Drama Club

For the last two months this 30 something has been feeling like an 80 something. This is the story of my humiliation and frustration; it’s a tragic tale of losing my dignity and becoming  a local “celeb” and just like the soap star falling out of the Chiltern Firehouse, it’s not welcomed fame. From here on out I have become known as that woman who hurt her back! 

Let me start at the beginning. Upon our arrival in Kuwait it became apparent that the beach club was a vital part of life. If you want to enjoy the year round weather, a private beach is the only way you can, as no public beaches allow women to be bikini clad. So 6 months after our arrival, we bit the bullet and paid the annual fee (which took us a week to get over) and looked forward to weekends in the sun.

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30 something seeks

I have always prided myself on being a good friend, loyal, committed and invested in making people part of my life. I am lucky enough to have a group of friends who have been part of my life since that first day at school. We met in the book corner and established that we had mutual admiration for Care Bears and Rainbow Bright and have successfully cultivated our relationship over the last 30 years (wow that really makes us sound feel old, sorry girls). We have been there for each other through the good times, the bad times crying in toilets at parties because a certain boy won’t speak to us but we have remained constant even as our lives have evolved and physical distance has come between us, we can pick up were we left off, the same group of 5 year olds huddled round the play dough table, although this time it usually involves coffee or wine.

Girls in the city

This week the ladies that brunch reconvened for our weekly ritual of eggs, pancakes and gossip. As our social secretary, I took it upon myself to suggest a break from the norm, try something new and venture out of our local comfort zone . Much to my delight, my fellow desert gals agreed to partake and venture into Kuwait City to trial the aptly named Breakfast Club.

We piled into the car and our designated Italian driver loaded the GPS and took a deep breath to prepare for the journey ahead. As per my previous post driving in Kuwait is questionable and as our new addition to the club put it, it’s the Wacky Races. There are no rules, biggest car wins and you do everything you can to get to your destination avoiding catastrophe. I refuse to drive here so I have great respect for those that do and our driver did a sterling job, arriving in one piece and literally applauding the tire screech to steal the last parking space available, we certainly deserved the hearty breakfast we had all come hungry to try.

Up on the roof

This weekend Hubby and I were invited to an expat BBQ. This was only our 2nd invite to a party since our Kuwait landing (not sure why I admitted that, makes us sound like Billy no mates) mainly due to our social circle consisting solely of my female friends or invites given out at school gates which bypass us altogether. Nether the less my lovely friend Mrs S, a Yorkshire lass who for the last year has firmly established herself as my brunch and mani/pedi buddy, invited us along to a family party.

Much to my surprise Hubby was as excited as I to have a social encounter past 5pm, which meant we could break ourselves away from  routine of Walford and the Master Chef final and I could get a much-needed catch up with my friend and meet some potential new ones. We headed off with excitement, nervous anticipation and ready to mingle.

Lights, camera, action

I must confess something to you all; this is an addiction which has no doubt cost me thousands over the years, caused friends to leave me alone and was the only sticking point when I met my lovely Husband. I am a movie geek.

I’m not some celluloid freak that will only listen to the critics or avoid the Hollywood blockbusters like the plague, only to focus on the beautifully shot indie filmmakers latest artistic triumph, I have one rule. Will I be entertained. Simple. I want to watch a movie and be transported to Hogwarts, be cheered up by comic one liners, inspired by true stories of adversity, seduced with moonlit walks through Central Park, be in awe of the classic glamour of the bygone age of movie stars and kick ass with superheros. It is the best kind of escapism and I’m first in line to put on the ruby slippers and click my heels into the new world.

Marmite of the Middle East

It’s Sunday morning here in the desert and I’m home from a much-needed change of scenery. Don’t get me wrong, I am more than happy in my little corner of the Gulf but even seasoned expats, and I suspect a few young Kuwaitis, agree that every now and again you need to escape to more exciting climes. My fellow Beans will totally get this and as lovely as our little island is, we all can get a little rock-strophobic and need to escape to the mainland. Well Hubby and I had got to the point where a little break from the everyday was needed and so, much to my delight, he booked us a little weekend to Dubai, which meant a change of scenery or in reality a change of sunbed, yummy food at our favourite haunts and a couple of drinks to end our current Kuwait dry spell.

In a previous post, Lifting the veil I describe Dubai as the Vegas of the Middle East and that it is far removed from my experiences of the other Gulf nations. Whilst some of my lovely readers would see this as a derogatory comment, I can assure you that I love Dubai and whilst the differences to Kuwait are endless and it is far from a true Arabian adventure, it offers an alternative that brings an exciting, vibrant, insight into modern Arabia.