Unchained Malady

It's official: Time is a twat. It's slowed right down.......to..........a............trickle. It was going quickly, and the end of my first five week stint was in sight, but now....

I'm losing patience with the lack of any decent work and the lack of any kind of certainty as to where I'm going to work and what I'm actually going to do. If they want me to work here full time, I might just move into the camp. The driving back and forth to Ras Laffan is seriously ball-aching, especially on top of a ten hour day, and on Thursday night I was so tired I went to bed at 9.30pm and slept for ten or eleven hours.

Friday was very hot. High 30s, I'm guessing. I spent it doing some food shopping, drinking coffee in Costa (they have wi-fi!), napping and vegging out in front of the TV watching some really, really bad films. If you're ever tempted to watch Epic Move - don't. It is shite; truly awful.

For a break from the apartment I went for a walk towards the souk with the express purpose of having a small ice-cream at the parlour there, which someone recommended to me. I even thought about getting a haircut while I was out. But even at 3.30pm, most places were closed. The haircut idea fell by the wayside, but I carried on, and when I got to the souk, it looked like everything was closed there as well. Fortunately, one or two places were open, if deserted. It was like Ramadan at the Madinat Jumeirah all over again. I settled for a juice cocktail cafe place, ordered a medium mixed fruit cocktail, and sat watching the world go by. The world; that is if there had been a plague that wiped out 99.99% of the population. The cafe had a radio playing loudly, broadcasting Friday prayers. They go on for a bit, it would seem. Those mullahs have some stamina.

The drink was fucking enormous, coming in a large beer-style glass, and was bloody delicious. It was more like a milkshake, but made with fresh fruit. I'm glad I didn't order the large one, because it would have been either wasted or regurgitated. As I drank, I watched the waiters of the Iraqi restaurant across the path arguing about something. I don't know what it was about, but their passionate, exaggerated gesticulations provided some entertainment.

With the cocktail consumed, I walked back to the apartment block, buying some bottled water on the way. A moment of madness consumed me, and I decided to see how many flights of stairs I could climb in the block. I had walked a fair distance in the baking afternoon heat, and was sweating quite copiously already (hold that image), but I still did it. It would count as my optional cardio workout of the day. I managed 3 flights before giving up. I felt faintly pathetic, but at the end of a walk, it was probably OK. I'll give it a try now and again to see how my fitness is progressing.

So Friday night had to be an early-ish one. Work the next day, and that bloody drive again. As I settled into bed, my eyes were irritating me. They can get a bit irritated with allergies and the like, and it felt as if I was developing an infection. I thought about leaving it till tomorrow and getting some eye drops when I got home from work, but imagined myself waking up with glued-together eyes and decided to get up again and walk round the corner to the Pharmacy. The very genial man behind the counter gave me 3 types of eye drops to use, and I wasn't in the mood to argue. For a moment I thought he was going to try and sell me some Durex for my eyes as well.

It was a wise decision. The drops did their work and I woke up able to see. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Still in this apartment. Still alone. I keep waking up and expecting to turn over and see the bulge under the covers that is my wife, but it's just the pillows; silent, inanimate and unlovable.

Melon. Collie.

My doctor wrote a letter to my heart specialist describing me as a "melancholic, introspective man". Cheeky twat. I was hoping he would have called me a flawed genius.

Anyway, at least there is SOME good news. They've booked me in for my ablation procedure on 4th September. I will hopefully get rid of this blasted arrhythmia. I'm also hopeful that the very disciplined way I'm eating and exercising will help to cure it as well. Even at my low moments I am still able to resist bingeing on donuts and chocolate. The gym work is already paying dividends, and I hope that when I get home in 11 days' time, there will be a noticeable difference.

Toodle-pip!