Free The Bellies

All this sunshine in the UK will not be without its consequences.

All ye Climate Change Nay Sayers, you need only look around your nearest Tesco's hypermarket, as the mercury starts to creep up and UV levels head past 'Burnt to a Purple Blistered Mess' & towards 'Irreparable Damage' to see that something is about to happen.

And that Something isn't going to be good.
And, it isn't going to be pretty.

'IT' is the sudden, & widespread, divesting of a Nation's clothes.

The Summer Wardrobe can be a wonderful thing. Words like 'wafty', light-coloured, natural fibres, cotton, floaty, cool - these are Summer clothes keywords.

Trust me. Everyone is excited to break out the flipflops.

When I lived in the UK, I had whole host of vests, shorts, sandals and flipflops all just waiting to leap into action when given the nod.
As I recall, they were a patient lot.
They needed to be.
There was a long wait between gigs.  

Sometimes, you make the mistake of bringing them in off the bench too soon, and pay the price in goosebumps.  Hunched up and cranky at how chilly you are, you fantasise about getting home and into those ancient, but best, trackies and slipper socks.  

Sweetie, we have all been there.
About 24degC, that's when you can go Strappy Vest, but still, bring a Cardie, would you?  




Now, as Life can be perverse like that, my Dubai Friends will confirm, we must endure the exact polar (pun intended) opposite of this Seasonal Wardrobe trial.  

Many a cousin of the Vests, the big brothers of Shorts & the Great Uncles and Aunts of Flipflops lurk within the dark, dehumidified recesses of a DXB Expat's wardrobe.

Lurking, waiting.
Quietly chatting amongst themselves.
Perhaps reminiscing of the last time they were all together. An Autumnal trip to the UK. A European city break maybe.  

Yup, we the Expats of Dubai (of my circle anyway) long for the Days of Jeans, Boots and Jumpers.
*gasp* dare I say it?

Gloves, hats & scarves!
(I did it. I dared)  

When living in the UK, the sign that everything might be ok & Winter might actually Bugger off for a bit, were daffodils. One's soul would soar at the sight of their jolly, sunshiny yellow heads.
Spot them and you know you are in the home-stretch.  









For me now, living in Dubai, bored of all that damn blue sky, heat and sunshine, I watch for A Sign too.

26degC.  
That is The Sign.  

As soon as we get to that, BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR, the Boots are on. (Granted, I hold back on the Hats & Scarves a while longer).  

Anyway, back to that 'Something' happening in Tesco's, & all around the UK.  

Shirts are off.
Everywhere, they are off.

I think I shall go to a shop. Put my shirt on? 
WHAT?? Are you saying not everyone wants to see the EXACT proportions & vastness of this beer gut? 
That can't be right, I have put alot of time and energy into this. 
If someone should be intimidated and feel the need to move out my way when The Mountain of Beer & Belly should rest against them at, say the Checkout or in front of the Magazines, so much the better.  

So, what I have learnt is this, in the UK, for some people, when the sun shines, shirts are seemingly optional in all manner of public places. Ditto underwear.  

Not to be a fashion fascist but, to my mind if you are going to venture into VestVille, a bra or some alternative support device is a good thing.  
The bra is your friend.
Honey, those things will end up down there soon enough, thanks the Cruel Japes of Time, give the Girls a break and let them have a rest in a hammock, not the trolley handle.  

Also, FYI, I am fairly certain that 'dangling by your elbows' is NOT where a Bra Strap should be optimumly and most usefully located. 
From there, they will find themselves unable to fulfil their raison d'etre.  

Of course, I spend pretty much 10.5 months of a year living in a place where modesty is of significance importance.
Some might say too much. Some might say to its credit.

In honesty, despite my glib observations, I find the diversities of people, people largely just getting on with their lives in the UK, NOT actually worrying about what other people think or judge, hugely refreshing.  

No one gives a toss here what the hell you do or look like & that is a breath of fresh air.

Dubai can be a bit homogenous in some respects.  

So, despite what I have said above .......set those Bellies free & let your taa-taas swing loose and long, if you want to ...........but maybe not at the supermarket?

Holiday (Summer) 2013 - The Crime Spree that never was

Well, I can't fathom it.

I don't mind admitting defeat.  I don't.  I just don't get.

First, Tesco's Self Service Checkouts blew my mind ........ and then, I found out about Waitrose's "QuickCheck" scanners.

Mental.

All of it.

As a matter of interest, any of you been in Tesco at Fforestfach, Swansea over the past 4 weeks?

If so, you might have spotted me giving those Self-Service Checkouts some of my best Paddington Bear stares.

I can assure you I have done some of my best work vis a vis the Stern Look.

Let me explain, to the uninitiated, how these all-seeing, mind-controlling monstrosities work.

You take your basket of, say, 8 items. You scan 8 items.
It asks you how bags you need.  You tell It.
You finish scanning.  You pay the Thing.
You leave. With your 8 items.

Now, here's the thing.
HOW does It know you didn't have 9 items in your basket but, because you are an evil genius, you have *gasp* .......*whispers* .... not scanned the 9th item.  Opting instead (WARNING: those of a nervous disposition look away now) to put it straight into your bag.

And, HOW does that Thing know you haven't taken 4 bags (having led It to believe you took just the one).  One of you and one each for your 3 friends, who are in on this Oceans Eleven scam.   Or who don't want to donate 2p per bag to Children In Need, Snails with Asthma or whatever.

In. Sane.

And then, Waitrose went one louder with its Quick Check scanner.

Now, wait for this, the QCS encourages you to, AS you make way around the shop, to scan your FreeRange Eggs and then POP THEM STRAIGHT IN YOUR BAG and then, pay for the cumulative amount recorded on your scanner at the end.

No feverish packing at a till, whilst juggling cards.  All done.

But again, it seems to me that it would be really easy to just squirrel away an unscanned item, or two.

Should you have a Faganesque inclination.

Which I don't.


I am prepared to stand corrected but I am wondering whether these systems work because,
a) there is faith in the General Public's genuine code of trust OR
b) is it a case of playing on GP's sense of paranoia or its fear of public exposure, in a supermarket, of being a Bad Egg.

The Infallible Duo of a Catholic upbringing and one of the original Tiger Mums has put me in possession of a disportionate guilt complex re the breaking of rules and has rendered me incapable of telling lies (white or otherwise) to authorities.

 (NOTE: elaborate ruses to sneak cans of beer OUT of Sandance, or The 7s don't count, cos that is a stupid rule.  And I paid for them.  I'm not leaving paid-for beer. Ain't gonna happen.)



To clarify:
I can withold information if someone has asked me to keep something confidential BUT ask me a direct question, like:

AT THE CINEMA "Madam, have you got contrabrand English Breakfast tea in a travel mug, in your bag?"

Voices in the Head: "Say no, you dosy cow. Say no."

Me: Yes.

Hopeless.