To clear up any misconceptions about Friday's Photo Fun. This is how women get to go in the sea in the Middle East. They wear an all in one black suit from ankle, to wrist, to neck, underneath their Abya (the black outer garment that is worn all of the time)and which you can see in the photograph. I wear something very similar when I go into town or travel. If you are in Jordan at a hotel, where this photograph was taken, most women wear bathing suits or bikinis. These girls may have been from the Magic Kingdom but I tell you now they had a fabulous time and I have never heard such delightful shrieks from females participating in such a very simple pleasure. Something that you or I would take for granted.

A photograph to grace the pages of 'It Aint Arf 'Ot.' It is totally beyond my comprehension. Can you believe it?

So Break Up Babe has a book deal! Congratulations, I think. No, this is not sour grapes but comes at the end of a week where it has been brought home to me that Blogging works best if you write under a pseudonym. You are then able to write with impunity under a huge cloak of anonymity. Without being encumbered, rising like a Phoenix from the restraints of niceties. With this liberation, this freedom you can tell it like it really is. You can go for the jugular without embarrassing friends and family and indeed spice things up when life becomes a tad mundane. So everyone look out for 'It Aint Arf Ot! Romping tales from Saudi Arabia.' Whoops, blunder, that won't work will it? DUH!

Do any of you remember the poem that my title comes from today? I do know that when I first learnt this, many years ago, the picture in my mind of poor old (and might I add) mad, demented Dick blowing on a nail in the wall was, to me, quite, quite absurd. Yes, before you all rush to click the comment button, I do now realise that the nails in question were at the end of poor frozen Dick's fingers.
So why the above reference? Well today in the Magic Kingdom, it is colder than an Inuit's whatsit or indeed Dick's nail! It is absolutely freezing and we have the...HEATING ON! Are we all moaning and complaining? Not in the least. Everyone's going round in fleeces and jumpers and loving every minute of it. I just might wear m'boots tomorrow.

Interesting title! I certainly try to speak no evil but the other two are quite hard to follow because we, as individuals, are not in control of the situation.
So I am sitting at a computer working and I hear voices. Amazingly, the conversation is obviously about me. How do you stop yourself from hearing what is being said? If I get up and either close the door or attempt to walk out, the people talking about me will know that I have overheard what they have to say. If I remain, I get to hear even more! What would you have done? Talk about being between a rock and a hard place! I sat, afraid, unable to cut off my hearing, it hurt and it was very unjust.

We were invited to friends last night to play cards. Not Snap or Happy Families but a game I hadn't even heard of, Kanasta! It was SO complicated and just when I thought I had a grip on the game, slapped down 5 Queens and 2 wild cards, the sharp intake of breath from my partner (Dyson would have been proud)left me in no doubt as to the idiocy of my move!
The score has been recorded and we are expected to continue at a later date; tips from Mr Bun the Baker would be greatly appreciated at this very moment or you if you have played the game before!

I find some of the searches that people do that lead them to my page are positively hilarious and often times bizarre! Roller Scates has to be my favourite coming fast and furious throughout the year. It's the searches that I get at this time every year from all of those harassed mums who have just been informed by their 5 year old that they are shepherds in the school nativity, the most frustrating. They need help to make the costume and they certainly won't find it on my page. Here you buy this sort of outfit off the peg down at the Turkish tailors to fit the tiniest of tots. Although I have to say most children dress like shepherds all the time here so no big deal. Sorry all you mums out there you'll have to buy a teatowel, a metre of striped fabric, a dark coloured rope tieback (long enough for head and waist) and improvise. Just be thankful your child isn't the donkey!

I was amazed that the children asked if they could watch the Remembrance Day Ceremony on Sky News today. They were interested because we have been looking at life in Britain during the 1940's and they quite maturely made a decision that this would be relevant.
Well I shouldn't have been worried about them forgetting the fallen in the two wars and subsequent conflicts. This conversation that I am about to relate will make it quite apparent that there are other details that give rise for far more concern:
"So tell me who this is?" (Pointing to the Queen)
"Oh, that must be the Queen Mother."
"Well no, that's the Queen. What about this person standing next to the Queen? Who do you think this might be?"
"The King?"
"Obviously there are many things that you don't know about your country. Do you know the names of the Queen's children?"
"MMMMM...There's Charles...Harry...William...and Diana."
After correcting this misconception I spotted Tony Blair.
"Now I bet you all know who this is!"
"Oh, that is just too easy. Everyone knows that's George Bush!"
In their defence I have to say that most of them haven't lived in the UK for years and newspapers are not readily available. Unfortunately, it doesn't figure too much in the curriculum but it looks like we need to do some work here.

