The Loop

The Loop

The heat is on
as I begin the loop,
out of bounds
leave the safe compound.

Start to sweat,
pedal hard
past the bizarre abandoned golf course on my right.
Khatiyah de-gassing plant on my left,
where two gas burning candles, constantly celebrate.
Ahead, cat's eyes sparkle in severe sunshine.

Begin to climb the incline,
my replacement Fulstone route.
Same distance,
so very different.

Jagged rocks,
small prickly bushes,
a discarded bucket.
Blown out tyres,
tracks in sand,
empty bottles and cans.
A cracked open hard hat,
yolk free and void.

Two trucks thunder by
then silence.
Only the whirring of my wheels
and the thoughts in my head.

Broken pipes lay scattered,
colossal cigars and cigarettes.
Is this a giant's playground?

I reach the summit of the slight up hill
and prepare for take off in top gear.
In the heat hazy distance
large, rocky jebels line the horizon.

Hurtling down into the hot head wind
approaching the bus and truck busy road,
I swerve to avoid a camel grid on my obstacle course.

I spy with my little eye,
a lost and lonely glove
with a weathered finger pointing left.
Carrying straight on, I ignore the detour.

Back in the comfort of the compound,
birds shelter and twitter under the Sidra.
Bulging from the palms, dates begin to ripen
safely gathered in green nets.
My palms ooze sweat,
my helmet trapped head feels like it's stuck under one of those Granny hair dryer hoods.

I come full circle.
Loop the loop, back to base.
Ecstatic to see my home place.
Replenish roots,
feel the cool wind on my face.
Walk the woods
frequent the pubs
share the same space,
with you.

Bravo!

I almost forgot to mention that whilst I was chief cook, bottle washer and laundry maid I discovered that mum and I have exactly the same bras from good old M&S. I hasten to add they are different sizes and colours and bought 3000 miles apart but never the less an uplifting coincidence.
Nigel recently entered a duathlon in Dukhan which consisted of a run, cycle, run. Of course he didn't train for this event being reasonably fit. I was concerned because the temperatures suddenly soared into the early 40's and I knew he would go for it. After an hour or so as I was sweating it out over the ironing I received a phone call informing me husband had a puncture. I  thought, God does work in mysterious ways. I abandoned the ironing and rushed to his aid where he was dripping with sweat and covered in oil, pumping furiously away at the tyre. Determined not to fail he set off again. I tailed him in the fire engine all the way back to the beach club where he had to do the last run, which he did and finished last. Deflated, recovery took a while.

After a good lunch and some rehydration we set off to Doha for some shopping. Travelling from one shop to another the car suddenly started playing up. What kind of endurance test was this day proving to be? We had to stop as the water pressure gauge shot up and as we turned the engine and air conditioning off we instantly plummeted into the depths of Dante's Inferno. As Nige began to panic and overheat himself I remained as cool as a cucumber and put my Born Survivor, Bear Grylls tactics into practise. I assessed how much water to ration out and informed the kids to sit still and not expend any extra energy, all the while feeling like a chicken roasting in a hot oven wrapped in tin foil. Miraculously our friend appeared about five minutes into the basting and hero and Nige went for water to replenish the fire engine's engine. Me and the kids were then whisked away to the shopping mall in the delicious air con cooled rescue mobile to wait for the simmered down husband and less fiery engine to return. Phew! A testing day with all things bearing wheels. By the way Bear can grill me anytime round a cosy campfire under the stars.

We bought VIP tickets to go to the Samsung Diamond League Athletics meet at Qatar Sports Club last weekend. It was awesome. We sat on the second row next to the track ( the first was kept vacant for security reasons). There was so much to see and hear, a real writers paradise. We were with two other families and their kids and they all had the Union Jack painted on one of their cheeks, which became more smudged as the sweat began to drip from their heads. The stadium was super brightly lit and as the sky darkened above I saw the city lights come on and some scaffolding light up like a constellation. There was a hugely colourful Ethiopian crowd, singing and dancing and shouting for their athletes throughout. Some Qatari boys behind began flicking the kids hair and chucking pistachio shells and sunflower seeds at our backs. Nige gave them the teachers glare but it didn't do much to deter as a couple of dish dash wearing dads were sat with them ( a dish dash is a thawb/thobe, the white traditional robe worn here).
The meet got under way, there was long jump, shot put, pole vault, 800m, 400m hurdles, high jump, 200m, javelin, 100m, triple jump,1500m, 100m hurdles, 3000m steeplechase, 400m and 3000m.

It was such a great night and so exciting to see the worlds top athletes preparing for their Olympic dreams this summer in London. The 100m was amazing, blink and it's over. Justin Gatlin returned from his ban in supersonic form, taking first place in 9.87 seconds with Asafa Powell hot on his heels in 9.88 seconds. Will the lightening bolt (Usain) strike him out? I know that wherever we will be in the UK in July/August we will be glued to the TV screens watching with bated breath. We cheered the British and Qatari athletes on especially Stephanie Twell in the 3000m. She broke away from the group and led most of the way until the gazelle like Kenyans glided past on the second to last lap. Eleanor thought she had not paced herself well and exclaimed she wouldn't have done that. She knows, you know.

