Kindly remember that you are a second class citizen

I am the kind of person that will defend Dubai to the hilt to those who criticise it. This is the kind of thing I will say to people who say it is a revolting capitalist plastic hell hole full of Porsche-driving idiots with empty lives:

"The climate is great from October to April, you can enjoy a good quality of life, yes there is the fair share of complete materialistic plonkers that you would expect in a rich country, but I have made great friends here. And, as a woman in Dubai, I have always been treated with respect, it does not have the unreconstructed attitudes you might think, and, I know that as long as I remember I am in an Islamic country and do not do anything silly like be horribly drunk in a public place and otherwise live within the law, I will be fine."

Unfortunately, this week, I was given a rather stark reminder, courtesy of my landlord's agent, that despite the fact that I am as educated as my husband, have just landed a job that is nearly as well paid as his, pay my share of the mortgage on our property back home etc etc etc, in the eyes of some, the fact that I am a woman means my opinion matters less and that I should not argue and listen respectfully when a man is talking.

To cut a long story short, the agent had originally agreed to fix our broken washing machine, even gave us the cash up front without seeing a quote, but went back on this when the technician who came to fix it told us it was going to be twice as expensive as originally thought.

When I tried to disagree with his argument that he would not fix our six-year-old machine because "the apartment had been delivered to us in good condition" (it really wasn't, but that is another long and boring story) his words were something like:

"This is Arab country, here a man can do something very bad to his wife if she speaks against him."

At this point, I thought there was little point trying to argue with someone who is going to disagree with me because he believes that his being a man means he has an automatic right to make the decision, and the fact that the fact that I am a woman means I have no right to disagree with him. So, I have had to go against every single one of my feminist instincts and ask him indoors to deal with him from now on.

I moved here with my eyes open, I knew such attitudes exist here, but I found it pretty shocking because it was the first time in nearly three years that I have come up against it. In many ways, the UAE is very forward thinking. The Minister of State and leader of Dubai's recent successful Expo bid is a woman, for example, and there is broad recognition that equality for women is vital.

And, I know I should not let this man upset me, but, I did find it pretty shocking, particularly as it is the first time I have experienced this kind of attitude head on, and, I think I had started to believe that such ignorance did not exist here. Silly me, it would seem it does not take much for certain people to resort to it if a woman is behaving in a way they do not like.

It caused me to do something I have never done before, and went running to the forum on ex-patwoman.com where I found some good advice about reporting him to the landlord regulator RERA. As is often the case, I am not sure I can be bothered with the bureaucracy. Perhaps I will, but in the mean time, the priority is to just get the flippin' washing machine fixed. I am aware of the somewhat pointed symbolism of a broken household appliance being at the root of my pondering of perceptions of gender roles in the UAE. Perhaps I should get back into the kitchen and get on with trying to get the bloomin' thing fixed rather than rambling away on my blog.

Why everyone should see Champ of the Camp

For the first time this year, instead of talking about how nice it would be, we actually made it to a screening of a film at Dubai International Film Festival. Our chosen film was Champ of the Camp.

I have been reading about the film in the local press for some time, and had begun to doubt that it would ever be released, due to the fact that the treatment of the labourers who are basically responsible for making the enormous construction boom possible in Dubai, the UAE and the wider Gulf, is a fairly sore point as it has been the subject of such international criticism.

It is impressive that the director and producer managed to get it not only released, but screened at the the Emirate's film festival, and, at a 1,000 seat open air event right next to the Burj Khalifa, one of Dubai's best-known symbol of audacious wealth and determination to be the biggest and the best.

Please excuse the poor quality pic, I forgot to take my camera with me so it is from the Crackberry, but this gives a little sense of the atmosphere. Champ of the Camp tells the story of a singing contest that is held during the summer months at the labour camps where the construction workers live. The men audition to compete in a Bollywood singing game show, held in camps across the country, where singing ability and encyclopaedic memory of the thousands of songs written for the Indian film industry are key to being crowned Champ of the Camp. The winner in 2012 received a cash prize and an enormous flat screen TV. What is the true heart of the film, though, is the lives of the men and the solace the simple act of singing a romantic song from a Bollywood movie can bring to them, while they are thousands of miles from home, working long hours in searing heat for small salaries with often little prospect of seeing their loved ones for years at a stretch.

