Ha! A Post A Year

Now I can say I have posted at least once a year since I birthed my little Retronym (except for 2009). I’m currently sat in the Radisson Blu in Johannesburg watching an almighty thunderstorm raging outside (I would post a picture but the window is too reflecty and nothing on earth can now convince me to venture out of my PJs).

I’ve been here about two weeks now and I can confirm that I love South Africa and for more reasons than just the epic consumption of red meat and red wine. Thinking about it, red is my favourite food group.
My view of the country will be skewed as I’m here on company expenses but I don’t think that takes away from the friendliness of the people or the size of the steaks.

Firstly, I have to point out that this country is not suitable for vegetarians. Meat is the in thing, all the rage and I’m not talking about just pigs, cows, sheep and hens. Already you can discern that the South African is a right thinking person where diet is concerned.

My dining experience last week centred around the Carnivore restaurant. Their website is sparse on details but this gives a little more flavour to the proceedings that awaited me.
On arrival, we made it clearly known that all non-animal based edibles were to be heartily shunned. In fact, they were shunned with such vigour that the waiter had to remind me and my compatriot that this was an all inclusive affair and that we didn’t have to be stingy with the victuals. Nevertheless, we mocked the mention of soup; a baked potato was proffered but resoundingly snubbed and the mere idea of salad was so resolutely despised that I think we crushed a little of the chef’s soul in the process.

Before I continue, I have to describe the process that tasty BBQ flesh is brought to you in this restaurant. There is a flag.

When the flag is up, a never ending procession of meat wielding chefs (stop giggling!) carve off hunks of flesh onto your plate. To lay down your flag is to surrender in shame. Shame at having given up, but mostly degradation brought on by enthusiastically indulging in one or more of the seven deadly sins. 

I’m getting ahead of myself for just as Ezekias begat Manasses, butchery gave birth to gluttony. I’m not proud, that evening I consumed 10 different types of animal. Fuck it. Of course I’m proud. I even named each slab of meat as it hit the plate.

Mr Stripy Pants the zebra was a bit bland, Kenneth the kudu was naturally spicy and Sir Wilbarforth the crocodile was downright unpleasant. My favoured edible guest was Hattie the Hartebeest. She was a sublime mix of tangy game and robust beef flavours.  

You may be thinking that in most countries my menu would be more at home in a zoo than sizzling over a charcoal pit of flames. I disagree. I may be the animal equivalent of Jack the Ripper, but I appreciated every morsel.

All in all, we managed 45 minutes or so before our surrender became a necessity. Some kind of internal rupture was a very real risk and we had a 45 min drive home through the pitch black countryside.

I think I’ve covered meat. Next topic – ensuring the meat doesn’t cause a coronary. On my wanderings I’ve chatted to a whole bunch of people and the one thing that everyone here has in common is the outdoors. People list off three or four sports / activities as if it’s normal. Even taking into account that I am built for comfort rather than speed, I think I am talking sense when I say that humans aren’t meant to get that much fresh air. It percolates the mind in unhealthy ways. In order to fit in I decided to infiltrate one of these groups. I ended up going gliding.

Now if you’re not familiar with the concept, gliding is basically thumbing your nose at the laws of nature. For the more religious, you can describe it as committing an affront to the Lord. I am not quite sure how the darn things stay up in the air, really I’m not, but I have heard rumours that to get a gliding license, Flyers (those that glide) have to attend a semester at Hogworts.
If that’s not enough, flyers stick two fingers up at the deity / forces of nature that keep the damnable contraptions from falling out of the sky by insisting on wearing parachutes while in them.

Me - Why do we need parachutes? Surely they’ve managed to perfect gliding after all these years? There’s not even an engine required.

Flying Man - We know these things aren’t meant to stay in the air, but we still take them up, parachutes and all. Wibble wibble, would you like a woodlouse?

Ok, so that’s not an entirely accurate transcription of the conversation but it’s close to the truth in my mind.

The Flying Man (Chris) that took me up was awesome though. Apart from a few slips of the tongue (“Oh dear that was disastrous… wait, not really, I just missed a thermal”) I felt absolutely safe and had great fun… until he banked sharply to the right. Gliders can turn on a penny and manoeuvre into a position where your looking directly down as you turn, usually accompanied by girlish screams and within sight of a brown trouser moment.

I would post another picture of me with hilarious sunburn on my face from spending the entire day at an air-field but I’ll leave that for another time.

This post has rambled on for longer than I thought and covered far less than I meant to so as I’ll be on an 11 hour flight today, I may use the time to write a little more… or I may drink too much and sing at the flight crew.

