tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24301332075352056302012-01-23T06:06:33.217ZMy life as a pilot's wifeFlying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.comBlogger1761100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-79543247562768148182012-01-17T12:26:00.000Z2012-01-17T12:26:24.572Z

Since when is this news?  I'm linking to a story in the Telegraph from December about a married British Airways pilot (I assume a Captain from the salary they refer to) who got a young female cabin crew member pregnant downroute. Oh, to live in a world where this a surprise. Blimey, this goes on all the time, as anyone involved in the aviation industry unfortunately knows. I think this got into

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-3734622741130898442012-01-13T13:22:00.002Z2012-01-13T13:25:20.692Z

We've just got back from an amazing trip to Hong Kong. My husband had a four day layover there, so we took advantage and went with him. His roster is crazy at the moment (11 days away with only 2 visits home in that time, each for less than 24 hours.) This way, then, we actually got to spend some precious family time together. I must admit I was nervous. Our son is now 21 months and tremendously

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-42468488050794772802011-12-30T09:58:00.000Z2011-12-30T09:58:17.164Z

My 95 year old Grandma is in hospital. She fell before Christmas and broke her hip. Since her operation, her dementia has worsened. A businesswoman all her life, she's now convinced that she's owns the hospital and is paying all the staff. She got very angry the other day when the nurses saw to the lady in the next bed first - after all, she owns the hospital, doesn't she? It's all so sad. She

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-49818555065914871342011-12-22T18:48:00.000Z2011-12-22T18:48:20.762Z

Unlike last year, we're spending this Christmas in the Gulf. My husband wasn't given any of the leave he asked for over the holiday period, so we're making the best of the three days off he *does* have (which we're very grateful for, mind you) and staying put. God willing, he'll land tomorrow night after a trip to New York and then have three full, wonderful days to spend with us - Christmas

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-74567549904316351352011-12-13T16:42:00.002Z2011-12-14T06:26:59.706Z

Recently, I came across this. It's an article in the magazine Popular Mechanics which contains the transcript of the flight deck recording just prior to the aircraft breaking up and crashing into the sea. Personally, I think the article is sensationalist and rather unfair. It lays the blame firmly on the most junior of the two FOs at the controls. Admittedly he did react in an incredibly stupid

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-52859158077030954852011-10-29T11:10:00.000+01:002011-10-29T11:10:55.970+01:00

Recently, we've been reflecting on how infuriating the aviation career path is. In what other industry can an employee NOT take their skills and experience and transfer to another company at the same level? Let me elaborate. My husband has thousands of hours as an FO of a large widebody jet, one of the biggest there is. Great, you'll be thinking, surely he's in demand? Well, yes, but only to

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-39639508448290417722011-10-08T18:53:00.000+01:002011-10-08T18:53:03.337+01:00

Recently, I've been pondering what "home" really means to me. Facebook has a section for "home town", and I haven't put one, because I honestly don't know where my home town is. Is it where I grew up (but left when I was 17?) Is it London, where I lived for 10 years after that? Is it the town in Surrey where we bought our first house together? Or is it, in fact, the city in the Gulf which I now

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-8533110045498018702011-09-30T17:57:00.000+01:002011-09-30T17:57:17.744+01:00

I was watching a film with a friend the other day, and there was a character in it who was secretly in love with someone who didn't love him back. This led to us swapping stories of unrequited love, and I realised that I've actually, thankfully, never been in that position (aside from my adoration for Take That, still sadly unrequited. Such is life.) What I did realise, though, was that quite a

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-11828592946593942312011-08-31T09:10:00.000+01:002011-08-31T09:10:07.942+01:00

We're now back in the sandpit after three glorious weeks of holiday. We spent the first one in the UK visiting family (never as relaxing as we hope it will be) followed by two weeks in a cabin on the south-west coast of France. We've been there for a week at a time before, but our decision to opt for two weeks this time was the right one. It allowed us to completely relax, a rare commodity in

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-80186586429640500602011-07-31T09:41:00.006+01:002011-08-01T16:53:21.528+01:00

Whilst idly reading Pprune's (Professional Pilots' Rumour Network) Middle East forum this morning, I came across this. In a thread entitled "ex-wife", an Emirates pilot asks his Middle Eastern pilot colleagues: "Does anyone know how successful an ex-wife would be at obtaining all your EK pay and contract benefit history, including provident funds for the time you worked at EK if her lawyer

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-87698141482297707082011-07-30T10:23:00.001+01:002011-07-30T10:23:58.052+01:00

Sorry it's been a while since I last posted - we only got back from the UK two weeks ago and we're heading back again next week (en route to France for a holiday) and my feet don't seem to have touched the ground. My work is busier than ever, and I had a big break recently which has been taking up a lot of my energy. I was reflecting the other day that our move out here has, ironically,

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-88133127514690974542011-07-01T09:39:00.000+01:002011-07-01T09:39:50.850+01:00

I'm home in the UK at the moment. I flew over last weekend without my hubbie, who can't get leave until next week. This isn't something I'd usually do - I had a special reason. On Tuesday, I went with Mum and one of my best mates to see the glorious Take That live at Birmingham Villa Park. It was an incredible night. As ever, they put on a brilliant show, full of theatrics and energy. And seeing

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-52569911286538170922011-06-13T17:50:00.000+01:002011-06-13T17:50:27.155+01:00

