Wednesday, 19 January 2011

This evening

Following what appeared to be possibly the worst day of my career to date (oh yes, I predict many more cock-ups to come), I was ready to jump off the balcony. I had already melodramatically declared that it was my intention to do so tonight when asked what my plans were for the evening by the partner. "I'm going to jump off the balcony."

"Why is that?"

"Because I messed up."

He rolled his eyes and laughed, clearly loving the fact that he know had something very real, very big over me. The horror of hearing him call up the managing partner and explain this lapse in my judgment -

"Well, this kind of slipped through the cracks. I mean essentially, it was sent to June but she didn't send this out. In fairness she didn't receive instructions to do so but... Yeah. June was the recipient. June had this. June wasn't clear on what to do next." Hearing your name said that many times in the office in the context of a sheepish explanation makes you want to kill yourself.

I did however have to put my balcony plans on hold when I remembered that I had promised to meet a childhood friend of mine. She was my best friend in year 6. We were completely inseparable and then one day, out of the blue, she was gone. She had moved to another country and I was absolutely devastated. Who would be my friend in year 7? Needless to say high school was all downhill from there.

But tonight we reconnected and away from those fuzzy childhood memories, it felt like I was simply meeting a new person. A person who lives a backpacker's lifestyle, loves ashrams and japanese food, freelances and does graphic design. Essentially someone who is the opposite of me (apart from the Japanese food bit, although I do prefer a massive plate of pasta over anything else in the world).

15 years is a bloody long time. The girl is lovely but I have forgotten who I was as a kid. I did not know who to be and being myself as I am right now didn't seem like such a fabulous idea. I did not know what to do and how to behave. And frankly, I didn't know if I was particularly comfortable reminiscing about a childhood I was frankly ashamed of.

The evening was pleasant enough and ended with hugs and promises that we will stay in touch and I have no idea if that will actually happen. I suppose we'll see.

It was however a welcome distraction from intended suicide. So all in all, a success.


Monday, 17 January 2011

I feel missed

Well I do. My insane ego has decided that people have missed me for about a year and so this is my comeback.

Also, I have been battling with Etisalat since June and have since found out how to steal internet. And I can't blog from work.

No matter. I'm here now. What did I do over the last year? Quite a bit. Here you go in no particular order:
  1. I moved to Abu Dhabi with Adonis, my beautiful husband.
  2. I got a crap job which resulted in a training contract with a top firm.
  3. I obtained what many adults, and some children, may call a "career".
  4. I found a house and furnished it with crap.
  5. I bought a car.
  6. I went to Australia again and will be going yet again.
  7. I revisited London and cried.
  8. I learned how to cook. And bake. And all I want to do is bake apple pie and run away from the washing up.
  9. I met people who freaked the hell out of me.
  10. I was supremely humbled. Nothing humbles you like working your way up in a law firm.
The year was crap. Lets be honest, there's nothing great about this law business. But ah well, I suppose it's for me.

It is for me.

And Abu Dhabi? It's nothing like Sex & the City but you already knew that. Don't visit. There's nothing here for anyone.

I have most certainly missed you though.

Sunday, 14 March 2010


I could do it. I could say I knew all along. I could be all of course it happened. Of course. I could presume knowledge about the whole sorry situation and the miraculous about-face it did. I could say I was a genius who calculated it all to turn out the way it did and now that it has I'm as happy as a clam. I won't though. Because I didn't. Because I wouldn't. Because no one would have. Because no one could have. Because I don't believe in karma. Because there's no one who dictates what happens to whom and why. Because let's face it people - we all know jack (he's generally quite pleasant but sometimes can be an irritating prick).

I'm in Abu Dhabi all on my lonesome. Mr. Junebug has gone to somewhere good whereas I'm here, wading my way through the eerie familiarity-yet-not of another arab country. We live in a hotel which is pleasant enough except for the bizarre ban on toasters (to any idiot who has ever stuck a fork in there - don't). It's a massive suite, labelled Executive probably because it likes to wear a suit and boss around all the other suites dictating memos and shit. I bought green apples that I don't touch. I am sustained on a diet of coco pops bars.

First day here and we wander out in search of something with which to fill out tummies and we run into a friend I used to know in Year 8. She was in the year above me and a bizarre friendship grew out of my little penchant for writing notes and her little penchant for reading them. Randomly I'd write her notes filling her in on the day's events where nothing happened other than a deepening crush on an obnoxious pimply gangly youth. She's write back with the same albeit a different obnoxious pimply gangly youth. Anyway we chat, she meets my husband and we promise to call each other. Needless to say the experience shook the hell out of me. What are the odds? Within an hour or so of landing?