I can't remember ever before being so excited to see a film, or so pleased that it had actually been screened here. The screening itself reminded me of one of the central scenes in Cinema Paradiso, when the residents of the town gather in the square to watch the movie projected on to the wall because their beloved cinema is closed.

OK, it was a lot more official and high-tech than that, but the sound system was such that the singing of the men echoed from the speakers and the sound bounced off the Burj Khalifa, which one of the subjects of the film had been involved in building. The divisions between the lives of tourists and richer local and ex-pat residents in Dubai is such that he had never before been back to actually see the building as a visitor. A trip with the film makers was the first time he had ever got close up to simply stand back and look at it and watch the Dubai Fountain in the adjacent Burj Lake. It may have been a happy accident, but the point in the film when the fountain was shown was the exact point when the real life fountain behind it started to do its watery and flashing light stuff, another coup, even if it was not deliberate.

There are several scenes where the film makers simply train their cameras on individual workers standing in certain Dubai spots, beaches, building sites, near the Burj Al Arab, and they sing their hearts out. It is moving to see these songs, often ballads for lost or longed for loved ones, in such a different context, away from the glitz, the glamour and the frenetic dancing of Bollywood. I challenge anyone not to fill up at the sight of one contestant sobbing at the thought of being so far away from home and unable to be there in the event that something should happen to his aging parents. It is pretty sobering for a privileged ex-pat like me, who walks past hundreds of these workers on a daily basis, toiling away in 40+degrees, without really giving much thought to what their lives must be like.

There was only one slightly jarring moment in the film, that did not seem to quite fit, where two workers had a discussion about why one worker, from Pakistan, should happen to know songs from Bollywood, which felt as if it had been rather staged, and in my view, was completely unnecessary as there was plenty of other context to explain the use of Bollywood songs. Other than that, I cannot really begin to stress how impressive this film is, how fascinating an insight it is, the sheer quantity of work that must have gone on behind the scenes to navigate UAE bureaucracy to obtain permissions to film.

Much was made in media interviews with the director in the run up to the screening about how the media had previously only given a very small insight into the poor conditions inside the camps, the implication being that there is a much bigger pictures and it is not all bad. Well, his film showed conditions of eight men sleeping in bunks in one room, lack of air con in cooking facilities (no joke in the summer when it is 50degrees) and men disclosing that they receive a salary of Dhs1,000 per month (just over 166pounds). The fact that Mahmoud Kaabour was able to show this is pretty miraculous and I have already decided if I ever need to get something really very tricky done in Dubai, it is Mr Kaabour and producer Eva Sayre that I will be asking!

The winner of the contest, the film revealed, returned to his home country for a short while because his contract expired, and has since relocated to Saudi Arabia. Another, from Bangladesh, had actually been in the UAE illegally having overstayed his visa, but also managed to return home thanks to a visa amnesty last year. Another is back in Pakistan. Four of them attended the screening and each sang a song for the audience afterwards, their voices once again bouncing off the Burj Khalifa.

During a post screening interview, what really struck me was how one of them said that he never thought "people of such calibre" (ie rich and privileged people) would come to watch the film. Growing up in a society like the UK where one is taught that everyone is equal, no one is "better" than anyone else, whether or not their parents own land or have a lot of money or whether or not they have a brown or white skin, I always find such things upsetting to hear. Imagine, thinking the place where you were born or your parents' lack of money means you are not "of the same calibre" as others. I just can't, yet this is clearly how some of these men who are building the skyscrapers that are always springing up around us feel. Everyone should try to imagine what that feels like to appreciate what they have, and, that is why everyone should see Champ of the Camp. Now the real test will be to see whether the film will reach a wider audience and whether it will be the cause of any improvements in the lives of the men.

Belated happy "National Expo Day"

I am a little late to the party as the events in this post took place a week ago, but, what with all the jobhunting and foolishly running the Dubai Creek Striders Half Marathon, I have been somewhat preoccupied.

I am now recovered, much quicker than last time, and I can confirm that should you ever feel the urge to undertake such a thing in a desert climate, it is far easier to do so in 20-30degrees than 30-40degrees, so opt for a December half marathon rather than an October half marathon if you feel the need. Our next trick may well be the RAK Half in February.

Anyway. The business of this post is Dubai's winning bid of Expo 2020, which, has probably barely registered elsewhere in the world but has been pretty darned big news here.