I'm currently very excited about my imminent date with a certain fab fivesome at Villa Park. Yes, it's Take That in concert - all five of them, including Robbie. I'm heading back to the UK especially. In the run up to the big event, I've been watching a few old DVDs and generally reminiscing - each of their songs and videos seems to hold a snapshot of my past. The idolisation of my teenage

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-75228354078354503422011-06-06T09:00:00.000+01:002011-06-06T09:00:44.128+01:00

It seems like it's leaving season here in the sandpit. It's the end of the school year, of course, and the beginning of a long hot summer in the Gulf. So many people who have been here for much less time than we have are packing up and heading home. There's a container sitting outside our neighbour's villa as I write this - his wife is leaving with the kids, despite the fact he has no other job

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-52255920040823656992011-05-16T19:21:00.002+01:002011-05-16T19:23:54.629+01:00

Lately, I've just about had my fill of some of the women I know out here. I've missed my old friends in the UK hugely. It's not that I don't have many friends - I do. In fact, I have lots and lots of "friends", people who invite me to coffee and lunch, children's birthday parties and trips to the pool. I just don't have many of the sort of friends you need when you have, say, post-natal

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-50849418509223985152011-04-30T11:03:00.000+01:002011-04-30T11:03:26.421+01:00

Yesterday, my husband, son and I gathered round our TV and were glued to the Royal Wedding. It felt oddly like Christmas in our house. Waving a Union flag, we indulged in a bottle of bubbly before lunch, ate celebratory choccies and felt part of something; something very historic and moving. Afterwards, we went for a walk together (another Christmas Day tradition.) It felt so odd emerging from

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-84571511432259130182011-04-24T14:33:00.000+01:002011-04-24T14:33:37.661+01:00

I just wanted to wish all my lovely readers a very happy Easter. Out here in the sandpit it's 40c and a normal working day, and my husband's away on a trip. Still, my son and I have said our prayers and enjoyed our day anyhow. A year ago, my husband and I were enjoying our last day childless - tomorrow is our son's first birthday. It's been an incredible year, full of ups and downs, but mostly

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-12814859048046274092011-04-18T19:52:00.000+01:002011-04-18T19:52:55.854+01:00

My son and I have just flown back from the UK on Daddy's flight. Although it was a difficult flight (what 7 hour flight with a year old baby wouldn't be?!) it had its highlights. When we were waiting for the flight to board at LHR, who should appear but pilot Daddy! Looking gorgeous in his uniform, he came over and grinned at us, playing with our little boy and generally glowing. Afterwards, one

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-73190236298989741692011-04-08T17:14:00.000+01:002011-04-08T17:14:27.998+01:00

Caught this on the BBC news website today. A British man's been sent to jail for 3 years for pretending there was a bomber on an Etihad flight from Abu Dhabi to London. I really can't fathom why anyone would do something like this. He must have been very drunk (they do say he'd had quite a lot to drink...) but surely he must have had time to say he was lying before they diverted the plane and

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-42281958379120955392011-04-03T09:48:00.000+01:002011-04-03T09:48:38.945+01:00

I've been thinking more about the whole returning to work after a baby issue, trying to figure out why I'm so deeply affected by it all - feeling absolutely that I NEED to get back to work, but also feeling horribly guilty and sad that soon, a large part of my son's care will be done by someone other than me. The other day, when I was having a bit of a crisis about whether I could find decent

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-67746274234607780532011-03-24T18:37:00.000Z2011-03-24T18:37:27.434Z

I've had a couple of job interviews this week. I got one but turned it down (poor pay and conditions) but the other one is looking promising. I have a further assessment for it next week. Our son is 11 months old now, and I feel it's time to try to give a bit more time to my career, and put some more money in the family pot. But golly, it's a hard thing to get my head around. The irony is, when

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-29855541542289617142011-03-19T09:16:00.003Z2011-03-19T09:20:53.572Z

I spotted this the other day when doing a search for other sites about being married to a pilot. It's a hilarious take on what NOT to do as far as relationships are concerned. There's always a running joke between my husband and I about how many failed marriages each of his Captains have had. But really, it's not so funny. Amongst the humour, there are a lot of very sad kids out there with

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-82003321114063044202011-03-18T07:16:00.001Z2011-03-18T07:17:08.378Z

The following is a poem featured on BBC Woman's Hour, written by the performance poet Holly McNish. It's her newly composed poem for the Women of the World conference, and it's about motherhood. I found it very moving, and thought I'd share it with you. My body is amazing I can almost hear her saying it As she stands naked at the mirror Hands clapping in applause to it Naked, bold and proud

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-77362032884705660462011-03-15T08:04:00.004Z2011-03-15T08:04:00.640Z

Today is the second anniversary of my departure from the UK, and the beginning of our new life. Then, I'd just packed my job in, packed away our belongings and put our house on the rental market, and was being driven to Heathrow by my parents for a tearful farewell. I'd never visited the country I was moving to, and had no idea what to expect. All I knew was that my missed my husband like crazy -

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-32256599218227613512011-03-12T08:45:00.001Z2011-03-12T08:47:25.604Z

It seems a bit ridiculous to write "settling in" as the title of a post written two years after we moved to the Middle East, but there you are. In many respects, it really has taken this long to feel "at home" here. Recently, for example, my husband and I finally cancelled our mobile phone contracts in the UK. We'd been hanging on to them, saying they were useful when we went home for holidays -