Just got back from a weekend in Jordan; super time. Busy unpacking, washing and getting my head round work tomorrow.
Photo's for Friday:





All flags were at half mast this weekend in Jordan.

Now there was a reason for the previous post. Last Tuesday evening we were invited to dinner at someone’s villa. As soon as we went through the door it was obvious someone had an eye for décor. However, what gave the interior atmosphere was a very clever use of candles. Not just one or two on the dining room table but in all sorts of little nooks and crannies; it was amazingly beautiful. The only use of electric lighting was the tiny pin-prick lights that covered the underside of the pergola roof, just like a myriad of twinkling stars. In the garden, lanterns were used to illuminate plants and paths.
I confess to hating overhead centre lights preferring instead a few table lamps strategically placed around the room. Soft lighting makes a room far more attractive and hides all of those faded fabrics, scratched furniture and marked walls that general wear and tear produce. So why is it that when I have created the right atmosphere for when we have guests, Phil, heads straight for the light switches and with a flourish turns every light on thus making our ‘des-res’ more like the floodlit grounds of a football stadium?

When I worked at Dhahran Academy there was one occasion every year that most female teachers hated! It was the annual individual and group photographs for the children ...and the staff. The memo came round underlined 3 times, in capitals and bold, that all staff had to have individual photographs taken and the perk was that they were free! Well yippee, we could hardly contain our enthusiasm. You see the photographer was excellent when taking those fresh-faced, smooth peaches and cream complexion of the very young but when he came to ladies of a certain age he made no allowances for those little laughter lines, the tiny furrows in the forehead and the gently sagging necks! The marks that shout out to the world that we are real women of character and intelligence!
The first year I experienced the photograph session, I sat on a cushion doing a good impersonation of a terrified bunny in the headlamps of a truck. It felt more like an interrogation by the Third Reich as I tried to stretch rictus facial muscles in the semblance of a smile. The finished result was handed to me in smart packaging, cellophane to be precise for all the office staff to snigger or commiserate with depending on how their photograph had turned out. You see those lights were just too unkind and showed up every line, crater and blemish on the face so you can see why we all hated having to comply. Do we really want to be reminded that our skin is only slightly better than the texture of a baby hippo’s bottom?

...Girl with a Pearl Earring. I read the book a year ago and was mildly interested. However, the film is a cinematic painting that takes your breath away. Each cameo scene is such a masterful use of colour and setting that you see it through the eyes of the great artist himself.
Vermeer is played by Colin Firth which didn't quite work for me but it didn't seem to matter. Scarlett Johansson takes the role of Griet and was obviously chosen for those spectacular lips and not her ears!
The whole film is like a rich painting and well worth watching for this reason alone.

Well you can keep your carrots, beans and Granny Smiths, look what I grow in my garden:



You get a years supply of camel dung for your rhubarb if you can tell me what it is.

This flower is so unusual. It reminds me of crabs claws.

Phil returned from Riyadh with wonderful gifts and food supplies! I now have a stunning Louis Vuitton travel bag that matches my purse and handbag, three new tops and a lovely fleecy coat. The ‘fleece’ is a lovely colour and it’s so light and obviously very warm.
We are now into November and the weather is still hot and will continue to be so until January, maybe when it gets chilly first thing in the morning and last thing at night. So basically winter clothes are not required here but I do so long for a few weeks when I can wear jumpers, thick tights, scarves and gloves.
I remember my first year in Dhahran and I was amazed by one colleague who turned up for work on the 1st October wearing a green polo neck jumper, green tweed skirt, thick black tights and knee high boots. As the temperature was in the 90’s, this vision in green wilted like a dried up bean.
So will my new warm 'fleece' be redundant and pushed to the back of the wardrobe? Nope it surely won’t! I now have the AC belting out a very chilly blast, the temperature is cold enough to freeze an Inuit’s whatsits and I am cosily typing this in my ‘fleece’.
“Sleigh bells ring are ya listening…”