Bab al Shams

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In the five years that I have lived in Dubai, I have never spent a night or two in one of the swanky hotels in town.  There are more 5* hotels in this town than there are red buses in London and yet I have always had a reason not enjoy the perks of these institutions. This run of bad luck finally came to an end the other week when I went to Bab Al Shams.

Bab al Shams is theoretically not in Dubai, but with the growth of Dubailand (finally!), al Shams is literally on your doorstep now.  20 minutes drive away from Jumeirah (who coincidentally own the Shams), past some “watch the camel and horses” signs and you are in the desert haven of the resort.

With no sea and only miles of desert around you might wonder why the hell you would spend a weekend away in this 5* star hotel when you live by the sea. The reasoning is that it was cheap (Ramadan offers gotta love them) and it was away from the main part of Dubai. I live 5 minutes from the sea, I can smell the sea especially when the tide is out (so not nice), and so the sea is not a novelty for me. The desert is much more of a novelty for us now, as all we usually see are high rises and crazy arse drivers.

Once you have entered and valeted your car at the Shams you check in (you only need your UAE licence if you are a resident here), show your Sirius card (us Dubians love our points cards) and given a cold towel to cool yourself down.  Then a lovely lady called Nadia in authentic Bedouin stylee outfit took us to our adjoining rooms. The pictures do not do justice for the rooms. They were beautifully set out with Arabic style decor.  The design of the rooms was how I wish I could decorate my place. Nadia showed us around the room and gave me the internet cable to assist me with doing work whilst staying at the resort (yep violins please start playing). We techno-geeks in the group did complain about the lack of wireless service in the resort especially in the room. Nadia then left us to admire the room and outside where we had a small outdoors area to sit in the evening when it was cooler.

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We had problems with our espresso machine in our room not working, but as soon as we told the operator someone was at our door within 10 minutes to check it out and within two minutes after that we had a new machine. 2 hours later we were also provided a fruit basket with lovely dates in them. 

We were slightly disappointed that we had not been able to make bookings to use the spa (using our Entertainer vouchers) as the Spa was fully booked that weekend, but after talking to the concierge and especially a lady called Crystal they took our details and promised to call us as soon as there were any cancellations. Later on in the day, three out of the four of us were able to make booking s for the next day to get a massage. We were impressed, but slight peeved that we had been told the week before when making the hotel booking that we wouldn’t need to book for the spa. Hmmmm. Anyway problem sorted. 

Next onto the pool area which is the main reason to come to the resort. To say it is huge is an understatement. There are four pools, kiddy, length, shallow pool and the main pool. Within the main pool is a roman style square atrium style Jacuzzi section which is fab if you want to get jacuzzied and read a book. Around the pool area there were so many sun loungers that you won’t need to fight with any Germans for some space (and there weren’t many of them around, few Italians though). As soon as you get to the pool area, the manager comes to greet you, asks you how many in your group, shows you an ideal location and then gets towels sent to your loungers. Before you have sat down the loungers are sorted and the umbrellas are out to shield you. Then it is time to relax. It was great. We had fresh fruit brought to us every so often, cold towels, and we could order the newspaper to read and also drinks all the time. The service was non-intrusive. We were able to do what we wanted in peace and quiet. I haven’t read a book quietly for so long. It was lovely. 

You can’t stay in a resort and not eat. For lunch on both days we went to Al Forsan which is a buffet restaurant near the pool. We decided to forego the buffet and use our entertainer vouchers to order our lunch (Its buy one get one free!). The food was delicious (so good that we had practically the same the next day).  The manager was a kindly Indian guy who spoilt us rotten and was lovely to chat to.  

Our dinner was not as amazing. It was Ramadan so there was Ramadan buffet food at Al Hadeerah. This restaurant is supposed to have the best Emirati food, but by the time we got there at 7.30 (an hour and half after iftar) the good stuff had run out and the food was mediocre in taste. I don’t know if it was because they had finished their run of cooking or due to cooking so much for so many people, but it was not great food especially for a Jumeirah place. We were so disappointed that we got a discount on our bill when we were checking out. The show which is shown around 9ish, provides the brief story of Dubai (I think!) was cool with real horses and horsemen, donkeys (that rolled around in the sand), goats and other animals, providing the entertainment in the sand dunes on top of the restaurant.  We also had a Sufi man dancing around in circles which seems to be the national dance during the month of Ramadan (although I don’t remember this in Ramadan’s past in this town).