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-90396097603079097702011-02-09T07:07:00.000Z2011-02-09T07:07:07.064Z

A few days ago, I had another appointment with my doctor to talk about my post-natal depression. There's good news on that score: I'm feeling much better and I'm coming off the tablets in a month's time. My doctor is a lovely Muslim woman from the Lebanon. She wears brightly coloured clothes that always reach to her wrists and ankles, and a head scarf, quite often in a pretty fabric. On this

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-20653231349839586172011-01-31T06:06:00.000Z2011-01-31T06:06:00.304Z

A few days ago, I woke up in the morning feeling achey all over. I realised I felt like I had the flu. Then, I realised my right breast hurt like hell. What followed then was, in fact, two days of complete hell. When I read about Mastitis, I thought it was just a painful boob. But no - it affected my whole being. I had the shivers, the sweats, exhaustion, raging fever, and, finally, vomiting.

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-71772322559280416242011-01-15T18:19:00.000Z2011-01-15T18:19:49.776Z

We're now back home in the sandpit after a lovely long break in the UK. It was a real tonic to see some snow, some ice, and yes, even a bit of rain (although I have to say we're rather glad to be back in the land of blue sky again - there's only so much cold weather you can enjoy!) And of course it was also very special spending Christmas with our families. But having said that... ...It's

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-50509151948020446232011-01-14T11:48:00.004Z2011-01-14T11:55:06.642Z

Today, I published the 50th comment on this post, which I wrote in January two years ago. In it, I put forward my by now rather well rehearsed treatise on why you can't tar all pilots with the same brush, and that, crucially, ALL PILOTS DO NOT CHEAT. Little did I know how popular it would be. It's clearly very Googleable (is that a word now? Probably.) Stats show it's my most visited post ever.

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-76619635878381019362010-12-23T12:17:00.004Z2010-12-23T12:24:12.731Z

We're in the UK for Christmas. It's been tremendously snowy here, which has been gorgeous, but has caused complete chaos. My husband got delayed in the Middle East for 12 very frustrating hours. Luckily he was flying Business so got treated very well, but I pity the poor economy passengers who I think were left on an aircraft for more than four hours with no food or drink, waiting to see if

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-14257963175118946632010-12-17T11:50:00.002Z2010-12-17T12:07:26.855Z

My son and I are currently in the UK, staying with my parents. My husband's flying in tomorrow for Christmas. We can't wait.Yesterday, we all went up to the north of England to visit family there, including a visit to see my Grandmother, who hadn't yet had a chance to meet my son, her third great-grandchild. Those who've read my blog for a while will remember this post about a trip I made to see

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-42160999391041393782010-12-06T16:41:00.003Z2010-12-06T16:49:29.552Z

Earlier today I was listening to a Christmas album I've listened to every year since I was tiny - John Denver and the Muppets, A Christmas Together. I'm not exactly John Denver's biggest fan, but I have to say that an album which could have been horribly cheesy actually succeeds in being funny, charming and touching, and I'm looking forward to playing it to my son every Christmas as he

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-20711199788433081612010-12-01T09:51:00.003Z2010-12-01T09:56:57.904Z

We've now been in our new place for a few weeks, and it already feels like home. Despite it being slightly empty of furniture (we will get there in the end!) it's light, bright, and comfy. We love it. It's made such a difference to how I feel about living here. I thought I might feel cut off, moving from a compound full of other aviation wives, but in fact, I feel free and far less claustrophobic

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-8525687656542592882010-11-04T08:18:00.004Z2010-11-04T08:36:47.757Z

Exciting times here in the Flying High household. We're in the process of moving from our company apartment to a huge villa with five - yes, count 'em, five - bedrooms! It also has a roof terrace, two balconies and crucially, a back garden, something I've been craving ever since we moved here. I can't wait to have some private outside space back, especially as our little boy grows and starts to

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-23800840716299052010-10-23T12:20:00.001+01:002010-10-23T12:22:34.818+01:00

This was sent to me the other day by a friend. It's an oldie, but a goody....*****************************************************Follow these 15 simple tests before you decide to have children : Test 1 Women: To prepare for maternity, put on a dressing gown and stick a beanbag down the front. Leave it there for 9 months. After 9 months remove 10% of the beans. Men: To prepare for paternity, go

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-44384189628754199562010-10-21T05:25:00.002+01:002010-10-21T11:26:22.590+01:00

Yesterday, I cast my eye over the news page of Facebook, something I do most days. It was full of the usual stuff - someone's wedding pictures, someone's baby pictures, someone's pics from a recent holiday, and lots of varied status updates.Recently, a number of my former colleagues have been involved in a very interesting project which they're very proud of, and there have been lots of updates

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-4222211990088217272010-10-06T09:04:00.003+01:002010-10-06T09:09:54.396+01:00

Just had to post this one. Virgin seems determined to "sex-up" the airline industry, and they seem to be doing a good job of it! Shame the reality doesn't *quite* match up to the image though, eh? Gone are aviation's glamour days... But nevermind, the fantasy's rather fun.