The odds on the Emirate winning were so short that there was an inevitability about the proceedings of the day it was announced. Him indoors and I sat down to dinner, listening to a local radio station, and sure enough fireworks started to shoot out of the Burj Khalifa, which was also turned Expo blue for the occasion, the moment it was announced.

Say what you like about Dubai, when it comes to this sort of stuff, we know what we are doing. The fireworks started the instant the announcement was made and motorists in the streets around our building started going happily mental hooting their car horns. Meanwhile, him indoors and and I enjoyed the fireworks but slightly gloomily looked at each other and wondered what it would mean for the cost of living. There is already a school of thought that the Expo means the cost of living will simply rise too high to make it a sustainable economic choice for some ex-pats.

The cynical among you might point out that as I spotted workmen scaling the Burj to fix the fireworks in place days in advance, Dubai was something of a shoe-in and it's true, if you looked at betting websites in the run-up, you would have been daft to bet against it. But, it was actually also rather handy timing, as the announcement was just a few days before UAE National Day, another opportunity for the entire country to go completely pyrotechnic mental, so they could have simply delayed the blasts by 72 hours or so if necessary.

I was not in Dubai before the financial crisis of a few years ago, which resulted in ex-pats deserting the place for fear of being imprisoned for debt, but, I do wonder if the Expo win has brought something of the old swagger back to the Emirate. I spotted a rather boastful billboard on Sheikh Zayed Road, which ended up being featured in 7Days. So far there does not seem to be too much insanity or lunatic financial speculation off the back of the win, but I suppose only time will tell as to whether Expo means a return to what is referred to as "the good times" or "the crazy times", depending on your point of view.

National Day is a funny thing for a Brit as any sense of national pride and flag waving in the UK, apart from during the recent London Olympics, or during other brief moments in history when we demonstrate national sporting success, has rather unfortunate associations with right wing extremism, plus, there is the current debate over whether Scotland should go independent which means that our national identity is at best, "under maintenance" as we like to say in the UAE.

As a young country, the UAE at aged just 42 years, is in something of a honeymoon period and there are plenty of perfectly good reasons why. The standard of living is high for citizens and for many ex-pats, considerably better than they would experience in their home countries.

As is tradition, parades abounded, featuring floats from community groups and businesses and cars festooned with national flag decorations. The noise and festivity involved meant I simply could not ignore the one going on in Downtown and so I popped down to join the fun.

Perhaps because it was so hot on the heels of the Expo win, this year's celebrations did seem particularly festive. Dubai and the UAE have the tendency to get into the international news for the wrong reasons, but seeing the delight people have taken in being recognised with the successful bid, and, seeing a little of what it means for large sections of the population to be able to live here, gave me quite a lot to think about.

Typhoon Haiyan, which I believe has killed more than 6,000 people and counting in the Philippines, has been in the news a lot in the UAE thanks to the fact that there are around 750,000 Filipino nationals living here of a total population of 9.2million.

Although many Filipinos who live here are on low wages, you begin to see why they put up with that when the alternative could be living under threat of natural disasters. Us over-privileged Brits moan about Dubai and the usually quite trivial frustrations you can experience, but, and although I know this is a generalisation, for people from poorer countries, who grow up knowing they will need to move abroad to make a decent living, it is the place to be.

When I went into the Post Office prior to National Day, the Emirati national behind the counter was in an cheerful mood, and the interior of the building was festooned with flags. I wished him Happy National Day, and he replied: "And Expo" which made me think just how big of a deal this really is for the locals, particularly the older ones like that particular gentleman, who were in this country before it was even a country, and have seen it grow from sand to skyscrapers in the space of a few decades.

The visa requirements here are such that unless you are an Emirati national, if you don't have a job here or are married or related to someone who does, you cannot live here, so I suppose the result of that is that many who are here feel privileged to be so, particularly those for whom the alternatives are not at all attractive.

Life is by no means a bed of roses for everyone in Dubai, as links like this will show you, paying no tax means no free health service to speak of, so, if you get sick and your insurance does not cover you, you can run into problems pretty quickly. But it is times like National Day when you can see the genuine love and appreciation people have for the place.

Saying that, I would never ignore the flip side of those who have the experience of feeling privileged to be here, that is those who are here because they feel they have to be, driven here for the sake of  making a better life for the families, and, to an extent, are trapped because their salaries are so low that they can very rarely afford to fly home to see their loved ones. This section of UAE society is explored in Champ of the Camp, which premiered last night at Dubai International Film Festival.

