The airport wasn’t even five minutes behind me when I saw the monstrous billboard advertisement by Heineken.
Holiday troubles are part of the tradition, enjoy them.
Accurate, I told myself as we whizzed on past, weaving through the onslaught of mopeds and scooters. Mario Kart, but with more traffic. But this wasn’t a virtual reality. I had just touched down in the Indonesian island of Bali and this was not a drill. Due to the severe rainstorms and flash flooding that had unexpectedly hit the UAE, causing mayhem across the entire infrastructure, it was a miracle that I’d arrived at all. Delayed flights, and cancelled ones too, I’d made it! Despite the sleeping pills, the turbulence kept me awake, and I was still jet lagged, still on California timing. I needed a coffee. Or maybe an Aperol; I was finally on holiday after all, and surely, if the billboard was in fact right, I’d already encountered my share of ‘holiday troubles’. Bring on BAAALI!
Today marks the tenth day of Christmas, and the first day of opening my advent calendar. I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, that one of the only perks of being an air hostess is that whilst you’re traveling, you amass a backlog of chocolate advent calendar windows to open upon your return. Luckily, that meant that today, I got to open not one, not even two, but ten chocolate windows. Yes, a Cadbury breakfast is a fine way to kick off a rainy Tuesday morning in Dubai.
“I think you could write a book. Kind of, an anecdote of ‘Why Men Love Bitches’. You could call it something like, ‘What Not To Say In A Relationship’. A bit like ‘How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days’. Those sort of vibes.”
My mum is my biggest fan. She is my absolute biggest cheerleader. The first person to watch my IG stories (because she somehow worked out that she can receive notifications of when I post anything…) and the first person to message me every single morning when I wake up. But, her being of the Baby Boomer Generation, and me being a millennial, have some very differing opinions and outlooks, especially when it comes to social media.
My friend was chatting to me, but I kept being distracted by the child who was blatantly staring at me. I could see her, out of the corner of my eye, watching me, unblinking, whilst she crammed cake into her mouth with both chunky fists. Just as I was beginning to wonder if I had a bogey or something on my nose, the cupcake with it’s sprinkles and glittery frosting was finished. “CAAAAAAKE!!!!! MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMM. ME CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE.” She screamed; throwing herself against the plush pink couch giving zero cares about the sticky mess she was leaving in her wake. Oh dear, that sofa looked expensive…
“Well, Doctor S said that when it kicked in, I’d know… That it would be like finding light in the dark… I am not really sure that I am seeing the whole light yet?”
The doctor laughed from the bottom of his belly. “Listen, I wouldn’t quite word it as ‘poetically’ – shall we say – as Doctor S put it… but, the tablets are mainly to help build your confidence a bit, which will have a knock on effect on all the other aspects of your life.”
“Is the light more like when someone leaves the hall light on and the light shines through the gap under your bedroom door? Rather than the floodlight I was expecting?” I asked him as I got up to leave his office. He smiled, “Give it time, Pam! Come back and see me in June. And enjoy your holiday!”
Breakups are harder the older you get, and that’s a fact. Not only do you have to endure the heartache that is missing someone who’s been a huge part of your life for a considerable amount of time, but you’re also grieving for all the hopes, dreams and plans that will never come to fruition. (Better put those imagined baby names on the back burner!) You gave your time and youth to someone who you now have to forget, and unfortunately there is no memory eraser. Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind was nothing but a fictional movie, and so our only option is to endure. But you are not alone in the battle.
“January is going to be our year.” I was Skyping with my overseas bestie a couple of days before Hogmanay (that’s what us Scots call New Years Eve by the way). I thought ahead to my January work pattern and felt a tidal wave of giddy wash over mewhen I thought about the two weeks of annual leave that needed filled with some plans. Yeah, this year is going to be the year I travel more and actually have some more adventures, I told her.
Fast forward to the first week of February, and if that first month was a taster for the year ahead, then please tell me that the first month is just a trial run?
It’s foolish to deny the want to be popular. On some level, you want to be popular. It’s okay, everybody does. Everyone wants to be liked and actively seeks validation in belonging to a tribe. Denying it is no use; it’s pure evolution. But the fundamental question to women worldwide should be, which tribe do you want to belong to? The Superficial Squad who value everything materialistic, or the Sincere Tribe who only serve to nurture your best interests?
And no, I do not mean the song by Haddaway, but you can listen to it here if I’ve put you in the mood for it.
“Here, I’ll forward the link to you now, and tell me your score!!!” My flatmate bounded enthusiastically out of the room in search for her phone so she could ping the quizto my inbox. We’d spent the evening gabbing away at the dining room table about “The 5 Love Languages” after she came across it on a podcast. “It’s a book you know.” My other flatmate chipped in. “I’ve got it on my kindle if you want to borrow it.”