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-52322495849831125372010-09-28T11:16:00.003+01:002010-09-28T11:19:14.516+01:00

I just wanted to post to congratulate my good Bloggy (is that a word?!) friend Emily and her husband Frank on their two forthcoming bundles of joy! I have followed their battle to become parents closely and I know how much pain it's caused them, and how much they have desperately prayed for the blessing they've now been given - double trouble! :)Enjoy every moment of the pregnancy you two, you

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-38791589085741312082010-09-19T14:40:00.000+01:002010-09-19T10:29:34.773+01:00

Following on from my last post about my diagnosis of PND, I thought I'd put a little more flesh on the bones about what I've been facing. I truly thought we'd met most challenges face on and were pretty settled out here by now - it's been over a year and half, after all. However, I really didn't count on the hard reality of becoming a mother half-way across the world from my family and close

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-32793373041151075592010-09-17T17:34:00.002+01:002010-09-17T18:06:40.112+01:00

So, there we are. Five months after the birth, I have finally admitted that my low feelings just haven't gone away. After a conversation with a friend of mine out here who's a GP, I finally decided I needed to get some help. I came home the other night and looked up the symptoms of post-natal depression. They are:•Low mood. Tends to be worse first thing in the morning, but not always.•Not really

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-17244523441285544662010-09-01T12:40:00.004+01:002010-09-01T12:53:50.768+01:00

We've just returned from a wonderful holiday in France. We flew there via the UK as the flight loads to Paris were looking pretty heavy. Doing this meant we got to stay with some friends either side of our trip, which was fantastic, although of course it meant a couple of extra flights, no mean feat with a baby in tow.We decided to fly with EasyJet from London to France, as they were the cheapest

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-39853387097709532432010-08-12T10:27:00.006+01:002010-08-12T10:54:20.067+01:00

My eyes were drawn to this story on the BBC News site recently. The long and short of it is that a Church of England priest used his slot on Radio 4's Thought For The Day to pronounce that many of today's weddings have "lost their way", and that "they are specifically designed to be all about 'me', about being a 'princess for a day' ". I couldn't agree more.When we lived in the UK, I sang in my

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-22102108317375305442010-08-05T17:01:00.003+01:002010-08-05T17:56:32.918+01:00

My husband's currently away on a trip. To get to his destination, he had to fly throughout the night, and before he went he was bemoaning his forthcoming jetlag and the fatigue which he knew he was going to feel in the days to come.Then, he looked again at his roster. This month, he is flying to the USA, Africa, Australia and Japan. When he first started his training, and hell, even in his last

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-28486298786279681762010-07-26T15:15:00.008+01:002011-05-19T17:22:58.620+01:00

My husband and I recently celebrated four years of marriage. It seems to have flown by (if you'll excuse the pun!) My brother-in-law sent us an email on the day to congratulate us. In it he said that he and his wife had been reflecting on all the hugely stressful events that we've had to deal with since then, and said how impressed they had been with how well we'd coped with them. He also said

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-45649220687840598652010-07-22T10:02:00.004+01:002010-07-22T10:14:51.362+01:00

Obviously this news is rather old by now (personally I blame the baby!) but I just had to post about Robbie Williams' decision to rejoin Take That. Regular readers of my blog will know that I was an ardent teenage Take That fan, and that for some reason my obsession has refused to abate in adulthood. And I must say that for a Take That fan, the idea that the original line-up may well tour

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-85827976896886520292010-07-14T14:38:00.004+01:002010-07-14T14:55:57.490+01:00

We've just got back from a lovely long break to the UK. It was the first time my Dad and my husband's Dad had met our son, and it was so wonderful to see them fall in love with him, just as we have. He's really growing up now, starting to make new noises every day, is reaching our for toys, and has learned to stick his tongue out when we do, and his smile is the most beautiful and captivating

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-41002652159137798082010-06-16T09:06:00.003+01:002010-06-16T09:13:32.215+01:00

I've been thinking a lot about the nasty dose of baby blues I got after the birth of our son, which is now thankfully fading to just a memory. Certainly it was partially hormonal, but also I think the result of lots of different things altogether - the shock and awe of becoming a mother, being unable to breastfeed initially and worrying about it, lack of sleep, and being far from home and friends

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-21798305029084691332010-05-26T13:16:00.006+01:002010-05-29T12:08:31.474+01:00

Our beautiful son is now just over a month old. I realise weeks have gone by since my last blog post, but I have to say this parenting lark is taking up a great deal of my time! Just finding time to shower and clean-up the house if tricky enough, let alone writing an email or two or, God forbid, blogging! Having said that though, we've come a long way since he was born. As I mentioned in my last

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-36762474768312117322010-05-02T08:57:00.003+01:002010-05-02T09:04:19.980+01:00

Our beautiful son is now a week old. Nothing can describe how we've been feeling for the last seven days - our lives have changed completely, but in a fantastic way.The C-section itself was straightforward and my husband was able to be in with me in the operating theatre throughout, something which is extremely unusual in Middle Eastern society. We are tremendously grateful to our doctor who

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-37603984079209457002010-04-21T12:30:00.003+01:002010-04-21T12:53:29.670+01:00

We have just four days left to go before the C-section. I can't believe it's so soon. We are excited, petrified, full of awe... It feels completely unreal. My husband is currently on his way across the Atlantic, due back on Friday night. That gives us a day here together on Saturday before the big day! I've been praying he makes it back on time. I must admit the volcanic ash cloud that has been

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-65528992175922350702010-04-16T10:04:00.003+01:002010-04-16T10:26:06.000+01:00