The next day we went horse riding. We thought the stables were within Bab al Shams but actually they are next door to the resort, part of Endurance city. We went out in the desert for 1 hour with lovely horses and a great Filipino guy who was patient with the newbie riders and me (I’m not a newbie but it had been a while). We saw a massive chameleon that ran and changed colour while going over the dunes and had to deal with my panting horse. But it was a great feeling although we were dying of thirst at the end. For 200AED it is expensive but for a one off trip it is worth the money. We also had the privilege of meeting the Emirati owner of the stables who showed us a new stunning stallion he was bringing to the stables. We learnt that the majority of horses including the ones we rode on are or were owned by His Highness Sheikh Mohammed so we felt kind of special and also thought they must be good if HH owns them!

The final part of our weekend break was enjoying the spa services. There seemed to be issues with the manager and her spa staff when I got there, but they were attentive with me and I had a great masseur who tried to get the big knots out of my shoulders. She did recommend I go see her again at the Talise spa at Al Qasr in Madinat Jumeirah and have a hot stone massage. I am taking her up on that recommendation very soon. The spa was the usual high standard you expect from a Dubai spa. It was clean, beautifully set out and you were treated well. I have to say I do make the most of the spas here so I can only really comment on a spa if the service is beyond amazing or not up to the normal Dubai standard (god I sound spoilt).

At the end of our stay we still had great service. Whilst waiting for our cars to come from valet we were provided water and asked to take a seat in one of the cool outdoor seats, to relax and wait for our cars. I didn’t want to go home but when its time its time.

I am now making it my mission to go to more of these hotels every other month to spend a weekend relaxing and winding down. It’s a great thing to do especially if you are unable to leave town due to work or whatever and it’s not that expensive.  As a resident I highly recommend that you get the Entertainer book and use it to the max. Between my spa book and our friends dining book, we were able to make a lot of additional savings on staying at the resort.  Also you don’t need a partner to go to these hotels and resorts. Go with friends in a group and you get to hang out, chat, chill and make the most of what we have offered here in this town and country. There are so many perks for us residents of UAE so we should make the most of it.

Now I have to think about where to go next. Any ideas?

 (Ps this is the site for Bab Al Shams http://www.jumeirah.com/en/Hotels-and-Resorts/Destinations/Dubai/Jumeirah-Bab…

The Value of Friendship

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I remember my mum once said to me when another “best friend” at school had dumped me: “Shelina these friends will come and go. Once you leave school you will no longer remember them, but you will one day meet friends who will be special and mean something in your life”. At the time I thought she was talking complete nonsense but turn out she was right (as usual!).

I have been upset in the past few weeks by one friend who falsely accused me of things which were so childish it’s just unbelievable that i was accused of them, failed to apologise and thought she would take advantage when I tried to clear the air, by being down-right nasty. I stupidly decided to act like an adult and try again to sort out the issue and she decided to ignore me. All night I’ve been upset about this behaviour and her behaviour for the last few months.

Then this morning it hit me – why do I give a fuck about this girl. Why am I bothered?? Of course I know the reasoning, as my parents tell me way too often, my heart is clearly visible on my sleeve and is open to thieves, trespasses and con artists. As much as I like to act like I’m a cold hearted, single minded, bitch lawyer from hell; deep down inside I actually have a heart. And the heart reared it’s ugly head again.

After dwelling in self pity at my stupidity for allowing someone like this into my life (again), I thought about my friends, especially the ones in the UK. There are six friends who have I have known from between 10-28 years. Collectively we have shared tears, illnesses, job pains, holidays, idiot boyfriends, concerts, weddings, babies and they have done a group hug when I’ve had birthday parties (yep I like to have a day to really celebrate me).  These six will forgive me for my late warning when I land at Gatwick Airport and will change their plans to see me as much as possible (except one as she lives in Saudi now but that’s besides the point). These guys understand when I say meet you under the Angel (Front Entrance of Selfridges). They have no issues with telling me to shut up if I am speaking too much. They have yelled at me and told me to fuck off (in a nicer way as they don’t swear at all) when I’m being a muppet.

This blog is dedicated to these six friends who have touched my life so much that I had to write a blog about them (I warn you it may be mushy):

Ange and Liz

Liz and Ange were the driving force for me moving to Dubai. Ange was seconded to New York and we went to see her (and celebrate my birthday!). All three of us worked together at the same company and had been there for roughly the same  period of time. After nearly 5 years at our company it was time for a change, Ange got the secondment, Liz changed department; however there was nowhere else for me to go in the company. Both ladies told me whilst we were sipping our cosmos that I should look into working abroad. So the day I landed back home I looked for jobs globally, found the job at Emirates (Legal not Cabin crew) and moved here three months later. On top of all that, they both came to Dubai to see me (for my birthday – you see a pattern emerging here) and to see what I was yabbering about in my email blogs. Because of their visit they understand my ramblings when I talk about life in Dubai. They saw it first hand as well as the gaudy Burj Al Arab. They inspired me and made me change my life.  They have both now moved out of London to the West Country and it’s brilliant for me. I get a weekend type break in the UK spending time with them just being me. It might not be New York, Paris, Rome or wherever else we have been together, but I don’t care as I get to spend time with them and they show me the country which gets me very excited. 

