I’m sat in Dubai airport, halfway through my trip home, waiting for my flight back to England.

It’s 5:45 local time, this is a funny airport.
The call to prayer doesn’t wake up the hundreds of Africans sleeping against the glass along the moving walkway but it does manage to freak out the British tourists shopping for Hookah pipes and Arsenal shirts. They sell chicken kebabs in McDonalds, there are more Mosques than bars, and all of the prices are in a currency that I’m pretty sure they’ve made up.

Should be home at around lunchtime on Wednesday. As I was leaving the office yesterday I noticed the guys at work were having a bit of a party to wish me farewell. It was a nice touch, although I kind of wish they’d invited me too.
They probably just forgot.


Turnout at the “Bon Voyage James!” party is expected to be high despite the poor weather.