Simone in Dubai: Fire & Rain

I was beginning to think that this blog would have to be abandoned due to a complete lack of any blog-worthy news.

The job of my dreams, astoundingly supportive bosses, amazing colleagues.

Fabulous, brand new two-bedroom apartment, three minutes' drive from work.

Dirt cheap rental car to get to said work.

The very best friends.

No arrests, no accidents and very very little interaction with the police, apart from their supplying me with advice on where to best get a pedicure. (Another story.)

All making for an uneventful, if wonderful, life.

And then I set my kitchen on fire.

Fiona: Good Grief.

The problem was candles. As you know, I have lots. So many that I thought it would be a good idea to melt the wax in a favourite pink vase used as a candle holder and restore it to its original function.

On the stove top.

Hindsight is all.

Amazing how quickly the disaster unfolds.

1. Glass shatters, dumping a litre of wax on stove top.
2. Wax catches fire.
3. Switch off stove power as flames spread.

Simone to Building Watchman in the clearest English she can manage: Mr Shaji! Come quickly! Fire! Fire!

3. Mr Shaji grabs fire extinguisher.
4. Simone hands Mr Shaji a bucket of water.
5. Water thrown onto burning wax.

Allen: Simone, water makes burning wax explode.

Well, I know that now.

6. Kitchen explodes with flame.
7. Cupboards and ceiling alight.
8. Smoke detector melts.
9. Water spurts out in every direction across the kitchen.




10. Relief. The fire is out.

But that's when the trouble really starts because once the water sprinkler starts, it cannot be stopped. Until the tanker load of water runs out.

11. Water floods living room.
12. Water floods hall.
13. Water floods bedroom.

In less than 5 minutes my 50 or so unpacked boxes, 100 files, piles of bedding and stacks of books are sitting in two inches of water which continues to flow in currents out of the kitchen.

Simone [Sobbing] to Mr Shaji, Assorted Building Maintenance men & my Real Estate Agent: Please stop the water! Please! Stop the Water!

Now my police, car and water karma (particularly in combination) may be pretty shitty, but I am truly privileged when it comes to neighbours, and although I have yet to meet any in my building, suddenly they are all around, rechanneling the river sweeping through my house with mops, buckets and towels.

My wonderful new neighbours: Maura from Brazil, with Jennifer and her two sons, Jay (10) and Lawrence (8) from the Philippines

.

Jay & Lawrence: Chief Towel Twisters

The wonderful, ever-generous Mr Shaji

Jaynul, a Bangladeshi construction worker who lost his job in the Global Financial Crisis, and unlike the wealthy Western expats who left, has no income, accommodation or means of getting home, helps out. I think he's just found himself a job as my cleaner...

And they stay and clean and clean and clean until the flat is returned to something approaching its previous state, and I am back to sort-of coping.

Which in my case means texting, phoning and Facebooking my friends for moral support, which arrives in the form of humour following a volley of calls and texts to establish that I am actually ok.

Teresa: But were the fireman handsome?

Paula: At least it's not the car.

Allen: Carolyn is going to piss herself laughing when I tell her.

Allen Ithnayne (#2) and the Gorgeous Madam Carolyyyyn.

But the day is not yet over. In all of this, something occurs which would otherwise have been the cause of great celebration.

Ant arrives.

And once she's safely curled up in Nanna's hand-stitched patchwork quilt [home] she falls sleep till Sal and Alan arrive to commiserate, reemerging to greet them in her role of gracious hostess. It's as if she and I have never been apart. Thank you for taking such good care of her, Phil.



I top off the day with the destruction of my mobile phone (dropped into the loo) and the onslaught of a truly hideous cold.

At this point, who cares? The important stuff is taken care of.

Back to my wonderful life.

Much love,

Simone