Love languages? There are approximately six thousand, five hundred spoken languages in the world, and I had only learned one – how the hell was I supposed to understand five new ones all about L O V E ?
We were at the gym, before breakfast doing fasted cardio in a bid to lose some weight, slogging it out on the treadmill that overlooked the swimming pool when I felt a familiar lurch. She was right in our line of sight; all tanned, long dark hair, body like a fitness model, petite stature, and elegantly laid out on a sun lounger.
I got an anonymous comment on one of my blogposts. (To see the post in question, click here). Firstly, I am clearly not excelling at this whole blogger-thing – because it must have lay there unnoticed for quite some time, (note to self, must read and pay attention to inbox more frequently), and secondly, I then allowed the feedback to occupy more headspace in my mind than it truly deserved.
I wrote a blog post on the types of men you find in Dubai following a conversation with my friend over a You Tube video which categorises men into four types, but then, the more I thought about it, I realised that for every type of man in Dubai, there are just as many different types of woman. I am all about equality, and I would hate for any men reading my blog to think that I am solely targeting them (!) So read on, to uncover the various categories of woman you’ll encounter across Dubai.
My friend just sent me a YouTube video of a Derek Hart theory which states that there are four types of man, slotting categorically under the following headings:
After I watched it, (you can watch it too by clicking here) I found myself researching other articles about different types of men, because, realistically four categories does not seem space enough to pigeon hole all the men in the world into.
In the hook up culture of today’s millennial generation, there is an abundance of apps that make causal encounters easier than ever before, including Tinder, Bumble and Happ’n to name a few, but in a world where one night stands are a mere click away and sex is pretty much readily available, the flip side is an generation who value monogamy and fidelity more than ever.
Sat on the sofa eating Pad Thai and half watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, my good friend (who’s never short of verbal ammunition for my blog) was talking to me about newly acquired boyfriends. To be more specific, she was talking about a mutual colleague of ours who recently coupled up, and has already moved into his place after only two months of dating.
Have you ever seen the film, ‘Just Friends?, where Ryan Reynolds explains the ‘friend zone’,
“The ‘friend zone’ is like the penalty box of dating, only you can never get out. Once a girl decides you’re her ‘friend,’ it’s game over. You’ve become a complete non-sexual entity in her eyes, like her brother, or a lamp.”
Not for the first time in my life – I have found myself relegated to the friend zone. I have become like a lamp.
The past two weeks I have learned a lot of things – including that hands and feet occupy the largest area of the brain when it comes to human senses; that’s why when your shoes are hurting your feet from all that dancing or whatever, the pain feels much more unbearable. (I KNOW!!!) Even more wild than that though, is that I can now confirm that men are actually crazy. They are insane-psycho, more-issues-than-Vogue and a daily newspaper combined, whack.
Packing is high up on the list of chores that I would 110% rather not do. It features much higher than hanging up washing, and just slightly lower than mopping the floor or putting clean sheets on a super king sized duvet (alone).
But fear not, babies, for I am here to guide you through the dreaded chore. With holiday season fast approaching, I am going to tell you my own personally designed Pamela Violets ultimate guide to packing. I am going to tell you what you should be taking, and what you definitely should not be taking.
I’m sitting in a cute little cafe called Ohh Boy, in the Aminta area of Athens, smiling like a slightly crazed person. I have an iced coconut coffee next to me, a cute dog opposite me, and a bowl of greek yoghurt, fruit and honey to the left of me.
Last week I blogged about how saying ‘yes’ to things that I’d usually find an excuse not to do, was changing life for me, albeit in a short period of time. Over the past few months, I have been reading a lot of books on how not to give a fuck about all the things I have given too many fucks about for too long, and somewhere in between all those words, I think I may actually have gradually started giving less fucks.
A couple of months ago, while I was round at one of my friends apartments for one of our ‘Come Dine With Me’ dinner nights. Catching up, we were all talking about our latest gossip and what we’d been up to, and when it came to my gossip which was distinctly lacking, I made no qualms to hide how fed up I’d been feeling lately.
Here is a comprehensive list of ways that I have put off revising today, for my impending annual aviation exams taking place on Tuesday, (writing this post too, is yet another method of my procrastination obviously).
Being brave isn’t a word that I’d normally use to describe myself. In fact, I don’t really consider myself brave at all. I’d normally consider myself a low-risk taker, probably because I am an only child and a Virgo (except when it comes to buying trainers – on that note, I’m a bit of a gambler!).
It’s lent, and despite being a non-practicing catholic, my inner seven-year-old self (she’s always there) still kind of feels some moral obligation from my catholic education to give something up for Lent, just incase there really is a Heaven when we die. If you don’t know what lent actually entails, it’s a whole forty days and forty nights of going without something, to represent Jesus trekking through the desert without food and water for the same length of time.