I went to see the film at the open air screening of Burj Park, but it deserves its own post, so I will leave that for a different day. In the mean time, here is the Burj lit red, and then in UAE flag colours, to celebrate National Day.

Say cheese

It must be, ooh, at least a month since my last "product made with camel milk" post so here is my experience of UAE-made camel cheese.

The thing I like about this cheese is the effort that has gone into producing the packaging, a little Bedouin-style tent with imitation sand dunes. Bless. For 39Dhs, you get 200g of the cheese plus the fancy packaging. Readers in the UK will think I've gone mad if they've done the maths (that's about 6.50GBP) when I say it's fairly good value.....

Wait for it, wait for it....

There is logic.....

Camel milk is relatively low in fat compared to its bovine counterpart, and, I think it is for this reason that this cheese lasts a heck, and I mean a heck, of a long time. I am not going to tell you how long it survived in our fridge because you will be horrified that we still ate it, but, it is safe to say that him indoors and I do not really take much notice of sell-by-dates, we are more from the "if it does not have actual maggots or green fur, then it is still OK" school of thought, and, so far we are still alive.

You also do not need much per sitting. It is quite rich tasting, and its fancy packaging has some sort of psychological effect, you view it as a treat, therefore you eat a little bit at a time.

The other reason it seems relatively good value is that cheese of the non-processed variety is pretty darned pricey in the UAE in general. In the UK, we were used to buying house brick-sized blocks of mature cheddar on an almost weekly basis. You can get cheddar here, but the mature variety is not cheap and the house brick-sized blocks are not available in a bog standard supermarket, probably because it would be so expensive people would fall about laughing in the aisles. There is also a certain paranoia about food going off due to heat in the UAE, despite the fact that fridges etc have been widely available for a long time.

Obviously, most fresh cheese that is sold here has arrived from Europe or Australia in some kind of refrigerated vehicle which costs dosh, hence the high price to the consumer. There are all kinds of  processed tinned, carton and packaged cheeses available, but, I tried a cheap carton of feta from Denmark once and nearly cried, such was its inferior quality. I am aware exactly how ridiculously middle class that makes me sound, but, you know what, I am ok with that, if it means I will never have to eat the shrunken excuse for feta ever again.

Anyway, back to the camel cheese. As for the actual flavour, it is not particularly memorable. I would say it is a bit like feta but less salty, or one of those artisan goat cheeses that are coated in ash. But, it really is all down to the presentation. Packing it in a miniature tent appeals a lot to strange people like me who like miniature things, and I am pretty sure that thanks to this, it will join the assortment of "amusing presents to take home to the family" novelty items such as camel milk chocolate camels, dates, Arabian sweets and shisha pipes, given time.

As for a mass market, it is hampered by the same problems as camel milk itself, in that it is not exactly economical to produce if this story in The National is anything to go by. But there will always be a groundswell of support from those who want to find a way to make camels an economic resource other than for amusing tourists and camel racing in the UAE, as it is such a symbol of how life once was in this region. 

Gone and done it...

Sponsor us here: http://www.justgiving.com/ImoPaulMyelomaHalf

Distance covered on Friday: 21.097km (13.109miles) (effing far) in me: 2hrs38mins02sec (not VG) and him: 2hrs14mins53 secs (VG).

Current temperature:  31C

Today's orange pic:

Us with our excellent band of supporters, some of whom got up early enough to see us start the race and wave a cute baby at us, some of whom found the 9km spot and waved an orange banner at us encouragingly and jumped up and down, and others who provided excellent photography services, and more still who went to fetch cans of coke and cake after the race. Thanks, you all rule.

Having done the race, I would like to dispel a myth about running long distance races, particularly in heat. And it was hot, some of our supporters said they found it a bit hot standing there clapping us through the finish, let alone running 20-odd km.

Myth. "Wow, it will be hard work, but it will feel so amazing when you have completed it."

Myth bust: We did not feel amazing.

Him indoors puked and I had to lie down on the grass for half an hour to prevent myself from puking. I still did not feel amazing after that, I felt sore and nauseous. I certainly did not feel, as some claim to on completing their first half marathon, that they decide on the spot that they want to to do a full marathon. In truth, I might think about doing it one day, but not for a while. When we got home from the run, we looked at each and said: "Thank goodness we're not doing a full marathon, because we'd still be effin' well running now, probably with at least a half an hour still to go."