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Sheni and Happy

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Sheni, Happy and I met on the second day of university. I was extremely guarded with making friends at uni and especially in our Law degree (most of the law students were complete muppets) but these two had that aura about them and it has never gone away. They helped me through the years of going out with the love of my life. He destroyed my heart until there was nothing left and they stood by me, hugged me, gave me a tissue when I needed it and gave their wise advice, although I didn’t listen to them most of the time. We have never lost touch. We might not do the email round robins like we used to but they always change their plans to see me as soon as I land in the UK. It really never feels like I have been away from them for as many months as it might be. They are now married to two lovely blokes and sometimes I have that feeling like I’m the odd one out as I don’t have that in my life but as soon as I have that feeling Happy (with a nickname like that she cannot be anything but Happy) will give her brilliant “look on the brighter side of life” talk and all will be well.

Greg

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Greg is well Greg. We met through a girl who used to be my “best friend” (turned out to be a total c***). Thanks to her fancying him (oh the irony) and inviting me to live in the same flat with Greg and two other people we became friends and never looked back. When we lived together we were 5 minutes from Selfridges. Our lives since then has revolved around Selfridges (especially the Men’s department – have you seen the men they employee to work there – HAWT!). I just have to say “angel” and he will be there. I introduced him to Madonna and the greatness of her live in concert and he introduced me to foie gras and really good saffron from Spain. I am also his personal shopper when going to Dolce e Gabbana – this job only becomes available when you are special friends.

Out of the seven friends he is the one who I have screamed at the most (especially when the toilet seat was left up,) but we are hilarious when we make up: we look at each other, the bottom lip starts shaking, we start crying, then hug and then make up. It should be made into a short movie and win an Oscar for best short “how two besties make up after screaming at each” movie.

Maryam

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Maryam and I have known each other since we were four. We didn’t like each other for years (well I don’t think she liked me) but we were stuck with each other from an early age as our parents were and still are good friends and we both ended up going to the same junior and grammar school and university together. We even went to see the same religious man for Koran lessons although she finished earlier than me so I was not amused. We have been through so much together that it would take too long to write about it (plus she would call me on skype and kill me if I revealed any details – of course it was all Halal).  Our lives have always moved onto other things but we always end up near by to each other even without trying. She is now living in Saudi with her hubby and cutie kids. Although not the same country we still have that expat-living-in-Middle-East thing going on that we can relate to.

These guys are a huge part of my life and I don’t speak to them enough. There are so many forms of communication in this world now and I still do not contact them enough, but you know when I do finally see them we will always say it is like we only met the week before.

Ange, Liz, Sheni, Haps, Greg and Maryam – Thank you for everything and for reminding me even now what it means to have true, proper friends in my life like you guys. Miss ya and love ya. xx

PS – you could bloody call/text/facebook/twitter/skype/email me for once you know. xxxxxx

Crackberry

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Blackberry

As many of you have read, the UAE telephone regulator (“TRA”) issued via our great telecom operator, Etisalat, a statement that Blackberry services would cease operations in October. The reason for the stoppage was due to national security concerns.

I can understand the position that the UAE TRA are in especially after the death of that man by the Mossad people in the hotel in Dubai earlier this year. However, my question is, why did they not consider this issue all those years ago when they first brought the Blackberry to these shores.

A concern that has been raised by many bloggers and people generally is that the stoppage of the Blackberry is a way to control the residents of the UAE. There have been ripples of worry by the higher authorities that local Emiratis are getting Blackberries solely to use the BB Messenger service to correspond with other Emiratis without any trace by the authorities. Whilst this is most probably true, BB’s are used by thousands in this country for work purposes (yes BBM is great as we don’t have to pay the telecom’s are hard earned cash for SMS’s – *evil laugh*).

The fact the RIM has had control of our data for all these years is a great concern for me especially as I have dealt with Data Protection for many years. The information that this one company holds of millions of people worldwide is sufficient a reason for the TRA to raise concerns. However, there has to be a better way to mange this issue than stop the service completely.

