End of the Road?

There are many milestones marking the crooked path of parenthood: first tooth, first steps, eldest child’s first day at school, last child’s first day at school (big difference!) and so on. We’ve just hit a massive one head on. How did we not see it coming? An articulated truck coming the wrong way down Emirates Road would have been less obvious, but we tried to ignore it, thought we could somehow swerve at the last minute and avoid it, and then ‘BAM’ – we’re still getting over the concussion.

This leg of the journey began when I renewed the kids’ passports:

‘He’ll need to write a letter authorising you to collect it,’ the lady said rifling through the paperwork for my eldest.

‘But he’s my son,’ I spluttered. I actually dropped things. ‘I’m paying for it!’

‘Ah, but he’s over sixteen you see. In the UK he’s considered an adult now.’

I left the building with mixed emotions, which have been well and truly blended, whisked and tipped out all over the floor in the last few months as we’ve watched him pass with flying colours, open the acceptance letter from Uni and tearfully wave goodbye from green pastures as we returned to sunny Sharjah.

‘Does it feel different without him around?’ someone asks. I smile condescendingly, and explain that it feels like someone has sliced into my soul with ice cold tongs and torn out a part of it, leaving mush. Every technical problem we encounter is magnified tenfold into a disaster without him around to press a magic button, the house feels huge and the left-over siblings seem to get on with each other for the first time in their lives. And my brain feels like fluff, as if some of it has floated out and drifted back to England. Is this a sign, gasp, that I’m approaching my ‘use by’ date? That the end of motherhood as I know it is nigh?

Then the emails begin to ping in:

Miss you – how’s the dog? What temp 4 tuna pasta bake?

Thanks 4 the allwnce :) how long is this sppsed to last? :(

Accmdtion balance is due :)

I hear my husband jabbing his keyboard furiously in the next room and hear ‘stupid computer!’ yelled over and over before more prodding ensues. Then ‘Hi… yep all done, don’t spend it all at once… by the way, where do I click to go to itunes and…’ and so on until he hangs up with a satisfied sigh.

Although this particular milestone is a biggie, a three thousand mile one, he’s just around the corner - cyberwise.

And the articulated truck? Optical illusion - it turns out that we slammed on the brakes for no reason – the truck was actually on the right side of the road, going with the flow, making its way to its final destination.

Industrial Area Number 2

Had a lovely soothing drive through Industrial Area Number 2 this week. What a place! This is what Sharjah is all about:

Pootling along, avoiding the potholes, a huge Frankenstein's monster of a man picks his way across the road in front of us. I involuntarily lock the doors and worry that he might have heard the 'click.' His face, apparently made up of several different people, scans us and he continues on his way - phew.

Squeezing between a scruffy pick-up and an FJ Cruiser, (Fake Jeep? Funny Japanese? Fatima Jassem?) we spot our old friend 'Speed Mulla' bombing along a side road, going the wrong way as usual, tarmac melting, parting under his bicycle wheels, dazzling white cotton flapping behind him ethereally.

There's a man in an expensive-looking suit just standing in the road outside a ceramic tile shop, traffic dust surely messing up the Armani. What is he doing there? Where's the Camry?

Then a curious convoy of, we counted, 64 water tankers all heading towards the Cricket Stadium. Hello, what's going on? They're Sharjah registered so surely not part of the Great Water Tanker Conspiracy, designed to get rid of all expat clubs in Dubai... maybe...

And the queues at the traffic lights... I'm sorry did I say queues? I don't think so... remember that game at school - amble scramble - where someone throws a sweet in the middle of a crowd of kids and they all try and get it? That's what traffic queues in Sharjah are like these days.

Hello, anyone there? Just buy a big packet and share them out nicely! Oh no, hang on, that would make sense, take organisation, and planning, and consideration for others...silly me.

VIP Treatment

After popping in to Spinneys for milk and bread, I had a quick look around for someone to donate my ticket to... "Every ticket you give away means 1 Dirham less for the municipality" someone once said. That's not quite my philosophy - I'd be more inclined towards "Do unto others what you'd like them to do unto you" or something...

Anyhoo, just then a Merc drew up next to me and an elderly gent stepped out. I wound down my window and offered him the ticket. He was so grateful it was heartbreaking and I really felt I'd done my good deed for the year. As I pulled out I noticed that he didn't seem quite sure what to do with the ticket. Eventually, he realised that he had to open the door and put it on the dashboard. 

As my new BFF waved energetically and I drove off, I noticed his VIP number-plate.

The chap has probably never bothered buying a ticket in his life and I bet the boys in beige wouldn't dare tag him for it either. It doesn't bother me really, I've got a new mate and the look on his face was priceless!

The Great Indicator Conspiracy

The thing is, if you use your indicator you'll let people know what you're doing - obviously a big no no. They might want to do it too, and you're the one who thought of it first. Why should anyone else take the glory?!

So the trick is to pull out at the last minute, without any warning whatsoever - the later the better. And of course if you see some idiot indicating his intentions, try at all costs to stop him from doing whatever it is he wants to do. 

Does he want to change lanes? Speed up - don't let him!

Does he want to pull out onto the main road? Flash your headlights, speed up and stare menacingly at him.

Is he thinking of turning left? Honk and make him change his mind.

Last, but not least, watch the big lorry drivers, for they are the all-knowing when it comes to driving etiquette - just watch them in action on the Emirates Road, any day, any time. Restricted hours? Pfah I say to your restricted hours! 80km/hr? Hah - not me! Right lane only - fine, but everyone else get out of my way or I'll drive right over the top of you.. A great hint I picked up the other day on Wasit Road; indicate left and then when all traffic has slowed down to let your great hulking mass turn into the middle lane, turn right onto a slip-road and disappear off, laughing at all the frustrated drivers in your wake.... Mwa ha harrr!

"Economic outlook for the UAE is secure"

There's a thin ragged man poking around in the dustbin across the road. His ancient bike is propped against a lamppost and stacked with flattened cardboard boxes tied together with string. He triumphantly pulls a box out of the rubbish, rotten fruit and tea-bags tumbling onto the road. I watch as he flattens the box expertly, and fastens it on to the bike with the others. Then he climbs on and pedals away precariously, wheels squeaking, narrowly missing a glitzy car driving too fast. He wobbles a little and disappears around the corner to where more bins hold more hidden treasure.

I wonder about his home; does he have a family eagerly awaiting his return in the evening, listening out for the squeaky wheel, clamouring for his attention and enraptured by his tales of derring-do on his trusty bike? Or does he return to an empty bed-space, amongst a dozen more sharing a dingy room along with cockroaches and a creaky fan, cutting through the humidity inadequately?

Smile you're in Sharjah

I've just heard that this iconic landmark is to be the next victim of the Sharjah road works conspiracy. Yes, that magical place where you're least likely to have an accident - all down to the fact that no-one's sure who has right of way, so everyone just slows down - there's some wonderfully philosophic logic in there somewhere! 

Well the bad news is that 'the authorities' have decided to close it... I know - don't ask - how on earth is everyone going to get to Dubai now!!?

I remember the days when you really did smile when you passed it, it was another sunny day, they'd changed the colour of the flowers, but apart from that everything was normal. Apart from those famous winters where it possibly should've read 'Swim you're in Sharjah.'

Who knows, maybe they're just planning to put some new flowers in. 

Maybe they should just write 'Stroll, you're in Sharjah - because there's no chance of driving anywhere at the moment!' Need more flowers....