Second day now and I started work. I think the best part of the day wasn't meeting people nor being welcomed nor eating salad nor discovering a huge stash of kitkats in the fridge nor being pumped for a handover plan. I think the best part of the day was seeing the words "Fee Earner" next to my name. Fuck yeah, I earn a fee! That I get from billing a client! That I retain diddly squat from! But I don't care! I earn a fee mesdames et messieurs. 'Tis a good thing. Having said that, it looks like the role is pretty intense. I expected a stroll through a park with geraniums bursting in my wake (bursting? maybe blossoming). Guess not hey. I may be struggling at the very very bottom of the food chain but ain't nobody's feelin' sorry for little ol' me.

No point to this post other than a bit of a natter at no one in particular since I am in complete and utter isolation in this bizzare-o country. Work tomozzles. I'm off.

P.S. And where was ya, stalkeroozi? You went missing for 5 or so days. So unlike you. I've missed you.

Thursday, 4 March 2010

"100 returning visits"

All by the same user.
All in the space of not very long.
All for little ol' me.

I don't know whether to be flattered or worried.


I think I'll be flattered.

Wednesday, 24 February 2010

A post about shoes

I was, I really was, going to write something quite long and convoluted about my relationship with shoes culminating in the climax of my having bought a fabulous new pair that are the best of the best and better than the rest. Then I thought fuck me that's pretty shallow and dull. But then again I have never been one to eschew shallowness as I reckon everyone needs a bit of dumb relief now and then and if I be taking it out in blog form then that surely is better than going around being a genuine bimbo. At least here I can hide my lapse into shallowness behind the facade of anonymity rather than have it on full display.

Anyway time to chronicle things so I can look back on them and cringe as I usually do. God I do embarrass easily. I'm moving out of Bahrain to somewhere probably worse. If all goes according to plan then I'm going to Abu Dhabi, trying out something job-wise. Here's hoping that after the career black hole that has been 2009 this year will lead to somewhere. And it better because I am getting a little bit broody and couple that with career inactivity and we all know what will happen. Mini Junebug! The cutest little mixture of random bloodlines and the most beautiful baby on either hemisphere. I say that without a hint of irony which makes me one hell of an arrogant cat but I'm biased. This is my potential future child I'm on about.

But why am I talking babies? I'm leaving here to do something else with Adonis and set up shop elsewhere. Should make a nice change from my regular idleness here where I spend my days driving around in a shitty rental wearing a Queen t-shirt and rocking out to bad 90s music while waiting for my husband to come back from wherever it is his jetset lifestyle has taken him (this week - Zurich). So much for anonymity. Better go change t-shirts.

Well I've chronicled for posterity. This post hasn't entirely (read: at all) been shoe based but if you're still interested, I got some heart-stopping Louboutins. So high I need an oxygen tank when I wear them. Thank you for reading this rubbish.

Thursday, 11 February 2010

"When she's happy she blogs"

Well well well. It certainly has been a while. Things are happening that are a little bit private so instead of saying anything and giving anything away, I shall shield my life ever so slightly from your nosey prying eyes and shall focus on making inane comments on things that don't matter.

Ever notice how law firms have names which make them sound like anything but a law firm? Probably not because not everyone cares about law firms and spends hours musing on their names as opposed to doing something a little bit more constructive than that. But still. Without further ado I present to you -

A List of What Law Firms Should be Doing With Names Like Theirs:

Allen & Overy - The gynaecologist
Freshfields - The supermarket
Linklaters - The telephone company
Eversheds - The DIY shop
Norton Rose - The florist
Baker & McKenzie - The boulangerie
Slaughter & May - The abattoir
Shearman & Sterling - The barbershop
Ashurst - The incendiary
Beachcroft - The resort
Trowers & Hamlin - The German builders
Skadden Arps - The Scandinavian ski resort

Can't think of any more. Re-reading the top bit I sound so hostile. Sozzles all. I'm just ever so slightly uncertain about things and I want to write things down but only when all is a bit more certain.

Oh and Thailand with Mr. Junebug was wonderful but by no means the honeymoon. Much love all around.

Tuesday, 5 January 2010


Bahrain is at an uncharacteristic 19 degrees at the moment. I am uncharacteristically cold and even more uncharacteristically bundled up in a hideous velour tracksuit. I plan on wearing a velour tracksuit tomorrow on the plane. When I showed it to my mum she said, "It's for when you want to dress like a chav?" Sometimes I tell her too much.

Anyway I fly to Thailand tomorrow to laze in the sun having fun and doing all the cliche things people do on holiday. I'll sip cocktails and have people fan me with palm tree leaves while feeding me peeled grapes and rubbing my feet. I'll have Adonis ruffle my hair and tickle my belly. I'll eat heaps of fish.

Then we come back and move into the apartment I found by sheer coincidence.

For now, I say later alligators. I'm off on a little holiday.