I am a user of the BB for work. I hate the fact that my work believe that as I have a BB with me, that I will be contactable 24 hours a day. However, its usefulness for my work, especially when I have to travel abroad, far outweighs the cons. To stop the use of the BB will make the country step back to the prehistoric ages (ok 5 years ago) and instead of being a progressive modern nation in the Middle East, we will be ridiculed for our backwardness.

Etisalat has offered free handsets to its BB customers to choose from to replace the BB. I have seen the choice and they are not great. The IPhone is great for personal use but it is rubbish for typing. I could never write a sensible well worded email on my iphone. The Nokia phones on offer do not bring joy to my soul. I have had Nokia phones for years and I know that they build these machines to have a lifespan of nine months only forcing you to get a new phone when your twelve month contract was up. Yes, that’s how they make money but its not acceptable behaviour. I am not one of those people who like buying the brand new hyped up handset as soon as it comes out. It might have been fun a few years back in England when I had to change the phone anyway (thanks Nokia) but now its tiresome and the shops in Dubai love charging extortionate prices for the handsets and providing rubbish after care service (Axiom I am looking at you).  As much as people whinge about the BB it is a well made handset and it has gained it market position due to its easy usability.

I understand that in the background currently RIM and TRA are discussing how to sort this matter out and the nation of BB users are hoping that RIM will allow a server to be installed in the UAE to eliminate this problem. If this happens we can thankfully continue to use our BB. However, our next concern will be whether Big Brother is watching our BB.

 

Ramadan and me fasting

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Once again it’s that time of the year again when we Muslims fast for 30 days. This year seems to be more unusual for me than normal as I seem to have loads of people saying the same thing in shock – “you’re fasting???” It’s like the weekly shock when people find out I’m Muslim, but it seems to be more infuriating when asked if I’m really fasting.

There seems to be this perception by people in Dubai  that I am not Muslim because I’m outspoken, “modern” and don’t cover up like a good Muslim girl should. I am of the view that religion (and politics) are personal matters and cause too much friction in our world. I therefore decided many years ago that I wouldn’t discuss the topic in public.

How I feel about Allah is my personal choice. I did lose my religion for a few years and it has taken me about four years to rediscover being a Muslim again. But during this time, I dealt with this matter on my own (except for a few conversations with my parents).  My view is that it is Allah/God knows how you feel so why does anyone else need to know. If I want to pray I will pray. If i want to be a Muslim, its for me. If not, well my problem.

I feel strongly as well about people drumming religion into me. My pet peeve, especially at uni when the Al-Qaeda cells were trying to recruit me, is hearing people tell me, their Sister, how I should be a good Muslim woman. My retort was generally “Fuck off you twat”.

I know that I am not literate on my religion, but I also know that when the time is right I will learn more. Anyway I have read the Quran in full. That’s more than a lot of so-called good Muslims.

But anyway back to Ramadan. I don’t get excited like some people do when it comes close to Ramadan. Usually the feeling I feel is of dread. I’m a pansy and not eating, drinking, swearing or doing anything else for so many hours gives me shudder. But yet I still fast. You might wonder why. I actually don’t know why I do it, but I know it feels right when I fast and I do lose weight so it’s a bonus.

One part of fasting is to learn tolerance and I’m finding it really really hard this year. I have had people  continuously questioning if I’m really fasting, taking the piss out of me or asking me if it’s my first time. How many times can you answer the bloody question and try to convince people that you really are Muslim and yes I’m really fasting. I’ve been fasting since I was at grammar school. During those years, it was summer in the UK  so we had long hours, good weather and school. Try fasting during those times and then come whinging to me. I’m hardcore and no one bloody believes me in this town! The irony is that I would never get questioned like this in the UK. Friends would just accept it as something that I did as a Muslim, respect my choice and be kind enough to not eat in front of me or drink coffee (fasting and the smell of coffee don’t go).

Should I care that people perceive me to be this anarchist, atheist, pretend Muslim?? No, not really. But I need to respond to these doubters just to shut them up.

Of course there are a few people who have genuinely asked me whether I am fasting and have been sweethearts and I thank them for their wishes, but to the ones that just want to take the piss. Fuck off and start fasting, then come bother me.

Rules for Tourists coming to Dubai

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Once upon a time there a British woman who went to a huge mall located in the sunny hot town of Dubai. She thought wearing skimpy clothing in the mall would be acceptable in a town that is located in a Muslim country. She decided to ignore all the signs dotted around the mall that asked you to wear respectable attire. This woman thought it was even more acceptable to start arguing with a local Arab woman when said woman told her off for wearing her attire. But wait the story gets better. This British woman decided to strip to her bikini which she was conveniently wearing underneath (ewww disgusting) and walk around the mall in her bikini. The security guards in the Mall were not amused and neither were the police. Unfortunately for all of us this story doesn’t end well. She was released without charge.

