please take extra care as I don't want one of them to crack a hoof or even worse break their leg as they negotiate the fort like walls, with the central turret holding a vertical ladder down to the secret door, where I presume you will enter in and deliver the presents.
Lots of love,
Susie of Arabia (formerly of Shepley)

PS I wish all my family and friends a very peaceful and joyful Christmas time and Olympic measures of health, wealth and happiness for 2012. I love you and still miss you xx

PPS Just as groove is in the heart, Christmas is most definitely found there.

40th Birthday

I did not really want to go to sleep the night before the birthday. It seems in a blink of an eye that a decade has passed by, the thirties being my child bearing years. (I really didn't want a surprise 30th party with three weeks to go before giving birth to our lovely first born daughter in 2001). I don't want to let go of that decade of nurturing and enter the next unchartered chapter. What will it bring? An Arabian Adventure yes, but what else? Despite the fat burning, cardio kick boxing, swimming and cycling the jelly belly is still relectant to release me from it's greed induced grasp. It's my buoyancy aid, keeping me afloat here.
Sleep eventually enveloped me and then next thing I know it was sunrise in the desert dawn of my new decade. I received lovely surprise parcels and cards, fab facebook messages via Nigel, texts, e-mails and mobile phone calls. I treated myself to skyping my brother in "chucking it down" Clayton West, West Yorkshire and my best friend in blustery Bray, Ireland. A thoroughly modern, technological birthday best wishing event. It was great! The only shadows were cast by the clouds building up in the now greying sky.
I was thrilled with my new blender bought by my family. Perhaps I can whizz up some organic fruit face packs to combat the hairline facial fractures we call wrinkles.
Another desert dwelling friend hosted a coffee morning for me which was supposed to be a surprise, but being the detective I am, I sussed out the situation a few days in advance. So were the tears when the cake baked with love bearing one solitary candle arrived real or crocodile ones? Real of course. It's surreal to be specially treated by lovely new friends only just met. We are all in the same boat here no matter where we come from. We all need each other in our cosmopolitan community.
When we have coffee mornings here at the not unusual time of 9am it's like having lunch because we've been up since 5.30am and our kids have been at school for two hours. So as well as coffee and tea you get sandwiches, crackers, biscuits, fruit, spring rolls, noodles and of course buns and cakes. It is a fantastic feast and probably why the belly remains.
After school and keeping one eye on the weather we wrapped up in jumpers and went down to the beach club for a buffet. Now I have to mention the gorgeous green, hand knitted cardigan that my mum so lovingly made for me. We laughed and joked about me wearing it in 40+ degrees but I actually do need it because this afternoon it's chilly. I carefully put it on  in a private symbolic ceremony, feeling instantly warmed and cherised, my mum cuddling me through the soft green wool from the other side of the world.
The wind picked up and the waves were crashing onto the beach sending spray like the many water sprinklers do when dousing the grass. Someone suggested a shamal was brewing ( a sand/wind storm). As the wrapping paper clouds ripped I thankfully received my present from the heavens in the form of rain. I couldn't help running through in my mind the set list Jamiroquai would be playing to their frenzied french audience tonight. "Rock Dust Light Star, coming at you baby!" ........ now look and see those stars for you and me". Jay Kay is in his early forties, perhaps we could go out for dinner and then to a disco together sometime. What do you say Jay?
I slept smiling, thinking of the love I have for my friends and family and which was shown to me in so many kind ways today.
We decided to host our first party here on the 25th November, making it yet another 40th do, not to be rivalled in any way by the revelling in St. Paul's hall in July. I was surprisingly nervous but rose to the occasion with make-up and a smile. It was a great opportunity to declare our bar open and as Nigel ripped the make-shift banner of toilet paper from the back a huge cheer arose and the celebrations began. One of the perks of being a Westerner is that we can apply for a liquor licence and then visit a warehouse full of booze, bringing comfort and thirst quenching relief in this dry and barren dust bowl. It is however a little unsettling when Joshua tells people, "We've got a pub in our living room."
I don't want the lad to think this is normal behaviour do I?
We had some food, more cake of course and a sing song with Nigel and a music teacher on their guitars. It did feel like home having the flat full of  kids, adults, noise and music.