After each track event an appropriate song was blasted around the stadium. Canned Heat (Jamiroquai) was the excellent choice for the 100m. As Gatlin jogged his victory lap the kids rushed to the front and got his autograph, Nige shook his hand. I remained seated taking it all in, totally unaware then that I would be sporting the front cover of the Gulf Times the next day in a photograph, behind one of the little nut and seed flickers.

I may have been in the Huddersfield Examiner occasionally as a member of the school netball and hockey teams and one time at a fruit and veg fair, displaying my wares as a Saturday girl. But front cover material never before. Tea with the Emir next week then?

While my beloved home village is revving up for its Spring festival I will be raving at a beach party. As Elkie Brooks is singing about Pearl, I may have to go pearl fishing if I get too hot on the dance floor. I know where I would rather be. Folk rocks!

http://www.shepleyspringfestival.com/

Ex-pat living alright

I feel exhausted by recent events not least being run off my feet looking after the latest VIP guests, aka mum and dad, but more so battling through a determined army of head lice camping in Joshua's ginger mop. Arabian nits seem much more prolific, maybe it's the hot, sweaty, under hat conditions they thrive on. Anyway they are banished for now, but only time will tell if they visit again. Am I talking about my parents or the nits?
Mum brought me a palm cross from the church service at home which I thought was lovely and funny at the same time as it was probably made out here in the Middle East from the many palm trees here. How many air miles can a palm frond collect? We also gratefully accepted Cadbury's Easter eggs and a large box of Yorkshire tea. Brilliant.

The cosmic lyrics from my last post were:

Yellow by Coldplay
Cosmic Girl by Jamiroquai (my most favourite band ever!)
Underneath the Stars by Kate Rusby

Hope you got them.

Life here is simplified in that we don't receive any junk mail at all and the only time our landline rings is when the school nurse (nitty Nora the bug explorer) is sending one of the kids home or one of Eleanor's friends wants to chat. There are a lot of comings and goings with relatives and friends magically appearing then disappearing and many people go travelling over the holidays to Thailand, Vietnam, Philippines etc. The fluid lifestyle doesn't really suit me and makes me homesick as I want to properly belong. My Yorkshire roots run deep and will not be cut loose.

A bold step for me recently was to visit a GP to discuss my varicose vein scenario. The doctor was kindly concerned, recommended surgery and gave me a complimentary bare breast examination at no extra cost. I gave an emphatic "No thank you," (for the come for one problem and get two extra ones free) when she suggested a 'pap' smear, stating I was all thoroughly up to date on the down below deck checks, which is true. Phew!

I was enjoying time at the beach with my parents one day and decided to have a wander along the shell strewn shore. I spotted a comely bikini clad guest, slowly stealing up to photograph a resting cormorant on the edge of a concrete jetty. As our paths crossed we chatted together and after a few minutes we noticed a young Bangladeshi man skulking past with a boulder in his hand. It turns out that the lovely bikini lady was an avid animal lover and she became rather quickly concerned that the boulder holder was going to kill the cormorant. I down sized this concern suggesting that maybe he just wanted to make the bird fly away. I do like to hope for the best in human nature. As the man creeped cautiously along, the bold bikini bearer became more and more distressed. Her instincts however, were surprisingly correct and as the cormorant killer hurled the boulder she screamed and started shrieking at the man. "Is it OK for me to throw a stone at you?" At this point I was quite unsure what to do having given the lad the benefit of my doubt, it turned out he had intended to harm the beautiful black bird. I tried to calm the raging bikini down. He returned more slowly back down the jetty, looking rather scared as if he knew he was in BIG trouble. Like the mariner who kills the albatross in Coleridge's Rime, his fate was sealed.
"Why did you do that?" came the  harsh accusation. "What did that bird do to you?" In his pidgin English he tried to justify his actions saying that in his culture these birds are disliked and it's part of their religion to get rid of them. He said they eat up all the fish.
 I wondered if someone had told him to do this and he was just obeying orders, scared not to comply. I tried to intermediate, sitting safely in the middle on my self constructed fence, fully appreciating both sides of this bizarre happening. Our 'mariner' retreated to less stressful surroundings as I suggested that we go and examine the cormorant. We found him sheltering in the jetty rocks. At first I thought he was injured but later on in the day my dad informed me he was swimming about quite happily. I thought it was better not to mention the recent deaths of  two Grand National horses to my ardent animal loving companion.

We were ceremoniously named at a recent Hash with the following:
Nige is 'to be decided' because that's what he was
Ellie is '60 seconds' for her speed
Josh is 'lipstick' because he always gets fizzy pop around his mouth after a drink

My name is 'I'll come again' arousing a lot of adult sniggering, when my comment was literally about attending the Hash once more. I would have much preferred 'chatterbox' or 'smiler' other reasonable suggestions but the majority vote won.  I'm stuck with it unless I bravely elect to change it at the forthcoming Hash ball.  People say you get an even worse name though, so I will stick with my wholly innocently intended double entendre remark.

Obviously during the holiday we went on our pilgrimage to see the dolphins and were delighted to meet Splashy and Jefferey's offspring as they swam around the boat. Another happy family together, as we were. They seemed unfazed by the hundreds of alien like jelly fish of all sizes also sharing their sea space.

Thank you to all who are reading my blog, I really appreciate you spending your time with me. x

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!