Two and a half days on, I am pleased that we did it, and quite determined to do a better time when we do the Dubai Creek Half in December, but my, it was a tough ole race. It was the first half marathon I've ever done, yes, but I had hoped to get round in a slightly quicker time, preferably in under two and a half hours, and I had dared to hope as the day approached that it might be closer to 2hrs 15. Sadly, it was not to be, I suspect I was slightly ill-prepared for the actual day as I felt nervous and a bit under the weather the day before and did not sleep well . And, I think I hit what is known as "the wall" at about km 18, which is shown by my split timings. I was at the half way mark by 1hr 6mins but it all went down hill from there. My fastest mile was my first - at an average speed of 6mph, whereas towards the end it got down to 3.7 when my legs were pretty much destroyed and I had to walk quite a bit. I think the key is that a comfortable distance for me now is about 15km, after that, it all starts to get a bit unnecessary. And despite everyone telling me not to start too fast, I obviously did just that. I honestly didn't feel like I was but I guess I was carried along by the enthusiasm of all the other runners.

I was placed 108 out of 122 women and him indoors was 267 out of 359 men. As you can see from those numbers, it is quite a small event, probably because there are not many nutcases willing to put in the necessary training through the summer.

Highlights for me were:

1. Our excellent supporters, whom I barely acknowledged coming towards the finish because I was so destroyed, and I pretty much grunted at for about half an hour after the race before getting up, insisting they be in a photograph then limping pathetically towards the car. Sorry about that, guys. I really did appreciate you being there, even if I nibbled just one bite out of the pastry you brought to me before lying down with my eyes closed again.

2. The point in the race where the podcast I was listening to finished, and I experienced a high as it coincided with the point at which I swallowed a Gu gel, and, Empire State of Mind came up on my half marathon playlist. At that point, I was screeching "New Yooooooooooooork, Concrete jungle where dreams are made, oh, there's nothing you can't do," and a Scottish bloke, who went on to beat me, the bugger, passed me at this point and said: "Like the singing, good going."

3. Being home, showered, eating toast and watching 30 Rock in bed.

I have just about regained my sense of humour about it now but there was a period of time yesterday when I was still feeling pretty grotty despite getting nowhere near the time I had hoped for, that it all felt a bit "what the hell was I thinking?". One of my chief running advisers will tell me off because I haven't been for my "recovery run", I've only been stretching my poor little legs in the pool, but I think it will be a few more days before I feel like putting on the trainers again. Still, with a total raised so far of 1451.73GBP raised, it has all been worth it.

Here is that link again just in case you've forgotten to sponsor us: http://www.justgiving.com/ImoPaulMyelomaHalf 

It's all in front of us now...

Sponsor us here! http://www.justgiving.com/ImoPaulMyelomaHalf

Distance covered this week: 9.66km

Distance to cover tomorrow 21.09km or 13 miles (oh pants).

Current temperature: 30C. Humph, not as cool as I would like...

Just a quick blog today to say thanks for everyone who has sponsored us. It means a huge amount to me, him indoors, and me Ma, who has demonstrated some serious guts in the way she's dealt with her Myeloma.

Your support really has kept us going through the training. I can't quite believe that race day is tomorrow. If you fancy waving us through the finish, I reckon him indoors will finish between 7.45am and 8am, cos he's quite good at this running lark, while I hope to be done by 8.30am, but would like to get in at 8.15am, at Emirates Golf Club. If that's all a bit early, come to the pub with us for burgers and beer! We haven't had a drink for a whole week. Never let it be said that we're not taking this running business seriously....

Non, Je ne regrette rien (not even le fondue)

Distance covered this week: 12.87km.

Distance covered on Friday 8.04km in a really quite feebly slow time.

Current Dubai temperature: A rather reasonable 30C.

This week's running training has been somewhat interesting as part of if was done in the Valee de Joux in Switzerland during a watch-related press trip. For those not in the know, the Valee is the rural home of many of Switzerland's best known watch companies including Jaeger-LeCoultre and Vacheron Constantin.

I ran past some of the HQs before the sun was up as various high-powered corporate watch types commuted past me having got up way earlier than I did to make the journey from the cities of Geneva and Lausanne to their countryside offices. You may be wondering why the companies choose to have their head offices way out in what some of the Swiss call "the Siberia of Switzerland". The answer is: Tradition, as that is where they have always been. The origins of many Swiss watchmakers are that their ancestors were forced to remain indoors for the bitter winters having brought their herds of cows safely down from the mountains. Many started making watches as a hobby or as a second income. It turned out that they were pretty good at it and from the late 18th century onwards, many of the world's finest watches were made in the valley.

