Dubai, 14th November 2011
Last week, it rained. I know, I know. Hardly news in most parts of the world, but here it is. It was half-term and I was up unreasonably early checking Facebook, as you do with your first mug of coffee: “It’s raining,” it proclaimed from all sides, lots of friends put this as their status and even the local radio station posted a photo with the presenters standing outside smiling in the rain.
Given, it was gloomy, but no rain where we lived. That is typical Dubai, there is usually only one cloud and it may rain onto your neighbour’s house, but not yours. But then I heard the parrots complain and looked outside – to see drops! Half-term or not, I rushed upstairs to wake the daughter, who is a deprived child having lived most of her life in the Middle East and never quite had her fill of rain. I spent several years in the UK, and I had enough of the stuff to last a lifetime, but still, any change is exciting.
So there we were, standing outside where the drops barely joined up on the ground, but it counted as rain. And do you know what, the teenage daughter, who normally, given half a chance, sleeps ‘til noon, thanked me for waking her up. No problem, I don’t think I could have lived with myself if I hadn’t, just the thought of telling her it had rained in the morning and she’d missed it would have been too much…
How sad is this though? Maybe we have been in the Middle East too long? I mean, really. That much excitement over some 50 drops? But in all fairness, we used to get just as excited in the UK when we had a day of sunshine, whatever floats your boat, I suppose.