Now we must ask ourselves two things:

1. Why on earth was she not forced to stay in jail wearing only her bikini (so she could freeze her arse under the air con); and

2. Did she think that any mall in the UK would allow her to dress like that…ever?

This is not the first time we have heard stories of Brits acting stupid in Dubai. And it is not the first time we have had the British media (as usual the Daily Mail and the tabloids) jumping to the defence of the Brit and condoning Dubai for not allowing such stupidity to happen.

Do these Brit tourists know how much grief us Brit expats get when you get like stupid fools. When that couple decided to shag on the beach I couldn’t open my mouth at my local Costa as people would start ranting about Brits when they heard my accent.

The problem lies in the fact that there are no hard and fast rules set out to these muppet tourists who come to visit Dubai. As a Brit expat who lives here and respects the culture it is time to make a stand. So here are the rules of coming to this town for you idiot Brits that like to take those lastminute.com cheap offers:

1. This is not the Med/Spain/Greece/Ibiza/Aya Napa.

2. It’s hot here especially in the summer. August will go up to 50 degrees. Do you know how hot it is here?  As a Brit you can’t handle the heat and become “mad dog” like so don’t come visit in the summer.

3. There are specific areas for you if you want to wear slutty little dresses from Jane Norman/Top Shop/Primark – these areas are called – Barasti, Waxy’s, Rock Bottom and Irish Village.

4. When in a mall, it’s cold. Fuckin cold. Locals also love living in there on the weekend as they predominately can’t go clubbing. So cover up.

5. Hot pants/tiny vests/bikinis/Mini dresses are only acceptable in clubs, bars, your hotel room, friend’s apartment. Don’t wear it in a mall. You’ll just vex locals and expats and get us making snide comments at you as we pass.

6. If you look like a hooker you will be asked “how much” – don’t blame the guy for asking. He’s a man. He has a small dick. You should have thought better.

7. Just cos you are wearing Karen Millen, means nothing. It might be expensive in London, but people here wear Gucci to drop their kids of at school. Get over yourself.

8. You can only drink alcohol in certain places – namely restaurants, bars and clubs. If you leave said places inebriated and start acting leery, you will get arrested.

9. There are police everywhere. Those tall, handsome men in Dish dashes standing around outside hotels, bars, clubs, etc are not looking for a prossie for the night, they are CID police.

10. Marks and Spencer’s is for Brit expats not for you people who have better versions of the store at home. Get out get out get out.

11. If you have a chav accent – best to not open you mouth until you land back at Heathrow/Gatwick.

12. If you decide to get drunk and then leave your boyfriend to fuck someone else, don’t yell rape.

13. Pre-marital sex is not permitted in this country. Don’t make it obvious that you are getting laid or want to get laid.

14. Drugs are not allowed. None of them. Unless you can buy it in a pharmacy. Don’t bring it in your luggage. Just control yourself until you are back home.

15. You can get porn from the 10dhs lady so don’t bring it in your luggage. If you needto get laid go to Barasti or York Hotel if you want to pay for it.

16. JBR walk is not Europe, despite what the marketing people there say. Just because The Walk is by the beach does not mean you can walk around topless or in your bikini. We are trying to eat in those restaurants, cover up.

17. If you are in a restaurant, area, mall, etc where there are Arabs/Locals in traditional attire don’t kiss someone of the opposite sex even on the cheek. Especially if you are white.

Now I have a special set of rules for Brit Asians. They have done well in the last few decades. Yep they have made money (brown pound anyone?) and they have the BMW/Mercedes/Audi in their drive at home. Yeah you are doing really well for yourself, but here are few rules for you fools that come here:

1. If this is your first time to Dubai – you missed the boat/plane. Brit Asians have been coming here for years. You’re nothing special now so get over yourself.

2. You are obviously going to Meena Bazaar to get material/saris and to make clothes for your family weddings, to wear on Illford High Street, etc. Go to Meena Bazaar on the first day you land not the second to last day.

3. Just cos you have thirty suits to be tailored and have brought Asian Woman with you means nothing to the tailors. They have seen it all. Stop being rude to them. And no the days of tailoring clothes in 24 hours is over cos all of you want to make 50 suits each. When you do expect the tailors to sleep!?!

4. If an Asian Expat comes in and starts talking to her tailor in a friendly manner, as if he’s her uncle, shut up and sit down. He has her measurements in his book, he knows what she wants and she will be finished in 5 minutes. You will take 2 hours so five minutes won’t kill you.