So, the date has been set for Bump's birthday, barring any unforeseen circumstances - nine days to go! My final scan this week showed that Bump is still breech (no real surprise there) so the hospital has booked me in for a c-section. I'm quite relieved really to have a plan in place, and also relieved because my husband has managed to get 10 days off starting on the day of the op, so he'll be

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-59255361400739614352010-04-05T10:15:00.003+01:002010-04-05T10:37:32.372+01:00

For a while now I've been getting nervous every time my husband has gone away on a trip, because something bad always seems to happen while he's away. Past examples include a car accident, a nasty fever and falling over and ending up in A&E. I've even taken to joking that I'm going to ground him until the birth! Now I'm almost serious. Just one hour after he left for a four day trip over the

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-64766309174885906122010-04-02T14:08:00.003+01:002010-04-02T14:15:51.668+01:00

I'm now 35 weeks, and the big news here is that Bump is still breech, and refusing to move. We had a scan last week and the doctor told us that Bump's legs are "deeply engaged", and that in her experience, babies don't generally turn from this position at this stage in pregnancy. So, we're probably going to be scheduling a c-section for the last week of April! We can't believe we're going to be

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-66832548617733148872010-03-27T16:04:00.004Z2010-03-27T16:24:12.145Z

I'm feeling rather emotional after watching the first couple of episodes of a British documentary, One Born Every Minute, which follows the everyday goings on of a labour ward in a British hospital. These episodes showed a natural birth and two c-sections, and it was completely fascinating, and made me cry, of course. The very idea of the beginning of a new life, and therefore the start of a new

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-29415812498750345992010-03-17T15:23:00.003Z2010-03-18T14:53:05.574Z

I've just passed my one year anniversary of expat life. So much has happened since I arrived here. It's been one hell of a ride on a crazy rollercoaster, lots of ups, lots of downs. I'm not sure I'd like to do it again! But I AM proud to have done it, and I'm very proud at how well my husband and I have made it work, despite all the things life has thrown at us in the last few years - redundancy,

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-25486367558575141672010-03-10T19:35:00.004Z2010-03-11T07:54:28.226Z

32 weeks. Wow. It's now less than 60 days until bump's due date. I'm feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. And I'm slightly overwhelmed by how much there is to do, both bump related and non-bump related, before then. I made a list yesterday and stuck it on the fridge. It made me feel a little bit better, a little bit more in control. We still need to buy a buggy and a car seat, but

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-6079462118417888992010-03-01T09:59:00.002Z2010-03-01T10:05:13.790Z

I seem to have been accident prone all my life, and now I'm 30 weeks pregnant it's starting to really annoy me. Yesterday I managed to trip over in the office car park and fell onto the gravel on my hands and knees, instinctively protecting the baby. Although I knew I hadn't hit my bump, I was pretty nastily knocked around by it and decided that I should go to my now favourite locale, A&E, to get

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-65205497586589528442010-02-22T15:13:00.005Z2010-02-22T15:40:17.310Z

1) You're pregnant, you've just been to the supermarket, and you're wheeling your trolley to your car. Out of nowhere a supermarket worker takes it from you and unloads everything into your car, free of charge. Oh, and takes the trolley back for you...2) On the subject of trolleys - you leave them anywhere you like in the car park, because a) There's nowhere actually to put them and b) That's

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-12604913195066509282010-02-06T09:41:00.003Z2010-02-06T10:20:41.637Z

Incredibly, I'm now 27 weeks pregnant, and just three months away from my due date. 12 weeks! Wow, this has all gone so quickly. Bump is kicking me very consistently now, which is so wonderful, and other people can feel (and see!) the kicks from the outside, which is very fun indeed. The downside is that my bladder seems to be a key kicking target. I'm considering counting my loo visits every day

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-1706348279668830562010-01-19T09:34:00.006Z2010-01-21T08:48:09.941Z

This post is inspired by a book that's just been published in the UK . In it, lots of celebrities write letters to themselves when they were 16, giving advice they wish they'd had back then. I heard a few excerpts on Radio 4 Woman's Hour the other day, and it got me thinking: what would I say to my teenage self, if I could? Dear 16 year old me,I'm not entirely clear why I'm bothering to write

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-33658140367122372022010-01-10T18:47:00.004Z2010-01-11T07:59:18.699Z

Some of you will remember this post, in which I unwittingly found myself attending a mother and baby group coffee morning. As I was undergoing fertility treatment and was hormonally challenged (to put it mildly) at the time, it was a complete disaster. I ended up weeping uncontrollably in front of a group of complete strangers. Well, the other day I faced my nemesis again, although crucially,

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-81521336308457695832010-01-05T11:54:00.003Z2010-01-05T12:08:19.872Z

We've just had our 22 week "anomaly scan". This is where they check for any obvious problems with the baby's organs and limbs, and I'm happy to report that bump passed with flying colours! We are so relieved. The scan was a particularly amazing experience because it was in 3D. This meant that we were able to see our baby's face for the first time, a magical experience we will never forget. Bump

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-75917213154188071012010-01-01T10:23:00.006Z2010-01-01T14:15:32.577Z

Gordon Brown's announcement today that the UK will "move quickly" to enhance airport security strikes me as shutting the door after the horse has bolted. Aviation security is always reactionary - locking flight deck doors after 9/11, banning large bottles of liquids after the transatlantic liquid bomb plot. Now, we have various kneejerk measures including a ban on leaving your seat in the last