Valentine’s Day is fast approaching and every shop is literally bursting at the seams with red, pink and white. Not one for overtly outright proclamations of love and PDA’s (I am a Virgo after all), I present to you a series of ‘Alternative Valentine’s Day poems’, written by me.
A few weeks ago, I was at Dubai’s tacky somewhat-but-not theme park, Global Village. I won a giant flamingo on some little ducky fishing game (and when I say giant, I mean GIANT), went a ride on the highest swings, and was then happily chomping my way through a chocolate chip ice cream cone dusted with sprinkles. “I am literally living my childhood dream.” I thought to myself.
On Thursday night, I had a wobbly moment. An albeit brief moment, but a wobbly moment nonetheless. I had a cry on my sofa, then I poured myself a (very large) gin, and I went to bed after about another four of those gins looking like Bridget Jones, only more tragic because I have two cats. Continue reading →
I’ve had a bit of a blogging sabbatical lately. I’ve mainly been preoccupied with a few tasks like reading Sarah Knight’s, “Get Your Sh*t Together” which has me timing how long I take in the shower, (sixteen minutes FYI, and that’s not even on a hair washing day). Nothing that depressing or cringe-worth funny has been happening of late, and to be honest, I’d say that that’s where 99% of my material for blogging comes from, hence the drought, although I’m getting my eyebrows done by Beyoncé of brows later and we know how that went down in the past (watch this space…). So, until I have something worthwhile to write about, I decided to have a look through the gems of my unpublished drafts and I came across this one and decided to share it.Continue reading →
If you were to play a word association game, and someone shouted out ‘CHRISTMAS!’, the word most people would probably shout back in return would be, ‘JOY!’ or ‘HAPPINESS!’, however, I am here to argue that this is a common misconception. I mean, you might subliminally know the words to the majority of your Spotify Christmas Playlist, but have you ever actually listened to the lyrics? Well, deck the halls with antidepressants because here’s a compiled list of the 22 Saddest Christmas Songs of ALL time*.
A good friend of mine once told me a story about an ex best friend and her who’d had a bitter and upsetting fall out. I don’t know why the story always stuck in my mind – maybe I resonated with it a bit. Either way, we were walking through the train station, when she told me that she had recently read an article comparing the turmoil of falling out with a best friend, to grief. The article discussed the importance of recognising that a major relationship in your life has effectively died. “As with any death”, she told me, “you need to mourn it.” I always dress in black anyway.
I read an article online about Ed Sheeran ditching his smartphone. The guy just dropped off the grid because he felt like he was spending too much time on social media and seeing the world through a screen. While I really admire him for it, I don’t think I could bear to be parted from my iPhone – I am way too reliant on it.
Do you remember when mobile phones just started to be a ‘thing’? And everyone would cram as many shorthand words into one measly 7p text message? Continue reading →
Does everything happen for a reason? Or is life just a series of coincidences?
I was telling a good friend over WhatsApp that due to my low key living at the moment, that I didn’t feel like I had much to write about for my blog just now. She suggested writing a blog ‘on fate and how things that are “meant to be” are BULLSHIT and why we should pay them no mind.’ (She did add that she was probably just feeling extra cynical, after yet another potential relationship collapsed in a heap around her), so I’m using her suggestion and writing a blog about fate and wether or not I think it exists. Continue reading →
There’s been a recent debate amongst my friends, over how to tell wether or not you’re in a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship with someone, and most importantly for all my expat friends, does this vary from culture to culture? Continue reading →
Para Pam was a nickname once coined to me by a friend in my very early twenties, around the time my anxiety most likely started, although back then, I didn’t actually know that was what it was. Continue reading →
One thousand, one hundred and ten days ago today, (it was a Friday) I upheaved my life and took it to Dubai. I cried mascara tears on the shoulder of my mum’s brand new white t-shirt as she told me, “I’m only going to say this once, but it’s not too late to change your mind if you don’t want to go.” Continue reading →
There are some fundamental differences between the female and male species. I have discovered these fundamental differences through a variety of methods including thorough observations of the species in their natural habitat*. Other methods include at length discussions between groups of friends – friends hailing from both halves of the species.
People keep asking me, “What type of music are you into?” How have I managed to get to the ripe age of 28, and fast approaching 29 without being able to answer this question? I don’t know… all I know is that I do not like Techno. I also don’t like Heavy Metal and Screamo.
Singapore wasn’t really part of the plan. I had planned to spend the long weekend in Barcelona, but unfortunately my plans fell through. At a loose end, I messaged my friend in SG who has a spare room. A few hours later, I was up and frantically packing (as always) and in a fast cab to the airport. Here’s my guide to SG, so that you can do it with even less effort. After all, I’m all about the minimal.