Special thanks go to Crazy Raver Amy for helping out with some of the turns of phrase in the post, Wikipedia for providing pictures of beasts and Peroni for inspiration.

Cue Eye of the Tiger aaannnndd MONTAGE!

I hate it when I’m wrong. It’s very rare admittedly but it still chafes like sand paper on my gentleman’s bits (thank God I still have a way with words!).

When I started this blog, I was squarely told that it would be but a flash in the pan. A dalliance, craved only until I rediscovered booze and a social life. “Gaffaw, pish tosh and bollocks” replied I with all the zeal of the new blogger and his new blog.

If you check the time-stamp on my last real post, you will notice the year long hiatus. A year filled mostly with booze and a social life. Damn you beer and friends, damn you all for proving me wrong.
It’s been a good year with bad bits rather than the other way round and I’m truly thankful it didn’t fall under the label of mundane. Give me hell but don’t make it boring.
I shall try to sum it up in this post but there are topics that I will have to devote more time and language to (probably bad language if I’m honest).

The last you heard, I was a new migrant to the Dubai sand-castle, brimming with the exuberance of exploration and experience of a new place. There was a lady in my life and I had a hat, the dapperness of which has not been seen since, well, the last time you guys saw me.

I still have the hat. I call him Hatford.

I’m well into my second year in Dubai now and I’ve pretty much seen and done it all. There’s far less going on here than in, say, London or New York so I’ve settled into the socialising scene which involves bars, clubs and babbling an inordinate amount at people. My friends here are an excellent bunch of ne’er-do-wells, but I sometimes look at myself and think that in any other city, I would be classed as a youth (using the Metropolitan Police definition of “youth”), scaring old people and in desperate need of a community centre and a hug.
Yes, ok, I pretty much fit that description in any city I’m in but remember the hat! It has magical charm exuding capabilities.

The loss of my good lady was one of those bad bits I was talking about. Luckily we’re still friends but it’s still sad. I think that’s all I want to say about that unless you buy me numerous drinks and compliment my hat.

I think that’s pretty much caught you up apart from mentioning my travels. The past year has included Abu Dhabi for 11 months on a project that involved more hours drinking in a big empty house than is strictly healthy. London and Tamworth which I loved dearly due to the random bouts of insanity that I inflict on my friends. Johannesburg which I loved despite the utter nutter I was travelling with and finally Cairo. Cairo is the city I’m currently stationed in. I need an entire book to properly convey my dislike of Cairo. In fact I think I will find it cathartic to vent a little in my next post.

Actually, this post has hardly caught you up at all. I haven’t mentioned karaoke, brunches, dead bodies, the Irish, prison cells, anything topical at all (including skin creams!), hotel room antics, Aussies, my irrational fear of small people or inflatable camel costumes.
Until I get round to writing up more of those topics here’s a gratuitous picture of 2 lions eating my foot. In the mean time I do post more of my stupidity on Twitter (see the box on the right) but thankfully it’s limited to 140 characters.

Hmmmmmm….

Chaos reigns within.

Reflect, repent, and reboot.

Order shall return.

 

 

-- Anon

Dragon Mart is awesome

Today I've taken advantage of the Eid holiday to have a bit of an explore. I ended up at a mall called Dragon Mart and I can report back that it's insane, fantastic, nuts and intimidating.

The mall is vast and located in the middle of nowhere, sticking out like a bastion of consumerism in the sandy light of the desert. It took me the best part of two hours to walk from one end to the other. Inside, each floor is split into hundreds of little cubicle style shops that are more akin to stalls than the plush luxury of the other Dubai malls. The concept of this particular shopping experience is that all things Chinese-made are sold under one roof.  When I say all things, I mean all things. Tractors to laptops and jet-skis to curtains. It's all Chinese, cheap and available in return for cold hard cash.

There were more than enough knock-off looking things that would probably break after the first few uses, but there were also some quite solidly built devices like a TEA SERVING ROBOT! I would sell every one of you readers for such a device, but thankfully it was listed at just over 200 pounds sterling which puts it in the affordable category.

I was also particularly taken with the crazy mobile phones, of which the designers have decided to forego beauty in favour of cramming as many features in as possible. One particular model, labelled as Cool Talk, was a gaudy gold lame little number with duel sim-cards, TV reception, speakers and flashing lights as well as the more mundane flip out keyboard, Bluetooth and touch screen.