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-68413536926218877042009-12-29T20:34:00.005Z2009-12-31T16:36:21.415Z

What a year.If we'd known at the beginning of the year how this one would pan out, what would we have said? January: Our first attempt at Clomid failed. My husband flew off to the Gulf to begin his new job, unsure of what life would be like out there. An initial planned 6 weeks apart became more than two months as we struggled to sort out my visa. In the meantime, I packed up all our belongings

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-78270937854632253412009-12-21T15:08:00.001Z2009-12-21T15:08:00.884Z

Last year, just before Christmas, I wrote this post. In it, I wrote:For me this year, the baby, the symbol of God's love, has a new significance. Regular readers of this blog will know that my husband and I would love a child of our own, and that it's not going to be very easy for us. Hearing those familiar readings inevitably brought my own concerns to the fore. We would dearly love a child of

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-88602065234016883632009-12-13T10:48:00.003Z2009-12-13T11:04:17.270Z

We're currently in the UK on another madcap dash around the country visiting family, before returning to the Gulf a few days before Christmas. It's a beautiful morning here, just above freezing with the sun out and low in the sky, one of my favourite kinds of day. I'm glad we managed to find time do this, as there's nothing quite like sharing this time of year with those you love - particularly

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-71843042814071531812009-12-04T11:39:00.008Z2009-12-04T12:10:31.684Z

It's exactly a year since my husband got the job offer he'd been waiting for, and we knew we'd be moving out to the Gulf. A great deal has changed in that year...For a start, I've noticed a real shift in attitudes towards the Middle Eastern airlines amongst the flying community. When we first announced we were moving out here, a lot of our pilot friends felt slightly sorry for us, having to move

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-52043951759750332422009-11-25T08:16:00.004Z2009-11-25T08:34:59.972Z

I'm officially over four months pregnant now, and I never fail to be amazed daily by what a huge blessing it is. We had another scan yesterday and were absolutely spellbound by the wriggling, healthy baby we saw on the scan! In fact the baby was moving so much the doctor couldn't get a clear image of it, so we're left with lots of vague pictures of shapes that may be a head/stomach/leg. Well, no

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-50228854704852393182009-11-14T04:44:00.012Z2009-11-14T14:51:09.141Z

We've just come back from a long trip to the UK, which included a very needed holiday for just the two of us. We realised recently that we haven't been on a "just the two of us" break since September last year, and since we'll be three next year, it seemed like we should make it a priority! We started our break with a couple of weeks seeing family, which was vital. My husband and his father are

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-75179119783916667402009-10-20T03:15:00.000+01:002009-10-20T05:29:06.363+01:00

I apologise for my somewhat lax blogging over the last few months. There has actually been a reason for this...Yes, you read that correctly! After our long, painful struggle with infertility, my husband and I have been blessed with a little bit of magic. I'm now 12 weeks pregnant, and everything looks ok so far, although I've been incredibly nervous throughout and will probably continue to be

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-16572826546197998482009-10-04T09:06:00.006+01:002009-10-04T15:31:43.231+01:00

Amazingly, I'm entering my eighth month of living here. It seems to have gone in a flash. One thing I notice about being an expat is the longer the stretch of time you have in your new country of residence, the easier it is - and conversely if you head back to your mother country for a break, it's much harder to feel settled in your new country when you get back. I feel a bit like that this time.

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-83299130313888684042009-09-21T10:16:00.002+01:002009-09-21T10:25:59.635+01:00

We have just arrived back from 3 weeks in the UK to find that our apartment has been under several inches of water in our absence. We had a note from the management company explaining that a pipe had "snapped" in the flat next door and flooded our home. Brilliant. Luckily they sent in a team of cleaners to mop it all up, who used our lovely bed spread and my husband's dressing gown to soak up the

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-31104920782497020692009-08-30T12:03:00.000+01:002009-08-30T12:03:00.870+01:00

I've just got back from a trip with my husband to the USA. It's the first time I've been able to go along with him since we got here. His previous airline often had him working away from base, but he generally flew short-haul so he never stayed anywhere for me to go along with him - and even if I did want to, staff travel was a nightmare! This, however, was a completely different matter. When I

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-40268594433180278602009-08-21T12:04:00.004+01:002009-08-23T14:27:44.110+01:00

This week, a root canal I'd had done earlier this year started to play up. Those of you who've had one too will know that not only are they tremendously painful, they're also tremendously expensive. And although we have good health insurance provided out here, it only covers emergency dental care, unfortunately. So with this in mind, I set about seeing a dentist on the state healthcare system

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-71637622491274430372009-08-07T10:26:00.006+01:002009-08-07T11:09:21.521+01:00

One of the biggest problems with moving your life half-way across the world is that you can't bring your friends with you. Of course, the internet is brilliant for keeping in touch, but sadly Skype contacts can't take you out to a bar or sunbathe next to you by the pool, much as they'd like to. Very soon after I arrived I realised I was going to have to do something I've never had to do before;

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-750970712387292332009-08-04T11:18:00.005+01:002009-08-04T11:27:18.642+01:00