5. No you can’t have a cup of chai whilst you wait. That only gets given to regular polite customers.

6. Just cos you have exchanged 200 quid into Dirhams doesn’t mean you are wadded now that your wallet is bulging.

7. Don’t think that as a Brit Asian you can hit other Indians/Pakis/etc out of the way in malls, streets, anywhere. You might hit a fellow Brit Asian expat who will give you a mouth full of venom, especially if you push her mother out of the way.

8. Shopping ain’t cheaper in Dubai, so stop spouting that shite. It’s cheaper to get stuff on Oxford Street than Dubai Mall especially when it’s sale time. And the stock in Dubai is at least one season old.

9. If India/Pakistan/etc is so great a) why don’t you go there on holiday instead, b) better still move there.

10. Whateva.

Disclaimer – this is aimed at the majority. There may be a minority of Brits/Brit Asians that know how to act in an appropriate manner when abroad. If you are one of them, thank god! If you have been offended by the above, then why the hell did you read all of the rules!?!?

Daily Mail – you have always been a joke, but come on enough of the racist, Middle East bashing. If you want to write an article about Dubai first make sure you have the correct mall/location in the picture and the correct facts. Better still make sure that your journalist actually goes around the town to all areas rather than just Barasti/Waxy’s/Irish village on a daily basis so that they can write an intelligent, factually correct article. Have you never heard of journalistic integrity??

And here is the article from Gulf News – turns out that there is no case even opened for that woman who was in a bikini. http://gulfnews.com/news/gulf/uae/crime/briton-not-charged-in-dubai-mall-biki…

Bullshit

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Apologies for the postings disappearance for a while. It was due to external dramas which were off the richter scale.

The major drama revolved around my work. The environment of my workplace involves yelling, screaming, blaming, backstabbing and general bullshit. And thats not even from me. As strong as I am it got to a point were one conference call of being screamed at, getting told I was shit at my job and being hung up on resulted in a migraine which lasted for a few days. This is not how life should be. This should not be how work is. But that is the current status quo. Admittedly there are things that are happening within the busines that are causing immense pressure to all and is high level, which therefore requires my input on a regular basis but to be yelled at as if I am a slave should not be included in my job description.

Friends and family are worried about me but what you do in this environment currently. I have been without a job before and its not great to be broke, desperate and needy in this town. If I am being honest I enjoy the work I do, I just don’t like the majority of people within the business who I have to work with. I am a lawyer by trade but I have now become a politician, shrink, food provider (for two guys in my department) and a punching bag. These elements were not included in my lawyer training.

But how do you change the environment and the way that people behave. Can you ever change them or do you need to move onto somewhere more appropriate for your sanity? How do you deal with uneducated, sexist, backward thinking men (the office is run 90% by men of a certain nationality, with me being the only woman in management)? Can they ever be shown how to behave in a corporate environment?

This week was better. I didn’t get too many blackberry messages ranting about something that I had done that was incredibly wrong in their eyes. I didn’t emails every half an hour from 5.30am requesting me to be in a spur of the moment conference call immediatley (my bb was on silent and I was sleeping so was therefore a failure for not being in a conference call at that time!). Although work life improved slightly, the powers that be decided that I was incapable of being the head of the department and advertised for someone to be the head. Demotion is kinda of a shitty feeling, but there is a huge part of me thankful and relieved that I will soon hopefully not have to deal with ridiculous incomprehensible and unreasonable phone calls, emails and bb messages 24 hours a day and I can go back to having a proper 10-6ish life. Here’s hoping.

The 3 Princesses

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Last night I was greeted by a pretty little thing who had been found in the street by my neighbour Micheline. She was so tiny and cute that we couldn’t say no to taking her in. She is as small as the palm on my hand!!

After requests for suggestions of names on twitter it was decided that we will call her Amira, which means Princess in Arabic.

Amira

This means that I now have three princesses in my life…Jasmine (the cat)…

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Princess no2 (the car) and Amira (the kitten).

Now I have to get Jasmine to like Amira and not hit her (or me) and get Amira to use the litter for its proper function. Any help on both would be gladly appreciated.

Happiness

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What makes a person happy? Is a hug from a friend? A kiss goodbye from a lover? A thank you from a guy you let out on the road? Or that favourite song that bings up on your ipod at the right moment? It’s all relative. We each have something that will make us happy. However, how I feel inside and how people perceive me on a general basis is shockingly different even now at this age.

