Blasts from the past

Today on Facebook, attributable I'm sure to the inherent addictiveness that is fed by spending too much time searching the lists of friends of people you have linked up with, I was 'found' by no less than two people I used to know from Junior School. You know, that place I haven't been to for 20 years.

Completely out of the blue, I receive a "friend notification" from Jake Jackson and Sarah Thomas. To be honest, it feels a bit presumptious to declare public "friendship" with people you haven't said a word to in 2 decades, but the Facebook method of re-discovering the nostalgia of a mis-spent youth holds a power that is too great to resist. People who for years have probably always still been just down the road and who I (and, I am sure, they) had no immediate desire to locate before now, have suddenly become more accessible. And you feel almost flattered when they have sought you out. Because you can accept the friendship request and then keep tabs on where they are and what they are doing without the need for conversation. A strange concept, but also quite an intriguing one.

I wonder who will appear next....

Mine's bigger than yours

On Saturday, it was reported that Dubai had claimed ownership of the world record for the world's tallest building.

The final height of the Burj (Arabic for 'Tower') Dubai is shrouded in mystery. Apparently though, its design is such that if, during construction, plans are announced for an even taller building to be built somewhere else in the world, the height of the Burj Dubai can be "increased from within" so as to ensure that Dubai can maintain its record-holding status a bit longer.

A shining example of man's ambition to reach for the skies? Or just another testosterone fuelled enterprise by those ever shy, reserved, unambitious Arabs? You be the judge.

But as I look out of my office window it is difficult to miss the Burj Dubai.

Because it's starting to block out the daylight.

Home is where the heart is

We may not have lived in the UK now for over 4 years, but we still refer to it as "home". We always look forward to returning home to see family and friends (even though this has now become the way in which I consistently use up my annual leave).

While friends at home and here in Dubai (specifically those without children) often take their holidays skiing in winter, or to Spain/Maldives/USA in the summer, we find ourselves spending time in the hot tourist destination that is 'the bit between Winnersh and Wokingham'. But to be honest, I really don't mind.

Because for me, Wokingham is where I grew up, where I went to school, where I learnt to drive, where I had my first job, and (perhaps further evidence of its eternal ability to draw you back) where most of my UK friends still reside.

Despite the ever increasing traffic problems, the infuriating way in which the local council is run (and spends money), and the "Leisure Park", it is, and always will be, the one place where I feel truly at home. It holds so many happy memories. I feel a sense of comfort and reassurance whenever I am back there.

And a major part of that is attributable to the family home. It may be just bricks and mortar at the end of the day, but I still remember being really upset when we moved to 48 Walter Road from Selsdon in 1983 (when I was 7) thinking "how will this new place ever feel like home". But 24 years on, there is nowhere else quite like home for me now.

Which is why (even though Mum and Dad will no doubt be wracked with guilt if they read this!) this link brings with it a sense of finality, of inevitability and (I'm not ashamed to say) great sadness.

Of course, my parents have every right to move on (to Dorset). And their new house will be fantastic. And ultimately, it's not about the building, but the people that are in it with you that is important. But I will miss our home in Walter Road greatly.

But be warned, fellow Wokingham-ians: we will now be looking for board and lodgings from friends in the area on future visits.

A 3G baby

It was somehow always destined to happen this way.

When Michele went for a baby check up last Tuesday and was told that our second baby was imminent (like, within 24 hours) we began immediate final preparations for what then eventually didn't happen for another 5 days. As at Tuesday, it seemed likely that we would escape a birth on 1 July (Michele's birthday, and also my Dad's (this year, 60th) birthday).

But it was not to be. With the calendar pages barely turned, things started happening around 1am this morning, whereupon a distinctly-more-tense-and-frantic-rush-than-I-recall-us-having-with-Jack began to ensue, to ensure that we appeared at the hospital before baby started appearing into the world. The hospital is a good 25 mins away, not counting the detour we had to take to drop Jack off with friends. Arriving at the hospital at around 2.45am, Michele then breathlessly (literally) sped through the last few stages of labour in a mere 45 mins, and gave birth to Emma Elizabeth at 3.34am. A third generation of our family now to share a birthday with Princess Diana - a beautiful (and against our expectations) baby girl weighing in at 7lb 4oz.

Needless to say, we are all dead chuffed. And, through the wonders of technology, you can see all of the pictures we have taken today here.

We took Jack in to meet his new sister (who, for weeks, he has been convinced is in fact a "lobster" - don't ask why, because I have no idea) this afternoon. Rather smitten he was too.

And at bedtime tonight back home, where Daddy and Jack had their usual post-match analysis of the day's events, Jack launched into a heart-warming monologue about how he wanted to share all his toys, books, clothes (including beloved "Pirates" t-shirt), lunches (including chips WITH ketchup), bathtimes, and generally his life, with "Baby Emma".

Having kids. Best thing in the world...