Honestly, I hate Clomid. I mean, I love what it is capable of doing, but blimey, it makes me NUTS. Here's what it does:1) Day 2 of the tablets I wake up feeling like I have a cold, all congested and nasty. I wouldn't normally think this was a side-effect, except it's happened all 3 times! 2) Day 3 The hot flashes start - wonderful! Oh, and my stomach blows up like a balloon. I also have problems

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-22494678280645275762009-08-02T09:05:00.003+01:002009-08-02T09:11:47.511+01:00

Today has been a good day so far, despite a crappy night's sleep (thanks, Clomid!) I've just got back from an appointment with my consultant, and she said that my tests confirm I DEFINITELY ovulated last cycle! It feels amazing to know that my body seems to be working at least a little bit. She also laid out the plans from now on - if we don't get pregnant this cycle I will have to have a test to

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-81397266236943969302009-07-28T07:10:00.005+01:002009-07-28T07:51:20.182+01:00

It occurs to me that I've never properly documented my struggles with infertility. I was prompted to do it though by a post on Meet me at Peachtree about the author's own battle with the disorder which threatened to stop her having children.The story starts, I suppose, in my teens. I developed really bad spots that, of course, being a teen were very upsetting, so I was put on Dianette - a form of

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-33197692090308472462009-07-23T11:14:00.006+01:002009-07-23T11:29:22.780+01:00

Yesterday, we celebrated our wedding anniversary. It was a lovely day, despite the fact my husband had asked for a day off and got a training course instead! Luckily it finished after lunch and we were able to spend a gorgeous afternoon and evening together. We took a walk along the seafront at sunset, and then headed to a very decadent restaurant for a spot of indulgence! A perfect day. This

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-84636228473985398732009-07-18T19:07:00.005+01:002009-07-18T19:13:28.401+01:00

Irrational hatred of the month: "Baby on Board" stickers.I'm not sure quite what these are supposed to achieve. Am I supposed to drive vastly more carefully around a car that might have a baby in it? Are adults not as precious cargo? And surely by the time I'm close enough to read the bloody sign, I'm already too close to their precious child anyhow? My theory is it's just a form of boasting.

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-78407547146266855962009-07-10T14:12:00.003+01:002009-07-10T14:19:30.493+01:00

This is shamelessly lifted from the Times via Pprune, but it really made me giggle, so I thought I'd share. It's a list of things men "are still good for" following news that scientists have developed synthetic sperm...The Times: 101 uses for a man1 Whistling at you in the street on your 41st birthday (this should be a state-funded initiative). 2 Model railways, the running and maintenance of. 3

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-8818591715642879432009-07-05T16:30:00.005+01:002009-07-05T17:05:23.330+01:00

Apologies for not blogging for the past couple of weeks. The reason for it is that my husband and I decided to take advantage of a break in his roster and headed back to the UK for a break - my husband stayed for only 5 days, but I stayed for two weeks and used the time to catch up with much missed friends and family. It was the first time that both of us had been back since we moved out here,

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-49176391356537838172009-06-20T08:00:00.004+01:002009-06-20T09:11:56.456+01:00

Just when I thought my blood pressure was safe on this subject, along comes the sad tale of the Captain who died en route to Newark. A very sad thing to happen for his family - I really feel for them. But get this, people - there was NO DANGER, and there was NO EMERGENCY! Because, and I'm going to say this quietly - there is more than one pilot on the plane! Shock, horror, probe, hold the presses

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-21376420578294184792009-06-18T07:29:00.003+01:002009-06-18T07:40:33.795+01:00

The other day, I agreed to meet a new British woman I'd just met on the compound for coffee. She texted me to say that she was meeting a few friends in the afternoon, and would I like to come? Naturally I agreed, always eager to make new contacts here. So, I turned up at the coffee shop and found her sitting with her baby, one other mother and baby, and two other women. I sat down and was offered

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-22192424806213252602009-06-13T10:52:00.002+01:002009-06-13T10:58:33.358+01:00

Lights on, doors locked. Cross-checked.Fuel ok. Then the walk round - Same as ever. Garden bedeckedwith summer finery. The groundin need of some good, longed for rain.A much neglected easy chair.Scattered Sunday papers remain:50 ways of saving power; 20 ways for summer hair.Upstairs, evidence of the suitcase battle.In the end you succeeded,But not without casualties. A rattleof painkillers here,

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-44255898809096397872009-06-12T11:38:00.000+01:002009-06-12T14:21:06.628+01:00

It occurred to me last night that I've been off the pill now since last August. So, it's been almost a year since we threw caution to the wind and decided we'd like to have a family. I remember how secretly optimistic I was that we'd get pregnant in the first month! How ridiculous that seems now. Having said that, I don't really consider that we've really been "trying" for all that time. After

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-89490307878103566722009-06-08T15:19:00.005+01:002009-06-08T15:35:07.189+01:00

I'm having a really good day. I suspect this might have something to do with the apparent dominance of oestrogen in my body at the moment - I've read that many women feel very creative and motivated during this phase in their cycle, and so it is for me. I feel very full of energy and able to tackle tasks that at other times I've been unable to face. I've just finished taking my second round of

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-54465994183689613852009-05-28T16:03:00.004+01:002009-05-28T16:31:32.345+01:00

I'm beginning to worry that I might be boring my friends will all my thoughts about my infertility. I had lunch with a lovely new friend today who said she felt I carried an "overwhelming sadness" around with me about it. I don't think she meant it in an awful way, but it did make me think a bit.It's certainly true that it's become something of a pre-occupation at the moment. This is partly