I had a friend ask me how my day was on twitter this week. I said I was happy, which I don’t say that often on twitter (I’m known more for ranting). At the same time I got asked that question, blokey who is away right now came online. I miss him a lot, but I was so happy to hear from him that the fact that he is not here didn’t matter. He is safe, he is well and we got to chat for a while. That thought kept me happy the rest of the day. If it had been me a while back, I would have been a miserable cow, missing him and mopping around but now I’m just happy I got a few moments to be with him (virtually).

I have been told that I seem scary, bitchy, even evil sometimes and generally not happy. I guess it’s due to the fact that I am vocal and swear like a trooper. I can’t help the swearing, it goes with my personality and vocalises how I feel at that time. An addition of “fuck” in my sentences makes it more complete. Friends who know me and are used to me know how I talk and can understand if a fuck is added in there must be a good reason (it’s not like I have turret’s syndrome). I can smile and laugh and joke, but yet there is this perception that I will switch very fast from amicable me to scary witch. The reality is not the same as the perception, but it’s hard to change people’s views.

I have been low a few times in my life, even very recently I had experiences in my life that could break a person, but somehow I survived and continued on with the help of my dear family, friends and cat. One recent experience, comes back into my head whenever I am unhappy or sad. I just remember where I was at that time in my life and how bloody awful it was and everything else that happens now is a drop in the ocean. Things that happen to me now, although it matters to a point, its non-consequential at the end of the day. But I’m no fool, daily life can get you down, which is why you need reminders every so often to pick you up.

At the end of the day, it’s how you feel that matters. I don’t want to get all Oprah-like, but if you are happy in yourself, and in your life then all will be fine. Of course there will always be things that make you unhappy, but remember the little things and all will be fine. And if worse comes to worse, I find spraying my favourite perfume (Sicily by Dolce e Gabanna – please bring it back!) can make me happy for the rest of the day.

Gotta go something has just come up to make me smile …

Bitch

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Bitch is defined as a malicious, unpleasant, selfish person, esp. a woman.

I have been called this loads of times; at work, by men, by women, by people on the street and even by little shitty kids. Am I bitch? I can be. Is it nice to hear? Of course not, but it’s now got to the point that I just shrug my shoulders, say “meh” and walk off.

It’s not that I wake up in the morning and think “hey let’s be a complete bitch to the people who come face to face with me today”. In general I’m quite normal unless antaognised and then I become a bitch. If you are malicious, unpleasant and downright selfish towards me, with no provocation from my side then I will be a definable bitch. It ain’t pretty and add my fiery temper to the mixture and it can make a lethal combination.

Recently, I have had to think about how much of a bitch am I in my life right now. At work I had to endure nasty abusive emails from a man, who then tried to justify his behaviour in his final email by saying in a few more words that I was a bitch and no one liked me at work. Of course thats not true – the coffee boy loves me. But it got me pondering. I am in a job which involves me having to say no to hair brained ideas, illegal activities and very bad drafting on a daily basis. There is limited chance of me saying yes unless it involves the question “would you like another cup of coffee m’aam”. But does that make me a bitch? No it doesn’t, but people perceive me as one as I do not sugar coat my professional advice to them. I’m polite, professional and explain eloquently the pros and cons, but at the end of the day if its a daft idea, I’m not signing off on it and if you don’t like it, I dont give a shit. I am also the sole woman in a management role in the company full of 90% men. These men – not stating their nationality – have conflicting views of how women should talk, act and what position they should hold in the company. Me being me is not acceptable and I have to defend myself from the hurdles of rubbish I have to hear and deal with on a daily basis. In my view that makes them bitches, but men are never called that are they? They are called opinionated.

I have also been considered a complete bitch due to my last blog. I was upset, pissed off and had been fucked mentally in the head to the point of craziness. As much as I try to be strong, having all the horrible occurences happening all in one go within a week, and stupidity from one source, just made me lose all controlled sense and my fiery, passionate and crazy side came out. It’s not an excuse but it’s my reasoning. Was it bitchy. Some would say yes. Was it truthful. Yes of my feelings.

I have been told that I show my heart on my sleeve and that’s why I get treated like a muppet. I try and act like this strong, empowered, some would call bitchy, woman on the exterior to protect the heart but it doesn’t always work. And when I get exposed, I lash out in a bitchy way. I have learnt to control my fiery temper after many years of stumbling, hurting others and making some people cry (kinda of cool sometimes), but at my age and in my life I now have to do more to stop the fire.

I also have to stop being a mug with people. I need to stop giving a shit about people and their behaviour. If they can’t be gentlemanly/ladylike to me, then there is no reason for this to be reciprocated by me. Profesionally, I need to learn how to bite my tongue, get on with the work and ignore the fools. Personally, I need to stop being supportive, friendly and caring to people who will only abuse this kindness for their own gain and selfishness.