I got home from the trip at about 1am on Friday, and dragged myself out of bed six and a half hours later to go for the final long run before the half marathon which is on Friday, 18th October. It was not actually that long  a run - a mere five miles which sounds like a little walk in the park compared with the 10 and 11 mile efforts of previous weeks. The distances required tail right off at this stage so you don't wear yourself out. But, starting out on the run at 8am was a mistake. It is really quite staggering how a two-night trip away can get you completely out of the heat resistance habit. It even snowed while I was in Switzerland, that means a minimum 30C temperature difference, look:

Another factor was stuffing myself with cheese fondue, Swiss chocolate, Swiss wine, and that delicious meat thing where you cook the steak on your own miniature grill at the restaurant table.

I sat there telling myself that meat protein was vital for muscle repair and calcium from the chocolate and cheese for strong bones, and, it would be rude to refuse the wine as I was a guest. But alas, dragging my bloated liquid cheese-filled self around two and a half laps of our usual Downtown circuit on Friday morning was not pleasant. There was walking, there was chocolate, cheese and wine-related regret, there was trying out the Gu running food for rehydration purposes. This was mint chocolate, but tasted like sweetened baby poo compared with the high quality grass-fed Swiss moo-cow produced milk choccie I had been happily hurling into my gaping maw in Switzerland. The upshot is I'm now asking, how the hell was am I going to get round 13 miles if I can't even manage five properly? Alack, alack. What have I done?

Still, as a certain francophone songstress once said, in actual fact: "Non, je ne regrette rien", because OK, maybe not so much the wine, but definitely the chocolate and the fondue were BLOODY DELICIOUS. I am not an athlete, I never have been; I was literally the last to be picked for every sports team in every single sporting activity that took place in my entire school history. I am not the kind of person to sit in front of someone who has carefully organised a press trip on which one gets the opportunity to sample local delicacies and say: "No thanks, salad please, and can you mix this protein shake up for me?" No. That person is not moi, because, as the french-speaking Swiss would would say, that person is "un peu d'une wankerre".

So, come Friday, I would like to get around in two hours 30mins, but, I am resolved to be OK about it if I don't, as long as I get round before the three hour cutoff point when they start closing down the course! Even if 34-year-old creaky-kneed over-sized illuminous orange vest sporting me only hobbles across the finish line at 2hrs59 mins 59 secs, she'll still be fairly unrecognisable in comparison with the Victoria plum t-shirt wearing five-year-old me who thought the best policy for catching a rounders ball was closing her eyes, sticking her hands out and muttering the Lord's prayer under her breath.

This has always been about raising dosh for charity and was never about killing myself or setting half marathon records, which is probably a good thing as anyone who has ever done one will tell you, 2hrs 30 is not exactly elite. Luckily for me, one of the many great things about my Mum, who this run is for, is that she used to tell me when I was in my particularly gawky uncoordinated school teenage years that she thought that making pre and post-pubescent girls run around in a state of half-undress on freezing cold playing fields in the name of physical education was tantamount to child abuse, so I seriously doubt she will be expecting sporting greatness from  me.... I'm pretty sure she meant that and wasn't just trying to make me feel better when news reached her that my attempt at the school inter-house cross country competition had resulted in me running past spectators telling them they "better get out of the way.... RIGHT NOW" because projectile vomiting was imminent. My sister reminded me just now, with tears of laughter pouring down her cheeks, that a further humiliating factor of this particular cross country run attempt was that I was running in a "reserve vest", so all the pain, the lungs burning from the freezing rain and icy air and being covered in mud and of course, coming last, were all for nothing as my time would only have been recorded if one of the better runners had had to drop out. And, having seen my feeble athletic attempts, there is no way any of the better runners could possibly have thought they were worse off than me, so none of them dropped out. So it was literally completely pointless. It's a small wonder I did almost no physical exercise from the ages of 16 through to 28.

Anyhoo.

We'll see you on the other side. In the mean-time, take it away, Edith: (Another good one for the play list, particularly this week). And for nearly the last time, if you have not yet sponsored us yet and wish to do so, please click here.