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-65070227659360466192009-05-25T09:30:00.005+01:002009-05-25T12:47:19.785+01:00

The other day, I came across this entry on a blog by the ubiquitous David Learmount, Editor of Flight International and general rent-an-aviation-expert for any newspaper or news programme you care to mention. http://www.flightglobal.com/blogs/learmount/2008/08/dont-marry-an-airline-pilot.htmlHe wrote it last year, and I'm not sure why I didn't come across it sooner. I don't generally find myself

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-74931853947022100362009-05-13T20:25:00.005+01:002009-05-13T20:41:28.826+01:00

So, I've been here almost two months now, and if you'll excuse the pun, it's flown by. Even though I haven't been working - although I expect to be working part-time soon - there has been so much to do. Just settling in takes a lot of effort, I think. I've certainly had my ups and my downs. I cried for a lot of the first week, with the shock of just being here and realising I wasn't just on

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-60467899628469737012009-05-07T15:10:00.006+01:002009-05-08T13:10:08.024+01:00

The journey that infertility takes you on has lots of unexpected turns. Certainly moving out to the Gulf has put a whole new perspective on it. One of my concerns about leaving the UK was leaving the NHS behind, because I was being treated there by an excellent gynaecologist and I was firmly "in the system", something that my fellow Brits will understand is quite a feat!Although we have great

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-65876466762059077962009-05-01T16:06:00.005+01:002009-05-01T16:14:53.373+01:00

On a completely random non aviation related note, I was very pleased to hear today that one of my favourite poets, Carol Ann Duffy, has been named Poet Laureate, the first woman to be appointed in all of the 341 years the post has existed. I've admired her work since my teenage days. Here's one of my favourites - which chimed very well with my disastrous teenage relationships!Valentine by Carol

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-65447761716391871462009-04-28T07:31:00.004+01:002009-04-28T07:43:26.190+01:00

Yesterday, an old colleague emailed to tell me that she'd been successful in her first round of Clomid, and was now 14 weeks pregnant. To be fair to her, she did acknowledge that this would be be difficult news for me to hear. And it was, very difficult. Particularly as my first round of Clomid did absolutely nothing except give me hot flashes and make me feel wacky.Yet again, I find myself in

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-88341425807185455732009-04-25T08:24:00.003+01:002009-04-25T08:39:25.814+01:00

I'm constantly amazed at how much I enjoy living out here. Regular readers of this blog will know I had many doubts about coming here. In fact, I moved here essentially because we had no choice; either that, or my husband would have remained in the UK job-less, and we all know how hard it is for a pilot to get another job once they've been grounded for a long period of time. No, I HAD to come,

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-6205238138341939292009-04-18T07:50:00.006+01:002009-04-18T08:10:31.524+01:00

This morning my husband drew my attention to this thread on the Professional Pilot's Rumour Network, Pprune, entitled "When did you realise your marriage was over". When he first told me about it, I rather cheekily replied: "Is the answer - when I first started sleeping with cabin crew?" To which my husband replied: "Sometimes the woman leaves too, you know..." So, feeling suitable chastened, I

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-12218363593132527182009-04-12T12:10:00.004+01:002009-04-12T12:26:49.250+01:00

This is the first Easter I've spent outside the UK, I think. It still feels very special, despite the fact we can't be with our families or our normal church congregation at home. We went to church on Friday as my husband had his line-check last night and has been sleeping this morning. It went very well, and I'm very proud of him. He's now a fully fledged long-haul FO! Hours wise he's one of the

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-80337956278550060402009-04-06T08:48:00.005+01:002009-04-06T16:28:54.326+01:00

It's amazing how the small community of pilot's wife/partner bloggers has grown. When I first googled "I'm a pilot's wife" a few years ago, only one blog came up - Someday's excellent Oh the Life of Pilot's Wife. Now there are so many I don't have room for them all on my blog list! On that note, I find internet etiquette interesting. Some bloggers get very offended if, despite leaving comments on

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-66665318823990476512009-04-03T14:30:00.002+01:002009-04-03T14:44:03.442+01:00

It's been an odd few days. My poor husband's line training is pretty much entirely made up of night flights, so consequently we've both been living in a sort of twilight world. If I was at home in the UK this wouldn't be the case - I'd be at work, or out of the house visiting friends or doing chores - but here, without (as yet) my local driving licence, I'm restricted to our flat and the compound

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-88243418853978611272009-03-30T12:51:00.003+01:002009-03-30T13:08:58.200+01:00

Tomorrow we're going to be picking up our new car! It's got three rows of seats (for all the shopping, obviously), a 4 litre engine (!!!), we can plug our ipods straight in, and most importantly, it's one of the safest cars on the market. Vital for the roads out here, where we see a serious accident every time we hit the road.The car - a Ford Explorer - will probably be very familiar to American

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2430133207535205630.post-11772444144282266152009-03-25T07:32:00.004Z2009-03-25T07:48:01.068Z

Sorry it's taken me so long to give you an update on our new life! It's been a very busy week and a half, full of lots of paperwork (they love their bureaucracy here) and lots of shopping and unpacking, getting our new apartment how we want it. It's also had its ups and downs. For the first few days I felt very homesick. Life here in the Gulf is so different to life at home, that the culture

Flying Highhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16663803493095524390noreply@blogger.com1