The muppet for hire has now retired, but the bitch is here for special performances.

Sadness

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The last week and a bit has been a bag of emotional turmoil.

If you follow me on twitter you will know my aunt passed away last week. She was related to me from my mum and dad’s side (nothing dodgy like – our family ain’t like that), and she was a major part of both families in England. Her loss, though we knew it would come anytime soon, was still upsetting. This was especially due to the fact that as I was unable to join my family back in Birmingham to attend the funeral and be with them.

With my family it’s a mixed bag of emotions. We are fiery, bitchy, stubborn, moody gits and some have a tendency to be evil fuckers. But for all these curses (verbal and magical), slaps, and plain crapness, they are my blood and due to the sameness in us, they are brilliant to hang out with or “comedy” as we used to say. I do miss them especially the cousins in Brum, which makes it even sadder that I missed being with them at this time.

Last week, I also decided finally that one man was too much of a playa for me and a liability. Picture the scenario:

1. Two parties, same venue, two weekends, same lovely host.

2. First party – I miss due to being in London. He invites town ho no. 2.

3. Second party – I turn up, he suddenly turns up after me. Kind of a surprise.

4. Pictures show up of both parties. She’s in the first lot (nothing too snuggly in those photos I must say but she was fucking there), I’m in the second lot (with him next to me in most of them or arms around me).

Nothing overly wrong with this you might say. But do you remember when he said he didn’t know how to fit me in and kept on “forgetting” to take me on dates he had asked me out on?? Well I got pissed off in my womanly way that:

a. He was able to take her out on a date.

b. He was unable to fit me in (except when we were dancing seductively on the dance floor – we were good!).

c. He went to the same party (in a way) with two women and flaunted it for others to see.

And on top of that it means that’s she’s the other woman and that’s just horrible. It was enough I had to see her trying it on with him, in front of me when I was “seeing him” but this?? Ok yes i’m slightly irrational, but hey this irrationality made me realise that I didn’t want to be with a man like him. Let her have him. Two sluts equal …crap things. 

So due to the irrational but brilliant reason to get rid of the playa, I also realised that I cared a hell of a lot for other man (no 3 – if you have been reading my blogs before – keep up people). So you might ask what is the sad part..? Well just as we had semi-sorted ourselves together, he has had to pack his bags and leave me for a month for work. I have a feeling he won’t shag around, but due to his location I’m worried for him and it’s just a crap time to leave. So I’ve been emotional for the last few days but 27 more days to go till I see him again and then we can start the proper dating thing again, or see if we even want to be together.

Then there is work. I actually like my job. It’s interesting. I’m dealing with legal matters that I have never covered before and on a global scale which is fun, interesting and never boring, but what I am disliking is the men in my office. The start of the week had me in tears nearly due to a man in the office being abusive to me once again on email. It’s been going on for six months and yet he only gets a slap on his hand for his shitty behaviour. It’s depressing, frustrating and plain piss annoying. I have to just hold my breath for now and pray that karma will come and give a big kick in the arse to no man’s land. But it’s not just him. I work with a certain country of men and whilst I do have some wonderful friends from this country and I’m originally from there, these men do my head in on a daily basis. They are chauvinistic, arrogant, sexist, uneducated bastards and they smell of BO a lot of the time as well. They need to get a can of deodorant spray liberally, wash their clothes, buy some manners and learn how to live in the 21st century. But you know that won’t happen in the near future with the majority of these men. This realisation made me sad.

The other frustrating issue I also dealt with was on twitter. After the abusive emails from knob in the office, I ranted as I tend to do on twitter. Twitter is full of friends that I have made and share my life with on a daily basis, who are predominately living in the same town as  me. They know when I’m happy, sad, awake, alive, tired or hungry. They know more than my best friends (which can be scary) or they have become my best friends (mega!). So I ranted, and then slimy pervy man of twitter decided to put his 2 cents in and start being nasty to me. The breaking point was when he said I should go get therapy instead of twittering. This is not the first time he has said it to a woman on twitter. The irony is that he requires therapy more than most of us, due to his nature, but he’s in denial. However, all women in his books (and i’m sure other men) are nuts and need a shrink. Isn’t it a sad thought when a man thinks in this chauvinistic and sexist manner in this day and age. Yes, he’s an old man but should that be an excuse??

I know that life has its ups and downs and we all suffer, but somtimes when it all comes at the same time it can be truly horrifying to deal with. I’m lucky that I have good friends and family who have looked after me this week especially when I was very sad, giving me real and virtual hugs and love throughout. So through the sadness comes thankfulness and hope – and that makes me happy.