I haven't purchased anything just yet as I was cashless and the cash machine was closed so I wandered around taking it all in. This does mean I need to go back, and this time I will be armed with a camera and dirty currency.

Tomorrow I may head off to Sharjah for some extended exploring. The Emirates are big and I am determined.

Dubai... The place of dreams, and building sites

You've been worried haven't you? I've been gone and silent and you crave my attention, nay, you need it to live. Well my pretties, it may interest you to know that I have moved. No, not only have I moved house, I have moved city, country and continent.

Some of you will already know that I've been living in Dubai for almost a month, others, well now you know I hate you (just kidding, I liken myself to Sam Beckett in that my Swiss cheese brain forgets so much). So far it's been pretty sweet. The weather is awesome; the apartments both spacious and pimptastic and the lifestyle is pretty laid back.

In this post I will try to recreate the emotional states that I have transitioned; from arrival through to this very moment sat on my couch typing away.

Departures and Arrivals

Boo, leaving London, Friends, Wench. Don't like this.

Exciting though, new places, things to see and do.

Heathrow, how I hate thee.

Urgh, 8 hours on a plane. I must destroy crying children.

Bahrain airport is... boring.

2 more hours on a plane, this time smelly passengers must die.

Wow, Dubai airport... welcome service, WIN!

Note: Welcome Service consists of a small oriental lady that holds your hand and has the power to jump all queues. Truly she is blessed.

Holy crap, hot and humid. What have I done? Ahhh, air conditioned taxies.

Oooo, very swanky pad. What's that? Paid for by the company for a month, EPIC WIN!

Realisations

Ramadan applies to everybody? But so hungry!

Hi new colleagues, look at me, I'm great! Oh, that means I've already been assigned to a project and begin work immediately.

I need residency? Where are you going with my passport! How many forms?!?

Ok so let me get this straight, before I can do things like open bank accounts, rent a flat and officially exist, residency needs to happen. It can take up to a month. This doesn't mean I'm invincible for that month. Fail.

Rental cars are fun... nah, people can't be that bad on the road. I'll drive to Abu Dhabi. It's only a couple of hours. <Two Hours Pass> I want my mummy! <Two More Pass On The Way Back> I want my mummy and foooood!

Ooo, iftar is another word for buffet and shisha.

Hi sister and sister friends. Shopping is great and cheap. Wow, everything is new and shiny.

PAY DAY! No TAX! Stupendous Win!

Acclimatisation

Ooo, diving lessons, dune bashing, sweet merciful art galleries. I may get used to this.

 

There we have it. A month in a page and it really has flown by. Needless to say I haven't actually had time to go sight seeing and the bars and clubs are pretty much closed until the end of the month so I should have plenty more fodder and adventures to excite you with.

I am missing home and the boisterous friends and girlfriend that I got so used to, but hopefully I will soon entice you all to join me. I already have one convert in John who is moving to Abu Dhabi in the next week.

The one thing that still astounds me is the scale of this place. It's all so massive and marvelously fake. The news has reported that the building and landscaping is actually changing the climate of this place so that in a few years, it will become temperate and established. I'm skeptical but if it does happen it's a special type of lunacy that the world needs more of.

I will be back in the UK in October for a proper leaving do and to hug a tree and some green grass. I could not organise one in time before I left due to my uselessness so stay tuned and hopefully many of you can make it.

Wedding Photos

I've managed to put up all the photos that I have from the wedding.
They are mighty... please note the De Lorean from back to the future. the lovely Caz hired it as a special gift to Phil for the wedding day. There are few times that I've seen Phil speechless, this was one of them.

Best Man's Speech

Here's my best man's speech. There is a video of me giving it that's being sent to me as I type.
I think it's the most nervous in the world I've ever been.

I did improvise on the night a bit, but this is pretty much the entire thing.

So, hi everybody!
(The crowd better reply with "HI! Dr Nick")

As I'm sure everyone will agree, it's been a brilliant day only marred by the next 5 minutes I'll be speaking.

As is customary, I would like to thank the caterers for the lovely meal and everyone here for helping to make this day special.

I also need to thank Phil on behalf of the bridesmaids Anna, Claire and Shona. They look absolutely radiant and are only outshone by the ravishing bride.
Frankly, we've done the best we can with Phil, at least he's in a suit.

My name is Omar and I shall be your best man for the evening. A task I do not take lightly. So much so that when Phil asked me to take up the mantle, I responded with a resounding "No!". Not a good start to any budding groom-best man partnership I think you'll all agree.
Fortunately, I quickly realised that part of the best man's duties was to embarrass Phil in a room full of his nearest and dearest, a situation I've been trying to engineer for years.

Unfortunately I've failed, I don't have a speech prepared. I have been racking my brains for the last month in search of something nice to say as well as some mild humiliation for the groom and I've come up blank.

When I fist sat down to write this speech I really needed some inspiration, I couldn't in all conscience spend it making boob and fart jokes, no matter how strongly Phil begged me.
I began by contemplating why Phil would choose me as a best man. Obviously it must be because of my tact, charm and devilish good looks. As a representative of the groom, he wants me to make a good impression for his assembled family and friends. That made me happy.

Then I actually started to jot down some notes and quickly realised that in all of the most incriminating stories that I know about Phil, I come off as badly as he does. The cheeky monkey was hedging his bets. Check-mate to Evans, or so you'd think. I just needed to work that bit harder to insult him properly.

So I thought to myself, I'll ask some of his friends and family, that should make it easier to convey the essence of Phil during the speech. The responses started off well with "He's a warm, funny, happy bloke" and "He's always been the life of a party". I then noted a couple of sinister comments declaring "I've never actually seen him do any work, he's always just there". I think you can guess where those comments came from, Phil.
Now I did giggle a bit when I found out that Phil's aunt had called him "flippy kippers" when he was younger. I thought that could bring out Phil's playful side but that inkling of hope was soon dashed when at the merest mention of Phil's name, one individual just muttered "round and hairy" over and over again.
I then gave up on playful anecdotes altogether when one of the last insights into Phil's very being was "oh God, he's lazy, stubborn and smells a bit". Even I protested on that one, but then again, I guess it's your parents that do know you best Phil.

So now I'm stuck with stories I can't tell and the impressions of friends that range from slander to downright lunacy and the wedding day was approaching quickly. I needed a new tack.
I thought about some themes for the speech using words like proud, responsible, ambitious, sexual conquistador but I could hardly structure an entire speech around "things Phil is not".

So, after mentally preparing myself with a very nice meal and a few drinks I sat down and really thought hard. What do I know about Phil really? Well he's almost entirely motivated by cheese products and I went to university with him. In fact, I first met Phil at Manchester, a fine educational institution to say the least. To my cost, I soon discovered that Phil knew little about the educational bit but alot about institutions.

Through a drunken haze of beer, crisps and occasional forays to lectures, my most endearing memory of him at university is his enthusiastic dancing, a feat I'm positive will be demonstrated later on this evening. I highly recommend requesting "Sit Down" by James if only to see an entire wedding party being forced to sit on the floor in time to the music.

However, my most burning memory of him is something I sincerely hopes he keeps for his wedding night or for a career in politics and that is his love of drag. Of all of my friends, I do not know any other who's face lights up at the thought of donning a dress and bounding off in search of Halloween adventure. More worryingly, of all my friends, he by far has the most ample cleavage.

The big day is now even closer, so what else do I know? Well, Phil spent his formative years in Ironbridge where he cultivated a love of both iron and bridges and where I'm also told he first came up with, what I consider his lifelong mantra.
As many will attest, Phil is not the most shy and retiring man on this earth. In fact, he positively loves talking. So much so that there was a moment in the ceremony where I really did think he'd follow "I do" with "and let me tell you why".

But I digress... the mantra. If everyone can please imagine Phil as a child. A wee scrap of a lad, probably playing in some mud. Now imagine young flippy kippers wearing a flowerpot on his head... now set him into motion breaking everything in sight. Destruction of crockery, furniture and even family pets. And now finally imagine Phil triumphantly sauntering up to his parents and announcing "I done damage". A sentiment that I hear plagues his work colleagues still.
Well Phil, the only damage you've done today is to the wedding pictures and I'm sure photoshop can fix that.

So I'm stuck. I've been standing here for the last 5 minutes with nothing to say. So let this be a lesson to all aspiring best men, if the only achievements of your groom are to have married a fantastic woman, occasionally provided amusement and to have been a great friend over the years, politely decline and save yourself the stress.

In all seriousness though… Thank you all for listening.
Phil, it has been a great honour to have been your best man here today, but more importantly to have known you as a friend over the last 10 years.

I sincerely wish you the happiest of marriages and may our friendship continue for many years to come.

Before I finish with the toast, I'd like to prove to you all that I have done the research for this speech. On this very day in 1945 the Potsdam declaration was signed declaring that if Japan did not surrender it would face "prompt and utter destruction". Phil, think of yourself as Japan.

<TOAST>